Title: Fade to Grey
Series: Second in the "After the Fall" series.
Author: Diva Stardust
Pairing: Dawn/Spike
Rating: R
Summary: Spike and Dawn's relationship begins to become murky and unclear.
Distribution: Just ask first if you want to archive this somewhere, please. I will most likely say yes!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, FOX, etc. I'm not making any money off this!
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Spikeyvamp for the beta!
~*~*~*~*~
Everything had turned grey.
Nothing felt the same anymore. Everything was murky and unspoken. Spike still danced around the line, knowing he couldn't step over it. Hating himself for wanting to in the first place. Dawn still acted the same around him. Most of the time. Sometimes he thought he caught her looking at him differently out of the corner of his eye but it was gone too quickly to be sure. They touched more too. Hugs, an occasional arm slung across a shoulder, a brief hand squeeze, his hand on her shoulder when she studied. The comforts of friendship.
Spike had tried to bury his feelings so deep that they had turned grey as well. Didn't want to think about them. No point in thinking about something that could never happen.
A year had gone by since that night in the cemetery but he could still taste her on him.
"Did you have another one of your nightmares, Sweet Bit?"
It was the middle of the night and he'd woken up to the sight of Dawn standing at the foot of his bed. Looking shaken up but slightly relieved as well.
"I dreamed about it again," she quietly said.
She'd first told him about the nightmares almost a year ago. She'd had them ever since the tower but had never told anyone. They didn't come often, only once every few months but they were enough to shake her up for days afterwards. Now she only told him about them. He had wanted her to tell Buffy as well but she'd refused and had gotten such a look of panic on her face that Spike had never mentioned it again.
"What happened this time?" he asked gently.
The nightmares were always related to the tower somehow. Sometimes Doc just kept cutting her and never stopped. The blade piercing her skin over and over again. He remembered the night he found out why she didn't want to tell Buffy. Sometimes she dreamed Buffy pushed her off the tower while laughing.
"You fell," she stated blankly.
He used to have dreams like that too. About falling. Falling and failing. They were the same thing.
Spike waited patiently for her to go on. Sometimes it would take a while for her to get it all out.
"But you didn't come back. You were gone, dead."
He couldn't remember her ever dreaming about that before. About him.
"I had to come downstairs and make sure you were still here." She started to look ashamed like it had been foolish for her to think he would've been gone.
"Nothing to fret about, Dawn. I'm here"
But she just stood in silence and looked at him. At his bed. Once they had defeated the First last year they'd wanted him to keep living there. All of them actually. Buffy, Dawn, and Willow. It made for a strange household. Most of the potentials had been sent back to their homes after the battle but some of the more eager ones had stayed behind, wanting to help fight everyday ordinary evil in Sunnydale. Oftentimes there were still teenage girls sprawled out at night in their living room.
Dawn had helped him turn the basement into looking somewhat like his old crypt. It looked much more posh than it had a year ago. A large bed replaced the cot and there were several chairs spread across the room. She had tested each one herself before buying them. Making sure they were comfy enough even though he tried to convince her that he could make do with anything, didn't matter to him whether a chair was "comfy" or not. She'd only scoffed at him and said, "All the best things in life are comfortable, don't you know that?"
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"
Spike tensed up. She'd never asked that before. Usually when she had the nightmares all she did was tell him about them and then go back upstairs. This one must've been worse than the others.
"I don't know, Bit ..."
But she looked at him with those eyes of hers and found himself caving. Could never say no to her.
He was thankful he had learned a long time ago to wear jeans to bed. His sleeping naked days were long over. "Get in," he said, trying to sound defeated while pulling back the other side of the covers for her.
Her face lit up with excitement and she quickly jumped into the side next to him, pulling the covers up almost to her chin. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, looking at the television set, his weapons chest, and finally stopping on his bookcases.
He noticed where her eyes lingered immediately. "Oh no, not tonight. I won't have you up all night reading again. Buffy almost had my hide the last time."
Oftentimes he would come home after a night of poker or patrolling and find her curled up in the corner of the basement, reading one of his books. He usually didn't say anything about it unless it was too late and he knew Buffy would be upset. Do her usual ranting about how Dawn had school and needed her sleep. But sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night and find she'd snuck back downstairs and was reading one of his books with a penlight. Sitting in the corner, her face lost in the book with her knees tucked under her chin. He never asked why she just didn't bring the book up to her room and would watch her for a while before falling asleep again. Sometimes she would glance at him and know he was awake but wouldn't say anything. It was nice. Comfortable. Quiet moments together where nothing had to be said.
