Euphoria (noun) : a feeling or state of extreme excitement and happiness.

Then

Montana

"What is it about rooftops that make people love life an extra bit more?" I wonder out loud—wanting to remember this moment of clarity for the rest of my life. Calum, who is laying right next to me on top of the bed we made on the ground with blankets and pillows silently watches me paint, his guitar put away now.

"I wouldn't say everyone sees it that way. Some go on rooftops only to jump off of them." He points out ruefully, chuckling when he sees the look on my face.

"That's awfully morbid darling. Did you not orgasm before?" I drag my eyes away from the canvas on my lap to look at him. The sole purpose I had for making all these stupid jokes was so that I could hear his laugh. It was warm, it was sunlight—it was like the transition from summer to spring. It filled my heart with joy that I never knew existed.

Calum lifts himself up onto his elbows, his hair flopping lazily on his forehead, "God I love you and your filthy mouth." he tilts my face downwards for a kiss.

His kiss was like the sun itself—it seared me inside an out, and I was sort of proud that I had a burning love I knew I would never let go of.

Calum sits up, the white sheet all tangled up around his thighs. I look back down at my painting; thinking about him being the sun without giving it away whilst he was butt naked next to me was hard to do when my blushing mechanisms hated me oh so much.

"That's amazing." He squints his eyes at the mini canvas on my lap, moving my hand away gently so he could see.

"It's nothing." I shake my head, moving my hair to one side of my shoulder. Morning has arrived and we have successfully stayed up all night. I was already regretting it a bit.

"Look at this," he nods down at the canvas, "-and then look at that." Calum points out at the sunrise in front of us but I can't look away from the side of his face, I physically cannot do it.

"- look how you got all the colors right, that is not nothing baby. It's real talent." he whispers, so close to me that I feel the words form on his lips against my own. The heat from his body was keeping me warm as the morning fog over New York City settled above our heads.

"I feel bad for artists sometimes. Among a lot of other things, they don't have a Calum Hood to tell them how talented they are." I lightly move my fingertip down his cheek and it leaves a blue streak on his skin.

He smiles wide at this and my heart lurches in my chest again, "Ashton dragged me to an art gallery once. It was empty and the artist was so done with life and we felt so bad that we bought five of his paintings just so we could make his day."

"That's lovely." I lift his hand to my bare chest, kissing his knuckles. His hands were about twice the size of mine, I loved it.

"Yeah, but, I realized—we shouldn't pity the artists, we should pity the art."

Calum's deep in thought now, his eyebrows are knitted and his lips are in a pout, "And why is that?" I ask, laying the canvas on my other side to dry and turning all my attention to him, my legs tangled with his.

He takes both my hands in his, bringing my paint stained fingers closer to his face, "Not all of us are capable of moving what's deep in our heads onto paper, your hands actually create it..." He traces my fingertips with his own. "Your eyes see it too. So really, we shouldn't pity the artist, what they do is actually—magical."

Calum never let out his deepest thoughts, but when he did, I tried my best to hold onto them for as long as I possibly could. These moments were extremely rare and extremely precious. "So what you're saying is, we should pity the art."

"Exactly!" He touches my cheek with his palm, delighted that I was understanding what he was trying to tell me. Only if the world could hear my brilliant man, he was so much more than the world gave him credit for.

"We should pity the art because it had to leave the safety of its home at the back of our minds where forgotten thoughts and dreams go, it was unshackled and forced into the sunlight, it's born, so now it's suffering." He's looking out at nothing, his eyes slightly widened and I'm glad that he can't see the speechless look on my face.

He moves his gaze to my canvas, the orange, bluish and pink hues mixing in like a whirlpool of dreams and less like a sunrise, "I think that is why art is so beautiful to so many people. There is beauty in the suffering, in the despair. There's beauty in defeat, in resilience. That's what all the songs are secretly about too."

Calum lays back down and tugs at the sheet that is wrapped around my body, pulling me on top of him—skin to skin. The contact is what makes me say something at last. "You have a magnificent mind in there, you should let it out sometime." I kiss his forehead tenderly.

Calum smiles a smile that says it's never going to happen and I can see the doors guarding his deepest thoughts shutting rapidly, keeping out anything and anyone. "Will you watch a thousand sunrises with me? I thinks it's my new favorite thing to do, specially when you're naked like this." He pushes the strands of hair back, cradling my face in his palms and effortlessly changing the subject.

I would watch the sunrise with him when I'm in my grave too. "I'll watch anything with you, as much as you want, really." I kiss him before he can reply, his laugh resonating into my mouth and into my bones where it will remain forever embedded along with his words that he hides from the world.

His arms wrap around my body securely as he keeps me on top of him, kissing me tenderly. "I love you so much." I manage and he abruptly turns us over, parting my legs and reaching down between us, stroking me gently.

"I love you. And just to prove how much, fifth round?" He cocks an eyebrow and I'm already too far gone just with his touch to muster up the simple word "yes" so I take him in my hand, stroking, up and down, up and down as he does the same for me.

"I need to thank all the trees that gave me enough stamina to deal with you." I breathe heavily, demanding my lungs to work as he takes my hand away, guiding it up behind his neck and easing into me in one swift motion.

"I'm going to fuck that smart mouth of yours later." Calum rasps. My back arches off the ground at the wave of pleasure and I bite down hard on my lip, beyond caring if I draw blood. It was pure euphoria, knowing that he was present here with me, mind, body, and soul.

My nails dig into his upper arms as he rocks into me, my legs locking around his hips so that I could move in time with his fast thrusts. It was too much to handle but there was also a merciless need for more, to pull him closer when he couldn't get any closer than this. I knew that he felt it too. This deep need for more was going to drive us both up a wall.

"Fuck." Calum groans, pushing in deeper and I scream profanities I should probably get arrested for.

He lowers down, bringing his chest against mine and places his hands next to my head as he fastens his pace. "You're going to end me baby." He pants before we climax, one after the other.

When I can finally draw a breath, my fingers tangle in the sweaty strands of his hair as his head rests on my chest—his breath fanning my collar bone. "You are the beginning of everything for me."

A/N:

So sorry that this chapter was so short, I've been having the worst case of writers block. Next chapter is going to be exciting and long (hopefully)

Love you guys x