You Were Mine

Almost as nice as you.

In the soft, early afternoon light Justin was left sitting in the windowsill of his bedroom. It'd been around half an hour since Tristan had left him, tired and alone on the bed. He'd changed into a pair of loose, black lounge pants and left his torso exposed since it was warm. Justin was disappointed, he thought after finally having such passionate contact with Tristan that he'd be left glowing. Feeling on top of the world. But he felt almost the opposite. He felt insecure and small and his mind started wondering to what Tristan's intentions were. Was Tristan done now? Had Tristan gotten what he wanted? Was Tristan sat in the next room regretting everything entirely? Maybe he'd forgotten about it already.

Justin stood up from the window, trying to shake his head from the whirlwind of worrying thoughts he was having, diverting his mind back to the beauty he saw in Tristan. He paced around his room, as if he was looking for something, but inside his head he was thinking of a way to document Tristan. He didn't want to forget how he felt about Tristan right at that moment. Right at that moment, he was infatuated with Tristan. He didn't think anyone more perfect could possibly exist, and he loved the feeling it gave him. He wanted to remember it. He opened up Conner's storage and wardrobe cupboard, pulling out some shoe boxes from the above shelf. As if by fate, an old, rustic looking journal fell out and landed by Justin's feet. He flicked through the pages, to ensure it wasn't of any importance to Conner, but all that was inside were a few stock counts from the shop and a shopping list. He decided that the journal would work as a place to document his days and thoughts about Tristan, so he moved onto the bed, crossing his legs like a school child and began to write.

"As soon as I saw him I thought he was attractive, but I didn't think he'd want anything to do with me. He is tall. Not too tall that his body looks gangly and lanky, just the right amount of height so that he is above me. He is a strong man, his drumming must keep his arms toned and muscular and whatever shirt he wears always clings tightly to his skin. His skin is the shade of pale, strawberry milk. Delicate and fair, dusted in pretty sun-kissed freckles that glowed ever so slightly in the sunlight. His high cheekbones, perfectly accentuate his pretty-boy face, and his full pink lips are always so soft looking, so kissable and always upturned in a little, natural smile. His eyes are normally a simple sepia colour, but when the light hits them they become a golden, dewy honey shade, radiating warmth. I feel like his beautiful eyes will give him away one day. Tell me all his secrets. I'd love to hear them. Love to hear his story. But for now I'll just admire him. I love this man. I think." Justin wrote, his writing becoming more messy and skewed as his hand became sore.

Justin read over what he wrote and smiled softly, placing the journal underneath his pillow and patting the pillow down, ensuring it was hidden.

"Are you hiding from me in there?" Tristan's shouted from the lounge and Justin jumped, clutching his bare chest.

"N-No, I was busy!" Justin stuttered, hopping up and picking a white and black t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on over his head before walking out the room and down the corridor to see Tristan.

Tristan was sat on the couch, his arm on the back of it, a perfect little nook under his arm for Justin to slot himself into, against his chest. He was wearing an oversized black hoodie, the sleeves pulled over his hands creating sweater paws, some grey sweats and a loose speckled beanie.Justin's heart practically swooned, he looked so wonderfully cosy and inviting. His aura was like a warm hug in itself, so very different to earlier. His dominant, lust-filled attitude had softened and changed into the sweet, smiling, innocent one and Justin loved that. Justin loved the fact there was two sides to Tristan. He didn't have to conform to one, one way to always act around Tristan. Everything about him seemed perfect.

"Are you going to join me? I'm watching friends." Tristan patted the space on the couch next to him, his eyes travelling down Justin's body.

Justin nodded timidly and sat at the other end of the couch, away from Tristan. Trying to focus his attention on the TV was painfully difficult, he was breathing heavily and he couldn't stop looking at Tristan from the corner of his eye, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, calming Justin down.