close to my dialling heart

44🌹his love language

🎶I'ma care for you, you, you🎶
                ~The Weeknd~

I just love this song so much

DOVE 🕊

"You and Xavier make the hottest couple on campus because it's unusual." Ela said while doing her makeup. The both of them were preparing to go for a party. Unusual? I guess it was unusual. "He is also the reason why you have refused to come with us, right?" Mal asked. I shook my head. It's just because someone tried to harass me, and that made me panic. "Are you guys coming back?"

Ela's response made my heart skip a beat. "No, we're spending the night there." I felt a surge of anxiety, wondering if Xavier would show up.

I nodded, trying to look calm. But inside, I was worried. Would Xavier be there, or would I be alone?

Mal's voice was full of concern. "Will you be okay? I know you don't sleep well alone." Her words hit a nerve, but I tried to brush it off. "I'll be fine," I said, trying to sound confident. But I wasn't so sure. I would distract myself with my drawings and art. The next day was a sports day, so I wouldn't have to worry about classes. But for now, I had to face my fears.

As the door closed behind Mal and Ela, the silence enveloped me like a shroud. My wild imagination, usually dormant in their presence, began to stir. I reached for my trusty sketchbook, filled with pencil sketches and half-formed ideas. My diary, once a confidant, was now full, its pages bursting with secrets and dreams.

My fingers brushed against the rosary, hidden away in my drawer. I hadn't worn it in weeks, feeling like a hypocrite with each passing day. My sins had piled up, a weight pressing upon my conscience.

But as I sat there, surrounded by the quiet, a spark of hope ignited within me. Xavier might come, I thought, my heart skipping a beat. I wanted him to, needed him to. The darkness outside seemed to press in, making me long for his presence, his comfort.

I let out a slow breath, my eyes drifting to the sketchbook. The pencils lay waiting, ready to bring my thoughts to life. And I began to draw, the lines and shapes a reflection of my turbulent mind.

An hour passed, and the knock on the door made me jump. Fear clawed at my chest as I hesitated, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. My uncle was thousands of miles away in Australia, but what if...? I pushed the thought aside, chiding myself for being ridiculous. Still, my hand trembled as I grasped the rosary, seeking comfort in its familiar beads.

I approached the door, my heart racing like a wild animal. I squeezed the rosary so hard it might leave marks on my palm. With a deep breath, I reached for the doorknob and opened it a sliver, peeking through the narrow gap. My eyes widened as I took in the sight of Xavier, his lean frame propped against the wall, his face obscured by his hair. He looked... off.

My fear dissipated, replaced by concern. I opened the door fully, and Xavier's gaze lifted, his eyes locking onto mine. His expression was tired, his eyes red-rimmed, and his skin pale. Something was wrong. I felt a pang in my chest, a mix of worry and relief. He was here, and he didn't look okay.

As I opened the door wider, Xavier's gaze shifted to mine, his eyes gleaming with a lazy intensity. He pushed off the wall, his smile slow and effortless, and swept his hair back, revealing a face etched with fatigue. "Are you drunk?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern. He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Just a little." But his voice was clear, lacking the slurred edges I expected.

I stepped aside, letting him in, and he didn't hesitate, shedding his shoes and crawling into my bed like he owned it. His eyes roamed over the scattered papers and pencils, taking in the chaos of my art. "What are you drawing?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. I shrugged, unsure myself.