#motorheads

-

Curtis hadn't seen you in a week. And that had been his choice. He avoided you like the plague, dodging any places he knew you would be, including classes you shared. It wasn't the best plan, but right now it was all he had. Because he didn't know how to explain it to you. How to say why he pulled away that day, when he had wanted so badly not to.

For months he'd been looking at your differently, his gaze catching on you when he knew you weren't looking. Wondering what it would be like if things were more. And he couldn't deny what he felt for you, it was most definitely there. A crush strong and proud, pounding against his heart like and angry father pounds on his sons bedroom door. He looked at you like a lover, but laughed with you like a friend. And now he didn't know what he was. Because you'd damn near kissed him, and he'd wanted you to.

Walking toward the Torres residence was a mistake, he knew as much from the anxious turn of his stomach, but his bike was in Logan's shop, and he needed it back. He'd gone through yet another chain last night, while blowing off steam on the highway, and had to wheel it over to the man's garage with a sullied expression. So as his boots crunched on the gravel, he knew he deserved the walk.

But there was a chance you would be at the garage too. Actually, Curtis was willing to bet you'd been there since this morning, when Caitlyn would have undoubtedly told you his bike was in the shop. He had to face you eventually, and you would force his hand. That's what had drawn him to you in the first place. The stubbornness.

He paused outside the wooden doors of the Garage, eyes lingering on the small opening, one of them pulled open just enough to fit a person. A person he was sure would be you. Taking a deep breath was harder than usual, as it caught in his throat, choking him. But he swallowed down the air, and forced himself inside. Just like he thought, you were sitting on the couch in the back of the garage, eyes shifting from the books in front of you to the boy that had now just walked through the door.

Curtis frowned, eyeing the textbooks that surrounded you as he approached. "Are you studying in here?" It was the first thing he'd said to you all week, maybe not the best opening line, but it was something.

"Logan said he wasn't gonna let me sit in here all day unless i was doing something productive." You answer, and Curtis can't help the sinking feeling he gets.

"So you've been here all day?"

"Waiting for you." you push the books off your lap and stand, arms folding over your chest. "We need to talk. You know that."

Curtis feels like a scolded puppy already, and the bulk of the conversation hasn't even started yet. "Yeah, I know." He wanders over to his bike, wanting something to do with his hands, another place to look other than at the hurt expression that graces your features. He hates this so fucking much.

"So talk." you say, pushing him, like you've always done. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been avoiding you." A lie, and an obvious one at that. A lie that makes you laugh, a loud, 'Ha!' that nearly makes Curtis flinch.

"Okay maybe I have been avoiding you, but it's not—"

"It's okay if you don't like me like that, Curtis." Your voice is soft, almost defeated. He forces himself to look at you, to look at the mess he's made.

"You think I don't?" he forces himself to let go of his bike, the thing that is grounding him, and takes a step toward you. The sound of his footfalls seem to echo in the space around him, the silence deafening.

He watches the expression you hold shift like water, twisting into something new with every second. You're confused, you're hurt, and there's something else he can't name. But you don't answer him, leaving his question hanging in the air.

"You think I don't like you like that?" He says again, and there's a different tone to it. Sharper.

"Curtis, I tried to kiss you, and you avoided me for a week."

"You've always been more than just a friend." He lets that hang, maybe because he doesn't know what to say next. How to explain this to you. "I'm sorry I didn't kiss you that day, but it's complicated."

You scoff, your eyebrows pulling down into the deepest frown he thinks he's ever seen. "I'm not mad you didn't kiss me Curtis!" your voice is steadier now, more powerful and you look over your shoulder, as if for backup that won't come. "I'm upset because you ghosted me! My best friend ignored my texts, my calls, didn't speak to me for a week, and didn't tell me why."

The way you call him your best friend, twists something inside of him. Like a hand in his chest, squeezing his heart, his lungs, until there's nothing left to use.

"You could have called me that night and told me you weren't interested. You could have come to school, and we could have never spoken about it again for all I care. But hiding from me? Because let's admit, that's what you were doing," you smile then, though it's nothing happy. "Hiding from me was horrible. We're not kids anymore Curtis, you can't run from everything."

"I'm not hiding from you anymore." he takes a step forward, but can't bring himself to close anymore distance than that. "But I can't be who you want me to be."

"I don't want you to be anybody other than you." There's a crack in your voice, and it seems to echo through the shop. A harsh beam of sunlight shines through the gap in the doors, painting a line of light across the ground between you. Like a barrier. Something you shouldn't cross.

"I can't be your boyfriend." Curtis says finally, spitting it out.

"But you like me as more than a friend?" the question is one you have been dying to ask outright for months. Something you weren't sure was allowed. But all bets are off now.

"Yes," he gives you a straight answer for once, and drives it home. "I always have."

"But you can't be my boyfriend." you're not asking him, it's more like you're solidifying the point he made before. Getting it settled in your head. A silence settles, uncomfortable and warm as the light creeps further into the room. The sun is setting, illuminating the garage in a golden hue.

"You're not him, Curtis."

The words punch Curtis in the gut as you say them, his eyes widening.

"That's what this is about isn't it?" you raise an eyebrow, and move toward him, closing the space between you and crossing the line that nature drew in gold.

"What do you mean?" his question is pointless. He knows, he has known since it happened, why he pulled away. His brother Ray is dangerous and mean. Hard as a stone and poison to the blood. The blood that he has running through his veins.

"You think you're like him, like Ray, but you're not." You reach a hand out, and take his in your own. "You're better."

It takes everything Curtis has in him not to kiss you.

"How do you know that?" there's a vulnerability there, hiding beneath his words. But he squeezes your hand, and he knows, even as he tries to deny it, that he's giving in.

You smile, and let go of his hand, reaching up with both of yours to hold his face gently. "I know you Curtis Young, and you are the only boy I've ever loved."

Love. You've said it, and even as Curtis battles with his family line, he knows he feels the same. "My brother is dangerous," He manages to say, "I don't want you getting caught up in that, in me."

There's a soft smile on your face, a gentle upturn of your lips full of care and sincerity that makes him want to do so many things. "So you're telling me you didn't kiss me because of your brother? Because you're afraid to be like him?" the question is heavy, but you take the weight instantly, running your thumb over his cheek. "Since when have you let your brother control what you do and don't do?"

Curtis grins then, he can't help it, not when it comes to you. "You've got a point there." he’s close enough now for you to hear him when he whispers, as he closes the space between you. And finally, after the mess of the past week, Curtis presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet, like the early days of summer and his nose bumps with yours in an awkward yet lovely finale.

"So," Curtis says when you pull away, so close that his lips still brush yours when he speaks. "I'm the only boy you've ever loved?"

You slap him on the shoulder, a playful touch, and he laughs. The weight off his chest for the first time, in a long time.

-

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! tell me what you think <3