HOW TO FALL IN LOVE
Summary: He doesn't need distracting sounds as reminders that she is floating and deliriously letting herself go; he just knows. 1/1
Rating: G
Pairing: Not telling. I left it open to interpretation. BUT, if you want to know who I had in mind when writing this, because I did actually write it about two particular character, I dropped a few hints (i.e. "strange indulgence"), or you can insert shameless self-promotion here. hehe. You know the drill: read one of other two RFR fics. You know you want to ;)
A/N: Yes. I know it takes me nine million years to post. But I swear I'm writing more coming soon! Also, you have no idea how excited I get to read reviews, whether praise or (especially) constructive criticism or even harsh criticism. The reason I post here is because I don't show my writing to many people, and here is just a great place where I can get reactions. I love to know what you think and how my writing affects you, and I'm one of those people that takes people's suggestions and actually uses them. Anyway, I'll shut up – but if you review, man, would it make my day!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's the perfect time of day / It's the last day of your life
Don't let it drift away / while your heart is still racing
It's the perfect time of day
-Howie Day
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
He should have known it was over for him when she started to laugh. He loves her laugh.
It's never a subtle, okay-that-was-funny-but-let's-move-on kind of laugh. Not the laugh that starts in throat and seems kind of forced. Not that snickering sort of laugh.
But that lose-all-control kind of laugh, where her face just caves into the moment, and her head tilts forward then rocks back, and she buries her face in her hands to wipe away tears. No concerns about messing up makeup or looking ridiculous, just the violent shaking of her body, knowing her heart is pounding and then there is the open mouth with no sound coming out. There is no need for sound. He feels her body shaking and it's enough for him to just feel; he doesn't need distracting sounds as reminders that she is floating and deliriously letting herself go; he just knows.
And she's falling over, unable to contain herself, and he wants to laugh too. It's infectious and works like music that makes you want to dance, and he hates dancing, but somehow he feels like he can love this. This moment of seeing something so genuine is such a strange indulgence for him, and he's not sure why he's enjoying it so much, but he doesn't question it and falls into her realm. They are both loose and quivering, he's laughing too and feels himself slipping forward, touches his hands to hers to steady himself.
And just like that before he can think about it too much, she's secured a grip and slid her fingers through his to keep herself straight up. There is nothing unusual about this. They're laughing and he establishes an eye contact, but she closes her eyes, shutting him away, trying to suppress the laughter. It eventually dies; the tears have evaporated, the shaking of her body slows gradually until she is still, with nothing but the smooth, steady beat of her heart and the rhythmic pattern of breathing. And she finally realizes that, long after she had needed the support of his hands, she is still holding on. And when she finally opens her eyes wide, she finds his wide as hers, as though he had not expected her to be there when he'd opened them.
Her pulse should be settling now but that's not the way things are going. The flush in her cheeks should have left by now, but her cheeks feel hot again, and she realizes that she's not laughing. The hands should be disconnected by now; they are both sitting up straight and no longer laughing, but their hands are entwined; maybe she had not needed them for support in the first place but for something else. And somehow the hold has become tighter. She wiggles her fingers a little bit to loosen out, but his grip remains strong and firm, and his eyes are caught on hers. He sees the reflection of his face in her eyes, and suddenly he just knows. There is nobody else he looks at that way.
She knows what she sees on his face, this look, and she recognizes it. She is all too aware of what's about to happen and deliberates how crazy this is, because this look is so familiar yet she doesn't recognize it on him. It's not supposed to be on his face in the presence of her.
But it doesn't matter, because seconds later she can't see his face anymore, and her eyes close, and she stops seeing all the things wrong with this situation, stops seeing distractions and ways around this. He is too close to see anymore, and all she has left is feeling. And she likes the way he's dropped her hands and is pulling her closer, pressing his body into her and his lips onto hers. They are too close to see any part of each other but right now that's not what they need, all they need is to feel and be here and simply know.