[being rewritten for the 1938473th time]
Sometimes love stories don't start with lingering stares and flirting. Sometimes it starts with the boy being hit over the head with a skateboard by the girl.
If it was up to Y/n L/n, she would read the summ...
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i wanna be your ottawa rockstar six feet, jumpin' on your dad's car i could be your pretty boy killer just another season that i can't control
•••••
A continuation of 'the conversation' bc they still have sm to fucking talk about holy shit why is the lore so deep
(its also my birthday tomorrow and YES i did tell you this for attention. now wish me a happy birthday /silly)
TW: a lil bit of the Sexual Tension™, mentions of abandonment, unperceived nudity (remember the onsen?)
Though Lloyd and I finally ended up going to sleep at an ungodly hour in the morning, when I woke, I felt as though I had the best rest of my life.
A cacophony of birdsong was what I first roused to, the family of sparrows that lived on the trees outside Lloyd's bedroom window singing me awake. I blinked away the grogginess and peacefully sighed. When I turned my head, I found Lloyd so close that I almost startled.
He'd slept on his stomach, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other tangled around mine. Dappled mid-morning light slipped through the crack of the curtains and dashed gold across his hair, highlighted his lashes, kissed the lines of his face like he were the sole love of the sun itself. His plump, peach lips were parted with slumbered breath. His freckles were so faint from winter that they were almost gone.
I spent my first few minutes of consciousness simply admiring him. He was warm and supple with bliss. I'd never felt so comfortable.
My body begged for a stretch. I unfurled, shifting and elongating beneath the covers to soothe the sluggish aches. When my fingers twitched in Lloyd's hold, his grip tightened, as if he were unwilling to let me go even in his slumber. My heart bloomed. I made sure my hand didn't move again, but he was already waking.
I smiled when his eyes opened to their gorgeous, ruby hue, and he stared back at me as if needing a moment to comprehend reality. He was so cute when he was just waking up. So sleepy, like a worn out puppy.
"Are you really here?" Lloyd's question was mumbled against his arm.
It was too early to already be feeling this gooey and smitten. I rolled onto my side and brushed the curls from his forehead, fascinated by the way he looked ethereal even when his cheek was squished up into his face. I was endeared further when his brown lashes fluttered at my feather-touch.