A fake pout appeared on her lips. "Aw, you're no fun. So I guess that means calling all my friends and inviting them over for a wild party is out?"
He tried not to laugh. "Go to sleep," he grumbled.
They were silent for a while until something she had said earlier struck him. "You said, 'again'."
"Huh?" Dawn asked, having almost fallen back asleep.
"You said you dreamed about this *again*. I don't remember you ever telling me about this dream before." He turned and faced her. "Something you're not telling me, Bit?"
There was a long pause before she finally answered his question, turning away from him as she did so. "I've dreamt about it before. I just never wanted to tell you, okay? I didn't want to say the words, say how you were all dusty and never coming back because that would make it too real, you know? But then this time it was too much and I had to come down here-"
He cut her off and reached his hand out to stroke her hair. "Shhh shhh. Hush, Sweet Bit. Don't have to talk about it anymore. 'S, alright. Here, aren't I? Not going anywhere."
She seemed soothed by that, her breathing becoming calm again and he tried to take his hand away. "No, don't stop. I like it when you do that," she whispered.
"Yeah?" He hated the way the word sounded the minute it came out of his mouth. Too seductive, too tainted.
"Yeah, that way I know you're still here. And that I'm still here," she said sleepily while yawning.
His heart broke for her and he ran the back of his hand down her hair again. Her back to him with all her hair running down it. He remembered that one dream of hers. Where she just disappeared back into a green energy ball and no one remembered her. She'd asked him if he'd remember her and it had taken all his composure not to break down. "Not bloody likely that I'd forget my own Sweet Bit, is it?" is what he'd said and she'd hugged him tightly immediately, her arms circling his back with love and he prayed to God at that moment that she'd never let go. But God never listened to any prayers that came from him.
Suddenly the reason for why this was a very bad idea became apparent. The smell of her. She was so close and the smell of her was everywhere. All over his sheets now too. One day he had taken a shower immediately after she had and paid the price for it. The room had been covered with her. The scent that was unmistakably Dawn mixed with steam and her shampoo. She always smelled of lilac and lavender. Always putting pretty scents on her that were purple through and through. Such a sweet fragrance that was richly mixed with the books she read. Could smell the old leather bindings on her, the yellowed pages and faded ink. He'd never smelled a combination like it before. It all made up who she was. All of it Dawn.
And now that scent was lying on his bed inches away from him. All he could do was keep stroking her hair. He never got over how soft it was. Knew it couldn't just be because she brushed it a lot. No one could get hair like that with just such an ordinary task.
He continued stroking her hair until well after she was asleep but then he remembered himself and stopped, falling asleep himself.
When he awoke it was with a smile on his face. He kept his eyes closed and basked in the feeling of being loved and wanted. Had never felt so comfortable or at peace. His eyes popped open when he realized why that was. Dawn had wrapped herself around him sometime during the night. Curled against his backside, her arms firmly latched around his chest.
Could feel her breath on the back of his neck, making all the little hairs stand on end.
He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. It was too much. But he waited a few minutes before slowly prying her off of him and moving her back to the other side of the bed.
When she woke up there was only one question on his mind. Another unspoken question. She had looked surprised for just a tiny moment when she'd first woken up and found herself on her side of the bed again. He couldn't help but wonder whether or not she had been awake when she had moved her body against his.
~*~*~*~*~
It was summer and the days had turned hot and sticky. Dawn's 18th birthday had been one of the hottest days of the year and everyone had wanted her to have an outdoor party. But she wouldn't hear of it. Wouldn't be a party unless Spike would be able to come. They'd compromised and had the party outdoors at night in a park. Spike had noticed the way the boys at the party had looked at her. Couldn't help but notice. She'd dated in the last year but nothing serious and she'd barely talked to any of the boys at the party. Had simply taken Spike by the hand and insisted he see some swings that Buffy had pushed her on years ago.
One summer afternoon he was sitting on his bed when she came to him.
"I think it's cooler down here," she said, waving her hand in front of her face. "Or at least a little bit."
It still hadn't rained all summer and everyone at the house had been joking about it being some weird Hellmouth thing. Felt like the whole town was on fire. The heat had forced them to wear very little clothing too. All Dawn wore that whole summer were shorts and tank tops while going barefoot. He looked down at her feet while she talked. He wondered how she ever found time to paint her toenails.
"Should buy a bloody fan for this room is what I should do," he grumbled.
