A/N: HI if you are here I need to tell you this is a drabble and exclusively Crisspez sooo sorry and I hope you enjoy and if you do/don't review pls you will make this person happy :) xx
This drabble is inspired on the song I almost do by Taylor Swift because I love her. ( /watch?v=8ZiDGFPqsGo )
Also I HATE writing in 1st person so if this is awkward/lame/has grammar errors (IT HAS), MY BAD sorry
Warnings: Soft sex references. Nothing out of this world, really. Also fluffly angst so get ready? I love you bye
"I almost do"
I rubbed my hands against each other to keep them at a minimum level of warmness. It was probably the coldest New Year of my life. We just finished dinner, the delicious plate of food helped us to put up our temperature; but right then, outside, under the sight of the stars and Chicago lights, the cold wind was whipping us off and we were starting to freeze again. The countdown was approaching; and all of us were cheering and jumping around, making noise, excited. I wasn't probably as excited as the rest of the gang. That year had been incredible for all of us; but what could assure to me that the new one would be as good as the previous one? I couldn't help but to be afraid; everything that goes up would eventually go down. Jaime Lynn announced that the final minute began and they started to make the countdown.
I was walking from one side of the sidewalk to another; the cold was sneaking into me through my little boots. My feet were so cold. I buttoned all of the buttons of my jacket and fixed my scarf before the final 30 seconds went through. I looked at the gang, losing the count of the seconds. I felt grateful for having them with me. Most of them had a glass of champagne on their hands; I had rejected it, but then I was regretting doing it so. I could have appreciated a little of alcohol in my veins to counteract the cold.
When the cheers and screams and fireworks exploited all of sudden; I knew it was New Year. The first one that came up to congratulate me was Julia. She hugged me and accidentally dropped some of her champagne on me. We both laughed; I recognized her tipsiness. Then Jaime, Joe Walker, Joey, and Denise came up to me. I could only say a quick Happy New Year because we all wanted to see the shiny fireworks; in the top of their climax, mixing themselves just right over our heads. But I didn't pay attention to them right away. The last person, who for a second I thought he forgot about me, walked to me. Chilled, with a little smile that I could spot instantly because of the blue beanie he was wearing that captured my attention.
"Happy New Year, Lauren." He whispered, approaching me.
"Happy New Year, Darren." I answered, with another tiny smile.
There was tension between us. There had always been since we split up. Awkward, but in a certain way, enjoyable; it kept us secure. We knew that tension, that awkwardness, was marking the line we couldn't cross. He had taken a day off that time to fly from Los Angeles to be with us; but that was it. I was a part of the group, not the main and only reason he was there. I couldn't start to imagine things again.
Because of the same reason; he didn't hug me. He offered to me his glass of champagne instead. I accepted it. I took some sips from the glass, looking up to the sky; staring at the delightful explosion of fireworks in the sky. Darren did the same, but he didn't walk away from me.
When the fireworks ended, the group walked inside of the house again, fearing they'd freeze out there. I started to step through the path to the house too, following them; but I turned back at half of the way; handing my glass to Joey, who looked at me and then at Darren and he just smiled to himself and stepped into the house too. Darren was still stood up on the sidewalk, staring at the sky and watching the traces of the fireworks left.
I slowly walked to him. My boots were making noise as I put my feet on the pavement. He looked kind of miserable too. Maybe sadness was not the right expression to describe it; but he had a different look on his face.
I shook my head; trying to convince myself that was probably just tiredness from work and/or the flight. Trying to convince myself that, after all that time, I didn't still know him so well.
"You okay?" I asked softly, standing next to him.
He nodded, his gaze went down but he didn't look at me either; like if I just interrupted his meditation session. He breathed and I watched the vapor coming out of his mouth through the cold air.
If we were still together, I wouldn't need to ask or to even know the reason of his sadness. I'd just wrap my arms around his back, kiss his cheek and snuggle against his chest; and that'd be enough to let him know I was on his side. That he wasn't alone.
But we weren't.
I bit my lip in a gesture of anxiousness. That situation leaded me to despair. I wanted to know but I couldn't ask.
Then he did look at me. Directly into my eyes. And that caught me by surprise. I didn't realize I was looking at him with such desperate eyes. I felt like if his eyes had responded to mine; they saw the feeling portrayed on my eyes and they related to them.
"I miss us too." He said lowly, like if he was ashamed of admitting it.
I just gasped, not knowing what to reply. Of course I missed us. I missed how close we used to be; how we used to recognize our gestures, gazes and attitudes just by sharing a one-second look; how we used to finish each other's sentences, and how we knew the exact thing to do to capture the other's attention, how to annoy them, make them laugh, make them blush or make them shake of pleasure.
It was a constant temptation. We were best friends for years; and when we decided one night feeling the near to intoxicating happiness of having Michigan winning the most important game of the year, to break that thin line of intimacy between us with a soft (but cheeky) kiss; we couldn't just build a cast and put that wall up again. It was broken forever; and something tied us.
"We're better off like this." I finally said.
We really were? My mind kept shouting me it was. We shared months of hidden kisses on the lips between classes, sleepless nights of deep talking about the future (our future) under the sheets, and laughs dragged through an entire day of just joy and carefree smiles; and it was great and amazing and everything you could expect it to be, but what about that night? When we screamed our weaknesses at the top of our lungs, and we used our own private and only-us secrets against each other, and we cried wasted tears because of a stupid fight? That night was just as real and true and intense as the others.
