Cherry || b.barnes

20 || Falling

Waking up the next day is one of the most peaceful things I ever experienced. With no nightmares having plagued me, having me shrieking out of the land of sleep, it is the sun that tickles the skin in my face awakening me. I'm not really in the mood to open my eyes, first, swaying in a state in between being and not-being, in between importance and meaninglessness. It feels like floating, like my soul was gone from my body temporarily, from me, from my very being and taking a vacation.

And then, I realize James's arm is still around me. Laying heavily in the curve of my waist below the blanket, skin on skin, combined with his rhythmic, deep breaths right next to my ear and tickling me, it is like someone hits me with a brick.

Holy shit.

What have I done?

Eyes opening wide, tension creeps into me that James doesn't seem to be very fond of. Although he's still sleeping, a quiet, disapproving groan comes from deep within his throat, before his loose arm tightens, grasping me and shoving me against him. It is then that a slight headache follows, not coming from within but from the outside, and when I finally register my view, I instantly get why. While one of his arms is holding me tight, I used the other as a pillow. Unfortunately, the other isn't real, so I basically lay on metal the whole night. Or at least, my head.

The brightness that seemed to have welcomed me whole-heartedly this morning now disturbs my sight, way too light for my eyes to properly adjust, only increasing the pain in my skull. I barely got the wide blue sky until the numb sounds of waves rush in my ear, and the mix of sandalwood and whiskey is battled by the salty sea.

Trying to escape the white luster behind my eyelids, I turn without thought, laying on my right instead of my left. Just to open my eyes again, and all I see is alabaster skin, so smooth and with a few reddened spots then and now, memorials of last night that haven't entirely faded yet.

With his pleasantly poisoning scent so near, his left arm moving, I soon feel not only one arm around my back, but two, and am pressed against him. Naked.

And still, it's like what we shared last night almost entirely erased any sign of my comfort zone. There's still a small tingle with being held like a boa constrictor might would, but without the deadly impact. And that makes me fear certain tingle doesn't just come from my social anxiety.

Looking up, it's like committing a sin I could go to hell for. And that's not just for admiring. His jaw is sharp even from below, surely cutting me should I try to run my fingers along it. Stubbles from there flowing to his chin in just the perfect length, my lips remembering how they felt while touching them. While appreciating them. How it felt when the little hair ran along my exposed throat, along my collarbone. How his rosy lips felt, too, now slightly parted, lips from which incredibly sultry words were fleeing just a couple hours ago. Plump, tender, soft, moving in a way I can only describe as heavenly sinful, sinfully celestial – it's like my mind is shut down again, the urge to run my thumb along their rim, my tongue, my own lips like an addiction. I try swallowing it down, but my heart pounds in my chest regardless. With my glance wandering higher, admiringly so, it's like I inhale his sight. His cheekbones, the small caves in his cheeks that are depicting his chiseled features, his dark, long lashes drawing shadows along his pale skin. Eyebrows speaking of entire relaxation, just as the rest of his expression, hair tousled in the same mess I left them in, sexily. He reminds me of that young boy in the photo, shortly before starting his long journey. A journey too brutal, too devastating, too painful – and yet, he's still here. Still smiles occasionally. Still tries doing good despite all the people that would leave him to die should it only mean they had to crook their finger.

I reach out subconsciously, running my fingertips along his dogtags, the only thing he wears currently. Getting the plates in between my thumb and index finger, I read the imprint again, and again, and again.