hehe i wrote it from achille’s pov 
soz this is kinda bad-
2am thoughts
‘can the goddamn neighbour be any louder?’, i thought to myself.
the Parisian nightlife was certainly loud this Friday, but it was nothing compared to the happenings of the Bachelor in Apartment 4B, i began to call them.
it had been an excruciatingly long day on set, and i was praying that God would give me a little break.
i guess i’m not going to heaven then.
‘did the music just get louder or is my mind playing tricks on me?’
before they could even think about changing the song one more time, i stormed out of bed, almost ripping the doors off their hinges when i reached the balcony, to investigate the chaos below.
it was a beautiful night, a purple sky reflecting down on the Seine, full of stars, and distant planets. the wind gently brushed over my hair, the scent of whatever fruit-flavoured drink the Bachelor had been relying on to forget his problems also present in the autumn breeze.
i gripped my elbows, and gently brushed my thumbs along my forearms, following the intricate ink up my arm. this one is a snake.
maybe i’m just imagining things, as i turn to see no purple sky, or stars - but a sky without stars, and only the dirt from the road below passes through my hair along with the wind. a true juxtaposition from me standing above, like God’s greatest gift, living in a house of bricks itching to fall and re-build itself.
maybe the fruit-flavoured forgetfulness running through the mind of the Bachelor is actually poison, a rotten mix of heaven and hell passing down his throat.
i hope he’s a dreamer, and he can see the purple sky too.
i don’t bother to look down at him. God only knows what would happen if i did.