A Sky With A Star

Him

A/N: Hello, it's writing friend Number 2 (42??) here! First story ever from me, hope you like it and hope it's not a wreck :))

Buckin ensues.

~ Writer42

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Wait.

Really?

You have asked me to describe this man. This man that is currently jumping about, with hyperactive, tornado-like adrenaline coursing through his systems.

This man spastically going crazy, euphoria bursting in him like balloons filled with confetti, standing next to me now.

Describe this man ...with words ...WORDS?!

It is simply not possible.

How can I even begin to relate to you about the magnificence of his form, his toned arms, muscles, legs, back, head, feet, shoulders, elbows. OK, that's all I'll say, I don't want to reveal too much. Literally. He won't like it. His natural pale white complexion has completely deserted him in the twenty or so years I've known him, now replaced with a tanned caramel. He's just like caramel too. Sweet in both looks, and taste.

I can hardly look him in the eyes without feeling exposed. Those deep waves of ocean blue, concealing the pains, struggles, love he has faced in his 40 years on this earth. Is it even justice? Describing those windows into his majestic soul with those four generic letters? "E-Y-E-S." With two of those letters even being exactly the same?

And "exactly the same" is EVERYTHING he isn't.

Here I am, describing to you the sheer bliss that this man embodies, to the best of my ability. As no language on earth could suffice when it comes to describing him.

Amazing, for starters. Radiant joy erupting to everyone he meets. It's as if his shining eyes and warm smile is a blanket, where you drown and melt in his sea of comfort. Comfort that subtly lights up your night sky, just like twinkling stars do. Stars are hot too aren't they? Yeah, just like him. This man isn't just hot though, he is beautiful. Heart-meltingly perfect. He has always lit up my life. Yes, yes, I know you're gagging from how cliché that statement is. But it's true.

Always has been my beacon and lighthouse, guiding the unstable boat that is my being safe to shore. Always has been my well-toned, gorgeous shoulder to lean on. Always has coaxed me out of my whirlwind of emotions that I've kept to myself. Always has been the glow of my life, as I the glow of his. Thankfully, as I had recently discovered, that loving light was mutual.

The friendship we have, ahem, had, is absolutely astounding. Too marvellous. From the humble, small friendship springing up two geeky boys in 1996 in UCL, it has stood the tests of time, pain, children, arguments, terrible fights. It pains me so to think about those years of daggers through hearts. It hurt me so, back then, to think that I might lose his friendship. That I might lose him.

The loss never happened, quite the opposite actually...

This friendship we have, or again, had, gradually blossomed into something else. Our faces were rife with sweet sparkling eyes and red cheeks. Small, shy smiles warmed our faces again whenever one crossed the other's mind. Tender smiles that professed love when words were not needed. Our connection with each other undeniably strayed past harmless friendship, and it's safe to say that it veered into ... how would I say it? ... more exciting territory too.

And yes, oh yes. He is absolutely AMAZING in that respect too.

Now, mid concert, a fan I can see in the front row holds up a large cardboard sign, saying "Kiss Me Please, CM?". Hmm, I smirk. That's all they want? Really? Oh what a waste, such a waste of an opportunity.

Striking, stunning, such an attractive person. And so irresistible too (and tasty, just like caramel), with those touches that send that fire raging across my whole being, to the point that I fear that my soul will be burnt in an inferno of love. But it never is, as his lips can be as cooling, icy, warm, scorching, as they want, whenever they want.

My personal thermometer. My personal remedy.

Keeping me at the right temperature and curing me.

And those eyes, his oceans of pure emotion. They're sometimes a little different around me. And me alone. They instead display intense passion. They look at me so longingly, like a predator sizing up his prey, that I squirm under his gaze. He gets hungry, and he shamelessly shows it. I barely can think straight about the activities that happen, as the love and intense excitement we feel, really feel with each other is hard to comprehend. Well... and other things that occur are also passionate, as he strives to fulfil his thirst for me. Things that leave me fervently seeing stars, and not just the star that is himself.

The star that is him.

My star, that is him.

The star, a breathtaking mix of beauty, humility, inspiration, brilliance, innocence, enthusiasm, passion, unconditional love, that is him.

The star, the wonderful creature, that is Christopher Anthony John Martin.