October.
I let out a breathy groan as my eyes fluttered open and I immediately took notice of the room I was in. Instead of the crisp, white colour that decorated the walls of my room, they were a light tone of grey. I felt a hot breath against the crook of my neck, and I turn my head carefully to find a shirtless Luke cuddled into my side, his arm tightly wrapped around my torso and soft snores coming from his mouth. I smiled and slowly untangled him from me, running a hand through my messy hair and walked to his closet.
After rummaging through some of his clothes, I found his Vans branded shirt and shrugged it on after I took his sweatshirt off; I normally don't like sleeping in clothes I've worn all day. I look back to the sleeping boy in bed and smile. He looked so at peace, so vulnerable; so perfect. An idea popped up in my head as I walk back to his closet and fish out his beloved journal and a pencil on his study desk. I'm sure he wouldn't mind, as long as I don't snoop.
This is what I wanted to do with my life, not become some rich doctor when clearly I can't even stand the sight of blood, let alone perform surgeries. I wanted to be an artist - I wanted to draw, I wanted to express my feelings on a canvas with a pencil in my hand, not a scalpel.
I pull a chair from the corner of the room and slowly carry it to the edge of the bed, opposite to where Luke was sleeping and sit crisscross applesauce, leaning the side of my legs against the thin arm rests. I eyed him once more before flipping the book horizontally and placing it in between my lap, beginning to sketch the angel sleeping in front of me, glancing over his features once in a while.
Luke.
I stretch my arms in front of me and let out a breath through my nose, patting the spot where October slept last night and my eyes shoot open when I find it empty as I start to panic. I look around the room in haste until my vision locked on her. She was sitting on my desk chair, scribbling something on the pages of my journal. I wasn't angry that she'd used it - hell, it was practically all about her - but more confused at exactly what she was writing. I watched her, admired her, how her hair cascaded down the sides of her face, some pieces falling onto her eyes, just to have her push them out of the way with an adorable huff. She bit down on her lip, being concentrated on whatever she was doing and it took everything in me not to jump out of bed and tackle her to the floor to kiss those soft, pink lips of hers. God,she infatuated me.
Her eyes flickered to mine and she released her bottom lip, a rosy colour rising from the side of her face. Then, my ears were filled with her sweet, gentle voice. "Oh, you're awake."
I only nodded, still eyeing her with a smug grin on my face and she dropped her gaze to her lap, only to have her face light up again as she raised my journal in her hands, flipping it over so I could see what she was actually doing.
"Look, I drew you. You look so cute when you sleep," she commented, an adorable smile on her face. I was lost for words when I saw that she wasn't writing, but in fact drawing, and I, being her inspiration. She had sketched me when I was asleep, and it was probably the second most magnificent thing I've seen, the first being her, of course.
"C'mere," were the only words that came out of my mouth. She giggled, placing the pencil between the pages of my journal and jumped into bed with me, letting out a little squeal and I chuckle loudly. She buries her face into my chest and I run my fingers through her soft, coconut-scented locks. "Were you awake before me?"
She nods and giggles, hugging my torso tighter. My hands travel down to her waist, where I felt the slightly rough fabric against my fingertips. I frown and pull away from her to take a good look at what she was wearing. A different shirt; my shirt.
