"I'm a little bit fucked on this
I'm a little bit out of time to spend with you
Baby, turn around, give me one more kiss
I'm a little bit lost on how to stay with you"
How To Stay With You -Troye Sivan
*****

My eyes widen, and I feel like I'm standing on a thin, ice floor— capable of breaking down at any second. I blink several times, trying to make sure if I'm dreaming or not.

Then he starts walking towards me. Slow, steady, confident steps. My heart starts racing as he approaches nearer, the grin on his face turning to a smirk; until he stands tall in front of me.

"How have you been, Mi Cielo?" His silky voice grazes my eardrums, and I feel like ascending to Heaven right then and there.

I realize that I haven't answered him, and I freak out even more, "I... I was..." What do I even say? Tell him that I've been horrible? I should probably lie and tell him I was great.

A gentle finger reaches under my chin, tilting it to meet his deep brown eyes, desperately searching mine for what I suppose, is honesty. "I was not very fine." I finally whisper out, feeling awful for throwing my stupid emotions at him.

"What's wrong, my beautiful Angel?" His silky voice drapes over me, soothing out a little of my nerves.

Home is what he feels like. Endearing and allaying.

Forgetting everything else, I wrap my arms around him and hug him. He returns my embrace and rests his chin on my head, rocking us both slowly.

It's like a slow dance.

"I missed you," I hold him tighter, to make sure if he's really here, "I missed you so fucking much." Tears start streaming down my face, and I let them out on his expensive suit jacket.

He sighs, before pulling back to look into my eyes, "I'm terribly sorry, my Angel," He pulls me back to him, "I'm so sorry for disappearing without letting you know."

Sniffling, I straighten up a little and start hitting on his chest repeatedly. And he takes it all.

"You're s-so bad. So so bad," My tiny fists make contact with his rock-hard chest again and again, before he holds my wrists in his one hand. 

Locking eyes with me, he brings my hands to his lips and kisses them both, "I'm bad. I am horrible, my Angel. I should never have went away like this— away from Mi Cielo,"

Resting his forehead against mine, he apologizes again and again and I feel like laughing at the irony. In my heart, I had already forgiven him. Honestly, my heart was never even mad at him. It's all my stupid brain.

My brain has always subjugated over my heart.

"I-I'm not mad at you," I speak quietly, pouting unknowingly, "At least, not anymore."

He beams like a child who just got cotton candy, "I'm so glad to hear that, my Angel," He pulls me in a hug, "I promise I won't do that ever again."

I breathe in his musky scent, my voice gets muffled as I speak, "Pinky promise?"

He lets our a breathy chuckle and pulls out his pinky, holding it in front of me. I smile widely and interlock my pinky with his. We stay like that for a while — grinning at each other, while holding our pinkies together.

"Promise."

Life is so much prettier now.

I finally have something to look forward to in my entire day, have someone who's mere sight can provide for more happiness than most things. And most importantly, I don't hate living anymore.

He makes it better.

Sometimes, just the presence of someone is enough. And that is whom he is to me. Like an Angel who saved me unknowingly.

"Mi Cielo..." He drawls, his eyes gleaming with a light I've never quite scene before, "You're smiling."

I'm met with the realization that I actually am smiling. And it's not the smile I give when he does something, and neither the one I have plastered on my face whenever we're together.

This smile was of euphoria. Pure, unfiltered bliss which he acted as a catalyst in achieving, but my own emotions dominated over the sorrow usually conquering me.

He connects our foreheads together, "I'm so proud of you, my Angel," his soft lips trail up as he presses a soft kiss on my forehead, "Happiness looks so beautiful on you."

Beaming, I wrap my arms around his neck and start swaying my hips. I don't know in what way to let this joy out, so I'll just dance. If Jungkook was surprised, he didn't show it.

"GLITTER!"

Both of us freeze in our spots, and I remember — the show.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook. But, I'll need to go..." I avert my eyes and stare down at my shiny, black high-soled shoes.

With a soft smile, Jungkook lifts my chin up and stares deep into my eyes, "It's completely fine, my Angel. You have your dance, and I understand that," He grins wider, his tattooed palm cradling the side of my face, "Mesmerize everyone with the colors on your eyes."

The colors on my eyes.

Not just the makeup. The purple of the club, the neon green of the lights, the golden of my own eyes — they blend in the reflection in my orbs.

With a prouder smile, I pull away from Jungkook and walk to the stage — my hips swaying and my eyes replicating one of a siren.

As my hand wraps around the silver of the pole, I see Jungkook walking back towards his usual place at the bar — where he gets the perfect view of me.

I hook one of my legs at the middle of the pole, lifting myself up with my arms and swirling on the cool metal. As my feet land on the floor, I hold the pole with both my palms, standing in front of it so that my back faces the audience and I roll my hips, circling them down and up again.

My eyes catch Jungkook taking in a sharp breath when my fat ass jiggles in front of his eyes. Feeling bolder, I turn my head to make eye contact with him as I lift myself up on the pole again.

He murmurs a few words for me, and strangely enough, I hear them. Even after we're at distance, and over the yelling and the noise of the club, it's quaint how it felt as if he whispered the words right into my ear:

"Meet me at the rooftop, Mi Cielo."