A wonderful story from WovenEclipse
He was nervous; apprehensive. The poor boy wouldn’t stop shaking. And when he blushed, the room lit up a startling scarlet, to the extent that you felt your eyes burn; shrinking away from the stark light. Hiding behind his wavy locks, he was a startled fawn in a den of tigers.
So she took him in. With coercing and coddling, he would come to his angel, with stuttering tales of awkward incidents and flustered pauses which spoke more than his words. He would come to her, in a way that no one else would. Like she was a light and he the moth, flinching in the heat of the all-encompassing flame. Her silken wings wrapped around his malnourished form, the ultimate comfort.
Soon opening up was no problem at all. The problem was his own problems. Anxious and unstable, he would call up to the sky each night, calling for…
View original post 268 more words