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(www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrW7dl… Please listen while you read!)
[Levi’s P.O.V:]
Again...and again...and again...and again, I read the same damn sentence until I am sure my fucking eyeballs would melt out of my skull. The strong, backlight from the screen burn them, only making me more pissed off than before. The clock ticks way and serves as a reminder that I’ve done nothing.
No new pages, no new paragraphs, not even a lousy sentence. Just a good five hours wasted away.
As I turn away from the screen, the darkness of our bedroom only thickens. All I can do is gaze into the curtain until my shitty eyes could adjust to the lack of light. I swear I can hear my worthless joint crack with every movement. As I lean again the space of wall next to the window, I turn to the bed, where you are curled up, head sinking into the downy pillow. You look like such an idiot, your hair sticking to your face, mouth hanging open, arm halfway dangling off the bed, and your muscles suffering bizarre spasms every now and then.
I feel pain swell in my heart, that I am so sure it’ll burst any second. I haven’t told you this, because, of course why would I reveal such terrible secrets, but a woman’s been approaching me in my office for two damn weeks. It’s obviously not for business. Stupid mini skirts, revealing her slim thighs, low cut shirts, showing the tops of her tits, hair clean and swept back, a little too much make up for working environments?
Yeah, business, my ass.
Then, of course, she’d bat her eyelashes at me, cross her legs, letting the skirt slide up her thigh, lean in closer to me when conversing. She’s a shorter, younger, far more graceful version of you with larger breasts. Her hair color, skin, eye color, she resembles you in a way that makes my stomach churn. Hell, I’d be lying if I said in my moments of weakness, I would imagine fucking her senseless on my desk. But, how idiotic would that be? Just screwing some stupid slut, only to have her leave the next minute?
I would have disappointed her anyway, because all I can do is think about you.
That’s right; I’m too much of a sentimental asshole to go for a cheap thrill.
You read me like one of the shitty books I publish. You know all of my moods, my bad habits, the few face expressions I make, what I like and don’t like. You’re a one of a kind woman. Who else would put up with my antics? Being perfect in every way doesn’t particular help with that attachment either.
We have ventured through these years together, witnessing our worst and our best. I’ve seen nights in which you cried yourself to sleep or broken from you screaming at your nightmares. I’ve seen you lose one child yet bear three more. I’ve seen you with eyes sunken and red-rimmed, back hunched over as if carrying the weight of the world, and still greet me with a smile. How that’s even possible still boggles my mind to this day.
Yet, you possess something that still attracts me to you and no one else but you. Despite the scars and wearing of age, you’re still so damn beautiful. There’s something about you that keeps my heart enclosed, preventing me from feeling this way about anyone else except for you. I feel at ease with you. My writing increases in quality when you’re in my presence. You are my muse and inspiration.
That might be why my writing has been so atrocious the passing weeks.
Damn, I just want to reach out and hold you tight, but you’ve been suspicious of me, thanks to these late nights of mine. How could I blame you? On the other hand, how else am I supposed to mend these little rips in our relationship?
I could just kick myself...
To my surprise, you sense my gaze, fluttering open your lids, revealing those deep pools concealed behind them. There are still moments where one look from you can leave me breathless and warm. You drag yourself from your sanctuary of comfort, stretch those long limbs and saunter over to me. Ever movement leaves mesmerized.
And once more, despite your suspicion, despite the obvious disappointment in your slanted brows and heavy eyes, you look down at me and smile.
What on earth did I do to deserve you?
“Up late again?” you whisper, resting your arms about me.
Damn, even your scent instantly calms my spirit. I rest my chin on your chest and wrap you in my arms as tight as I can.
“I can’t fucking write these days,” I grumble. “Every time I stare at that damned screen, my brain dies on me.”
You laugh, the sweet melody peeling through your pressed lips and sending vibrations against my cheek.
“My poor dear,” you say, sliding your soft fingers through my locks. “
I am reminded again that even at my worst, you will always accept scum like me with open arms.
How long it felt since I held you like this. Not the few polite hugs and pecks, but a legitimate embrace, where I could sink myself into you, where I was completely drowning in nothing but you. You’re a haven in of yourself.
“Babe,” I begin hesitantly, voice cracking.
“Yes?”
I pause and look into your exhausted eyes, swollen and tired, but your lips still form the sweetest of smiles, captivating more than ever. I lightly cup your face in my hands and pull your face down to my level, bringing your lips into a kiss. It isn’t the most passionate or fiery of kisses but I just hope that it’s enough to express my want for you, the desire that still hides behind the blank expressions all these years.
“I love you,” I mutter against your lips, trapping them still.
“I love you too, Levi,” you reply voice trembling, throat straining against a cry.
And my heart sores with relief and happiness.
Despite your current state of enraptured bliss, you still manage to chuckle,
“Shouldn’t you be getting back to writing?”
“It can wait,” I say, sweeping you up in my arms. Of course, you may be easy to carry for me, but picking you up can be daunting because of your height. My legs nearly give way. “Damn it, woman, stop being taller than me.”
“Oh, forgive me!” you say with a cheeky giggle, as I carry you over to bed.
“Never mind, I’ll just teach you a lesson.”
The room is suddenly filled with your tinkling laughter, something that has not happened in ages.
If there is one thing I could legitimately thank that slut for, it is reminding me of everything that made me fall in love with you in the beginning. Whether it was something in the way you move or something in your smile, it all melds together in this perfect personification that made you who you are.
And that is something I’ll never lose sight of again.
