Love Overcast // (ManxMan)

=Chapter 21=

A/N: TL;DR for the note at the bottom, I am taking next week off to redo a couple things regarding the plot. Happy Birthday Eric Rutherford. The man above is Lance. The man above is also very hot.

[Lance]

*~*~*

Stand

/stand/ verb.

Have or maintain an upright position, supported by one's feet.

*~*~*

10 hours ago

I feel... blissful, sitting on the edge of a dyke wall, legs hanging over the edge and feet planted in the gravel that stretches into the open lake. Most importantly, having the presence of Skylar next to me. As per usual, my heart does strange things under the influence of his presence. The scarf doesn't provide nearly enough heat to even place it on the map in comparison to Skylar.

Supposedly, a person's initial interest of another would be on the typically attractive parts of the body, for a man, the chest, the arms, the flat stomach, or the gluteus maximus and solar plexus. I know the man beside me has it all, but the unique nature of his violet eyes will forever be the focal point of his appearance. But even those eyes come second to his blinding personality.

Underneath his slightly dulled deep purple irises, I can definitely tell he is going through a rough patch. There are doubts that fly from his short phrases, swirling in the air before planting itself deeply into the atmosphere, accumulating into something that Skylar doesn't typically keep in tow. But regardless, none of it detracts from his beauty, both in and out.

Surely, the repeated mentions of the sky would strike something in his mind, I channel my inner poet, knowing that everyone has a cloudy moment once in a while, it only makes them more relatable. Even more so in the ever clear and radiant mind of Skylar's.

He of all people should know that it is impossible to be free of reality, it catches up to everyone eventually. I don't know his life story, nor do I want to probe into something he doesn't care to share, but I know for a fact that he isn't born into the world with his worries taken care of by someone else. He is independent and he stands the way he does because of relentless effort and resilience.

Perhaps I made a very bad decision to touch him in an almost romantic way, I didn't notice how intimate the gesture of cupping his jaw was until I had completed the action. Without making a fool of myself, I retract my hand, Skylar seems unaffected by the action, but that does not excuse the way my heart is pumping overtime. I can practically feel the gushes of blood reaching the tip of my fingers from each powerful contraction of the muscle. The same organ that, when put in my body, clouds my judgement and flues my motivation.

Skylar's wordless trance makes me panic, seriously panic. The adrenaline that is already present increases three fold at his touch to my chest, and fivefold when his eyes meet mine. I rush to apologize, knowing that my emotions are making me do things I would never do, especially not when Skylar is feeling unwell.

I barely manage to breathe without choking when he goes to stand, once again, wordlessly. I hated the feeling of his disconnectedness, he had been off the whole night but definitely not wordless. I hated myself for the brash gestures I have instigated just minutes before this silent exchange. My apologies seem to fall on deaf ears because in the next moment hands attach themselves to the sides of my jaw and I am forced to bend forward.

One instance of our lips touching for no more than 5 seconds and my breathing completely stops, with oxygen intake at an all time low. The feeling of delight bubbles through me for a spilt second, then the confusion settles in. The soundless tears glide down his smooth skin and dampen his trembling lips, I couldn't do more than hope it is out of happiness.