You've concluded that it is nothing short of impossible not to fall for Amy Pond at some point or another.
Not a single person you can name has been left unaffected by her—her artificial citrus scent and the unnatural red hue of her lips.
It's odd though, because while you're unarguably the one most affected by her, it's not that. Never that.
Yes, you find yourself falling. For her smirk and her fairytales she pretends not to believe. And, interestingly enough, her utter obliviousness to the way you notice all of these things.
And, well, she kind of kissed you. Obviously it wasn't on purpose or anything, because she clearly doesn't see you that way, and she clearly doesn't know you see her that way.
And it was actually sort of kind of in the eighth grade, and it's not exactly like those sorts of kisses matter.
But the thing is they do matter, at least to you.
And maybe it's that it's your first ever kiss or maybe that she's your first ever kiss but whatever it is it matters.
So much that it's a bit ridiculous.
But it sticks out in your mind forever, even though for her it's probably nothing.
Just a dance. An eighth-grade dance, where everyone danced the Macarena enthusiastically, and everyone shied away from those slow songs, glancing awkwardly at one another until they ended. And the Macarena, well, that's what started it all, isn't it?
Because you, god forbid, you had put out your left arm first, then your right, and she found this to be the funniest thing in the universe, just in that moment, just for that second—you were the only person that mattered to you. And you—that selfish part of you—enjoyed it.
You liked the way the spark in her eyes, her ridiculous laugh (which she would surely deny later, you knew even then)—you liked that it was your doing, even if unintentionally so.
And so when she kissed you, between bouts of laughter, brushing aside her vibrant hair, you couldn't help but enjoy that too.
Because even though she's far from yours, when it comes to her, you've always been more than just a bit greedy.
AN: Long overdue. Just as short as everything I've been writing as of late, and not exactly brilliant. And I feel like Rory's a bit off in this. I dunno. Pracitce and obsessive rewatching makes perfect, I suppose? Also, sorry that everything I've ever written for Doctor Who involves Amy. I'm not quite sure why. Oh, and hopefully it's obvious that the shifting of tenses was intentional, that some of the events were indeed in the past, while others were still going on. Thanks for reading.