Heliophilia
(n.) desire to stay in the sun; love of sunlight
To be loved is to be changed.
Arabella Dawson
Has never had anybody constant in her life. From parents always being away at work to one shitty friend, she doesn't know how to exist when...
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Litost (n.) a state of agony and torment created by the sudden sight of one's own misery
Twenty-six ♡︎♡︎♡︎ Flint
"Be quiet." I snap, to which the drunk girl behind me shuts her mouth instantly. "Please." I add as an after thought.
Not actually wanting her to quiet down but knowing that if she doesn't she's going to wake the whole house up.
My brothers aren't the best people when they've been woken up, they're extra groggy, more annoying, extremely bickery.
And it normally always ends up in a fight. And someone's left crying, mostly commonly Sterling. He's the most sensitive out of all of us.
Most of all I don't want her to wake my dad.
He's not the best person all around and it'll only end up with him angrier than he normally is. And someone will definitely end up hurt. Namely me.
I don't want her to have to witness that.
"Sorry." She whispers, but then she's giggling at something stupid and my hearts fluttering but my stomachs falling into my throat.
Turning around I clamp my hand over her mouth, placing her in front of me as I direct her up the stairs to my room.
Catching her when she trips more than once.
Closing the door softly, hand still placed on her mouth as I wait for the signal someone's woken up.
My shoulders sag slightly when the only sound that's heard is our laboured breathing. And the sound of me hissing when Arabella sinks her teeth into the flesh of my palm.
"What's the fuck Bells?"
I sit her down on my bed, inspecting the bite mark on my hand. Listening as she laughs, my heart beating to the sound.
"You did it to me once." She reminds me, falling back onto my bed, spreading her arms out like a star.
I try my hardest not to look when she spreads her legs, the end of her dress rising.
"I remember." I tell her, turning around to pick out a shirt and shorts for her.
My head running wild at the memory. Of her and me pushed up against each other in the cramped space of the toilet cubicle. How our breaths missed each other and tangled together. How everything felt right but wrong at the same time and when she fell on top of me, landing in a compromising position my heart begged to sync with hers.
