I Don't Have Much In Life But Take It - It's Yours.

"When did it start?" I ask, slipping my hand from under his shirt, and gently running my fingertips across the waistband of his borrowed boxers. I can see his chest rising and falling a little faster and he swallows.
"About yesterday,"

I smile, "The day you met me properly?" I have to take a deep breath and concentrate on not letting my fingers shake as I slip them just under the waistband of his boxers. I brush them against his hip bone and he inhales sharply.

When he answers his voice is whispery and he's breathing's shallow and quick, "Yeah, about then,"

He's looking down at my shirt, twisting the fabric between his fingers, and I see his chest rising and falling rapidly. I rub his hipbone a little and he inhales sharply again, "Fynn,"

He looks up at me with those piercing eyes, and I struggle not to get lost in them. His eyes flicker between mine and the yellow stud in my bottom lip, "It's not heart disease Fynn,"

His voice is a whisper that sends his warm breath on my neck again and I shiver, "What is it then?"

"I dont know," I lie, "But it's not heart disease,"

He opens his mouth to argue so I lean down and push my lips to his, just gently, until his hand presses against the back of my neck and forces my lips to his more. He moves so he's kneeling in my lap and I tighten my grip on his hips as he tangles his shaking hands in my hair.

When his hands fall to my shoulders I reach up and hold his hands in mine, bringing them to our laps. They shake madly and he shifts a little closer, so our chests are pressed together.

We pull apart and his eyes open again, blinking a few times, "Why are you shaking Fynn?"

He shrugs and leans forward so his head's resting on my shoulder, and I grip his hands tighter in mine. They're still shaking but not as much now, "Because," Fynn says into my shoulder, "Because my heart went weird again and I dont want to die,"

"Fynn," I say, moving my shoulder a little so he turns his head towards me, "It's not heart disease and you're not going to die," I brush my thumb across his cheek, and when I speak my voice has dropped to a whisper, "Trust me,"

He leans up, but can't quite reach my lips so his kiss falls on my collarbone and I inhale, "I trust you," He murmurs into my neck, his breath making me shiver again.

I need to change what's happening, I need to change the subject, because if I dont I'm not sure I could stop myself when I kiss him again, "Good," I say into his hair, and pull him back a little so I can see his face and his smile, "Now let me dye your hair,"

I stand and pull Fynn up by the hand, "What the fuckkk?" He asks, and I smile.

"Please?" I say, pulling him closer, hooking my fingers through his belt loops like before, "Your roots need doing," I can see them from here, see his natural colour, and I can't imagine him with brown hair.

"Okay, I did say I trust you!" He says, another smile gracing his lips. So I drag him up the stairs, careful to avoid going anywhere near Chelsea, and into my bathroom. There's a box built into the wall near the door and I press a few buttons and a few seconds later Bring Me The Horizon's Pray For Plagues rings through the bathroom and the rest of my rooms.

I turn to Fynn and he's looking round in confusion. I laugh, "Sound system in all my rooms," Fynn makes a quiet 'ohh' and I smile. I clear most of the stuff off the surface next to the sink and Fynn hops up on it. He smiles at me and I turn to rummage through another cupboard. I find two bottles of hair dye, one black and one platinum blonde.

I turn to Fynn and straighten up and he quickly blushes and looks away. I hold up the two boxes of colour, "Blonde or black Fynny?"

"Well I had black on the streets becau-"

"But you're not on the streets now are you?" He shrugs and chews his lip nervously. I move forwards and put the boxes on the surface Fynn's perched on and brush my fingers across his lips to stop him chewing them again.

"Be daring Fynn, stand out from the crowd. Besides," I press a kiss to each of his eyelids as they flutter closed, "It'll suit your eyes," I see his lips part into a perfect grin and he nods.

"I'll be daring, bleach me Jay," He giggles a little and I laugh too, picking up the blonde box and reading it quickly just to make sure. I suggest to Fynn that he puts his old t-shirt on so he doesn't stain his lovely new things, and he grabs it from the floor where it was left a day or two earlier, and goes out. He comes back a few seconds with his old baggy black shirt on and hops back up onto the counter.

I squeeze the colour into my hands and rub it through his hair, my hands gently combs through his long hair, smiling at him. I rub in the colour, right to his roots and he sighs, leaning his head back a little.

I pull all his hair back so I can see his face properly for the first time, "You're beautiful Fynny," I glance at my watch, "About half an hour then we'll wash it off,"

Fynn drags his hands up my chest and I growl just a little, barely audible. They pull at my shirt, pulling it off my shoulders and falling forward so his lips touch my shoulder. He leaves a row of kisses up my neck to my ear, "Thank you so much Jay, for everything,"

I tilt my head back and he kisses his way back down to my neck, to the tender concave bit in the middle and I let a gasp slip through my parted lips. I drag my hands round to the back of his neck and push him closer. He kisses straight up and I tilt my head right back. His lips meet mine and I let my hands fall to his hips, pulling him closer, so he's barely on the surface.

I think we kiss that half hour the dye needs away, because when we pull apart, gasping for breath, my shirt off both my shoulders, a love bite already forming, a light purple on my collarbone. Fynn tilts his head back, chest heaving and I see the blotch on his neck too, and smile. I glance at my watch and the minute hand's moved right round, so I take Fynn's hips and pull him off the counter.

We kneel at the edge of the bath and Fynn leans over. I clench my eyes shut and take a deep breath, mentally scolding myself before opening my eyes again. I turn the shower on and rinse off the dye clinging to Fynn's hair. I'm grinning as I watch it, see the platinum bleached blonde hair. When its all washed off I grab a towel from the rail and Fynn kneels back. I rub his hair dry and I can see him smiling beneath the black towel.

When I take the towel away his hair's drying and I cant help grinning at how bright his hair is. He tries to crane his neck to see in the mirror but I clamp a hand over his eyes, "You cant see yet, its not finished!"

He wriggles behind my hand and tries to lick it so I move it, but I dont. I pull him up and lead him back into the bedroom. I move my hand from his eyes but tell him to keep them closed. I hop round so I'm walking in front of him and I stop him millimetres away from me, "Open your eyes," I breathe, and he opens his eyes, jumping a little when my lips meet his at that exact second. He wraps his arms round my neck and we stumble back into the wall.

We break apart with another smile and I snatch a comb and pull his hair into a style, just flopping into his piercing eyes, the contrast taking my breath away. I make him close his eyes so he cant see what I'm doing until I pull him right in front of the mirror and stand behind him, wrapping my eyes arms round his stomach. I rest my chin on his shoulder and press a kiss just below his ear, "Open your eyes Fynny,"

He slowly opens his eyes and gasps, running his hands through his new bright hair. He starts laughing too and I laugh with him, occasionally trailing kisses along his pale neck, "I love it," he gasps between kisses.

I glance outside and it's dark, "You tired Fynny?"

"Mhmm," He says quietly into my chest so I lead us back to the bed. Fynn goes round to his side of the bed and turns his back on me, still a little self conscious as he pulls the tee over his head and drops his jeans to the floor. I do the same and climb in between the sheets. Fynn pulls on that baggy shirt I'd lent him to sleep in and climbs in next to me. I immediately pull him close and he wraps his arms round my middle.

I slip my hands under his shirt and rest them on his chest, "Night Fynny," I whisper, pressing my lips into his new gorgeous hair, and he whispers good night back.

I stare down at his sleeping form a few minutes later, and my mind goes to that 'heart disease' we'd both got. Then I realise, I realise this heart disease really isn't heart disease at all. It's something so much more serious.

This could be love.