no more little angels

vessel doesn’t know anything about skincare but he knows it makes you happy. well…buying skincare products makes you happy, but he’s been encouraging you to finally use them.

as your bend down to rinse your face, you hear him stalk into the bathroom, humming contentedly. you dry your face and smile at him as he considers your little collection of products. your eyes aimlessly wander over his naked torso and long legs clad in jogger style sweats.

he lifts a small bottle with orange liquid in it. “what does this do, love?”

“it’s a chemical exfoliant,” you say shrugging. “Gets all dead skin cells off without scratching me up.”

“I see, I see. And this?” he lifts a small jar of cream that clearly boasts overnight under eye miracles on the label, but honestly he’s playing dumb just to show interest and be near you.

“oh, that’s just under eye cream. For fine lines. Dark circles. Whatever.”

“But you don’t have those.”

“Exactly.”

Your quick answer elicits a smirk and a little closed mouth laugh. As you apply your moisturizer you, see him take in your form…head to every precious toe…but not without letting his eyes linger on your soft, beloved midsection. His arms snake around your waist as his toned chest and abs press against your back.

You lean back, feeling his smooth skin share its delicious warmth with you.

“does it bother you, Ves, that I feel like I need all this stuff?” you ask, gesturing vaguely to your assortment of products.

He lets out a soft huff; it’s almost like you’ve insulted him.

“tsk. why ever would that bother me? Darling…don’t you see? This shows me…”

his hands begin to trail up your waist…

“that you know how to take care of yourself. You have all the tools…”

his right hand gently caresses your chest, near your heart…

“you simply require the encouragement to use them. To show yourself love.”

He nuzzles against the shell of your ear and whispers huskily, “just look at you…look in the mirror.”

You look and instinctively your eyes meet his. You take in his features. His pouty lips. His short but angular jaw. He shakes his head softly and hisses gently…

“I said look at yourself, darling.”

And finally, you do. You consider yourself in your bralette, which does nothing but look pretty, offering no real support (Vessel approves of this wholeheartedly btw), and your old pj bottoms with some cute character on them. Your hair pulled back haphazardly with a fluffy headband.

“ok, I’m looking.” As if you’re expecting a lightning strike of inspiration and self-acceptance. You don’t look bad, but you don’t look your best. But somehow…that doesn’t matter. You feel an overwhelmingly pleasant sense of…neutrality.

“are you not glowing right now?” Vessel asks as his fingers delicately caress the column of your throat. You let out a soft gasp as his left hand gently grabs at the flesh of your waist and lower tummy. It is the very same flesh you prod at and attempt to hide…and the one that drives him to near insanity when he can only look but not touch. The same that has been marked with teasing bites and gentle bruises from his thumbs…holding you in place as he coaxes out the single prettiest sounds he’s had the pleasure of hearing…of producing.

“is this not the skin of someone who cares for themselves?” He continues, letting his lightly parted lips drag across your neck.

Vessel lies on his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling.

The tour is going well, better than he expected. There have been almost no technical difficulties, the crew members are all getting along well, and, most importantly, the fans are loving it. He’s seen some comments praising him and the rest of the band, which warms his heart. 

Despite it all, he doesn’t feel fulfilled. He can’t feel fulfilled. Not without you around. 

The previous tour had been rewarding, even with all the issues they faced. The multiple technical issues and conflicts between crew members never demotivated him. But the lack of your presence does. 

He thought he had gotten used to being on tour, away from home, sleeping in beds that were rock hard, eating terrible food. And, in a way, he did. He learned to not mind it as it was the only way to achieve his dream. Those are all small sacrifices that he didn’t mind doing during their last tour, and, for the most part, still doesn’t mind. Except for one thing.

Over the past few months, you and Vessel have grown closer, to a point where you don’t spend time away from each other unless it's necessary. Despite not living together yet, you two are always sleeping in the same bed. Most of the time yours, as Vessel claimed that it is “much more comfortable” (and because it smells like you which comforts him, but he’d never admit that to your face). He has gotten used to coming home to you, to share a bed with you. It quickly became the highlight of his day.

And now there’s no one waiting for him in bed. Every time he gets in his bunk, he takes a deep breath hoping to smell your perfume on his sheet. Every time he opens the door of a hotel room, his shoulders slump forward as he doesn’t see you, curled up beneath the blankets. And every time he’s disappointed. He tried to convince himself that he would be fine and that his tour routine would fall back into place, making him forget the empty space beside him, but it has yet to happen. 

Instead, the only thing he can think about is you. He wants your body curled up against his, your breath tickling his neck as you tell him about your day, his fingers running through your hair. He wonders if you’re doing well, if you’re eating well, if you’re sleeping well. He wonders if you too have a hard time falling asleep. 

He lies in the middle of the crinkly sheets, alone, and the weight of his hand on his chest reminds him of you. Your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders, yours around his waist, your soft skin beneath his finger tips, both of your heartbeats syncing together. He looks next to him, only to be met with the streetlight creeping through the shades illuminating the empty space.

He picks up his phone from the pillow next to his, which he put for you out of habit. The bright light of the screen blinds him while the time stares back at him. 10:37 pm. It’s the first time since the tour began that he could go to bed this early, yet he can’t seem to fall asleep. Every time he closes his eyes he sees your face, your beautiful smile and the way your eyes shine when you look at him. 

Vessel I hope you had a good day Well now I hope you have a good day since its 3am for you I missed you, darling I wish you could’ve come with me, this bed is too big for only one person… I hope my messages don’t wake you up 

He closes his phone and puts it on the other pillow, screen up. He texts you almost everyday, and you answer most of the time. Rarely do you have long conversations due to the time difference and how busy you both are, but you both try your hardest to be there for each other. 

His eyes find the ceiling once more, but this time it's blurry. His throat closes up while his breathing speeds up and chest feels heavy. He does want you to enjoy your life, but he wants to be there to enjoy it with you. He knows you would like to be there with him too, and that should be enough for him. He should be happy. He gets to be in amazing places, to see many different cities, to meet plenty of talented people in his field, but he keeps thinking back to you. There are too many people, and none of them are you. 

As tears roll down his cheeks, a buzzing sound gets him out of his head. He blinks rapidly, chasing away the tears, and he picks up his phone. He rushes to unlock it, hands shaking slightly. 

II There’s a 24/7 shop if you want food  Idk if you ate today, didnt see you do

His eyes scan the messages over and over again, only for disappointment to wash over him. He throws his phone on the pillow beside him, closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. For a second he thought you were awake and answering him. The heaviness in his chest settles back in. He flips over to be on his side, his long limbs spreading over the empty, cold space. He holds his own hand and rubs the back of it while closing his eyes, imagining your soft hands in his. 

Despite his best effort, he cannot fall asleep. He knows that he has an important meeting in the morning, followed by a show before getting back on the roads, and that he has to get all the rest that he can, but he just tosses and turns, the sheets tangling with his limbs. He takes a pillow and holds it in his arms, searching for the same warm feeling that fills his chest when you’re there. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to sleep alone for long periods of time, if he’ll ever get used to how cold the bed is without your body in it. 

His phone turns on, illuminating the room. He reluctantly lets go of his own hand to pick it up. As it closes he gets a glimpse of the notification and his breathing accelerates. He saw the picture he put for your contact. He unlocks his phone in a hurry and he opens the message app.  

My Darling  My day’s been good, there was my favourite ice cream at the store!   I miss you too  I can’t wait for you to come back  Your sweatshirt doesn’t smell like your cologne anymore :(  I hope the tour’s going well, I saw some videos and you look really good ;)