heartstopper ausᥫ᭡

୨୧ 'a poet at heart' ୨୧

prompt: warning. obsessions can be serious, overbearing and mutual. don't fall too hard.

[betrayal, angst]

"don't be fooled.. i like writing new things..." - me.

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We both were young, and yet so grown.

We both spoke so loud, yet said so little.

We were both so close, yet sat so far.

Nicholas Luke Nelson. A year eleven and the newly declared keeper of my heart. With his soft and sweetly shaped body, being both masculine and gentle, he would saunter the hallways capturing hearts and turning heads. Because that was him, Nicholas Luke Nelson.

Nicholas Luke Nelson. His hair a dark blonde and his eyes brown and his face littered with tiny kissed of the sun which left dark prints permanently shining in its wake. His skin pale and easy to flush from embarrassment

Nicholas Luke Nelson. A strange character who was determined to finish a task even though he may not be good at it or was guaranteed failure at it. He knew he wasn't the greatest and yet he was just that, the greatest, because he was him, Nicholas Luke Nelson.

Nicholas Luke Nelson was perfect just because he was him, Nicholas Luke Nelson.

He made me sick to my stomach.

The way he was so extroverted and masculine, sweet and caring, soft and beautiful, gentle and my beloved.

Don't get me started on the way he smiles tight lipped trying to hold back a laugh that would cause a spark in his eyes, effectively destroying the purpose of trying to restrain himself in the first place. In addition to the way he would lift his chin in the air while tilting his head and look down at me with hooded lashes, all when he teasing me.

Nick Nelson didn't know that he dripped. He soaked the floor with himself and that would be absorbed into my converses and slowly into my legs to my stomach and implant itself into my entire heart.

"I like the way you describe things.." he said to me one day after school.

We had just finished rugby practice and he was sauntered into our form room claiming to have forgotten his beloved pen. I didn't really want to go home anyways, that's the only reason I had willingly followed him drenched in sweat as we decided to keep our p.e uniforms on being to lazy to change them.

Now I was seated ontop of a desk isolated from the others which had been pushed together to make bigger tables, because i thought it was fitting, and he stood next to the window, inspecting god knows what in between the dirty creaks of the old frame.

I didn't look up to respond to him, only continue to stare at the closed door opposite me, the empty corridor staring back at me through the tiny windows and effectively making me nervous for no reason.

I had felt when his eyes had glued to my back, 9.5078 seconds after he spoke and at 10 seconds I turned my head to the side and acknowledged him with thats simple gesture to not reveal my interest. In the corner of my eye I could see him looking, his eyes trailing along my spine to my jawline to my lips and nose and finally to my eyes.

What was this tension?

"Maybe I'm a poet at heart," I joked with the quirky smile, an attempt to clear the air and thankfully the year eleven chuckled in response. My eyes glued to the quick rise and fall of his chest. His eyes turned soft and he pushed himself off the wall he had previously been leaning against by the window and aproached me, not sitting next to me but standing in front of me.

The tension was still there as he looked down at me. Our height difference wasn't large even when I was sitting, but it was noticable and I hadn't noticed how he was so..

Suddenly his lips are on mine, I'm grabbing at his shirt and the back of his neck feeling his sweat cover my palm and he's gripping the underneath of my thigh and wedging his way in between my legs to get more access.

His air is now mine, and mine his. The smell of the sun and grass accompanied by a small musk of deodorant fills my nose and I'm gripping him tighter and pulling him against me. His hands are now the back of my head, sheilding it from the hard table as he pushes me down and another hand is at my waist.

Nick.

Nick.

Nick. I can't breathe.

As if he can hear my thoughts, or maybe he just felt the same, we pull away and pant hashly into each others ears. He pulled back and was staring at me so intensely its so hard not to gasp in lungs full of air and dive in again immediately. He was all around me, his body, him and his hands moving up my chest and to my exposed neck.

"Charlie.." He called, making my knees weak and eyes heavy.

Nick.

He was squeezing, teasingly with his lips parted in awe.

"Is this a dagger in which i see before me?"

He was speaking, shakespeare of all things because he knew it was my favourite. My legs tightened around him and I shuddered, romanticised beyond words.

"The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee." He leaned down, rubbing our noses together which made me giggle, girlishly but nonetheless I was entrapped.

Nick..

Oh Nick..

"I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?"

Nick.

It was too much.

"Nick. I cant breathe." I called back, reaching up to place my hands atop his and gripping them in a persuasive tug.

"I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw. Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;" His voice raised in volume, and eyes had darkened effectively pulling me from the trance I was in previously.

"And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before. There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes."

I'm kicking now, gasping and clawing at his hands like a wild and frightened animal. Betrayed and gutted, and wide eyed and beautiful, and spilling and slipping away from consciousness until...

"I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell."

.

"Oh Char..I really didn't know you felt so deeply for me. I'm so honoured, I thought my feelings were one sided.." Nick smiled, running a finger up the boys jaw and over his cheekbones. "I'm hoping I did you justice with finishing your diary entry.. hope you don't mind if I keep it. Don't want anyone else finding it"

The book he had in one hand snapped shut and he placed it down next to a jar full of a crimson liquid and a most recognisable organ floating dead and unmoving inside.

The jar having a simple note saying, "A poet at heart - Charlie Francis Spring"

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can u spot when it changes from charlie to nick? ;)

hope you enjoyed, x