Compulsion

Characters : Ryme(OC) and Tsukamoto Yakumo

XXXXXX

What was he supposed to say?

What was she supposed to say?

He had been here before albeit not with her.

She had never felt this way before. So naturally, it was her first. And she had no inkling of an idea of what to do or say.

Must she say his name?
Must she be offended?
Must she confess?
Must she smile?
Must she do anything at all, and rely on him to break this valve of awkwardness?

What if she did the wrong thing?
What if her not doing anything upset him?

Must she apologise?

She was frozen. Like a breathing portrait of innocence. That was her. Yakumo.

He, on the other hand, was not frozen.

He was fidgeting. His clammy left hand ravenously toying with his celphone. He was feeling the heat. Even though it was mid January. He was desperately battling to resist taking of his coat and layers of clothing. But deep down, he knew that it would only bring him trouble. It was below freezing outside. And it would be extremely inappropriate for him to strip down to his boxers...in front of Yakumo.

He sighed.

Why did he have to touch her windswept bangs?
And why did he have to tuck them behind her left ear?
Dammit, why did he have to adore her hair?
Why the hell was he so compelled to reach out to her dark, overflowing locks,
even though he knew that doing so would only introduce trouble to their seemingly faultless night?

He sighed and cussed his inability to resist temptations.

He knew that he shouldn't wait for her to react. He knew that what he did had shocked her good. So he decided to (finally) be a real man and dig his way out.

It's gonna be troublesome. He can almost smell the trouble. Oddly, trouble smelt like Yakumo's hair. Like dandelions and honey.

He pulled his hand away and pieced up his burdened facial expressions into a clumsy grin.

He apologised, saying that he couldn't help but touch her silk-like,heavensent locks. His attempts at being poetic only resulted in her nervously saying that it's okay and she didn't mind at all. Even though it was crystal clear that her alabaster cheeks glowed a healthy shade of pink just a few moments ago. She can be too cute at times.

Who says Tsukamoto Yakumo was flawless?

He laughed nervously.

Still blushing, she gave him a warm smile.
The smile that he yearned for.
The smile that compelled him to touch her hair in the first place.

He was feeling it again. The compulsion.

How troublesome, he thought as he tucked away strands of honey-scented locks.

XXXXX