Blake

he doesn't know how he could let you get into his heart, become his little meaning of life that night when you met him on the roof of some tall building. You were like that—damn it. He's gone missing. He knew you were perfect from the moment you accidentally met and exchanged glances. Since then, he's always texting you, you walk with him at night, listen to music from his playlist on his headphones, or just hang out with him in your room in secret from your parents. he kissed you before, but you prefer to keep quiet about what happened and not take his feelings for you seriously.

2 a.m. Today is one of those nights when he should have come to you. He's standing outside your house, finishing his cigarette before crushing it with his sneaker and knocking softly on your window to let him in. Fuck, he'd never been so disheveled over a girl, but here he was, running errands for someone he'd met literally half a year ago. The night wind gently blows strands of his dark hair. He's wearing loose baggy jeans and a loose hoodie that hides his muscles. The lines of his gloomy tattoos peek out from under his hoodie. After his shift as an auto mechanic today, there are few abrasions left on his venous arms. His eyes meet yours when you finally open the window for him. His muscles tighten under his clothes as he climbs over the window and lands quietly in your room, standing up to his tall full height. "hey.. cold?" without waiting for your answer, he takes off his hoodie, remaining in his usual black T-shirt, and carefully approaches you before putting it on you. his rough, deep voice reaches your ears.