Happy Note: This is just a mini drabble that was inspired by a meme I saw on tumblr. It's all over the place and I hope you can make sense of it.
The first time was a mistake. A peculiar happenstance. Like a freak accident.
There was no way they could've stopped it from happening. It was an embarrassing
collision, really, and she'd been lucky not to have broken anything after having been
thrown his way so roughly. But now they had matching scars decorating their lips.
He had seen her touch her bleeding lip afterwards, a look of split-second confusion
and chagrin on her face. He turned away when she looked his way and resisted
mimicking her action. He'd find the taste of her warm blood seeping through his
teeth hard to forget.
The second time she's buzzed. He wonders if he should take advantage. He watches
her instead, trying to balance herself atop a wall. Like a trapeze artist, her arms
outstretched. The wind carries her laugh to him. He touches his lip, the mark once
there now nonexistent. Her foot slips and he catches her without second thought.
He doesn't know why his body moved so swiftly. She giggles and he might have turned
bright red if not for her state. He notices, then, the mark still on her lip. Like a tattoo.
He smirks. He doesn't fully understand why. She falls asleep so quickly. She must have
not registered who's arms she was in. His heart falls in sync with the beating of drums
nearby. She murmurs a smile in her sleep. He drops her off under a sweet smelling tree
by the temple. Fireflies light the way and he presses his lips against her hair. He decides
the village festivals aren't so bothersome.
The third time she thought she might suffocate. But he breathed into her and she
remembered it was okay to breathe out. She holds his face in her hands. Her cheeks
are pink. It's the first time she sees him smile so sincerely. There's no scar on her lip
anymore. He contemplates making a new one. He grabs her hand from his cheek and
kisses the inside of her wrist instead. She turns her hand in his. He looks at her curiously
as she takes hold of his hand and kisses his fingertips. He says she's too gentle. She says
he needs it. He laughs.
The fourth time he tries to kiss her she puts a hand over her mouth before he can. He wants
to laugh. She whispers something to him and he gleams. She pecks him. Laughter. For a moment
his skin feels like it's burning. It's a comfortable feeling. He doesn't want to let go, but she kisses
him so gently he does so without realizing. A sort of spell, it feels like. Something clicks.
He understands. She nods.
The fifth time he kisses her fingertips. She made a joke prior to about how he was warm for once.
How she could still smile like that, he didn't know, but he wanted to shake her. He smiles at her instead.
It hurts. He presses cold fingertips to his lips. Glassy blue eyes stare up at a bluer sky. There's a scar.
He's reminded of the price he paid to keep death at bay.