Sweet Dreams Tennessee

A Truly Beautiful Mess

I was starting to think he was. The name calling, the outbursts of anger. He's a fucking prick and acts like an eight year old when he doesn't get what he wants. Was he like this before the fame? Or is he another victim of "Hollywood"s destruction. He was the perfect mixture of innocence and arrogance.

This got me thinking about how he was when was just a little boy. Was he still a fucking prick? Just shorter and higher pitched?

When I came back from my inner mind Alex had fallen asleep with his mouth slightly opened. Short little snores escaped every so often. His slumber looked purely blissful.

His cheekbones pressed into my shoulder which was quite uncomfortable. Moving was sure to wake him, and I wanted to stay like this forever. I kissed the top of his head and he shuffled a little. His hand graced my thigh. I flinched at the sensation of his ring against my bare skin. Why was it always cold? As I gasped he sat up.

"What is it?" He asked with his voice breaking. God was his sleepy voice indescribably dreamy.

"Your ring." I whispered. "The cold shocked me."

"Oh I'm sorry love," he removed his hand.

"No no no," I grab his hand and put it back onto my thigh. "I like it". His iconic smirk greased his face as his eyes returned to a closed position and his head, my shoulder.

My lack of sleep hit me like a truck and I had rested on Alex's head. As I awoke my head was against the couch and Alex had turned on his back. His head was in my lap and his boots were all across the floor. He was facing me still snoring. His body straight and almost rigid, but shrouded in the relaxation of rest.

I began to play with his hair which was textured from product. His eyes danced open to meet mine. A smile like he never smiled before grew onto his face.

"Good morning doll," he whispered rubbing his eyes. And to think not even forty-eight hours ago he was punching walls and yelling at me about how he wanted to despise me and never wanted to see me again. Now he's calling me endearing names, instead of cussing me out. Smiling instead of crying. This beautiful fucking boy was a real fucking piece of work.

What kind of fucking acrobatic on and off were we playing? One minute he's punching walls and the next he's falling asleep on me. We are truly a beautiful mess together, and I'm not sure that will ever change.