You've already got me wrapped around your finger part 6
It was a little too easy to slip inside your quaint little house. You need to be more careful. You were at an all day appointment with your dad. The perfect time to check up on you. There's an urgency that overrides all reason. A deep need to see this area of your life that you seem to hide.
You don't need to hide from me. There's no need to be afraid that you'll run me off. You're never too much. Your life may be full, but I wanna be in it. And if I need to help you uncomplicate things, I will.
I worry about you, Y/N. I worry about your safety mostly. You take care of your dad, but who take care of you? I'm here to step in. I'm here to save you, by any means possible. From anyone, even yourself. You say you've got everything under control, but I've been thinking about a backup plan.
Your living room is ordinary but the natural light just pours in. I can't help but imagine the way the morning sun would kiss all your features. Like, when we were picnicking at the park. The sun illuminated every single freckle; the rosiness in your cheeks.
I'm trying to take in every detail; locate clues about who you are. I run my finger across the spine of a book you have discarded on the couch. Lapvona by Otessa Moshfegh. You've been begging me to read it with you. I've already finished it. Not my typical read, but you've been enjoying it all the same. I love that we talk about books, music and art. Not the typical shallow chatter you'd get, chatting someone up at the bar. I know you watch TV, but never mention it. Not that it matters much, but I wonder what you watch when you want to turn your brain off.
Your room, is by far the coziest in the house. I can still smell your perfume lingering in the air. Something fruity with just the tiniest hint of earthiness. I've smelled it on you, each time we have embraced. So inviting, it intoxicates me.
Your bed is unmade and lived in, and it takes everything I have not to throw myself into it. Your sheets are soft, like you. Everything about you is just so damn soft. I can't help but imagine holding you in this bed and tracing little circles on your back until you fall asleep. I want to be where you feel most safe.
On the corner of your bed is the new journal and I can't resist. Already written in. A quick sketch of me, from memory. And a quick entry about our steamy kiss on the porch. My heart is nearly pounding, even at the memory. Your lips against mine, my hands lightly on your hips. Your scent fills the air. That tiny wimper that escaped when I pulled away. The perfect kiss. I've replayed that moment on repeat. Seeing you write about it makes me suspect, you have too.
