Quick A/N: The chapters are in first person. Whose point of view each chapter is from is noted next to the prompt. Enjoy (and sorry it's a million years late).
Day 1: Kissing You (Anna's PoV)
I feel the soft ghost of pressure as your lips brush against mine. I lean forward, desperate for more, but you're already pulling away. My hand snakes around the back of your neck, keeping you in place. Your hands brace against my shoulders, almost like you want to push me away, but the push never comes. Your hands flex against the fabric of my shirt, then you grab it and use it to pull me even closer. I can barely breathe when you start to kiss me back.
"Anna," you breathe my name between kisses, and it sends a chill racing down my spine. My heart is pounding and my head is spinning. I can barely believe this is happening. It's everything I've ever wanted and more, and I never want it to end…
The dream fades and I'm left alone in the darkness of my room. I roll over and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that maybe if I can fall back asleep fast enough, I'll be able to get back into the dream. I keep my breathing deep and even, reliving those last fleeting moments of the dream when you were kissing me back. Unfortunately, replaying the dream in my mind only serves to stoke the embers of the dull heat throbbing between my legs. I squeeze my legs together and ignore it, then press myself more firmly into the bed, as if it will force me back into sleep.
I spend a few silent minutes with my face half-buried in my pillow before a car drives by my house. The light from their headlights passes over my eyelids and squashes any last hope I had of slipping back into the dream. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, as if I can find you hiding amidst the tiny lumps and crevices across it. I pull the pillow over my face and groan while my thoughts once again circle around you. It's like you're this whirling maelstrom, and I'm a ship that's just stuck in your irresistible pull. You're all I've wanted for the past few months. I'm pretty sure that I fell for you the instant I saw you. Heck, if I hadn't already known I was gay the first time I saw you, I'm pretty sure you would have turned me.
I throw the covers off of myself with a huff, then get out of bed and head for the kitchen. I hope that moving around and getting a drink will distract me enough to derail my train of thought before it picks up any more steam. In the back of my mind, I know that it won't, but I try anyway because this can't be healthy. I'm borderline obsessed with you at this point. No, not even borderline. I am one hundred percent obsessed with you. Not that anyone could blame me. I mean, have you looked in a mirror? You're so beautiful that I can't even find words for it. You're crazy smart. For fuck's sake, you're even funny. It's like you're some divine gift, painstakingly crafted by God himself to be the absolute perfect woman.
Not that it matters since I can barely talk to you. It's not for lack of trying, of course, I just become a clumsy, blushing mess around you because 'holy shit I'm talking to Elsa!' But still, you humor me and seem genuinely interested when I make cliche small talk about some stupid topic like the weather or sports, since the only other thing I could talk about is how much I want to kiss you. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head back to my room. I glance at the clock as I flop down in bed and see that it's almost five o'clock. I can't help but smile a bit; only a few more hours until I get to see you.
"Anna?"
I nearly sigh at the sound of your voice saying my name, but I bite it back at the last moment when I realize you're looking at me. Instead, I flounder for a few second and sound like I'm managing to choke on thin air. Once I regain what shreds of composure I can muster around you, I meet your gaze. Your mouth is curved up into a soft, bemused smile, but there's an expectant look in your eyes. You're clearly waiting on an answer to a question I didn't hear because I spaced out just staring at you and trying to count the faint freckles that dust your face. I try to play it off and get you to ask your question again, but all that comes out is, "Huh?"
Your smile grows a little and I feel my face heating up. "I asked if you wanted to get together later and study for tomorrow's test."
"Test?" I repeat, an edge of panic creeping into my voice. I sit up straight and my eyes fly to the front of the room. Sure enough, there's Professor Weselton, droning on about the Concert of Europe in the days before World War I. On the whiteboard behind him, big red letters spell out, 'Test tomorrow. Ch. 1-20' A pit of terror forms in my stomach. I don't even remember the last time I opened our European History textbook, but I know I never made it past chapter one without falling asleep.
"Yes," you reply, the word catching the tail of a giggle you were having at my expense. "So, do you want to study together later?" you ask again.
My first thought is wondering about why you would even need to study; you seem to get perfect grades just by showing up. Luckily, I've got enough sense not to actually say that out loud… this time. "Uh, sure," I say. I turn back to you, but I'm caught a bit off guard by your enthusiastic grin. You look like a child whose parent just said you could get a puppy. The urge to just lean over and kiss you flares up as strong as it ever has, but I resist it, barely. It takes me a second to recover and form a coherent thought. "Do you, uh, wanna meet at the library? Or maybe somewhere for coffee?"
Your smile fades, and your eyes dart around for a few seconds like you're thinking about what you want to say next. It's an odd sight; I've never seen you not have the perfect reply. "I was thinking it might be nice to do something a little… cozier," you say. You finally meet my gaze again, but there's something in your eyes that I can't quite place. The sparkle that was there when I agreed to study with you is gone, replaced with… worry? Fear? "Would you want to come over and study at my place, or I could come over to yours?" My surprise must show on my face because you quickly backtrack and say, "N-nevermind. The library's good."
"No, no. My place is good," I reply quickly, "It's just, I didn't think… never mind." I scramble for a few seconds, still trying to wrap my head around the idea that you're going to be coming to my house. I grab my phone and pull up your name from my contacts. Suddenly, I'm thankful that I never saved those heart emojis I put around your name one night when I was drunk. "I'll text you my address, but… can you give me a bit before you come over? My place is a bit of a mess."
