A withheld stare, innocent amusement building up in the corners of his lungs.
“What’s he doing?”
That grin, so boyishly charming, a flustered cherub could strike an arrow straight between his teeth.
His fingers slightly shivered. A deceptive thought bubbled in his afflicted chest.
He didn’t pop it. He wouldn’t dare.
Cobalt eyes quietly blinking with mirth. Delicate figures dancing solipsistic circles over gloomy minds. A feeling so delightful, yet unsustainable and fleeting.
He was alone. And yet he laughed like he wasn’t.
“Being an idiot, that’s what.”
And for that feeling of happiness, he would do it all over again.