[Levi’s P.O.V:]
Again...and again...and again...and again, I read the same damn sentence until I am sure my fucking eyeballs would melt out of my skull. The strong, backlight from the screen burn them, only making me more pissed off than before. The clock ticks way and serves as a reminder that I’ve done nothing.
No new pages, no new paragraphs, not even a lousy sentence. Just a good five hours wasted away.
As I turn away from the screen, the darkness of our bedroom only thickens. All I can do is gaze into the curtain until my shitty eyes could adjust to the lack of light. I swear I can hear my worthless joint crack with every movement. As I lean again the space of wall next to the window, I turn to the bed, where you are curled up, head sinking into the downy pillow. You look like such an idiot, your hair sticking to your face, mouth hanging open, arm halfway dangling off the bed, and your muscles suffering bizarre spasms every now and then.
I feel pain swell in my heart, that I am so sure it’ll burst any second. I haven’t told you this, because, of course why would I reveal such terrible secrets, but a woman’s been approaching me in my office for two damn weeks. It’s obviously not for business. Stupid mini skirts, revealing her slim thighs, low cut shirts, showing the tops of her tits, hair clean and swept back, a little too much make up for working environments?
Yeah, business, my ass.
Then, of course, she’d bat her eyelashes at me, cross her legs, letting the skirt slide up her thigh, lean in closer to me when conversing. She’s a shorter, younger, far more graceful version of you with larger breasts. Her hair color, skin, eye color, she resembles you in a way that makes my stomach churn. Hell, I’d be lying if I said in my moments of weakness, I would imagine fucking her senseless on my desk. But, how idiotic would that be? Just screwing some stupid slut, only to have her leave the next minute?
I would have disappointed her anyway, because all I can do is think about you.
That’s right; I’m too much of a sentimental asshole to go for a cheap thrill.
You read me like one of the shitty books I publish. You know all of my moods, my bad habits, the few face expressions I make, what I like and don’t like. You’re a one of a kind woman. Who else would put up with my antics? Being perfect in every way doesn’t particular help with that attachment either.
We have ventured through these years together, witnessing our worst and our best. I’ve seen nights in which you cried yourself to sleep or broken from you screaming at your nightmares. I’ve seen you lose one child yet bear three more. I’ve seen you with eyes sunken and red-rimmed, back hunched over as if carrying the weight of the world, and still greet me with a smile. How that’s even possible still boggles my mind to this day.
Yet, you possess something that still attracts me to you and no one else but you. Despite the scars and wearing of age, you’re still so damn beautiful. There’s something about you that keeps my heart enclosed, preventing me from feeling this way about anyone else except for you. I feel at ease with you. My writing increases in quality when you’re in my presence. You are my muse and inspiration.
That might be why my writing has been so atrocious the passing weeks.
Damn, I just want to reach out and hold you tight, but you’ve been suspicious of me, thanks to these late nights of mine. How could I blame you? On the other hand, how else am I supposed to mend these little rips in our relationship?
I could just kick myself...
To my surprise, you sense my gaze, fluttering open your lids, revealing those deep pools concealed behind them. There are still moments where one look from you can leave me breathless and warm. You drag yourself from your sanctuary of comfort, stretch those long limbs and saunter over to me. Ever movement leaves mesmerized.
And once more, despite your suspicion, despite the obvious disappointment in your slanted brows and heavy eyes, you look down at me and smile.
What on earth did I do to deserve you?
“Up late again?” you whisper, resting your arms about me.
Damn, even your scent instantly calms my spirit. I rest my chin on your chest and wrap you in my arms as tight as I can.
“I can’t fucking write these days,” I grumble. “Every time I stare at that damned screen, my brain dies on me.”
You laugh, the sweet melody peeling through your pressed lips and sending vibrations against my cheek.
“My poor dear,” you say, sliding your soft fingers through my locks. “
I am reminded again that even at my worst, you will always accept scum like me with open arms.
How long it felt since I held you like this. Not the few polite hugs and pecks, but a legitimate embrace, where I could sink myself into you, where I was completely drowning in nothing but you. You’re a haven in of yourself.
“Babe,” I begin hesitantly, voice cracking.
“Yes?”
I pause and look into your exhausted eyes, swollen and tired, but your lips still form the sweetest of smiles, captivating more than ever. I lightly cup your face in my hands and pull your face down to my level, bringing your lips into a kiss. It isn’t the most passionate or fiery of kisses but I just hope that it’s enough to express my want for you, the desire that still hides behind the blank expressions all these years.
“I love you,” I mutter against your lips, trapping them still.
“I love you too, Levi,” you reply voice trembling, throat straining against a cry.
And my heart sores with relief and happiness.
Despite your current state of enraptured bliss, you still manage to chuckle,
“Shouldn’t you be getting back to writing?”
“It can wait,” I say, sweeping you up in my arms. Of course, you may be easy to carry for me, but picking you up can be daunting because of your height. My legs nearly give way. “Damn it, woman, stop being taller than me.”
“Oh, forgive me!” you say with a cheeky giggle, as I carry you over to bed.
“Never mind, I’ll just teach you a lesson.”
The room is suddenly filled with your tinkling laughter, something that has not happened in ages.
If there is one thing I could legitimately thank that slut for, it is reminding me of everything that made me fall in love with you in the beginning. Whether it was something in the way you move or something in your smile, it all melds together in this perfect personification that made you who you are.
And that is something I’ll never lose sight of again.
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This story made my day.
Very well written and very inspiring, I loved it!!!
Very well written and very inspiring, I loved it!!!