I'm not usually into Niggy, but I couldn't help myself.
Iggy trudged to his room after a long day at school. He creaked open the door, and with perfect aim, plopped down on his desk chair, ready to work. He ran his fingers once over the braille keyboard and positioned his eight fingers on each correct key. Then, he started to type. His English teacher assigned the class a short story. On romance. Ha! Iggy, write romance? He thought it was crazy himself. What experience did he have? None. What girls had he kissed? One, a french brunette. That meant nothing. Nothing to him. It wasn't the girl he really wanted to be with. He had taught himself not to think about it too much. She wasn't interested. No, you could tell that. She was springing from boy to boy; she had grown into a girly-girl over the years. But Iggy had liked her more for it. She was 14; he was 17. It would never happen. He told himself not the get his hopes up.
He continued typing, writing from his heart and not from his mind. His slender fingers flew across the keyboard with ease. He was surprised at how easy writing this would be. He had experience in this part. In this story he was writing, he had experience in this romance. The pining romance. The angst romance. The romance that wouldn't happen.
A knock quietly emitted from his door and Iggy heard the door squeak open. He heard footsteps to the bed and a groan from the bedsprings as a figure sat on it. Nudge. Her footsteps; he could recognize them from a mile away. She got up off the bed and walked over to Iggy, leaning down and putting her head on Iggy's shoulder to read what he wrote. Iggy jerked her away, violently.
"What?" Nudge's voice asked, meek.
"You can't read this," Iggy said, roughly. She could never read this. Ever.
"Ig -- I'm sorry for coming here. I'll just leave," she said it so quietly, no one other than Iggy would have heard her. She got up and walked to the door, defeated.
The sound of a door click and Iggy knew that she had left. A pang in his heart felt bad for being so aggressive. He didn't mean it. She wouldn't understand. He went back to typing, the story taking another turn. A pining romance. The boy was pining. The girl, ignorant to the boy, didn't comprehend. The boy, angry with himself for yearning so long. The boy had longed for this love for three years.
The door opened again and more footsteps came in. Nudge. Again.
"Iggy, I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to read your stuff. I know it's private." God how he loved the way she said his name. With feeling. It wasn't just Iggy. It was Iggy.
Iggy turned his chair around to look at Nudge with sightless eyes. He cocked his head slightly as tears welled up in his eyes. He hardly cried. Never: that showed weakness. He was not weak. He bit his lower lip to keep the warm tears from falling, but didn't stop all of them. A single tear slid slowly down his face, meeting his chin and falling onto his jeans. He felt a warm hand wipe the tear-stain.
"Iggy, what's wrong?" A voice, full of concern filled his ears. Like music. Her voice was like a song, a beautiful, flowing song. His favorite song.
"It's nothing. Nothing," Iggy answered, his voice cracking. It would never happen. No, be strong. Iggy repeated this phrase in his head until all the tears were gone from his eyes. He wouldn't let her see him cry. Nudge sighed and continued.
"It is something. It's a big something. You never cry, Ig. What's wrong?" Nudge tried again, persistent. Her sentences were surprisingly short, for her.
"Nudge," Iggy started, taking a deep breath. "Nudge, would you really like me to tell you what I'm writing about?" Nudge nodded her head, then remembered and answered.
"Iggy, I would love to."
He took another deep breath and recited some. His words sounded like poetry, streaming out of his mouth from memory. The same sentences he had been repeating over and over in his head were in his story. He took Nudge's hand and led her to the bed. She sat down and Iggy sat down next to her.
"It would never work, he told himself. Never in a million years. She was beautiful, funny, and a talker. She could talk for hours on end. And this boy, he could listen to her for hours. Her voice was like music. His favorite song."
Iggy brought his hands to her flawless face. He ran his fingers over her nose, cheeks, and lips. He finally brought his hands to her eyes, and closed them, gently with his fingers over her eyelids. He felt her eyes flutter open and he lightly closed them shut again. He wanted her to feel this story, as much as he felt it. He let go of her eyelids, satisfied that she kept her eyes closed, trusting him. He cupped her face in his palms and breathed in her scent. Tears started to sting his eyes again. He blinked them back, but this time, they resisted. The tears came fast and fell down, down, down. He looked downward, afraid of Nudge seeing him like this. His tears hit his jeans again, making small wet stains on them. Like a faucet; drip, drip. Nudge sniffed and Iggy was sure she was crying, too. When one flock member felt pain, they all did. He felt his hand to her eyes, to make sure they were still shut and accidently brushed her tear-soaked eyelashes, stuck together with the water of her heart.
"This boy would kill to have this girl. This breathtaking girl. But she was taken. From boy to boy, he never stopped hoping. And finally she was without a love. 'Yes,' the boy thought. 'My chance has come.'"
Iggy inched his face an inch towards hers, and made sure her eyes were still closed.
"The girl had never taken in interest towards him. Not that he saw."
He inched closer to Nudge, now a couple inches away from her perfect face.
"But he decided to try it anyway."
Iggy shifted closer to her. He was now merely an inch from her face.
"So one day he saw his chance and took it. He kissed her."
Iggy leaned in a kissed Nudge, softly. She jumped slightly and then returned the kiss. Their cheeks touched and their tears mixed on their wet faces. Nudge smiled through the kiss. They pulled apart, breathing a little heavier than normal. He put a finger to her lips and traced them. A smile. An honest smile. She took his face in his hands and studied his features like he had studied hers. He traced his cheeks and his nose. And then finally cam upon his lips. She traced his smile, feeling all of Iggy in one grin.
"His name was Iggy. Her name was Nudge. And he loved her in every way."
AN: Everyone all together now: Aww! I've never done a Niggy before, but this idea jumped into my head, and I thought it fit perfectly. Did anyone get the french brunette part? And why it was a french brunette? Hah. I amused myself. (But it doesn't take much to amuse me.)
To let everyone know, I really am not a Niggy shipper. Sure, I read it occasionally, but I couldn't see this with any other couple. I really do ship Ella and Iggy.