"Sure," you say, smiling again. At the front of the class, Professor Weselton is wrapping up his lecture and dismissing the class for the day. You gather your things and stand up. Before walking away, you give me one last look. "I'll see you later, Anna. Text me when you want me to come over," you say, then turn and walk away before I can form a coherent reply.
I've been pacing back and forth in the confines of my living room for the last ten minutes. I pull my phone out and stare at the text message from you for the dozenth time.
Okay. I should be there in about 15 minutes.
My eyes dart down to the time stamp on the message. Thirty minutes ago. I toss my phone onto the couch and start pacing again. Where are you? I try and tell myself that you just hit traffic or something, but I can't help but worry that it's worse. Images of you laying in the street, covered in blood after a horrific car wreck keep playing through my mind. I'm tempted to call you, but I'm afraid of what it might mean if you don't answer. Would it just be because you're driving and don't want to be distracted, or something worse? A knock at the door pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, and I stumble over my own feet in my haste to reach the door. I yank it open to reveal you standing on the other side, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"Hi," you say, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry I'm late. There was an accident on the highway that took it down to one lane, so it took forever to get past it."
"It's fine," I reply, trying to sound like I wasn't about to have a heart attack worrying about you. I pull the door open wider and step aside to let you in. "Though, I did get started without you."
"I can tell," you shoot back. I follow your gaze to the table where my textbook and notes are both firmly closed. I stutter for a few moments until you giggle and start heading toward the couch. "Would you mind helping me catch up to where you are?"
We've been studying for a little over an hour, with our only break being to make a quick snack. You sit on the couch with the bowl of popcorn in your lap. After a quick overview of the material, you've started quizzing me on various areas to figure out what I need to work on. Of course, you don't need to review anything. You know this stuff like the back your own hand, and it makes me wonder once again just why you wanted to study together. "Okay," you say, "and who was Germany's representative on the Council of Europe?"
"Um…" I tap my pencil against my notebook. "Kaiser Wilhelm the second." I feel a piece of popcorn bounce against my head, your signal that I got it wrong. "No, wait, it was… Otto von Bismarck." Another piece of popcorn hits my head, and I whirl around to stare at you. "Hey! It totally was Bismarck!"
"I know," you quip, "I just like throwing popcorn at you." I playfully glare at you, and you respond by tossing another kernel at me.
"That's it," I growl, slamming my pencil on the table. I clamber up onto the couch and grab a handful of popcorn, then toss it directly into your face. You shriek, but it quickly morphs into a giggle as you grab ammunition to return fire. A small scale popcorn war breaks out on the couch, though you have the obvious advantage since you're holding the bowl. After a few minutes, we reach a truce and settle back on the couch, leaning against one another. I turn to ask you a question, but it's immediately forgotten under the intensity of the gaze you're giving me. Several emotions flash across your face, but I can't pin down what they are before they disappear. One overrides them all, though. It's… Care? Adoration? Just like the other's, I can't quite pin down what emotion it is. I'd call it Love, but there's no way...
Your lips are pressing against mine, but I never saw you lean over. The few inches that separated us are suddenly gone. My body stiffens to keep from flailing around, and my mind screeches to a halt. It feels like someone stuck a nine volt battery to my mouth; heat and electricity dance across my lips where yours meet them. As quickly as it started, it's over. You jerk away, scrambling across the couch until you're about to fall over the far arm rest. My mind is reeling, playing the last few seconds (minutes? hours?) over on a loop, trying to sear the indescribable feeling into my memory.
"Oh my god," you whisper, eyes wide, "Anna, I'm so… I didn't…" You bring a hand up to cover your mouth. You're trembling. I can see you shaking, and a tiny part of my brain tells me that I need to say something. I need to let you know that the kiss wasn't a mistake. It was amazing. It was something that I've wanted to do for months now. But my mind is still hopelessly derailed, and I can only sit there mutely. Tears form in the corners of your eyes before you leap off of the couch and run for the door.
You running away finally jolts me from my stupor, and I jump off of the couch to chase after you. "Elsa, wait!" I call after you. I stumble across my living room, then grunt as my shoulder rams into the door frame. "Elsa!" It's useless; you're already out the door. I barrel out of the door and turn down the hall, chasing after you. I round a corner and see you through a space in the wall. Somehow you're already out of the building and heading for your car. There's a railing across the space in the wall, but it's not that tall. I sprint down the hall and leap over it. Unfortunately, I jump a little too late, and the toe of my shoe catches the railing. I start to pitch forward and let out a brief shriek before crashing face first into the grass.
"Anna!"
You're by my side in an instant, kneeling over me and searching for my gaze. "Are you okay?" you ask quickly. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't… If I'd just… I can't believe—" I roll over onto my back, and your hands are immediately on my face looking for injuries. I summon what little strength I can muster after my impromptu hurdling failure and push myself up onto a forearm. I bring my free hand around the back of your head and pull your head down a bit until our lips meet. It's a weird angle and my entire body hurts, but it's amazing nonetheless. I feel you tense up a bit like you're about to pull away, but you don't. After a moment of hesitation, you start kissing me back. I've dreamt of this moment for months now, and every single dream has utterly failed to capture the reality of it. Your lips are cool and soft against mine, and I could spend an eternity just kissing you.
After a minute or two, you try to pull away again. My hand slides from your neck and I lay back down in the grass. You're gazing down at me with a look of pure love and adoration, and your eyes sparkle. I glance off to the side for an instant, then meekly ask, "So, um, you're not still leaving, are you?" You laugh and lean back down to kiss me again.
Yeah, I could get used to this.