Moons, Stars & Fragile Hearts

Whether it’s those almost glass-like eyes or her Mona Lisa smile, Scorpios just radiate wantonness, but unlike other zodiac signs, there’s a dangerous quality that lurks just beneath the surface

Leyla's apartment was small, very small. Being in Oliver's house all the time must had really changed the way I saw things, especially since it had been ages since I had been in an actual flat. She lived on the second story of the building, with an elevator that was small and a little confining, but its not like I minded being close to her, even if it was forced. Her head was at level with my chest, and her hand resting on the strap on her purse as her coy smile was directed up at me, her eyes smoldering in the dim yellow lights. She smelled fresh and beautiful, like flowers after a rainstorm, when the water was still on the petals and the scent was just beginning to permeate the newly washed air.

"It's this one..." She said softly, her words barely traveling up to my ears. I could barely hear her, and had to read her red painted lips in order to comprehend. Those lips then turned into another smile as she dug her key ring out of her large bag, and unlocked the door.

"It's nice..." I complimented, stepping in after her after she flipped on the light switch. The walls were an unpainted generic off white color, which looked even more washed out against the bright red curtains framing the windows against the far wall of the room. There was a black couch against the wall also, with a collection of brightly colored pillows and some kind of gossip magazine resting on it.

"It's not much, I know," She smiled, setting her purse down on the couch and standing awkwardly against the wall. "But it works. For me, at least. My roommate moved out a few weeks ago so it didn't always look this bare."

"Aye, tha' explains a lot." I chuckled, crossing my arms across my chest, unsure if I should sit or just continue to stand like her. "Why'd she go?"

She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Moved to Manchester for some guy."

"Love." I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Makes people do crazy things."

Leyla just laughed awkwardly along with me, looking down at the floor for a moment before returning her eye contact to me. "Wouldn't know."

I immediately stopped laughing, and looked down at my shoes.

"Wanna see the rest?" She piped up after a few seconds, her voice showing no sign of the obvious nervous energy in the room between us. "The kitchen's this way, and then down that hall are my bedroom, my roommate's old room, the bathroom, and my painting room."

"Yeh paintin' room?" I looked back up and down the narrow hallway she was pointing to, hoping she left the door open or something.

"Well, yeah. Where else would I paint?" She giggled, walking across the room and taking my hand. "I can't paint in the bathroom." She laughed under her breath at her own joke, her touch releasing some of my nervous energy. Gently, she began to lead me forward, down the hall. She led me down to the furthest door on the right, the light from the living room slowly dying and creating shadows along the walls around us. "It's messy, I'm warning." She said, her other hand resting on the door knob. "But I doubt you care, famous metal rock stars are known for their sense of cleanliness are they?"

I just laughed as she pushed the door open, letting me go in first. I looked around the walls at first, before finding the light switch and flicking it up, the dull white glow filling the room from the light in the middle of the ceiling.

"Ugh, turn that off." Leyla scoffed, walking quickly into the room after me and rushing to a lamp sitting on a desk covered in a million different colors of paint. As soon as she turned the lamp on, I followed her command and turned off the overhead light, staring at her confusedly.

"It's bad light." She shrugged, as if it made perfect sense to her. "I can't tell red from blue in that shit."

"I though' it was fine." I laughed, turning from her and looking around the room. Canvas was everywhere, blank ones leaning in stacks against the walls, painted ones hanging on the walls around us. On two paint stained tables in the back sat a few canvases, obviously freshly painted and drying slowly in the natural light that would have been coming from the window if it was daytime. In the center of the room, right by the desk where Leyla was standing along with the lamp, was her easel, and a metal stool covered in paint as well, the canvas blank and ready to be turned into art.

She didn't say anything, just sat down on the stool, the metal swiveling under her as she crossed her legs, her hands resting in her lap. "This is it." She smiled weakly at me, looking around the room at her paintings. "These are just recent ones though. I have old ones in storage. And that one-" She pointed to a painting of half of a body of a ballerina, the background dark and shadowy. "That's what I showed at the gallery where I met Tom and Oliver."

My eyes followed her finger, walking up closer to the dark canvas and peering at it closely. "What's the meanin'?" I asked, turning back around to her, her gaze burning a hole in me, as if she was anxious to hear my opinion.

"Well," She started slow, staring at the painting. "I used to dance."

"Honestly?" I heard myself cut her off before I could register the action in my mind. My brain always worked slower around her, having to fight my way through the intoxicating mist her presence filled my senses with.

