New Treckett one-shot, yet to be titled and completed. :)

READ MEH!!!! I feel like this is some of the best work I've wrote in a while. I wanna take my time on it, and not rush it. Don't really understand the whole point of view crap, but 'you' is Travis. Enjoy the typos. XO-Megan

Her eyes are big and brown; desperate. She curls into your side, her warm breath hitting your bare skin and you pray for sunlight. Her long brown hair curls around her face, landing on your chest and every now and then, you'll feel her lips move against your skin, mouthing words she can't say. The moon spins, the clock ticks and the sound of two hearts beating differently fills the air. While the sun rises, the sound of one lonely heatbeat throbs in your ears.
You find yourself following the sun, trying to find it's reason for existence. You think for seconds, minutes, hours, days. You stay up late at night, writing sad words you'll never say. Her soft hands rub at your shoulders. You stop writing, taking the coffee she offers. You gaze at the reflection her body casts on the mirror, your head throbbing. Your long shirt falls past her knees. She was always so short.
Her eyes pierce yours, willing you back to bed, so you follow, the permanent pens and used paper forgotten.
You decide to find the sun. You leave in the morning, a small suitcase in hand. You hate flying, but it's the quickest way to feel the heat on your skin again. Your phone rings in the middle of the flight, but you turn it off. You don't bother to check who it was.
By the time you get to Chicago, it's dark, and the stars guide your way. You call a cab and when you find the same old light blue car in the driveway, you feel some sense of hope. You hand the driver a few dollars extra, and grab your suitcase. It's shouldn't be this way. You shouldve called first, but it doesn't matter. You knock on the door, lightly, afraid that you'll wake him. It takes him less than a minute, the door cracked. A head of messy, long chesnut hair peeks out, and when his sleepy eyes widen, at the sight of you, your words get caught in your throat.
He mutters, seeing you, your messy hair and dark circles, "Travie," He pushes the door out of the way and pulls himself into you, pressing his face to your neck, and your fingertips tingle. He pulls back and stares deep into your eyes and you let him. "What are you doing here?"
You tell him you had to get away and he invites you inside. He can tell that you're tired, but when he hugs you this time, you cling back. The feel of it sends shivers everywhere. His long fingers tangle in yours, his head resting at your collarbone. You feel more alive than you have in weeks, months even. His nose skims up and down the stubble of your jaw, and you take in his messed up hair, his hazy eyes. You lean down, offering your heart. Offering yourself. You can hear his heart pounding with yours. His lips mouth what feels like, "I missed you", and you feel your skin heat.
"I switched rooms. I-I'll show you." You think, 'No, let's just stay like this,' and nod. He holds your hand to his bedroom, and you watch his lips, how he breathes. You press his body back to the door before it's opened, and skim your lips to his, asking. His lips seem to frown, at their place atop yours, as if expecting more and he pulls you closer. You stay that way for hours it seems, running your lips over his, making him breathless, arching into your touch. You're already too far gone when you taste him thick on your tongue, and your lips swell.
You dumbly try to follow his lips when they leave yours, "We could- If you wanted-" You wonder where his hands went and find them pulling at your belt buckle.
You tell him no, that you want this, and just this. He grins at that, big and beautiful, and he pulls at your neck, making your head spin. Your desperate to feel his skin as he kisses you, and you mumble his name, broken and wanting. He sheds your hoodie away, the shirt she bought you, and you grab his hands, lacing them with yours. You find his neck as his head tips back, kissing, softly biting. He sighs, and guides one of your hands to the hem of his shirt. The shirt is tight on him, your hand sliding up to meet his warm, soft skin. Your hand trails over his ribs, until you feel his heartbeat, your tongue dipping into his hot mouth. He's real, here in front of you, and it's never been this bad. Your whole body has never tingled like this.
You push the door open, and guide him to his bed, the sheets messy. It's as if you're afraid he'll break or disappear, when you gently lay him down. Your lips never stop, biting, kissing, licking. You say his name, more clearly this time, tugging at his shirt and after he sits up to pull it off, he kisses you hard, bruising your lips.