Some say that foxes are cunning, and that monkeys are silly. Alya isn't quite sure what to call this, not as an arm loops around her waist, and she leans against his side. Kim's more than just silly, and she's definitely not only cunning, but so much more. She peeks up past heavy eyelashes and admires the man beside her on the couch, eyes as always focused on the film.
It's a romantic comedy that she can barely watch, though their friends had been quick to recommend them to it. She's too busy watching her boyfriend loop an arm around her waist as if he wasn't completely hyperaware of her beside him. Alya wonders if he's even half as focused on the film as he appears. She hums, a tune below her breath, before she moves, quick as a fox, she presses her lips gingerly against his cheek, perfectly placed with just a pause that she held them there.
Kim's face turned pink at the tiny display of affection, and Alya's already turning around to watch as he slowly looks away from the movie and his gaze lands on her. It's soft and surprised all in the same rush, and he reaches out to lace his fingers through hers.
"Why'd you do that?" The question does not entirely take her by surprise.
"Does a girl need a reason to kiss her boyfriend?" She retorts, hand hovering vaguely above her own hip, aware that there was no free spot to set it to amp up her intended sass.
"No." Kim's answering smile built up slow but steady, and Alya loved watching it, as it seemed like so much more than the early morning sunrises that she often felt too tired to watch. It was just as slow, and just as bright.
"I thought so." She nestles back against the couch, cliche movie forgotten as her eyes zero in on her boyfriend, anticipating a verbal response, instead of the kiss that lands on her lips. Alya practically melts into the couch behind her, as Kim's arm is the only thing seeming to hold her up.
His lips are not the slow, tender ones that most would likely associate with him, just in the way that his gaze always finds her, nor are they rough, urgent ones. They are there, gentle pressure just enough to remind her that he is not going anywhere and that he'll be here through the duration of the kiss and beyond.
Alya breathes in Kim: still warm from his workout, muscles bulging and not yet relaxed, eyes closed, gently shut, arm steady and never lost against her waist, steady grip, and so much bigger than her. She breathes in Kim as if she were the sweat that clung after his workouts, as if she were the gentle pressure that he applies to her.
Alya can't breathe past this, until he pulls away. She immediately wishes that the kiss had never ended, that she'd always feel drawn just as close as her mind fluttered with the tender wings of emotion beneath her skin, lighting quick fireworks anywhere these nerves spread to, eager and gentle and overexcited.
Alya takes a deep breath, opens her eyes, and meets the soft, gentle gaze of her boyfriend that eases a kind of steady comfort and joy back into her veins. Surely, this meant more than the movie that was steadily creeping towards it's end credits.
Alya can't think of anything else that can make her heart bounce with exuberant joy or her veins brush with electric excitement or even tears leak from her heart down to her eyes. It was an odd thing to compare real life to a movie, but Alya's life had always been her favorite movie, anyway.