She nodded, looking at me with a strange look on her face. "Yeah, why?"

I just shrugged, my face beginning to feel a little warm. "Yeh don' seem like the type to be into tha' kind of thing." I explained slowly, letting the awkwardness tumble out of my mouth along with my words.

"Well, I did. I was alright at it. But," She took a breath, turning back to look at the painting. "I was always so worried of failing, of not being good enough. So I couldn't do it anymore. That's what the painting is about." She gazed at the painting a bit longer, her eyes looking deep and cloudy, her mind obviously recounting past memories. Finally, she brought herself back to reality and looked back at me, waiting expectantly for my reaction.

"I get it." I finally said, feeling so vulnerable under her gaze. "Sometimes its harder to get confidence than it actually is to become good at whatever yeh doin'. Yeh-" I cut myself off, looking back at the painting. "I mean, yeh ballerina," I looked back at her, letting a weak smile linger on my lips. "She's afraid to fail, to fall into the shadows and the darkness. She's only halfway there."

Leyla didn't respond, just stood up from the stool, and walked over towards me, her deep dark brown eyes capturing and mesmerizing me all over again, my mind going crazy over her effortless presence. Her hands wrapped around my skinny body, pulling me close to her as my eyes stayed locked onto hers, my mind trying to fight through the sensory overload. My arms followed her actions, wrapping around her and keeping her close against my chest, my hands finally resting in the small of her back, her hands wrapped tight around my waist. She just looked up at me, her eyes reading vulnerability and softness, not the normal confident, playful gaze she usually gave. Slowly, I felt my lips move closer to hers, the anticipation beginning to build as I felt the tension being cut between us. Finally, the apex of the mutual feelings erupted, my lips pressing against hers. Her lips were soft, just as I had imagined, thanks to the tube of chap stick she religiously applied to her lips almost every time her hands were free. Her lips moved against mine, giving me permission to let myself explore her further. My tongue slipped out of my mouth, and slid across Leyla's bottom lip. Her mouth opened slightly, letting my tongue slide in, memorizing the feelings of her tongue against mine, moving in perfect harmonized motion.

Intoxicating was the only word I could think of to describe it; her touch, her lips on mine, her tongue massaging mine all at once made my mind completely give up on thought, just reveling in the sensations of Leyla being so close. It could have been 10 minutes, or 10 seconds, but we stayed leaned against that wall in her painting room, the canvas hung right next to us. She didn't seem to notice anything, her eyes gently closed as she kissed me back, her hands still gripped tight around my waist. Slowly, I lifted my head back away from hers, her eyes instantly flickering open and looking at me intensely. I unwrapped my arms from around her tiny body, and stepped out of her grip, taking one of her hands in mine. I led her out of the room, leaving the lamp still on, the light shining faintly into the hallway.

"That one." She pointed to a door on the left side of the hallway, a door up from the painting room. I followed her directions, opening the door, revealing to me her bedroom for the first time. Her walls were the same white color, and covered with a few band posters, revealing her eclectic music taste. Her bed took up the majority of the room though, giving only a small space around it for us to walk around. She followed me into the room, sititng down on her black bedspread. She kicked off her shoes, sitting and leaning back on her hands, her eyes inviting me to join. I obliged her, slipping out of my shoes and crawling on top of her, my hands supporting my weight on either side of her. Our lips met again, our tongues resuming their actions they were doing before, as if we both had to be reminded of what the other one tasted like. Slowly, I felt her leaning further back, her arms coming back around from behind her as she let her back lay flat against the bed, my body sandwiching her between me and the bedspread. Free from supporting her weight, her hands began sliding slowly down my chest, stopping at the hem of my thin t-shirt. We tried to not break the kiss for as long as possible, only stopping when she lifted my shirt over my head, and throwing it onto the floor below us. I then let her body overpower mine, letting me fall onto my back, her legs now straddling my hips as she let her cardigan slip off her shoulders and off of her arms, joining my shirt on the floor. She flipped her long dark hair off of her shoulders and behind her and she grabbed the hem of her dress, lifting it all the way up and over her head, revealing her her simple black bra, lined with light purple lace and soft ribbon as bra straps. She threw her dress onto the floor also,
her skin looking soft and smooth in the minimal lighting of the room. Slowly, I let my rough hands move from my sides and gently slide onto her body, up her sides slowly as my thumbs passed over each one of her ribs, my hand finally stopping right below her bra. I let them slide down again, resting at her hips as her legs straddled me, her hair falling over her shoulders again, hiding some of her bra from my view. I felt my left hand reach up off of her hip and take some of her long curled hair into my fingers, moving it back behind her again.

