☆彡･:*:･ ────── 𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀 | In which a dyslexic, skittish Hufflepuff named Gian Adams finds order in Remus Lupin, a boy who unwittingly invited chaos.
[𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 @Hellmiina]
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧✦✧
In the morning dew, the two figures laid in bed awoke in murmured sighs and stirring movements under the sheets—in ephemeral brushes of their legs overlapping the other's or their arm folding over their bare chest where the skin felt just as supple under the pad of their fingertips as the puckered planes of their lips. Gian vaguely remembered staggering around the halls at three AM, drunk in a blissful stupor that transgressed into behavior that would have warranted a detention should anyone have been awake at that hour, flouncing among corridors where they pushed each other into the walls or nudged them into a banister until they swung from it, their legs wrapped around the other's waist while they kissed, at one point ending up on the floor where they laughed over Gian accidentally tripping down one of the steps, startling awake a painting which ensued a full blown run down the hall, which in hindsight was pointless but something they both erupted at, their laughs tapering into rapturous breaths that mingled down the other's throat through the conduit of their mouths.
After that, he recalled being dragged to the hallway housing the Headboy and Headgirl, where there were extra dormitories to accommodate any visitors, Remus only knew of its location because he was a prefect himself. And quite opportunely, it opened and they plundered it on a whim, only managing two hours of sleep before their bodies naturally woke from their slumber and melted over one another.
Gian was leaning half-way across his bare chest, his forearm resting on the base of his stomach while his head was tilted upwards, their noses brushing together in feather-like touches. Remus' eyes fluttered open and bathed him in their green light, the skin crinkling with a smile that affected him with just as much drunken oblivion as last night.
He traced his lip lightly with the tip of his finger. It pouted slightly, and he had such an urge to bite it, to kiss it, to wrap them up in the quilt and listen to their gentle breathing, watching the cotton ripple like skipping stones and sharing crooked smiles. His lip felt slightly chapped under his feather light touches but he simply could not bring myself to give a damn. He gazed so intently at each divot of that lip, as if it could map out ancient seas and future plans and tell him everything he didn't know. And he didn't want to look up. Because if he looked up, he may find himself at the mercy of questioning eyes, pleading, begging to know what they were doing, and he was not at liberty to say because he simply did not know. "Is this real?" He could not form an answer with his lips because he was so focused on his.
The pad of his finger softly grazed down his lip, the skin paling white before blooming with colour that brewed storms in his eye, which locked to the sight, his expression blissfully content to draw it back before his palm was framing his jaw. Gian exhaled lightly, raptured by the sparkle that ignited fusions in the calm tempest of breathing and crisp sheets moving under their skin.
He tilted his head forward until their noses touched, only to have Remus draw backwards slightly. Gian surveyed his face with a fitful inquiry that resembled his familiar state of panic. But before he could utter an apology, or venture to ask what was wrong, his hand resting on his cheek was enveloped by a larger one, one filled with tendons and scars.
