Chapter Text
She often wondered what a kiss felt like.
She frequently overheard girls describing their romantic lives while their friends hung onto their every word, drinking in this new, unfamiliar information, hoping that one day they too would be able to put this knowledge to use.
She would block off their whispers, try to continue whatever she was originally doing, walk away. Their world was not hers. She had no business there.
She wasn’t supposed to sincerely make friends in this place, much less attachments of the other sort. Both meant that you gave a chunk of your heart away, hoping that you would get a chunk of someone else’s heart in return.
But it was hard not to think about it.
Especially when a boy with golden hair and a sweet face and beautiful eyes that shone afternoon-sky blue would smile at her gently, understanding evident in the soft contours of his lips. She‘d catch herself digging up a bleeding, pulsing mass of her heart just for him – and quickly try to put it back. Her chest would throb in pain as her heart reluctantly wove itself back together. Funny how it never hurt when she tore the pieces out in the first place.
He was weak physically, but that didn’t matter much. He was incredibly intelligent, incredibly persuasive, incredibly kind. He –
He…
…
Plus, he had guts. That was too much. She could beat him in a physical fight easily, but there were a thousand more things he could beat her at. She had to watch out for him. He, who could guess (with chilling accuracy) her thoughts, who could glimpse into her soul for a split second. He, who could talk her into something without any semblance of wheedling or cajoling. He, who could remain unfazed by her and all that she seemed to be, offering a smile and thoughtful words that somehow made her day better. He, who could blind her like sunlight glinting on the water.
Although, in a way, he was good for her. He was a constant reminder that she was frail and foolish and fragile. He could disarm her before a thought could cross her mind, if he tried. And he hadn’t tried yet. Sometimes, he didn’t even need to try.
When she thought of kissing, she thought of him.
Because really, if being in the same room with him made her eyes itch to search for that familiar, noon-gold head of hair, if glances from him made her insides quiver, if the occasional brush of skin on skin set off shooting stars in her blood, then to what magnitude would a kiss from him break her?
Some mornings, when she woke up early, she would find him sitting with his back leaned against a tree, staring at the sky. Together they would watch the dawn break, in all of its rosy oranges and breath pinks and floating cumulus clouds. Some mornings, he would brush back a lock of palest yellow that had fallen out of her tight hair knot, his fingers lingering on her cheek for just a blink of light, and she would know.
Kiss me, the thoughts in her head would scream. Kiss me so that I don’t have to kiss you first. Kiss me so that, when I fail, I don’t have only myself to blame, for I can say that you kissed me and I fell in love and love is such a terrible, wanton, uncontrollable force and I am but a weak, lonely girl.
She often wondered if she had failed already.