"Yeh beautiful." I breathed slowly, my eyes still looking her up and down, taking in her body as she breathed in and out, the shadows dancing on her smooth stomach with each inhalation and exhalation.My hand fell back down to her hips, and down to her legs, every inch of her skin feeling electrifying yet gentle at the same time. She just smiled gently, the light illuminating only a side of her face as she leaned down towards me, her lips brushing softly against my collarbone. I felt my chest instantly tighten up and my breathing hitch, my body instantly tensing. She felt it too, probably from the tightened grip on her hips. She just giggled softly in my neck, playfully nipping at the thin skin before planting another soft kiss right where the bites were placed too. My hands loosened on her hips, sliding up her back slowly, up past the fabric of her bra and to her shoulders, my hands pulling her body closer to me.

No words were exchanged after that, all the communicating being done by our hands, and our mouths. My hands continued roaming the bare skin on her back and sides, her breathing instantly tightening when I bit softly at her bottom lip, her soft spot. She had obviously found mine, her lips always lingering over my collarbone and neck as she kissed and bit me gently, letting more than one soft moan escape my lip as her soft skin pressed against mine. After a while, without even realizing it I let my hands travel back up her back again, this time stopping at her bra, the clasp resting in my fingers. Before I could unclip it though, I felt her body lift off of mine, her hands gently pushing mine off of her back.

"Curtis..." She whispered, trying to regain her breath as she stared at me with those dark eyes I couldn't get enough of.

She didn't have to say another word for me to understand, my head nodding as I let my hands rest on her hips again, far from her bra. "It's alright." I assured her, giving her a small yet convicted smile as the smile returned to her face. She leaned back down, kissing my gently one more time, before falling to the side of me on the bed. She rested on her side turned towards me, her hand propping up her head as her elbow rested against the soft bedspread. I just turned my head to look at her, the rising and falling of my chest playing with the light and shadows that illuminated the soft glow onto her skin.

"Yeh shouldn' be so afraid." I whispered, a normal talking voice seeming too inappropriate and crass for such an intimate moment. She just flipped her hair out of her eyes, her hand reaching over and tracing small circles and swirls on my stomach.

"I'm not scared." She said, her eyes closing for a second before looking up at me again.

"Yeh scared of failure." I said, brushing some of my long hair out of my eyes. "Yeh painting."

She closed her eyes again, as if her own artwork flashed back into her head, the lower body of the ballerina cast in shadows flooding her memory.

"Yeh so good at everythin' you do." I explained, my voice barely above a normal hearing level.

"You don't know that." She said back, scooting closer to my body and resting her head on my chest, her arm draped onto my stomach. My arm curled around her back and rested in the small of her waist, right before her skin curved out to her hips. The soft ribbon hem of her underwear felt soft and cool against my fingers, a sensation not too different from her soft skin.

"Aye, I think I do. I think yeh jus' too hard on yehself. Yeh always wantin' to do more, be more than wha' yeh done already. Maybe it would be nice to look back and see all the good things yeh already done than keep on lookin' forward to what yeh feel yeh have to do."

She sighed, her breath warm on my exposed chest. "Maybe, maybe not. I've always been driven. It's just how I am."

I smiled, leaning my head off the pillow and kissing her hair, the smell of her shampoo filling my nose with the soft, flowery smell. "It's one of the things I like about yeh."

She didn't respond, just pressed her body even closer to mine, letting out another comfortable sigh as her body fit into mine, just like puzzle pieces. Finally, after a long, easy break in conversation, her voice pierced the silence. "Curtis?"

"Yeah, Leyla?"

"I'm glad I met you."

"I'm glad I got the balls to talk to yeh." I laughed, squeezing her against me as we both shared a small laugh. "No, I really am. But it's not like I could have resisted yeh for too long, anyways."

"I'm glad." She repeated, gently kissing my chest. "Thank you."

"For?" I asked, my eyelids all of a sudden feeling incredibly heavy.

"For everything." Her breathing was slowly becoming more and more labored, the breath filling her lungs and then gusting out at a slower and slower pace, her heart beating against my chest becoming slower and more steady. I felt my body being overcome by sleep too, her gentle embrace comforting me like a soft warm blanket as the pace of her gentle heart beat rocked me into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.