AN: Despite not really being full-on crazy for the pairing, myself, I wrote this some time ago for a friend of mine who was. It's a fluffy, wordy, trite, and totally shamelessly tiny one-shot, and I'd hardly call myself a writer, but it was a fun experiment nonetheless, haha.
And if the title sounds familiar, that's because it's the same as a song by Emiliana Torrini. Good stuff.
Heartstopper
"I...," he began slowly, only to fade back to silence, now flustered somewhat. The sudden would-be admission dripping ever lightly from the tip of his tongue, refusing to come in the smooth wellspring of passion from which the words were inspired, stunted by the very woman that normally had him at ease under any other circumstance.
At that moment, as he looked into the twin irises of a brilliant emerald green (flecked with hazel toward the edges, he noted fondly), something closely resembling fear, though not quite, began to stem somewhere deep inside the pits of his stomach. It was the sort of unease that normally accompanied similar events in one's life, where words would be spilled, never to be bound again by the walls of just a single consciousness, and one would be left bare to the world and it's mercy -- the mercy of a single woman; a woman whom, now, meant more than just the world to him.
She stared back at him, expectant but patient, with a smile that (though only so slight) did nothing to appease the wad of knots welling in his gut.
"What is it, Cloud?" She urged gently, with an underlying tone of knowing. And somehow, just hearing the softness of her voice was enough to wipe away his inhibition.
"I love you," he uttered finally, suddenly, with evenness in his voice that so paralleled the deafening thump of his quickening pulse and the thoughts that raced suddenly through his mind. His eyes, with a mind of their own, strayed vulnerably from the pleasant face in front of him, the unease of insecurity swiftly worming its way back in. He had said it now and there was no taking it back. There was nothing he could do to ease the vague sensation of regret that came hand in hand with the anticipation of rejection. It was done.
He heard her make a small sound, light, amused, and it completely baffled him. It was not the numbing rejection he had expected, nor was it acceptance, or "I love you too." Perhaps she thought it was funny? The thought made him indignant.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he stole a shy glance at her with weighty apprehension, only to find her still staring at him, her expression unchanged from before. But as she noted his child-like gaze, her smile grew broader, and she made that sound again -- closer to a giggle now than before. He frowned.
"Silly," she said with guile, and he wondered what exactly she was referring to: him, or his admission? (Neither possibility sat very well with him.) Her expression softened then and she leaned gracefully closer to him, hands clasped coyly behind her as she gazed up at him with something bubbling in the depths of her eyes that he didn't quite recognize.
"I love you too."
And his heart skipped a beat.