A homeless thief breaks into a house that has nothing worth stealing - except for the heart of a lonely man who is obsessed with time.
*****
Blake has been living on the streets for...
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-Blake-
I watched Jordan sleep right next to me. The day had been exhausting and he had fallen asleep only minutes after he lay down on the bed. There was a small gap between us, and I didn't try to get closer to him, no matter how much I wanted to just scoop him in my arms. He already had a rough day, so the last thing I wanted was to put more pressure on him.
So instead, I just played with his long braid, enjoying its silky feeling between my fingers. It had to bed difficult to live with such long hair. It always took a long time for him to wash it, and even longer to dry it.
The minutes passed in the dark room, and I grew sleepier by the second, but I didn't want to fall asleep. It was the only moment of the day when I didn't have to be careful with my words and actions, and be afraid Jordan would get scared of me. I hated to admit that being around him wasn't the easiest thing in the world.
But at the same time, being with him was the easiest thing in the world. I would never regret it, not even a little. Jordan was truly an amazing person. His soul was beautiful. His heart was beautiful. He was beautiful.
I had to look away to contain my yearning for him. It wasn't anything sexual – I just wanted to hold him for eternity. I had never felt anything even remotely similar to anyone else before. How I felt about Jordan was so intense that sometimes it felt like my heart was bursting and I couldn't even breathe when I was so filled with emotions. And I knew I would never feel the same about anyone else. Jordan was that person.
The One.
*****
When the morning came, the awful alarm clock woke me up. I looked around groggily and stopped moving when I found the purple eyes I had missed during the night.
This time those eyes came with a smile.
"Good morning," Jordan said and bit his lower lip with a playful shine in his eyes.
"Good morning," I muttered. "You look awfully mischievous," I added with a chuckle.
"I want to paint you," he said shortly.
"Really?" I smiled and turned on my side, so I could see him better.
He was lying on his side, with his long braid wrapped around his waist, and his hip formed a bigger curve than normally in that position. I fought back my urge to land my hand on that curve – the man was looking sexier than usually, if that was even possible. Maybe it was because of the relaxed and slightly shy smile he had on his face.
"Yes," he said, and for my disappointment, he pushed himself up from the mattress. "Can I?"
"If you want," I said and followed him out of the bed.
