sleep START// 01.27.01 :: 22:56 For the fourth time that night, he wondered exactly how to tell her he loved her. They were sprawled out on the mattress, cotton sheets covering sweaty bodies of two lovers, too absorbed with the other to care. Her hair fanned around them like an inverted halo, almost as black as the cover of night surrounding them. She smiled when she slept and cried when she dreamt. He was in love with those lips, and worshipped the tears she shed, ones which were forgotten at the touch of light come morning. Things hadn't been easy. When they first met, they were brasher, rougher, festering on their cynical selves. Even then it was a twisted kind of love. Time had softened him, had taught him to show others what he only had courage to show to her. And she... she withdrew herself from others, always dancing from their grasp, always elusive, always beautiful. She had stepped out of her cynicism and made her own rose-coloured glasses; it wasn't that she was fake, it was that she hurt herself too much. Months of hate and pain, nights spent pressed up against the door wanting to draw as far away from the knife as she could but needing the blood... it had forced her to lock something away, a part of her she never wanted to leave behind but needed to, for the sake of her sanity, for the sake of her friends, for the sake of those who loved her most. Had he been in love then? Perhaps. The past didn't matter. He wanted to live in the same place as her, feel the same things she felt, find joy in the same things she did. He wanted to be with her now, to only face the past when she turned back and smiled, wondering how they bridged the gap of time to find each other again. There wasn't a formula to follow, he smiled, tracing the line of her jaw, familiarizing himself again with every curve of her face and every dip in her body. To whisper it to her was enough. To proclaim it in the middle of the hallway, or write it in the sky; if she loved him back she would smile and kiss him, and whisper the words back. Carefully cocooning his body around hers he thought, for the sixth time that night, exactly how to tell her he was in love with her. Hopelessly, irrevocably in love. END// 01.27.01 :: 23:18 << [heart] >> scribble me your heart