#leahabby

One of the first things that Simon, Nick, and her had learned about Abby was that she was very touchy. She loved to hug, link pinkies, poke, and snuggle up to them. With no shame, mind you.

Although Leah never voiced her discomfort, Abby seemed to sense it and backed off, focusing her attention more closely on the boys, which actually just made Leah jealous, though at the time she had no idea why. Watching Abby sit on Nick’s lap, or play with Simon’s hair, or tickle the two of them made her stomach flip upside down. 

Just a year later though, Abby was not focused on Nick or Simon or Garret or Cam or anyone else but Leah. And, like, school and stuff too. But her affection was still prominent towards everyone; just double the amount towards Leah.

And fuck, it felt good. After years of shying away from most touch, it felt so nice to sink into someone’s arms after a long day. To hug, to kiss, to cuddle. Ugh. It was so cheesy she could puke. But it was true.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this,” Leah mumbled softly one evening, curled up beside Abby, a blanket thrown over their laps and Netflix playing softly on the TV, though that had about one percent of their attention.

“Do what?” Abby asked.

“Just…this. To cuddle with, and all this cheesy couple shit. I used to be grossed out by the idea. But you make it nice.”

Abby put a hand over her heart, a smile curling genuinely on her soft, plump lips. “Aw, Leah! That’s so gay.”

“Bi,” Leah corrected with a cheeky grin.

“My apologies. Bi,” she said, poking Leah’s side.

Leah giggled and batted her away. “If you were anyone else, I’d have kicked you in the face for trying that by now.”

“Trying to what? Tickle you?” Abby asked, raising her eyebrows as if being challenged.

“Yeah, that. Don’t push your luck though. I almost broke Simon’s nose in eighth grade.”

“Really?”

Leah nodded.

Abby tilted her head for a moment, as if weighing the pros and cons of the situation. Clearly, the pro of hearing Leah laugh hysterically was worth having her nose broken, because she pounced with a hilarious mock-battle cry.

Leah didn’t break her nose, nor did she kick her in the face. Or punch, hit, elbow, etc. She just laid back and laughed, though with a good amount of squirming.

But Abby’s bisexual ass clearly fell for Leah too, somehow, and they were both incredibly happy with the turnout.

Slowly but surely Abby’s giddiness turned from something Leah pretended to dislike and into something she openly adored. Especially when she knew she was the cause of it.

Leah had two laughs: the fake one she huffed out in awkward social situations, and the real, hysterical one that only Simon, Nick, and Abby could draw from her.

Abby had a hundred laughs. Sometimes she giggled, sometimes she chuckled, sometimes she snorted.

But Leah’s favorite Abby-laugh was the one that burst from her lips every time Leah latched onto her sides and squeezed. It could only be described as a shriek, high-pitched and shocked and followed by the sweetest peals of laughter Leah had ever heard.