We were over.
But it was, indeed, a temptation. How could I understand that those lips that I've kissed countless times before weren't mine now? That I couldn't call him at the middle of the night just because I needed to hear his voice? That whenever I wanted him, like then, I had to step back and left the path free for somebody else? I loved him once and he loved me so. How were we supposed to forget our voices calling each other's names between whispers in the middle of the night, or our bodies instinctively responding to each other's touch, or the warmth feeling of being so close that you forget when do you finish and when does the other's begin?
"Do you really think so?" he asked slowly. His rough gaze on me made me nervous.
I wanted to say no. But I nodded.
"But how am I supposed to…?" he began, but I cut him.
"To stop?" I interrupted.
He slowly nodded with his head.
"How am I supposed to hold myself when you are looking so beautiful like tonight?" Darren muttered; and his hand went to my face. I felt his fingertips caressing my neck, on the end of my scarf, and running through my cheek, burying his fingers in my hair.
I closed my eyes. Always a temptation. Always in the edge, in the brink of the line, in the almost.
I put my hands on his chest, instantly feeling his warmness. He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.
Everything on him was calling me. His eyes, his touch, his breath, his voice, the beat of his heart. And I never knew if I was going to have the strength to step back, to say no, to almost do.
He planted a soft kiss on my cheek; and feeling my skin, whispered:
"You're freezing."
I hid my face on his neck; my nose was making me tickles, I wanted to sneeze.
And I wondered if he felt the same way I did. If there were times when he was going to sleep and thought about me; if he got confused and saw my face lost between a crowd, if he had to skip a radio station because a song remembered him about me; if it was necessary to hold himself like he said to not kiss me under the pouring rain. If there were ever times when he almost did.
"I know we can stop. What it scares me-" I said, looking up to his eyes. "it's not knowing if we can forget."
His thumb rubbed softly my cheek; and a sigh sneaked out of his mouth. His voice sounded, strong, but only I heard it. "I could never forget our first kiss, or the first time we shared an ice cream, or sang together. Or the first time I made you smile, or laugh, or moan, or even cry. The best memories of my life include you. I always feel them coming back to me, and they are so real and so powerful, and I wonder why can't we-"
"Darren, don't do this…" I started, my voice was breaking. I was going to cry if he tried to convince me once more. I knew I had to reject it, but then I'd doubt it, I'd reach the almost and that scared me. I'd fear more of the best moments than the worst ones, because the happiness would imply sadness, and a hello would risk a goodbye; and I didn't know if I could almost.
He took my face with his both hands, forcing me to look up, back at him. His touch was so soft, it felt like an extension of my body; I couldn't resist at any movement of him. I squeezed his sweater, trying to hold my crying. He kissed softly my forehead this time. His lips on my skin were so wrong they felt right. He never liked to see me cry; and as a tacit promise, I tried my best and I didn't. I moved my hand through his chest, to his neck; and my fingers reached the line of his jaw, softly stroking it. I remembered how touching him felt, his skin was craved in my memories; and I could just close my eyes and feel his friction again.
And I felt, for the first time after a while; a requited feeling. Like if he was on the edge too. Like if he was almost to give himself away, almost close to love me, almost stealing a kiss from me and almost confessing; almost inhaling all of my breath, almost looking at me so so pretty close that almost feeling a million of butterflies inside him; almost telling me, and almost having me lying. Almost asking me my feelings for him and having me almost saying yes.
Having his strong grip around me, making me feel so safe like they did years back; when I was scared of spending the night outside with him, and he'd just make of his arms my home, whenever we were. And I wondered, how did we mess up a love so beautiful?
"I still-" He stuttered, stumbling upon his own words. He didn't gather the courage to finish the sentence, but he almost did.
He moved close to me, not being brave enough to make words out of his thoughts. I closed my eyes as I felt his lips on mine. A soft, slow, but long kiss. I wondered how much I've been almost kissing him; wanting him to be the one to do it, asking me to myself how to be something he'd miss.
I ran my hands to the back of his neck, squeezing his curls. Trying to make a list of all the things I had been missing about him, all in one second. He was pulling me closer and closer, taking all of my coldness, throwing off all of the intimacy; breaking of sudden the wall of almost we tried to build between us in that night of screams and revealed secrets as if it was made of Lego pieces.
It was a flawless, unforgettable, fearless kiss.
We cut it when our teeth collided; and I smiled shyly. He smiled too, pressing his forehead against mine. I felt a burnt in my cheeks.
We still knew how to make the other smile or blush, after all.
"We're going to get caught out here. Remember that you are a superstar now." I whispered, making fun of him, playing with his short curls. I used to joke about it since I knew him; but ironically the jokes got, somehow, real.
"It's my day off." He justified, teasingly rubbing my back.
A lost firework exploited right up us; and we raised our gazes to see how it melted in the black night sky; like a shooting star. He looked at me again and I did the same.
"Happy New Year, Lauren." He said lowly; and his whisper felt like home.
"Happy New Year, Darren." I replied, cuddling against his chest before the cold went back to us and we had to get back in the house.
There'd be times when we would, and it was inevitable. But he had to know. Every look, every touch, every time I stepped back I was saying to myself to don't.
But every time I don't, I almost do.