OF BREATH.

ok. OK. dave strider is kissing you, calm the fuck down, it’s just dave.                                                               but that’s the whole thing   –   it’s DAVE.

it all happened so fast, or maybe it didn’t, maybe that was the alcohol playing with your head. dave was like a blur, the sensation of lips on your own not rendering for a second, but when it does you TENSE up; you have to open your eyes to make sure it’s happening, that he is really kissing you and not your state of being playing around.

but fuck, he’s kissing you for real, and it makes you relax into all of it, into the touch on your cheek  –  and you kiss back, careful, cautious.    YOU’RE 22 AND YOU HAVE NEVER KISSED A PERSON BEFORE, until now.

when dave parts from you all you can do is search his face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking, what he’s going to do next.    ‘  sorry. i — i don’t know what i was thinking,  ‘    you want to tell him it’s FINE,  but you don’t think you can do words right now. so you just sit there in silence for a few minutes, thinking, watching.

and then you smile so wide your cheeks hurt, leaning back in and resting your head against his & your hand coming to comb through the short hairs on dave’s neck.                                                     maybe you didn’t need words to show things were alright.