the first kiss is what he imagined it to be: awkward. go figure! there's no starry eyed smirks beforehand. no convergence of eyes. no. it's chaste. clumsy. tastes like earth after rainfall and the tease of gunmetal. he makes note to scavenge for chapstick on a future run. remembers what it feels like to be a teenager with sweaty palms in the presence of attractive boys - who almost caught him staring. and what is he supposed to do with his arms when daryl's rigid as a board?
daryl plays the role of the deer in the headlights perfectly and paul feels more vehicle than human when he leans forward. gaze loiters on lips, silent questioning for consent. he half wants to kiss the damn guy already. half prepares himself for the black eye he's about to obtain. but holy hell, daryl doesn't swing. doesn't shut his eyes and waits for claim. doesn't even shift his head to make this easier. is he broken? and not in the figurative way. dixon looks like someone yanked out the wires and batteries and he's on the sleep setting of a computer.
it doesn't bother him like it would anybody else. instead, this was becoming something to look forward to. someone to look forward to. slowly, an undressing of the man he was. sometimes paul could even pull a laugh from him. wondered how anyone could hurt the man enough to make him bury it. bury the happiness and self worth and smiles. it's a faraway wish, to be able to voice how this man deserves the world. a world before this one, void of death, void of pain. impossible wish. so for now, all he asks is to spend time with him. he knows there are times it frightens daryl, makes him want to fall into himself and build the walls. paul wants to follow. make bed of the heartbreak. he doesn't expect the other to change, remodel himself as if stranger. all that paul wants is to share the wreckage. remind daryl he is not the shutter of apparitions. but a home.
but validation does come after seemingly an eternity and five lives reincarnated later. the bop of throat, swallowing down the reality of them. acknowledgment to the reality of them. their glance finally collides and it's all the confrontation needed before lashes fall and lips meet. fragile at first. gives the man enough freedom to recoil before they cross this ocean of a step. daryl doesn't shy away and paul's on fire. if daryl's still present in the moment then he hopes he feels the pull of lips, the smile against others' mouth. it's involuntary, sprouts from the haze of his ribcage. he kisses him like he's spun from silk rather built on scar tissue. he thinks there isn't much difference of the two when you meet someone who makes mornings soft, nights even softer. a grip on the hem of his shirt is the closest to happiness he's felt in some time. mutual adoration. daryl's okay with this, reciprocating in the smallest of ways. he's still cautious to this, though. doesn't reach for him any closer. instead, familiarizes with the touch of lips. how daryl kisses like he's atlas and holding up the entire world.
of course, the other is first to pull away. eyes slowly open to daryl flustered and quick to withdraw back into his comfort zone. he almost smiles, but the man is quick to rotate away. avoid eye contact. paul wants to hold him, tell him everything is going to be fine. ‘ yeah. yeah—okay. i'll be here. ' it's his way of saying i'll be waiting. distance is a slow spread between them and its emptiness is infectious. loss already settling into his stomach, a fading ghost on his lips. before the other gets too far, he clears his throat, doesn't expect a response ' be careful out there. ' i can't lose you. he's sure a grunt is audible. knows with it that it's a promise of him returning. but paul doesn't stop watching him leave. icy hues settle on a departing figure, the way space tempts yearning. he's glad dixon doesn't look back. if he'd even saw the cock of head, he'd be running forward.
1/5 times they kissed prompt. ♡ —— @weathercd
