AN: Look! On time-ish! Woah, Toasty's on a roll! XDD Anyway, you guys were quite merciful with your reviews, so thank you. rougelover321 (Thanks, and oh yes I will!), Numbeh013 (Don't feel bad, and hey look! It's here!), Shamy4Evar8 (That is such a wonderful, wonderful compliment; thank you so much! :,D), Ajir (Hooray for no angst! XD But holy holmes, wait for #29...), leafysummers (Well-put, my friend!), numbah435spiritsong (*Don't you, forget about meee...don't, don't, don't, don't...* ...Sorry, Breakfast Club moment.), KNDFOREVER (52? Oh, you spoil me. OwO), CBREL (Pssh, I already responded to you, didn't I? XD But again, I loved your review and thanks again!), PrincessScissors (Awesome! When readers are reduced to bouncing and squeaking, I know I've done something right. XDD), BlueNumbuhFour (NOMNOMNOM), Numbah1999 (Good to see you back! I used to have a cat named Cleo. She peed on my pillow. :I ) and writer-person2 (Thanks so much!)!
Thanks so much, you guys! *trollface*
Today's chapter is brought to us by the reader Numbeh013! Yaaay!
Disclaimer: You can sue if you want to, you can leave your rules behind, cuz your friends don't sue and if they don't sue then they're no friends of mine. Hrm. I seem to be stuck in a rut of very old songs that everyone else in this fandom is too young to know. ON WITH THE SHOW.
29 Tries
Attempt #13: The Subway
Wally blamed it all on that woman's shopping bags.
If they hadn't slammed into Kuki like that on the subway, he wouldn't have needed to help her up and push her back into the corner of the car, braving his back to anything that dared come near her again, be it plastic bags or elbows or absurdly hairy pot bellies.
If it hadn't been for those bags, Wally wouldn't have his arms braced against the wall on either side of Kuki's head, and he wouldn't have to notice that the way she was slumped sort of made him taller than her.
Kuki parted her hair a different way today.
See, Wally didn't really pay attention to hair, except for those awful mornings every few months when Mum would get out the scissors and cover his head with her second-best mixing bowl. And then the thoughts usually had to do with hating the fact that he had hair.
But now he was fixating on that tiny stripe of pale scalp that was usually on the right but today had moved more to the left, and then he was wondering why on earth it mattered, but he kept staring.
It wasn't a bad change, he decided. It wasn't necessarily better, either; just different.
Kuki touched his arm with her fingertips; five white-hot points of contact that took all of his attention away from her hair and where precisely it fell, and more towards the fact that his heart really shouldn't be beating so hard.
He looked at her and she was very, very close. His head bent over hers at an intimate angle and he thought that if she stood up straighter they would almost be kissing.
Kissing Kuki; it really wasn't a healthy thing for him to be fixating on, but he found looking at her mouth a lot less daunting than looking into her eyes. They curled upwards in a way that was self-depreciating and also a little embarrassed, like getting hit and making him protect her was her fault.
Wally thought about telling her it wasn't, or perhaps inquiring about that suddenly-very-interesting candy wrapper on the floor, but talking felt like it was such a bother.
She was still gripping his sleeve.
"I don't like the subway," she whispered. Whispering wasn't necessary, really; it was loud enough in here as it was, but the movement of her lips drew his attention toward them again.
"Me neither," he croaked. Though it wasn't all bad now, and Wally figured if he was any type of smooth or maybe played football that he could tell her that.
Fat chance.
It was a sentiment better expressed through saying nothing at all, he figured. Talking would be a bother.
Kuki, apparently, thought differently, and Wally froze instinctively at her next words.
"Well...I guess it's not so bad, since you're here," she replied with a dry huff of laughter.
Something must have gotten tangled up, because wasn't he supposed to say that? Wally looked to her and it was her turn to avoid his gaze, her features tight and wary. She looked a little flushed and Wally wasn't sure it was because of the heat. He feels rather warm, himself. Not overheated, just...warm.
Wally feels a surge of affection for the little Asian girl before him, because she was brave where it counted and everywhere he wasn't. She looked embarrassed for saying it aloud, and it was so endearing that Wally thought for a wild moment that he might actually lean forward.
Then Kuki's eyes flick to him, and suddenly things get a lot more stifling. Because there's expectation there; she expects something from him, and he has no idea what.
Her eyes are wide, trusting, and vulnerable as she so rarely is, and the seconds slip away with every beat of Wally's confused little heart. He's reminded of a confrontation on the playground where everything felt green, and a orange hoodie being thrust into his arms with a strange sort of smile. It's connected, somehow, and his eyes darted, trying to think.
What did Kuki want?
What did Kuki want?
What did Kuki want?
Well...what had she always wanted?
Wally thinks he might be beginning to get it. A niggling little thought that had something to do with wide smiles and dark hair and green sweaters hovered on the edge of his mind, taunting, but reachable.
I like being with you, too.
Simple. Not very eloquent, but Wally thinks he understands.
He meets her eyes daringly, trying not to quail at all the time that must have passed.
He can say it.
He can say it.
He can say it!
He doesn't say it.
Chicken, his mind supplies.
Kuki's throat bobs as she swallows, and she looks away. It's just as well; she'd looked halfway to angry and all the way up to hurt.
The doors open and she ducks away, cold spots forming on his arm where she'd stopped touching him.
Suddenly his mind is screaming 'no!', and he thinks there might be time, there might be just enough time to fix everything.
With a rush of confidence, Wally charges forward and makes a grab for Kuki's hand, her name in the breath on his lips.
Skin bumps skin, and for a moment he's buoyed by the brilliant white-hot contact, then something a lot harder and much more plastic bowls him over completely, and the chance is lost.
Again.
Later when he walks home alone, he's still cursing those cruddy shopping bags.
AN: This new format...DO NOT LIKE. It's so...weird. And small. Somehow.
I didn't care to figure out why they were riding the subway. :D
Anyway, shoot me in the heart with some feely reviews!
Tickle that Toast.