#unioniv

She sneaks downstairs latethat night and her hopes that he’s still awake are founded as she spots him onthe back porch. She doesn’t really get why he’s out there and she doesn’t careenough to ask but she slinks out the door and flops down next to him.

“Well aren’t you up late,” she muses with a teasing tone. Itgets a smile from him.

“Aren’t you?” He questions back with his brows raising.

“I suppose, but I actually have a reason.” She smiles andclaps him on the shoulder before he can respond. “Just wanted to say thanks fornot ratting Lizzie and me out, I mean unless you actually didn’t know it was usthat did it. Either way. Thanks for taking the fall. Both of us appreciate it –or at least I appreciate it she finds it hilarious.” She hums the words outbefore pushing herself back up. There’s a moment pause and as he stumbles over anawkward you’re welcome (completed in the form of a question), Becca ducks backdown to place a kiss to his cheek.

“Now go inside and stop being a loser out here already.” Shecalls as she heads back inside herself, intent on actually going to bed now.

ii.

You could call it cheating,but in her books it was just using every advantage she had to win a bet. Can’treally blame a girl, right? He’s smiling above her, leaning close enough thatshe can feel his breath fan against her face with every pant. His hands areheavy as they pin hers down, his weight a bar over her weight to keep heragainst the mat. He thinks that he won and it was cute since he was so completely wrong about it.

Blinking up at him, she waits with her chest heaving with pantedbreaths. Her wrists turn, trying to loosen up his grip but it’s no use. It’slike a vice.

“Are you ready to concede Becca?” His words are sharper thanexpected, but she’s going to just chalk that up to his accent. She doesn’tanswer him, not with words at least. Instead the corners of her mouth curl upinto a smile and he’s close enough that their noses are brushing. It’s honestlynothing to press up that slight distance to kiss him.

His lips are softer against hers than expected and she can feelhim stiffen in surprise. She bites back the chuckle that wants to bubble out ofher at his reaction. His grip on her hands tighten for the briefest of secondsbefore relaxing as he seems to be torn of whether he should kiss her back ornot.

Not that she gives him a chance.

With his grip loosened, sheslips her hands free and raises them to her shoulders. Gripping them lightly,she shoves to sending them rolling. It only lastsa second and this time she’s sitting atop him and holding him down. A grinspreads across her face.

“Areyou ready to concede Bri?” She repeats his question in a mockingtone.

iii.

She wants to scream. Shewants to throw things, she wants to be able to take her anger out on things. Onanything. She wants to hurt in ways that don’t make her chest tight, in waysthat don’t make her eyes water. She wants to feel that burn in her knucklesfrom clocking a guy across the jaw or the bruises she gets after a bar fight.She wants physical pain, not emotional pain.

At least, she thought she did.

She doesn’t have the effort to stop him from wrapping his armsaround her and hugging her tight. His arms brush over bruises that ache and shetries to push at him, to shove him away. There’s no strength in her arms,there’s no strength in anything she does as she gives up and sags against him.The tears that have been threatening to fall cloud her vision as she squeezesher eyes shut and buries her face in his chest.

His arms are warm aroundher, comforting. She doesn't want that. She doesn't want to be comforted. She wants to do something. She needs to do something.She can hear his voice, he's saying something in soft tones but Becca can't bebothered to make out what it is. Probably saying that it will be alright.

No it won't. Things arenever going to be alright again.

She thinks she may havesaid that aloud without even realizing it as his arms tighten around her andshe can feel him press a kiss against the top of her head.

"It will be alright. Trust me."

iv.

Thefirst time she really kisses him, her heart is pounding in her chest. It's lateand they're sitting out in the backyard. The stars are bright in the sky andshe can just hear the way Lizzie would tease her if she knew about her nerves.Her teeth worry her lower lip briefly as her gaze flicks up to him. He'slooking up at the sky, as if lost in thought.

Beccaisn't even sure if he wants her to kiss him, has no idea how he'll react.

Butshe's gotta go for it.

"--Bri."She's proud of herself for keeping nerves out of voice as she speaks and helooks over, a curious expression painted on his features. Blowing out a breathof air, she waits for only a second before pressing forward. Her mouth is onhis and her hand is in his hair. She can feel him stiffen under her and she'snot sure if it's a good or a bad thing. Anxiety races through her, heartpounding faster and harder.

Pullback. She should pull back. This may have been a mistake.

Butshe doesn't get the chance before his hands are up and cupping the sides of herface and his lips are moving against hers.

Shereally can't help but smile into the kiss. 

v.

The metallic taste of bloodis heavy on her tongue and she’s just trying to assess the damage done but there’stoo much. There’s too much for her to place it all. She knows she has brokenribs, it’s getting harder to breathe and every breath is getting wheezier andshe just prays she didn’t puncture a lung. Her right arm is limited inmovement, white hot pain spiking through her from even just moving a finger.She hasn’t tried to look at it. What scares her the most is how her back hurts,how it’s almost unbearable and she cannot feel her right leganymore.

She’s scared and she’s never been scared for herselfbefore. Not to this degree. Her gaze flicks over to Brian and the worry on hisface, that gets her heart racing faster – and god even that hurts.She could be dying. She could actually be dying. All she prays is that herworry, her fear, doesn’t shine through in her eyes as she swallows some of theblood in her mouth.

“You look scared,” her voice is raspy and trembling. Hisexpression doesn’t really change, an attempt at a smile to reassure her itseems but that doesn’t go anywhere. He just reaches out and brushes some hairout of her face.

“You look hurt,” he returns in a soft voice. It’s a slightattempt at a joke and she forces herself to smile even though it doesn’t reachher eyes and she can feel some blood leaking out the corner of her mouth.

“This?” The question is wheezed out, not a good sign. “This isnothin’… Just a little flesh wound is all Bri.” Each word is pained but she hasto push through. Bri just shakes his head a little at her.

“Becca you need to stop talking.”

“M’ fine — what I need is a kiss to fix my wounds,” her tone isjoking and she is completely joking. Kisses don’t work, there’s nothing healingabout them. But she does wish that her dad was here so he could kiss her foreheadand tell her it’s going to be alright.