My mouth runs dry with the truth.

Note: This piece is part of the story “Warm Porcelain.”

If you’d like, you can read the previous chapters here: chapter 1, chapter 2 

He seemed to have chosen his words so carefully, his graceful face not showing any emotion. It made me wonder how someone could be that charming when insulting the person that wanted nothing but to help him.

I would later despise him for seeing right through me from the very beginning. He knew I wasn’t just a helping hand. His ability to understand the things I tried to mask so well was so confronting it sometimes scared me. I couldn’t even hide within myself anymore, he would somehow crawl in and drag me out.

Somehow, I wanted him to leave in such a hurry I would soon forget he had even been here. Perhaps things that happened overnight didn’t really count as reality when daybreak had come. It would be a simple thing to return to the emptiness of my days, if it wasn’t for that face I just couldn’t tear my eyes from. I could have thrown him out myself if he hadn’t looked at me in that one particular way.

Something velvet in that look. A softness that didn’t quite match the hard lines of his lips, the words he had just spoken. I realised they meant nothing. His eyes were the only ones talking to me.

“Stay,” I wasn’t asking or offering, I was begging at this point.

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes leaving mine, settling on the floor. He seemed to be in deep contemplation as I relaxed by how anonymous I felt now he was no longer looking at me. Only now I could see those slumped shoulders again, his polite dressing sense, the fact he looked like he had just stepped out of a dusty history book, one no one had opened for decades.

“I was rude,” he said, a sigh twirling around his words.

“You were honest,” I said, stepping closer to him.

My hands were eager to touch him, just to see if he wasn’t a contour of my mind.

“Joseph,” I pronounced his name with care.

He lifted his head up again and nearly bumped into my invasion of his privacy. I was standing so close to him it made him uncomfortable, I could tell. Then grace took over his features again and he almost looked like he would smile.

“Please stay.”

I have bad dreams at night. They roll over me, knock me down. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll be able to get up in the morning with their weight pushing down on me. It’s like the past catches up with me in my sleep.

But not this time.

His hands soothe the fears deep down. I don’t want to fall asleep, don’t want to let go of what he offers. I can feel him shivering, lying on top of the duvet whilst I’m underneath it. His fingers laced through my hair, knees pulled up against his chest.

We’re shy. We feel embarrassed. We don’t understand why but we need to be close. He’s so descent and I’m so fragile, so we lie here like he’s about to leave when we’re really just afraid to get too close to one another.

“You shouldn’t be afraid,” he says, words light like feathers.

I wonder if guardian angels ever descend from their homes up in the clouds when we need them most.

“I don’t know you,’ I try to defend myself against my own stupidity.

“Neither do I.” I think he’s smiling.

The knock on the door startles me, as I drops my hair ribbon on the floor, my reflexion in the mirror holding up her hair with one hand, giving me a foul look. I’m not sure if Joseph heard, he’s sitting near the window playing with my Ipod, which makes me wonder whether he’ll run out of my door once he finds my collection of boy band songs or just laugh at me. He seems entranced for now, so I’m guessing he’s listening to something he likes. Lucky me.

I could have guessed my sister was the only person alive who would remember today was my birthday and actually bother to drop by.

“Darrrling!” she would have been a perfect cabaret dancer.

I’m not really looking at her as she walks in, nor am I listening to what she says. I’m too busy trying to make up excuses for that gorgeous man in the strange clothes with the baby pink Ipod sitting on my sofa. I notice her scrunching her nose as I stare at Joseph.

“Are you high?” her laughter jolting along the room.

I was beginning to think her rude for not even saying hi to him and making that mean remark. As if I couldn’t bring a man home. I would even have flipped my hair back like girls do when they feel a rant bubbling up in their throats, but Joseph’s sudden gloomy eyes struck me like a bullet from a gun that wasn’t supposed to go off.

“What on earth are you staring at?” my sister dips her head like a pigeon as she walks right over to where he’s sitting, trying to look for answers in the air.

My mouth runs dry with the truth as I see her picking up my little music box from Joseph’s lap, as if he wasn’t even there. He’s silent but I can hear him, like a whisper afraid to be heard. I can see him, sense him, but a tingle at the very beginning of my spine causes me to believe I might just be the only one.

☆✿ ☆✿☆✿ ☆✿·٠•●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●✿✿.。.:* ☆:* ✿ *:☆*.:。.✿✿●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ♥●•٠·✿

Dum de dummmm!

I hope you like where I’m taking this you guys…*smiles* I’m excited!Please comment, it makes my heart flutter!♥

Froe x


22 thoughts on “My mouth runs dry with the truth.

  1. *gasp* A shocking twist. I already can’t wait for the next chapter!
    I love your relationship with words. You’ve drawn me in and now I’m dying to see where this story goes….

  2. I feel the same as @vonschluetow does. I’m excited about the words and the story itself, can’t wait for a next cahpter. Yeah you love twists 😉 Froe, you’re the sweet one! Thanks btw, for this and much more xxxx

  3. You might be the cruelest person I know. How dare you to leave me alone here, in the addiction to your words, how dare you to quit the story there?!

    Please… I am begging you… Write more… I need my drug… You words fills me with the story, your characters makes me feel human…
    I beg you, write…
    Please, dear you, I will do anything if you only write some more… Anything…

    Don’t let me sit here and wait.

    And I was supposed to be with my family. Do you think I will be able to concentrate, and forget that this is the beat story I have ever read? You want me to forget this excitement you make me feel?

    That might just be the only thing I am not able to do. I can’t. An addict can’t forget her drug. Don’t expect that from me.

    Just write, please…

  4. I don’t have beautiful words nor do I have ideas for over the top phrases. So, dear Froe, how did you development this relationship you have with words? Did you two just happen to fall in love? Cause the way I see it, you were made for each other. 🙂

  5. Froe, please continue this story! I’ve been checking your blog almost daily to see if you uploaded a new chapter (and ofcourse to read all of the other breath taking this you wrote) 😀 hugs & kisses! xoxo

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