It started with a sloppy kiss. He was drunk, and she was afraid of losing him. The world was spinning, so did their head, and the ground underneath them was moving so fast, she barely made out the reality that was surrounding her with sparks of miracle.
Stubbornly, she thought about the fact that both of their lips touching, his hands suddenly everywhere, and his forehead slightly tilting, were a dream. What they were doing wasn’t a reality. And she was well-aware about that–so, she hoped, she wouldn’t be surprised if she found herself lying alone in her bedroom the next day.
But no. Joke on her. He was there, standing so tall and so close it hurt in the most way possible. He was kissing her like there was no yesterday, or even any day, because there really wasn’t.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered lowly, angling her head lower so he could kiss her deeper.
If he did hear her, he didn’t show any sign of bewilderment. And she would be very relieved if he hadn’t heard her babbling.
His lips were no longer on hers, it was traveling down her chin, and then her shoulder bones, and then she couldn’t recall it anymore because she was shuddering so hard and the uncontrollable dizziness came curlty.
So, before she lost her consciousness and fell on whatever they were heading, she said briefly, “I’m so sorry I’m not stopping you.”
Because, indeed, she knew how he was falling so hard for her best friend, how he’d do anything for that friend of hers, how he’d be there for that particular friend, and how she realized the painful reality that his love was one-sided–just like hers, for him.
finished: 19:51 | February 12, 2016.
[a/n]: sorry i haven’t been active for the past two weeks (or three?) and now im back with this angst-wannabe story that isn’t really angst. and please pardon my grammar (I CAN’T EVEN OPEN GOOGLE TRANSLATE BECAUSE MY CURSOR WON’T COOPERATE!!!!!)