I absolutely adore writing these drabbles. So simple and so quick. No dissapointing hiatus', no over complicated plot. And I am so happy you all enjoy this. I wonder how long I'm gonna take this before I publish the actual story.
"You regret it."
"Not really."
"Are you sure?"
Was she?
Hmm..."Yeah I'm sure."
He stared at her, eyebrow raised. And she had to say, she loved him without all that makeup. Or was it paint? Either way, she wanted to touch those scars. What was this insane curiosity of hers with those scars?
He waved a hand in front of her face and she blinked. "Huh?"
"You were staring at them again."
It was a statement. A rough one.
She blushed and looked down. "Sorry," she mumbled.
His eyes flickered over her face for a moment. "We were...headed out..."
She stared at him. "Yeah..."
"Not anymore?"
"No."
"You want to touch them."
Was he a mind reader?
"Yes," too late to deny now.
He seemed to hesitate and she didn't know why. What was he thinking? Whatever it was, it made her nervous. Or maybe him reaching out to her made her nervous, either way that was his hand touching her so gently.
She gasped as her fingertips brushed those scars, his fingers curled tight around hers. So soft, rough patches at the soft. So delicate.
It was enough to make her cry. A muttered, 'I'm sorry' and he shook his head, not pulling her to him like he should, just holding her hand so tightly it would bruise.