Insatiably You | l.s.

Chapter 3

"Harry, what on earth are you doing here?" Louis questioned, as his cerulean eyes bore into my emerald ones, as though searching them for some form of an answer. 

It has been three days since I last saw him, three days since I indulged in what seemed to be my personal drug. Yet the time spent apart feels like both an eternity and just a mere second ago. 

I thought he was breathtaking from afar but it is nothing compared to having him close to me again. 

Close enough, where I can feel the electricity ricocheting through my very being just after a mere interaction. Close enough, for his intoxicating scent to contaminate the air with no mask to save. Close enough for me to see his sharp cheekbones, light scruff, button nose and sinful lips. However, no way close enough, to satiate my hunger. 

He is truly the most breathtaking person I had ever seen. 

At that moment, it felt to me as though he was like the David of statues, the Mona Lisa of paintings, and the Da Vinci of artists. Yet at the same time, somehow, these titles still seemed to do no justice to his beauty. 

I had never seen anyone like him, so perfectly imperfect. A person with such beauty hidden behind layers of skin, years of trial and error, and masked behind multiple layers of walls. A person which caused every fibre of my being to ache to go home, and grab my canvas and oil paints to capture his pure personification of beauty to them. 

I had never experienced anything like this.

It was as though I was seeing him for the first time all over again. As though I was seeing his dominance and stature, trial and error, pain and pleasure, for the first time, making me completely enthralled once again. 

God, I was so fucking messed up. Who thinks this way about a one-night stand? Who acts like this? 

No one in their right mind would ever fathom thinking like this. But then again, what should I expect of myself, what should a piteous fool like myself be expected to do, when beauty is presented in its most personified form? 

It's just when you're stripped from all forms of comfort from a young age and when you are accustomed to constant grief and pain it's expected that you would cling to any attention you receive. It's expected that you would long to feel it again. It's expected of you, but it doesn't mean you should conform to it. You should not, I know this, yet it is exactly what I am doing.

I really am pathetic.

However, before my self-loathing thoughts were allowed to consume me further, my train of thoughts was broken by Louis chuckling lightly, while shaking his head at my lack of response.

He then acquaints himself with the barstool next to mine, after bidding farewell to Luke with his gaze locking on mine. 

It was as though, he, himself felt like he was looking at me for the first time as well, due to the intensity and severity of his gaze. It felt as though there was a fire burning through my core and a volcano waiting to rupture. To me it felt as though he was searching my features looking for something, as though looking for the very memories we shared a few nights prior, which I saw painted on his face.  

But for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what was so appealing about myself, which caused him to look at me like that not once, but twice.

Maybe he took pity on the fact that no one wanted me. Or maybe he just wanted a challenge. Or even by some messed-up miracle, he enjoyed the other night just as much as I did, it caused him to look at me the way he was now doing. 

However, whatever it was, that caused him to look at me like this, I would gladly give myself to him time and time again, if it would cause him to look at me like the way he was currently doing.