oliviadw
in the morning he is already awake, as he has been all night. he trails his fingertips along the slope of her neck, fearful of waking her. her jacket slips from the foot of the bed and crumples in a heap to the ground. the nine a.m. sunlight glints against the spikes that stud its denim shoulders.
His adrenaline spikes -
she drifts just out of reach, fingers extended, mouth agape but eyes invisible, just a bent and broken ray of light lining every scream -
and he catches her, and he pulls her away. Stardust.