Here's a short little oneshot I thought of a little bit ago. Despite what the title suggests, this isn't smut. This is the morning after, kind of. I don't want to give too much away, but I felt like this was kinda important. I see Cyd as being this type of girl during sex (the first time, at least). So, yeah! Leave a review of what you thought and thanks for reading :)
His room is cold when she climbs out of bed. She slides his T shirt over her body and shields her eyes from the sunlight pouring into the window. There's a digital clock on his dresser with 9:25 shining in red. They are missing school. She can't find it in herself to care.
She peeks into the hall, scanning every inch of the quiet corridor before tip toeing to the next room over. The bathroom doors swings open silently and encloses her in a small cubicle of bright lights and isolation. She stares at the mirror.
They say losing your virginity changes you. That you're supposed to feel more grown up, like a new person ready to face the world. Like a confident human being who can look sex in the eye and say, "You don't scare me anymore!"
She feels like crying.
How embarrassing.
She considers heading back to bed, but her throat closes at the thought. How is she going to face him after last night? She finds comfort in the couch that seems to swallow her and a cartoon softly playing when she turns the TV on.
When the show ends, the floorboards creak. The air catches in her throat and she wishes the couch would engulf her in its fluff and let her disappear from the world. She can hear him in the bathroom, whistling a tune that would've lightened her mood any other day, but not this time. She wraps her arms around her body and anxiously waits for him to find her. What will he say? What will he do?
"Morning," he greets a moment later, startling her. She'd been waiting for him and he still startled her. She shakes her head in disbelief. I'm hopeless.
"Hi," she replies, her voice faltering. Just like that, she wants to die. Honestly, I'm such a moron.
"Cyd…"
Here it comes.
He sits next to her on the couch, but on the edge so he doesn't sink in beside her. She pushes herself out of the protective clutches of the furniture and turns to him, but doesn't meet his eyes.
That doesn't satisfy him, though. He hooks his thumb beneath her chin and forces her to look at him. He looks calm, but his eye give him away. He's worried about her, scared of what she's thinking. He's seen that look on her face, it's the same expression she adopts when she fails a test the rest of their group aced. She's embarrassed and that breaks his heart.
Look at him, unwavering brown eyes staring a hole in her heart, muscles flexing every time he shifts his body one way or another, mouth pursed into a thin line as he tries to figure her out. She bites her tongue. He's breathtaking, especially in the morning. Why would he settle for somebody like me?
"It's okay, Cyd," he promises, brushing her hair out of her face.
"I feel like a total idiot," she confesses, turning to her head and dropping her eyes. "I never realized what a low level I'm on compared to you."
"We're on equal ground," he argues.
"No, we're not. You've done this before, you're experienced. I'm the dweeb that chickened out."
"I've done it once, but I'd hardly call myself experienced."
Hesitantly, she looks up at him. "I'm sorry."
"There's absolutely nothing to apologize for." He kisses her forehead, his lips linger a moment or two longer, then he stares down at her. "It's okay, Cyd. I never want you to feel rushed about this." She doesn't respond. He sighs and pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her frigid body. She melts into his embrace, savoring the smooth skin on skin contact. She can handle this, her cheek against his bare chest. This is familiar to her, this is safe.
"I love you," she says, sounding a bit like her old self.
"I love you, too." He kisses her hair. "So much."