"Surprise!" she squealed. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled a folded paper fan from behind her back.
"Ta da!" she exclaimed, opening it up with a flourish. He laughed and she moved it quickly back and forth by his face.
"Oi! Enough of that! You're mussing up my hair!"
"Oh, we wouldn't want that, would we?" She laughed and only fanned him with it harder.
He laughed and grabbed her wrist quickly to make her stop. His hand keeping a firm hold on her while they looked at each other. The fan silent and unmoving.
He could see little goosebumps that had begun to form on her arm and he dropped her wrist quickly, taking her fan from her.
They sat in silence until she started bending at the waist slightly. Her face scrunched up in pain.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Spike asked, sounding panicked.
"It's nothing. I'll be okay. Just sometimes ... now I know this will sound majorly weird but don't laugh, okay? My scars ... sometimes they hurt when something's about to change, like the weather or something. They get red again too, like they were just cut yesterday."
She moved and stood up, lifting her tank top up just enough to show him the scars. She was right. They were red.
"You never told me that," he said, sounding hurt that she hadn't confided in him.
"Oh, it doesn't happen all that often. And the pain isn't that bad." He couldn't tell whether she was just trying to put a brave face on about it or not.
He couldn't stop staring at her scars. He reached a shaky hand out to her, trailing a finger down one of them. Could hear her take a sharp intake of breath but she didn't move away, didn't put her shirt down. He rubbed his thumb gently down the side of the other scar. God, his beautiful girl was so scarred. He thought maybe if his fingertips gently caressed them they would disappear. Leave her unmarked. But they didn't.
Spike looked up at her before moving closer. His lips were as light as air as they kissed one scar. Soft lips trailing down before moving to the other side.
"Its okay, Spike," she murmured.
His lips didn't stop, only kept moving up and down the scars all over again. His mouth moving achingly slow against her skin. Gentle and sweet as she put one of her hands on his head, twisting his hair. She tasted like redemption and salvation. Like everything he'd ever wanted. It was all right here in front of him, in the form of this willowy girl who'd seen and been through too much to still have such a sweet smile. He only wished he was on his knees before her. Couldn't worship her properly unless he was on his knees.
He stopped when he realized he didn't want to just be kissing her scars anymore.
Spike pushed himself away from her, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. Felt like a bastard. Didn't know what the hell just happened but he knew it wasn't right. His head ached and he longed for things that were clear and uncomplicated.
Dawn sat herself back down on the bed and looked at his chest. There were tiny scars on it that vamp healing hadn't even taken care of. They were so light though that they were barely noticeable. But she noticed them.
Her finger traced the line of one of the scars. "Is this ... was this from Glory?"
He didn't say anything, which was all the answer she needed. Her face looked pained and he could only watch as her nail moved across his chest. Noticed she had sparkly nail polish on. It moved so gingerly across his chest, tentative and unsure.
"Don't concern yourself about it, Bit. 'S, nothing." But she didn't hear him or didn't want to hear him as she moved her head closer to his chest. Her lips on that scar. Tiny kisses that were killing him.
"No, love. You don't have to ..."
But his voice trailed off as his eyes were dangerously close to rolling back into his head. She had placed one hand on his chest while her lips moved to the other tiny scars. Scars that weren't because of her but that soon found themselves being kissed anyways.
When he looked down all he could see was her beautiful head kissing his chest as her hair fell around her and he had to close his eyes. Couldn't take that sight. He wanted nothing more than to run one hand through her hair, keeping it out of her face and the other to be against her back, holding her to him. So he gripped the sheets on his bed tightly, his nails digging deeply into the mattress willing himself to keep them there. Because he knew if he put his hands on her he'd never let go.
When she stopped kissing them everything was awkward. Neither knew what to say or do. All he wanted to do was kiss her. Pull her to him with both hands and kiss those sweet lips that were so kind and giving and repay her for everything. For the kisses, for her friendship, for being the first person who had ever treated him like a man without ever having to say so.
He simply ran a hand down her cheek instead. She looked too confused for anything else and so was he. Knew something had changed but nothing had gotten clearer. Still surrounded by grey murkiness.
It began to rain outside. The drops falling hard and fast against the roof.
"Why don't you run upstairs and get that book you were talking about earlier, pet. Wanted me to help you with your Greek, didn't you?"
She made some sort of nervous chatter and ran upstairs to get it.
When she was gone he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He ran his hand down the places she had kissed and knew that nothing could ever cut him as deep as she could. She left the kind of scars you couldn't see.
