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dizzojaySo ...
It's 7.30 in the morning and you're standing in the kitchen cooking breakfast, when he strolls down the stairs, wearing some raggedy-assed old grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips with one frayed pocket and threadbare elastic flapping loosely around his bare feet.
His T-shirt looks maybe a size too small, but you don't mind, it clings in all the right places, and its dark green colour clashes adorably with the glowing pink flush of his freshly showered skin.
Your eye is drawn up, past his faintly sleep-glazed moss-green eyes to the damp spiky thatch that frames them so perfectly ...
It's a nice dream!
Photo credit to the amazing Redteekal
It's 7.30 in the morning and you're standing in the kitchen cooking breakfast, when he strolls down the stairs, wearing some raggedy-assed old grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips with one frayed pocket and threadbare elastic flapping loosely around his bare feet.
His T-shirt looks maybe a size too small, but you don't mind, it clings in all the right places, and its dark green colour clashes adorably with the glowing pink flush of his freshly showered skin.
Your eye is drawn up, past his faintly sleep-glazed moss-green eyes to the damp spiky thatch that frames them so perfectly ...
It's a nice dream!
Photo credit to the amazing Redteekal
