Crimson Idol

Seven

505 - Arctic Monkeys

And he doesn't disappoint. The moment I got home and checked my phone, a text message popped up from a private number

Private Number: My phone just fell on my face

Private Number: You home yet?

Me: Yes.

Me: How's your face?

Private Number: Very handsome I've been told

Me: Oh yeah? By who

Private Number: The females chasing me down the streets

Me: Very funny

Private Number: You don't believe me?

Me: I believe you

Private Number: You better!

Me: What's with the private number?

Private Number: I'm an important lad

Me: Sure you are

Private Number: Work tomorrow :( Gotta sleep

I smile to myself at his how cute he is and save his contact

Me: Good night

Harry: Good morning*

Through the windowsill I can see the sun peeking up behind the clouds, struggling to break the darkness. I make myself tea in the kitchen and go over to sit by the white window. Over the garden you can see the colors of the sky changing like falling in love, watching the moon latch onto the sky and for a moment, it lets the sun kiss it. They look so beautiful together, sunlight swirls around the moon's darkness, and she stands there, letting him take over until every inch of the sky is covered in his nakedness, and she is gone. But it's not time for that now, now they sit in the peace of each other, alone while everything else sleeps. Harry's like that, the sun. He's always there, his face is all the warmth the world needs, and it's just lucky enough he exists.

I'm afraid he will be the end of me, I cannot contain myself around him, everything he does affects me so much – I can still feel him on my lips, my heart is heavy with his love and I have only been around him for a week. He has always made me feel like this though; I am just no longer a shadow

I think about everything I've ever imagined him doing, how I think he writes when his heart is heavy and mumbles the words to a new melody, and how I can witness that. He sits there in all of his glory and does nothing but smile and I collapse to my knees in awe of his beauty, every word that leaves him unfurls a little bit of himself to me, and I am undeserving of it all

I rest the tea on the white wooden windowsill and place my journal in front of my bent knees, and the ink runs along the paper

And if he doesn't love you right

I'll carry your heart with me

I'll carry it in my heart

I can only love you so tenderly

Like you'll break if I don't

And that's the only way you should be loved

Oh what an injustice the world has done to your beautiful heart

If I wanted to trace your cherry lips with my fingers,

I would touch you with electricity,