Series: Second in the "After the Fall" series.
Author: Diva Stardust
Pairing: Dawn/Spike
Rating: R
Summary: Spike and Dawn's relationship begins to become murky and unclear.
Distribution: Just ask first if you want to archive this somewhere, please. I will most likely say yes!
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, FOX, etc. I'm not making any money off this!
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Spikeyvamp for the beta!
~*~*~*~*~
Everything had turned grey.
Nothing felt the same anymore. Everything was murky and unspoken. Spike still danced around the line, knowing he couldn't step over it. Hating himself for wanting to in the first place. Dawn still acted the same around him. Most of the time. Sometimes he thought he caught her looking at him differently out of the corner of his eye but it was gone too quickly to be sure. They touched more too. Hugs, an occasional arm slung across a shoulder, a brief hand squeeze, his hand on her shoulder when she studied. The comforts of friendship.
Spike had tried to bury his feelings so deep that they had turned grey as well. Didn't want to think about them. No point in thinking about something that could never happen.
A year had gone by since that night in the cemetery but he could still taste her on him.
"Did you have another one of your nightmares, Sweet Bit?"
It was the middle of the night and he'd woken up to the sight of Dawn standing at the foot of his bed. Looking shaken up but slightly relieved as well.
"I dreamed about it again," she quietly said.
She'd first told him about the nightmares almost a year ago. She'd had them ever since the tower but had never told anyone. They didn't come often, only once every few months but they were enough to shake her up for days afterwards. Now she only told him about them. He had wanted her to tell Buffy as well but she'd refused and had gotten such a look of panic on her face that Spike had never mentioned it again.
"What happened this time?" he asked gently.
The nightmares were always related to the tower somehow. Sometimes Doc just kept cutting her and never stopped. The blade piercing her skin over and over again. He remembered the night he found out why she didn't want to tell Buffy. Sometimes she dreamed Buffy pushed her off the tower while laughing.
"You fell," she stated blankly.
He used to have dreams like that too. About falling. Falling and failing. They were the same thing.
Spike waited patiently for her to go on. Sometimes it would take a while for her to get it all out.
"But you didn't come back. You were gone, dead."
He couldn't remember her ever dreaming about that before. About him.
"I had to come downstairs and make sure you were still here." She started to look ashamed like it had been foolish for her to think he would've been gone.
"Nothing to fret about, Dawn. I'm here"
But she just stood in silence and looked at him. At his bed. Once they had defeated the First last year they'd wanted him to keep living there. All of them actually. Buffy, Dawn, and Willow. It made for a strange household. Most of the potentials had been sent back to their homes after the battle but some of the more eager ones had stayed behind, wanting to help fight everyday ordinary evil in Sunnydale. Oftentimes there were still teenage girls sprawled out at night in their living room.
Dawn had helped him turn the basement into looking somewhat like his old crypt. It looked much more posh than it had a year ago. A large bed replaced the cot and there were several chairs spread across the room. She had tested each one herself before buying them. Making sure they were comfy enough even though he tried to convince her that he could make do with anything, didn't matter to him whether a chair was "comfy" or not. She'd only scoffed at him and said, "All the best things in life are comfortable, don't you know that?"
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"
Spike tensed up. She'd never asked that before. Usually when she had the nightmares all she did was tell him about them and then go back upstairs. This one must've been worse than the others.
"I don't know, Bit ..."
But she looked at him with those eyes of hers and found himself caving. Could never say no to her.
He was thankful he had learned a long time ago to wear jeans to bed. His sleeping naked days were long over. "Get in," he said, trying to sound defeated while pulling back the other side of the covers for her.
Her face lit up with excitement and she quickly jumped into the side next to him, pulling the covers up almost to her chin. Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, looking at the television set, his weapons chest, and finally stopping on his bookcases.
He noticed where her eyes lingered immediately. "Oh no, not tonight. I won't have you up all night reading again. Buffy almost had my hide the last time."
Oftentimes he would come home after a night of poker or patrolling and find her curled up in the corner of the basement, reading one of his books. He usually didn't say anything about it unless it was too late and he knew Buffy would be upset. Do her usual ranting about how Dawn had school and needed her sleep. But sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night and find she'd snuck back downstairs and was reading one of his books with a penlight. Sitting in the corner, her face lost in the book with her knees tucked under her chin. He never asked why she just didn't bring the book up to her room and would watch her for a while before falling asleep again. Sometimes she would glance at him and know he was awake but wouldn't say anything. It was nice. Comfortable. Quiet moments together where nothing had to be said.
