𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 ❞

two ; unhealthy dopamine

Steve's ::

If life were a roller coaster of emotions, then Steve was stuck upon a ride crashing down, with no safety gear. Every day, he saw his life being propelled downward with the utmost acceleration; the slope went down eternally. Just when he thought he couldn't get any worse, life mocked him and threw him deeper into the baseless void of gloom. He was freefalling in every day, and the only thing he could hold on to was the memory of the beautiful boy his heart had taken a strong liking to. But he was scared...

The warm afternoon hung around the library, making Steve feel hot inside his blue sweater. He was almost sweating with the effort to keep himself awake, and the weather wasn't taking any effort to help him. He wished he could take off the woolen bother, but his bare arms always invited uncomfortable stares and unwanted questions; the heat was more bearable to him than the other. He shifted slightly in his seat and took a sip of water to avoid dizziness. He set back his attention to the two things he liked: the chemistry he needed to learn to make perfumes, and the chemistry he needed to avoid with the guy opposite to him. He soon got lost between the thoughts of fragrances and faes and pulled through the tortuous hours.

The library maintained a strict "silence" policy. Any noise about 15 decibels was indigestible, and the librarian extracted a sum too huge as the punishment; One could watch a cinema and go on a dinner date with the money they had to pay. The entire hall was filled with a silence enchanting to some, and terrifying to others. It was bearable during the day, but no one could take it after the fast-going hours of twilight. The boys left, one by one, hurrying off to their sweet abodes, their safe havens.

Steve didn't wish to leave; he was in no particular rush to go back to the pathetic peril he had for a home. He could spend hours and hours gazing at the other boy's fingers fiddling with the corner of the pages of his book, or his lips drawn in a small pout as he processed difficult things, or his hair gently being touched by the evening breeze. Steve was so smitten with the beauty that boy held; he could easily spend his entire night staring at the breathtaking in front of him.

But the other boy, perhaps, wasn't yet too taken with anything in the library that would make him stay. He got up and closed the book, and returned it to the shelf. He picked up his bag, and as Steve pretended to be interested in his manual, slung it over his shoulders and walked away. Steve watched him go; the young boy was of just as fine physique as he was of fine features. He was tall and lean and had a small waist. Steve sighed and downheartedly closed his book. His exasperation was deserved as well; he'd missed seeing the adoration in the boy's eyes while he pretended to be engrossed with something not as pretty as him.

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