Author's note: It's like midnight, I'm dead from writing this, but gawd I love it. Cute fluffy only a minuscule bit angsty. I'll be grammar-checking this very soon!
"That is such bullshit. When I'm sticking it to a girl, I want her moaning as loud as possible."
"Well..." you sighed. "Have you ever really done it?"
Oh. It was almost scary how easily you saw right through him. Even for a guy like Henry who doesn't exactly have a hundred layers to peel back, you were fast.
"What are you talking about, God- yes, of course, I'm not a fucking loser." He spat out, his cheeks flushing when he finished. Henry had never really been the best liar, but speaking the truth would've taken much more courage than what he had left within him.
"Hmm." You weren't buying a second of it.
And he felt so damn ashamed. Was he really that fucking transparent?
After a short silence, Henry grabbed his drink and downed what was left of it. Feeling the quiet buzzing of heat streaming up to his cheeks, whispering courage into his veins.
"...I- I want to."
"Hmm." This time it felt more comforting. "It's nice," you said while smiling.
He thought about what you said for a second. Let his mind wander to all the places you may have been, to all the people you have been with, to all the ways you've done it. It made him happy, made him warm to his chest. Wherever, whoever, however, it made him happy that in whatever way it was, you enjoyed yourself.
You sighed while playing with the lacey hem of your dress, one, two, three cheap beers into the night you had slipped into a blissful state, just enjoying the moment of you and Henry alone in your living room. Sometimes, even though he was a year older than you, Henry would remind you of the guys of your past. So boyish, so crass, and completely clueless. You pitied him because of it sometimes, who was there for him to teach him what it meant to be a man? Who was there to teach him about life? Who was there to teach him how to treat a girl?
"You want another beer?" He asked, breaking the silence that had settled in.
"Yea sure." You smiled, watching him as he headed for your kitchen. You always found it quite charming how Henry could walk into any place and move around like he owned the damn place.
While in the kitchen Henry took a moment to light a cigarette, slowly inhaling the smoke as his thoughts raced. He felt so bare, wondered what other things you knew by just looking at him, wished he could ask you: "Am I really that predictable?". He wondered why it even mattered, nothing was supposed to matter.
He grabbed a few more beers from the fridge and walked back over to the living room with the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. God... He loved the way you looked tonight. The white lacey babydoll dress that loosely sprawled out over your thighs was his favorite, made you look like an angel. The whole night he had almost been scared to look at you, just talking and talking hoping it would distract you from the fact that he was flustered from just being around you.
"You know damn well my parents don't want cigarettes inside the house." You said, hoisting yourself up onto your knees on the couch and reaching up to grab Henry's cigarette from his lips.
Henry smiled, "Your way too much of a goody two shoes, you know that.".
You rolled your eyes and dropped the cigarette into an empty beer can. "Well maybe I like being a good girl, not everyone can be like you."
"Yeah, I'm glad you're nothing like me." Henry sat down on the couch, cracking open his beer before taking a large gulp. It was true, he loved all the ways in which you were opposite of him, loved all the ways in which you were starting to rub off on him.
You moved closer to Henry grabbing the beer from his hands and taking a sip. "Well, we're more alike than you'd think."
You weren't far away from him now, with your body completely turned towards him and your knee brushing against the side of his thigh, Henry wondered if you knew just how nervous you made him. With wide eyes, he looked at you, tentatively anticipating whatever word you would say next. Secretly hoping that you would say nothing at all and simply lean in.
"I want approval just as much as you do, I want- no need someone to look at me and say that I'm worth all the heartache and stress."
Henry thinks of how brave you are, saying something like that, laying something vulnerable like that out in the open. He thinks of how honored he feels, how special he feels in this moment, how connected he feels to you. Yet his body betrays him, there's not enough power in him that can muster the courage to say to you all the things he wants to say to you. He simply looks at you, swallowing hard as his hands reach forward and cup the back of your head, enjoying the way your eyes slip close at the sensation of his skin against yours. He takes another second, making sure to take in every detail of this moment before leaning in and finally connecting his lips to yours. Vulnerable and fragile, the moment plays out, there's no movement, no frantic fighting of tongues, just lips to lips, savoring all the ways your bodies react to this moment.
