joey lynch didn’t want to love. Not until you, not until you weaseled your way into his heart.
𝒥oey’s heart pounded in his chest as the girl he’d been trying so desperately to forget moved around him. Your arms were held high in the air, your laughter swept up into the booming music, but he heard it. He heard your laughter like it was a drug, not the kind he’d pumped into his body on so many occasions. Your laughter was a drug he didn’t want to swallow, but his body physically sucked it in without permission.
When your hair whipped around your face as you danced circles around him, he felt light headed. Your smile was becoming infectious, the effects instantaneous. His lips twitched when he noticed you pause your dancing to wobble slightly when your brain caught up with the motions you were making.
Dizzy and grinning like a fool, you reached out for his arms and he took them into his embrace without a second thought. Your arms wrapped around his neck loosely as your body sagged against his sturdy chest.
“I’m so happy, right now.” You informed, slurring slightly. “Happy with you, Lynchy.”
His eyes scanned your face for any deceit, but he knew you. Knew you were telling the truth. “I’m happy here, too.” He murmured back as you reached up to pinch his cheek.
And it was true, for once in his seventeen years of living, Joey Lynch felt something nearing peace. You had brought out a side of him nobody else seemed to be able to touch. And the same went for you, Joey Lynch had utterly and irrevocably damaged your psyche, because after him you were certain you would never love anyone else.
Picking you up, the tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, Joey buried his face in your neck and relished in the sound of your squeal of delight. “Put me down, Joe!”
“Use your proper words.” The blonde grinned, pulling back to look at you.
Scowling, you huff out a breath of air, watching as the cloud dissipated before looking back at the boy whom held your whole heart in his bruised hands. “Please put me down, Joseph Lynch.”
Trying to remain serious, your eyebrows furrowed even deeper as he did no such thing. Walking a great distance of ten feet, he set you down on the hood of your small grey car.
Joey examined you for a quiet moment before leaning down and placing a kiss to your lips. “I think I love you.” He murmured, pulling back only when your mouth formed into a smile. “What?”
“Really? ‘I think?’” Rolling your eyes, you lifted one hand to flick his nose. “So comforting.”
Joey shrugged, stepping back and setting his hands on his hips. He looked awfully good in the dim light coming from the parking lot street lamps. His golden blonde hair blowing slightly in the breeze, his lips turned upward in the infuriatingly cute grin. . .
“Well, I am certain that I love you, Joseph Lynch!” You quipped, hopping off the car and back onto the ground.
Sauntering toward him, you reached out for his hand, pulling him to your chest. “Always..”
“Always.” He mumbles, pressing a simple kiss to your forehead.
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Осознание важности некоторых факторов, (вроде отдельного рабочего стола, достаточной высоты потолков или ванной) прежде воспринимавшихся как должное, необязательное или даже, за недостаточной романтичностью, - ненавистное, со временем превратившееся если не в нужду, то в назойливую потребность, стало одним из основоопределяюших ежедневного настроения, мироощущения и самоценности в нем.
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Знакомства, не имеющие глубины, не несущие тепла и положительных эмоций, не имеющие даже права называться отношениями, поддерживаемые, что называется - по старой памяти, в дань уважения кому-то или чему-то, одним словом - вчерашнему дню. Стоят ли они сил, затрачиваемых на поддержание оков, сбросив которые, свобода кажется холодом?
Иногда, проблему, возникшую в одной из частей, для наибольшей эффективности и из логичного разумения, стоит решать именно в возникшей части. "Удар" в середину, вероятно, окажется не менее действенным, но, как правило, разрушительным в гораздо большей степени, чем врачующим.
