a dysfunctional inclination (excerpt)
He chuckles; his hands are around her wrists again, but he's gentle this time. He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb and she doesn't know why but just that alone makes her want to twirl and laugh and cry all at the same time. He sighs and his breath, smoky and minty, lightly wafts across her cheeks. "So what are we even doing? I don't wanna be around you when I'm just— I mean, it's not that I don't—..." As flustered as he is, his hands only tighten bravely. "I don't want to hurt you. Not you. Never you."
She doesn't know what she's doing when, despite the pink in her cheeks, she leans up on her tip-toes and kisses his cheek. Her heart seems to stutter but she doesn't care because that's not what's important right now. "Then don't," she whispers to him, her eyes glued to his.
"I don't know how not to," he whispers back, his cheeks flushed and eyes lost.
"Are you leaving me?" she blurts out.
He stiffens. Her arms rise as if by instinct, and wrap around him. He's broad-shouldered and strong and she's known him for longer than she's known herself. And she doesn't understand him at all, she hasn't figured him out yet—
She can't say goodbye to that.
"...Will you leave me?"
He suddenly leans down and presses his forehead to hers. "Should I?"
Her breath is uneven. "I don't want you to."
"Then why did you ignore me?"
"I-I—..."
"Hey." His eyes are boring into hers. She can almost taste him, he's so close.
Her voice is quieter than it's ever been. "I... was scared."
"Don't do that again," he whispers, matching her tone. "You don't need to be."
She can't look away from him. "Are you... leaving?"
His hands are playing with her hair. "...Would you come with me if I was?"
All of a sudden, her lips are on his and it's clumsy and short and when she's pulled away, she's pink-faced and laughing at his equally bashful expression.
"It's only one year, after all. Next year, you'll have graduated too, and you can— I mean, if you wanted to, you could... come... too. With me, I mean. Next year." He coughs. "If you— if you wanted to."
She can't remember when she last smiled so wide or when she was last so thoroughly embarrassed. "Yes, please."
He's laughing at her and hugging her tightly and burying his head into her shoulder, a mirror blush on his cheeks. "Good."
(www.fanfiction.net/s/9836027/1/a-dysfunctional-inclination)
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Just an average kid*
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