Books, Coffee and Snowflakes in his hair

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Hi. This is my Christmas present for @katherine_bravery and I decided to share it with you all. I hope you'll love it as much as I love Christmas. Enjoy this fluffy one shot.

Merry Christmas to you all, enjoy this time of peace and enjoy your presents as well.

Love you.

Vote and comment xx

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I could stare at him all day and I wouldn't get bored. I could just sink into the fondness of his look and drown in his cuteness. His bright blond hair always being all perfect, fitting his angelic look so much it almost physically hurt to see someone so beautiful as him sitting alone every single day. Although he seemed happy as he sipped on his coffee in a spotted blue and purple vacuum bottle and flipped through the pages of a worn book he read so many times he must have known it by heart by now for sure. And I would always let him borrow it for a single afternoon. And when the day comes to it's end I would hide his book from everyone else so I would be able to see his smile again and again as I check his order out the very next day. It was same every day, yet still so different and amazing, heartbreaking and mesmerizing. Because he never noticed... And I would stare just as how his eyes were flickering over the pages, with single sparkles glowing from his gaze. His cheeks would turn pinkish red as he inaudibly, amazingly giggled when reading something I would die for me being the writer. I would die for being the reason to make him smile. To make his eyes all sparkly silver that the blueness disappeared and was replaced by something equally beautiful, something that would slightly remind you of an addiction and a love, too. I would lay my life to be one of his old, shattered and cut books. To be a piece of a paper and ink, the pages he was touching so gently, like if being scared of hurting them. To be something he would hold on so tight, with his fingers being curled up my sides, thinking about me so deeply in the corner of his mind, resting there... Maybe even worshipping me.

He would sit here every afternoon, here in this small college library. He would bring his coffee and a warm sweater in a cream pink colour, that was maybe too baggy for him, that had it's sleeves too long so they covered half of his palms and he would put on his black glasses that looked so adorable it made me sigh from time to time. And I would just look at him like he was the sun and the moon and all the stars in the sky, leaning back in my chair behind the desk I worked at, biting my lip and couraging myself to make the first step and talk to him. But would he want to talk to someone like me? I was dumb, I've never read a whole book. Even though I would read a whole library if he asked me to. I was covered in tattoos when his skin was so innocent, despite the cute lip ring he had, and cream and it was showing me his veins on his wrists every time he handed me his card and I would stare a little longer and make him blush and half smile and it would make my heart pound like a heart of a nightingale just by the flawless human being in front of me. And sometimes our fingers would accidentally brush and my belly would be full of butterflies, my brains would try to explode in such intense feeling of the angel being the nearest he'll ever be to me. He always looked so pretty in the dim light of the lamp he was sitting under. He usually sat at one small table for one by the window, right across the room. I had the perfect view, but maybe it was more torturing because I would always send him glances and never focus on anything else because he was too much of an undeniable, irresistible distraction, having that kind of energy that was around him like a rainbow aura.

And I would just stare and it would be enough for hours and hours...

*

"I'll have this, please," he blushed as his voice, always so tiny and silent, spoke up from the other side of the desk. He was so close I could smell his vanilla shower gel and I got a bit lost in his beautiful blue eyes.

Books, Coffee and Snowflakes in his hair || Lashton [one shot]Where stories live. Discover now