2nd December, 2014 12:00 am
His skin was like pale Velvet. When he walked out of the pool, beads of water shone on his skin like diamonds.
I had this very urge to run my fingers down his arm. Feeling his glistening skin through my rough fingers .
His sentences were not limited to full stops- he spoke with drunk gentleness not caring what others thought of him.
He laughed like he knew a secret; a secret or rather a funny memory he didn't please to share knowing they wouldn't find it as funny as he did.
His eyes- languidly opened and a shade too light for the stunning sky blue- calm and serene like the ocean.
And the way he ran a hand- his hands perpetually stained with ink- through his wet white mane.
I knew I went insane.
And I knew he loved himself.
But I didn't.
I didn't either when he killed himself.
[a/n] : I'm a better writer drunk than sober.
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© 2016, humanoligy.
[Also, do not copy my work, I know my way around with a knife]
Dedicated to Kas [@haints] for being an amazing inspiration and existing.
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Viktor Chase
Short StoryAnd in his heart, he became a perishable painting; in which Ray Singh falls in love with the dead Viktor Ivanovich. #taygetsthegay #181 Copyright © 2016, humanoligy