Choir Boy

He Was Trouble

I knew he was a few things when he walked into the church. 

1. Trouble

2. A Lost Soul

3. Extremely Attractive. 

    Oops. That was gay. Really gay. My fist curled up, pressing against the piano as I dug crescent moon shapes into my palms. He continued to walk down the aisle, eyeing me with glowing green eyes. I grow hopeful, he was coming to talk to me? I was partially wrong. Before he could get to me, my father intercepted him with a angry glance back at me. I turned away, going back to sorting music. A heady blush covered my face as I felt his eyes pin to my back. Him and my father stood just at the podium, which I noticed he avoided touching. My father began to talk, his loud preachers voice making the conversation everybody's business. The mans voice was polar opposite. Loud but not quiet. Enough for it to be calm, cool, and collected something that tells you to listen. Another thing that made everybody gasp and draw closer was a thick (insanely sexy) English accent. I strained to hear the conversation to only realize it had ended.I felt a hand on my back, tensing only to realize it was my father. 

   "Killian, would you show Finn where the youth sit?" I nodded tight lipped as I slowly turned around. I got my first look at the Brit. Heart shaped lips with a skeleton lip piercing, blonde hair, green eyes that seem to get darker near the irises.

   "Y-yes father." Finn was making all to direct eye contact with me. 

   "Thank you son." He gestured away from him and Finn began to walk in the general direction. I stumble after him, blushing. He waited for me all to patiently and a dimple visibly appeared when he smirked. 

   "So that's your father doll?" I lost it.  My whole grip on everything slipped. My heart did a double back handspring and then fell on its face. His accent was heart melting by itself but, when he talked to me? Dear god. Then I feel wrong, a soon to be familiar feeling if I am to be honest. "What, cat got you're tongue?" I straightened out my limp vocal chords and attempted at speaking to him. 

   "Y-yes. H-he is. Why w-wouldn't he be?" I tried to sound funny and mean, sarcastic even but nervous voice cracks were abundant in the sentence. He laughed, something deep and entrancing, like a song. My heart fell on its face. I realize we had stopped walking a good time ago and now stood near the third pew, talking. I tried to piece together how we looked. I looked down his body, taking a glance at his clothes and unknowingly checking him out. Simple. White t-shirt, black skinnies, chains going from his front belt loops to the back. Bracelets stacked on his  wrists. One in fact said 'I like hot guys.' A risky move for this church. I looked down my body which seemed small and feminine compared to his broad shoulders. A black sweater that hung loosely around my frame. He crossed his arms and looked to me with his smirk. 

    "Are we just going to stand here for the whole service or get a seat, loves?" I shook my head, my curls brushing my forehead. I took it upon myself to sit down right there. He joined me, our bodies pressed close together. His knee bounced and I watched it intently, feeling like its a beat to a song. He puts his arms up on the sides of the pew. I blush again as his painted fingernails brush my shoulder. I actually start to enjoy myself with him.