38 - Spectacular

                                    

                                          
"What is this?" Forrest muttered, his eyes quickly scanning the words. God knew why, but he started reading some of the sentences out loud. "I placed a hand on my chest and felt it. My heart beating." He stiffened, taking in more of the words. "They said it gets better. They are liars."
                          
"Stop." I wrenched the paper from him, heat rushing to my face. The thought of him reading these notes was mortifying and invasive. "You can't just -"
                          
"Is that one of them?" he interrupted, reaching under the bed for more. "You told me there were nine."
                          
I did? I tried to think back to when I told him about the letters, but failed to retrieve the memory. "Forrest, never mind. Don't -" I faltered when he got a hold of a few envelopes. "Don't read them," I snapped before he could do anything, firing a glare his way. "Give them to me."
                          
He caved in easily, allowing me to take them from him. The amusement that was surging through us just minutes earlier had vanished, replaced with a grim tension. He looked at the wall, his face solemn. Each second passing by snaked around my chest, thick and constricting.
                          
"I'm sad," he declared, always one for honesty.
                          
Immediately, my annoyance withered away, and I exhaled noisily. "Don't be," I mumbled, gently putting the envelopes on the ground. Guilt bit into me for becoming so hostile. "These were written a while ago."
                          
Moments stretched on between us. "How old were you?" He didn't turn his head to me. "When you wrote the first one."
                          
I hesitated before answering. "Thirteen." Despite the gravity of the conversation, a bitter smile formed on my lips. "I don't think I had the greatest grammar at the time."
                          
"What?" Finally, his eyes found mine, gleaming with disbelief. "Are you actually bringing up grammar right now?"
                          
"Oh, sorry," I feigned an apologetic expression, but my sarcasm was sharp enough to cut, "I just don't really feel like being reminded of what made me write these letters in the first place. Maybe you can understand that, right?"
                          
I didn't want to get into it; I didn't want to revisit those lightless days. I wanted to lift the atmosphere, to return to how we were five minutes ago. It'd felt like I was a normal person, just having fun. Not sick, not damaged. Almost like I was free. Almost.
                          
"I'm sorry," Forrest finally said and covered his face with both hands - like he was in dire need of a shield. For what, I wasn't sure. "You were just so young," the words, laced with woe, came out muffled, "How can I not be sad?"
                          
"I wish I knew the answer to that too," I softly remarked and moved closer to him, tentatively removing his hands from his face. I held them, feeling his warmth clash with my cold.
                          
He was always the one providing comfort; now, it was my turn.
                          
His exposed eyes emitted absolute exhaustion; I wished for him to feel better. "Don't do this to yourself, Forrest." I tried to sound strong. "It's my past - nothing will ever change it. You can be sad, but that's not necessary." I hoped he was really listening to me yet I already knew he was. "Don't dwell on something irreversible. What matters now is what's happening now. Okay?"
                          
Forrest kept quiet, locking me in his gaze. Right then, he didn't need words - his face revealed enough.
                          
Here we were, on my bedroom floor, with puzzle segments and sorrowful letters around us. The grip we had on each other was secure, enough to make my wild heart calm and disorderly mind slow down. Without warning, the air began to pulse with something indescribable, something I wasn't familiar with. A feeling seeped into me, vivid and delicate. It occurred to me that I'd never felt so open before - the human being in front of me had cleverly managed to make me come undone, and that used to be something I could have sworn I wasn't capable of doing.
                          
In that lingering moment, I felt myself believing that every single breath I ever breathed was supposed to lead to this.
                          
Just us. Just me and him. The rest of the world was gone.
                          
But between our bodies was distance, and I didn't want it.
                          
A realization shattered into me, its jagged edges tearing through my core.
                          
I wanted him.
                          
Clarity blinded my eyes, but nothing could mute the astonishment ringing in my ears. My chest buzzed with exceptional desire, and my throat constricted with unutterable thoughts. Get closer to me. I shouldn't have been asking for more, but the way he looked at me, the way he cared, the way he made me want to be alive - I couldn't control it. And I didn't want to, anyway.
                          
I wanted him so much. So much more than I could have ever expected.
                          
My focus dropped to his lips.
                          
Forrest. Magnetized, I leaned forward . . . both unsure yet willing. My heart throbbed with longing. If you want me to stop, say something.
                          
He noticed what I was doing, and his eyes slightly widened, flashing with wonder and . . . reluctance. Are you sure - they whispered - this is really what you want?
                          
Or perhaps he was asking himself.
                          
My grasp on his hands tightened. Kiss me, I inwardly dared, pausing just a few inches from his mouth. I couldn't go on - he had to be the one to seize the chance, the one to change everything. He had to show me that he felt the same way.
                          
And he did.
                          
As fast as lightning, Forrest closed the space between us, crashing his lips onto mine. I shut my eyes, hearing him groan. Pleasure rippled through my veins; exhilaration soared through my bloodstream. Vaguely, my hands found their way to his chest, and his beautiful heart pounded beneath my palms. He held my face, his fingertips grazing my skin. So soft yet so intense.
                          
He was magic.
                          
Our mouths moved like they'd been waiting for this for too long. I didn't think - I didn't hold back. Hot explosions charged through my body, and my lungs stopped working. I clenched his shirt, like I was holding on to dear life. Right then - in that raw and bursting moment - he was mine.
                          
After an infinity, we broke apart for oxygen, taking short, ragged breaths. Resting my forehead against his, I'd never felt so dazed. I was afraid to open my eyes, afraid that it was all going to end too soon. I felt his hands move down to my waist, and I shivered from his touch. He knew exactly how to make me weak yet I didn't mind.
                          
"June," I heard him softly say, his voice huskier than ever, "How do you feel?"
                          
Faintly smiling, I could have tried, but I already knew there were absolutely no words that could properly explain it. Eventually, I opened my eyes and fell into his spectacular green ones. "They aren't liars." Confusion swept over his face before recognition. I continued, glancing down at his lips. "It does get better."
                          
With those words hanging in the air, I kissed him again.