Drabble-y thing. Haven't written in a while. It's got some hinting to sex and the fact that Wally watches Jinx get dressed... so this will be T.
inspired by Mayday Parade's song "Terrible Things."
"I can save you."
His voice creaked, wavered, cracked, a sliver of an exhale coming from his lips. It was sweet smelling, of tea and sugar, warm against the inside of her collarbone. Curly tomato locks against her limp rose ones, his chin against her shoulder, his eyes closed but he didn't need to see her.
"I don't think anyone can save me."
It was as simple as those words, soft, meek, bringing her knees up closer to herself. I felt her shift in my lap, turning her head to glance away, her silken hair brushing against my cheek.
"No one person can be as jinxed as you believe you are," he said weakly, turning his head so his nose pressed against her throat, and then his lips were against the skin, cracked meeting smooth, cold, the skin fluctuating underneath. The kisses fluttered against the skin, needing, wanting something he needed to express but couldn't find the words.
She drew in a breath, and just like that he knew, eyelids flickering open to glance up at her face.
"Jinx -"
He hadn't even felt her unwind herself from his grip, his arms around her waist, her knees, it was just an absence all at once, her warmth disappearing from his body. She was on her feet, pulling clothes on. His eyes wandered, from the curve of her back, the scars she held, the curve of her hips and her breasts.
Her pale, creamy skin, her pink eyes, her wicked grin.
Above all, Wally loved her hair, as vibrant and beautiful as the rest of her; not telling of her bad luck streak or her powers, just a feminine pink.
He watched her every move, as she pulled on her clothes, as she pulled her hair back into her signature twin tails, moving to his apartment's window and the fire escape and pulling the window open.
The blast of winter air, the snowflakes and her visible breath; it wasn't as cold as the space she'd left against his chest minutes earlier.
"Good bye, Wally."
"You know," he began, falling back onto his bed. He watched her hesitate, holding the window open, daring herself not to look back at the man she was leaving. "There's this saying, I bet you've heard it." His words were still cracked, and with a cough he licked his lips. " ' Good bye means going away... going away means forgetting.'"
The window was slammed shut before he had even finished, leaving his hollow words and the cold breeze in his apartment bedroom. He sighed, running a hand down his face and closing his eyes again. And then he laughed.
"Damn, I don't know how I'd forget you."