Song: Hunter Hayes - Wanted

His long lashes blinked down on top of his cheekbones, looking soft as butterflies as they lifted again and showed you his bright eyes that were looking down on the cover laying in between you. Many emotions seemed to fill them as they focused from the first page to the next, the sound of turning paper and your breathings the only things audible inside of the room. His hair hugged his forehead, hiding the frowns that appeared there once in a while as he studied the pictures one by one. His elegant fingers moved across the soft paper, feeling it, taking it all in as if he could make the memories his own. The sunlight fell through the crack between the curtains, forming a line which ran across the bed, showing dust twirling around in the air like small diamonds. Even though he had never been in your room before it seemed as if it was already filled with his scent, as it got stuck in your pillows and your comforter. His lips parted ever so slightly in astonishment as his eyes fell onto the next picture, one of you and your brother sitting together in the front yard. How it had come to this was still a mystery to you, but you noticed your heartbeat increasing when a small puff of breath left his mouth. As a new student things hadn’t been easy for him, though from the very first moment he had walked into your class you hadn’t been able to get him off your mind again. Unlike the normal new students he hadn’t looked shy and inviting, wishing to fit in during the first day of his new school year in the hope that people who already knew each other would accept him. It hadn’t seemed as if he had wanted to become a part of groups or had wished to find his place in this huge pattern of students. His eyes had drilled harshly into yours when he had sat down on the chair next to yours, next to the window. It was as if they had tried to tell you to back off and stay away from him, to keep your distance because he wouldn’t play nice if you would try to get near him. Honestly, you had felt terrified while looking at him, but to both of your surprise you also hadn’t been able to look away. Something about his black pupils had pulled you to him, had drawn you towards him from the first moment and it seemed as if he had felt it too, otherwise he wouldn’t have been sitting here today. 

Weeks had passed, rumors had come and go but you hadn’t believed any of them until you had heard the story coming from his own mouth. Because of his hard image and his strong will to distance himself from every living person walking by him you could tell his life hadn’t been like yours. The paintings lingering on his skin had proven that and unlike your parents who thought tattoo’s were a taboo, you were admiring them during every chance you got. The filled his biceps, curled around his muscles and you couldn’t wait for the day he would patiently tell you the story behind each one of them. “I wish I had that.” He suddenly whispered, his voice echoing through the small room, hitting back against the walls with the blue wallpaper. Lines appeared between his eyebrows as he knitted them together, doubt and sadness filling his gaze as he stared down on the small square filled with the smiles of you and your parents. When had you figured out the insane idea to show him the pictures of your youth? You couldn’t recall, but at this time you couldn’t think if it had been wrong or right. He seemed upset, unknowing of what to say or do as he shifted on his spot, trying to keep up the broad facade he had given himself. “You could.” You didn’t dare rise your voice any louder than his, afraid that the sound would ruin the sphere that had suddenly appeared between you. The sound of your parents rumbling through the kitchen cabinets downstairs came up the staircase, reaching through your wooden door. They had asked Baekhyun to stay over for dinner and after a hesitating moment he had agreed, making your heart flatter in your chest. It seemed as if every moment you could possibly spend with him was special, like a little victory which no one else ever got. “My foster parents aren’t like this.” He cleared out and you suddenly realized you weren’t talking about the same thing. Your eyes drunk in the right side of his face as you stretched out your trembling fingers. For some reason it felt as if this moment could make or break your relationship, if that was a word you were already allowed to use. Though you were sure you had seen sides of him and heard him tell things that no one had ever done before. 

After finding out that his parents had dumped him, had left him to himself and had abandoned him to an early age you had been completely dumbfounded. It had