Summary: "It's never quite enough when Zach's lips leave a soft mark on her cheek." SethSummer one-shot.
Disclaimer: Don't own O.C. or characters.
A/N: I'm back with a more serious fic (compared to my all-dialogue ficlets). I got this idea from the trailer for this week's episode, plus my anticipation of Seth and Summer getting back together. In my fic, Summer and Zach are still a couple. So Summer is having a little affair of sorts. Also, I didn't feel like using quotations marks, so I used italics instead. I hope you like it!
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It's never quite enough when Zach's lips leave a soft mark on her cheek, grazing the skin with unflinching intent.
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Her fingers tiptoe across Seth's chest, and she smiles, regret lacing her mouth and trailing through his bedroom. He tries not to notice, tracing small circles on her stomach until she shivers. She kisses him, full on the mouth, and he pulls back, replacing his lips on her forehead, quietly. His eyes swirl and crash over her, like a wave on the beach in the afternoon. Neither says a word; it's better this way.
Her cell phone rings abruptly, and she looks at him for a moment, contemplating. He opens one eye. I thought you turned it off. She grins apologetically and answers it, his thin fingers reaching for her bare arm. It's Zach, she mouths, nodding while the voice on the phone talks. Seth can hardly stand it; he stares at the ceiling until nausea overtakes him. Her face strains. I love you, too, she says in to the phone, the words settling on her tongue like chalk. Seth swallows hard. It doesn't mean anything, she promises, reaching for her clothes. Like this? he asks, inhaling sharply, opening and closing his cold hands. No, she asserts, her dark eyes flashing. No, she repeats. She slips on her dress and slides into her heels, without a sound. She's out the door in a fluid motion, blurry to the sight.
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Seth waits for her call, silent and lifeless, lying on the floor like an apparition. The time ticks away and falls to the ground, spiraling into the carpet. She finally does call, three in the morning. I thought you'd be sleeping, she whispers. He scoffs subtly, tossing in the sheets. I wasn't, he admits. I can't do this anymore, she manages, crying softly over the phone. He understands. She hangs up before his lungs shatter. He falls into a fitful sleep.
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She's back before the week is over, his hands on her small hips, her fingers in his hair. He's reluctant; she's sorry. I wish you weren't so beautiful, he murmurs, studying her features. Her lips on his, breathing heavily. It's not a new dance. But the dull aching in his chest subsides and they both feel a little less alone.
Her eyes are the only thing keeping him from cracking; the way they plead and beg, and look so sincere when she says he's the one for her. He'll believe her this time. She's too pretty to be a liar.