A fake pout appeared on her lips. "Aw, you're no fun. So I guess that means calling all my friends and inviting them over for a wild party is out?"
He tried not to laugh. "Go to sleep," he grumbled.
They were silent for a while until something she had said earlier struck him. "You said, 'again'."
"Huh?" Dawn asked, having almost fallen back asleep.
"You said you dreamed about this *again*. I don't remember you ever telling me about this dream before." He turned and faced her. "Something you're not telling me, Bit?"
There was a long pause before she finally answered his question, turning away from him as she did so. "I've dreamt about it before. I just never wanted to tell you, okay? I didn't want to say the words, say how you were all dusty and never coming back because that would make it too real, you know? But then this time it was too much and I had to come down here-"
He cut her off and reached his hand out to stroke her hair. "Shhh shhh. Hush, Sweet Bit. Don't have to talk about it anymore. 'S, alright. Here, aren't I? Not going anywhere."
She seemed soothed by that, her breathing becoming calm again and he tried to take his hand away. "No, don't stop. I like it when you do that," she whispered.
"Yeah?" He hated the way the word sounded the minute it came out of his mouth. Too seductive, too tainted.
"Yeah, that way I know you're still here. And that I'm still here," she said sleepily while yawning.
His heart broke for her and he ran the back of his hand down her hair again. Her back to him with all her hair running down it. He remembered that one dream of hers. Where she just disappeared back into a green energy ball and no one remembered her. She'd asked him if he'd remember her and it had taken all his composure not to break down. "Not bloody likely that I'd forget my own Sweet Bit, is it?" is what he'd said and she'd hugged him tightly immediately, her arms circling his back with love and he prayed to God at that moment that she'd never let go. But God never listened to any prayers that came from him.
Suddenly the reason for why this was a very bad idea became apparent. The smell of her. She was so close and the smell of her was everywhere. All over his sheets now too. One day he had taken a shower immediately after she had and paid the price for it. The room had been covered with her. The scent that was unmistakably Dawn mixed with steam and her shampoo. She always smelled of lilac and lavender. Always putting pretty scents on her that were purple through and through. Such a sweet fragrance that was richly mixed with the books she read. Could smell the old leather bindings on her, the yellowed pages and faded ink. He'd never smelled a combination like it before. It all made up who she was. All of it Dawn.
And now that scent was lying on his bed inches away from him. All he could do was keep stroking her hair. He never got over how soft it was. Knew it couldn't just be because she brushed it a lot. No one could get hair like that with just such an ordinary task.
He continued stroking her hair until well after she was asleep but then he remembered himself and stopped, falling asleep himself.
When he awoke it was with a smile on his face. He kept his eyes closed and basked in the feeling of being loved and wanted. Had never felt so comfortable or at peace. His eyes popped open when he realized why that was. Dawn had wrapped herself around him sometime during the night. Curled against his backside, her arms firmly latched around his chest.
Could feel her breath on the back of his neck, making all the little hairs stand on end.
He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. It was too much. But he waited a few minutes before slowly prying her off of him and moving her back to the other side of the bed.
When she woke up there was only one question on his mind. Another unspoken question. She had looked surprised for just a tiny moment when she'd first woken up and found herself on her side of the bed again. He couldn't help but wonder whether or not she had been awake when she had moved her body against his.
~*~*~*~*~
It was summer and the days had turned hot and sticky. Dawn's 18th birthday had been one of the hottest days of the year and everyone had wanted her to have an outdoor party. But she wouldn't hear of it. Wouldn't be a party unless Spike would be able to come. They'd compromised and had the party outdoors at night in a park. Spike had noticed the way the boys at the party had looked at her. Couldn't help but notice. She'd dated in the last year but nothing serious and she'd barely talked to any of the boys at the party. Had simply taken Spike by the hand and insisted he see some swings that Buffy had pushed her on years ago.
One summer afternoon he was sitting on his bed when she came to him.
"I think it's cooler down here," she said, waving her hand in front of her face. "Or at least a little bit."
It still hadn't rained all summer and everyone at the house had been joking about it being some weird Hellmouth thing. Felt like the whole town was on fire. The heat had forced them to wear very little clothing too. All Dawn wore that whole summer were shorts and tank tops while going barefoot. He looked down at her feet while she talked. He wondered how she ever found time to paint her toenails.
"Should buy a bloody fan for this room is what I should do," he grumbled.
"Surprise!" she squealed. She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled a folded paper fan from behind her back.
