4 MONTHS AGO.
Lin’ai breathed Xun in, breathed all the flowers of a rich boy’s bathwater in the shape of a poorer boy’s ill-traveled cover story. When he leaned in, Lin was quick to capture, mineral spring wet, rainwater lip to lip in a gentle question:
stay or go?
He barely departed when he confided:
“Lost or found, seeking or searching, whatever your name thinks you are, you’re too beautiful, Xun.”
“You don’t have to talk me up to win me over, I’m already here.” Yuhui’s voice was a whisper in the crime of distance stretching between them. He sucked the warmth of sun sweet blooms off the edge of Lin’s lip, the taste of that boy like ozone singed by unruly fields of cosmos swaying in self-confident swaggerwind. “You’re wrong, by the way. It’s twilight, like sunset.”
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1 comment
Looks cool,