Feather

Feather. That’s his codename, for when I wanna talk about him and not get caught. I picked feather because of how much he loved angels and everything elegant. Pearl felt too obvious because I use that word for certain projects, it’d be easy to guess. But feather? It describes him perfectly — But maybe I’m just looking at him through rose tinted glasses.

I’ve never been very eloquent when it came to describing people. Hell, when I think about him I can’t even do it correctly. Constantly getting his hair color wrong. It’s a very dark brown that could pass for black if you don’t pay enough attention. I remember his eyes, though. Framed by his glasses, teetering on his nose. And his septum, with spikes instead of balls. His lips, a nice nude tone that compliments his light brown skin.

His hands. I wanna know what they would feel like, even if I just got to hold them, just for a little bit. I can wait. I know I can. I’m patient, I’d say. Actually that’s a lie. I’m very impatient. I want him, now. Not in any specific way, but it’s a feeling I can’t get rid of. But I can’t. He has someone. Maybe it’s just envy. Probably.

I miss feather. It’s been about an hour since we called, he had to leave because his boyfriend didn’t like that his phone autocorrected “bestfriend” to “boyfriend” when talking about me. I couldn’t help but smile when he first mentioned it; hearing my name on his tongue in the same sentence as boyfriend definitely made me happier then it should’ve if I was just jealous. But now his boyfriend is mad because he thinks feather is lying about our bond.

It’s not like I could steal him away, anyway. That’s immoral. And it’s even more immoral because we sometimes call eachother brothers, because we’re such good friends.

I need to move on, but last time that didn’t work. Didn’t feel a thing for them.

I miss feather.