"Ta da!" she exclaimed, opening it up with a flourish. He laughed and she moved it quickly back and forth by his face.
"Oi! Enough of that! You're mussing up my hair!"
"Oh, we wouldn't want that, would we?" She laughed and only fanned him with it harder.
He laughed and grabbed her wrist quickly to make her stop. His hand keeping a firm hold on her while they looked at each other. The fan silent and unmoving.
He could see little goosebumps that had begun to form on her arm and he dropped her wrist quickly, taking her fan from her.
They sat in silence until she started bending at the waist slightly. Her face scrunched up in pain.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Spike asked, sounding panicked.
"It's nothing. I'll be okay. Just sometimes ... now I know this will sound majorly weird but don't laugh, okay? My scars ... sometimes they hurt when something's about to change, like the weather or something. They get red again too, like they were just cut yesterday."
She moved and stood up, lifting her tank top up just enough to show him the scars. She was right. They were red.
"You never told me that," he said, sounding hurt that she hadn't confided in him.
"Oh, it doesn't happen all that often. And the pain isn't that bad." He couldn't tell whether she was just trying to put a brave face on about it or not.
He couldn't stop staring at her scars. He reached a shaky hand out to her, trailing a finger down one of them. Could hear her take a sharp intake of breath but she didn't move away, didn't put her shirt down. He rubbed his thumb gently down the side of the other scar. God, his beautiful girl was so scarred. He thought maybe if his fingertips gently caressed them they would disappear. Leave her unmarked. But they didn't.
Spike looked up at her before moving closer. His lips were as light as air as they kissed one scar. Soft lips trailing down before moving to the other side.
"Its okay, Spike," she murmured.
His lips didn't stop, only kept moving up and down the scars all over again. His mouth moving achingly slow against her skin. Gentle and sweet as she put one of her hands on his head, twisting his hair. She tasted like redemption and salvation. Like everything he'd ever wanted. It was all right here in front of him, in the form of this willowy girl who'd seen and been through too much to still have such a sweet smile. He only wished he was on his knees before her. Couldn't worship her properly unless he was on his knees.
He stopped when he realized he didn't want to just be kissing her scars anymore.
Spike pushed himself away from her, sitting back against the headboard of his bed. Felt like a bastard. Didn't know what the hell just happened but he knew it wasn't right. His head ached and he longed for things that were clear and uncomplicated.
Dawn sat herself back down on the bed and looked at his chest. There were tiny scars on it that vamp healing hadn't even taken care of. They were so light though that they were barely noticeable. But she noticed them.
Her finger traced the line of one of the scars. "Is this ... was this from Glory?"
He didn't say anything, which was all the answer she needed. Her face looked pained and he could only watch as her nail moved across his chest. Noticed she had sparkly nail polish on. It moved so gingerly across his chest, tentative and unsure.
"Don't concern yourself about it, Bit. 'S, nothing." But she didn't hear him or didn't want to hear him as she moved her head closer to his chest. Her lips on that scar. Tiny kisses that were killing him.
"No, love. You don't have to ..."
But his voice trailed off as his eyes were dangerously close to rolling back into his head. She had placed one hand on his chest while her lips moved to the other tiny scars. Scars that weren't because of her but that soon found themselves being kissed anyways.
When he looked down all he could see was her beautiful head kissing his chest as her hair fell around her and he had to close his eyes. Couldn't take that sight. He wanted nothing more than to run one hand through her hair, keeping it out of her face and the other to be against her back, holding her to him. So he gripped the sheets on his bed tightly, his nails digging deeply into the mattress willing himself to keep them there. Because he knew if he put his hands on her he'd never let go.
When she stopped kissing them everything was awkward. Neither knew what to say or do. All he wanted to do was kiss her. Pull her to him with both hands and kiss those sweet lips that were so kind and giving and repay her for everything. For the kisses, for her friendship, for being the first person who had ever treated him like a man without ever having to say so.
He simply ran a hand down her cheek instead. She looked too confused for anything else and so was he. Knew something had changed but nothing had gotten clearer. Still surrounded by grey murkiness.
It began to rain outside. The drops falling hard and fast against the roof.
"Why don't you run upstairs and get that book you were talking about earlier, pet. Wanted me to help you with your Greek, didn't you?"
She made some sort of nervous chatter and ran upstairs to get it.
When she was gone he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He ran his hand down the places she had kissed and knew that nothing could ever cut him as deep as she could. She left the kind of scars you couldn't see.