Your Desire, My Pain

Chapter 2: Beginning of the End

"Come closer."

"What, you want me to fall to my death?" Retorted the girl, a shadow of a scowl on her face. This earned her an amused chuckle and a knowing look in return. Charlotte had learned to decipher what that look meant over the year, and the next thing she knew, it was another defeat she'd conceded.

Reluctantly, Charlotte pulled herself up with his arms, and sat on the branch leaning against the tree next to Wooyoung.

They were about ten feet off the ground, covered by the thick, dense leaves of the oak tree. They could barely see the grass beneath them, nor could she see past the blaring auburn of the maple colored leaves. Everywhere they turned, she and Wooyoung were concealed and hidden from the rest of the park, and therefore, the world.

Just the two of us. Like our own private little universe.

The thought made the younger bite her lips just to refrain from smiling. However, the older boy, much to her dismay, had always been quick to catch onto her—never a moment for Charlotte to win the chase. Sometimes, Charlotte wondered if she was truly that easy to read.

An arm comfortably snaked itself around her waist, pulling her securely flush against Wooyoung's side. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing you need to know." She chimed, looking away. This time, Charlotte was desperate for him to let go of the conversation. She'd rather talk about their mundane lives, the maple leaves, the weather, Wooyoung's dirty shoes, why he had bandages on his cheeks, and an eye patch again —anything. She knew he didn't like answering those questions so she never pushed no matter how curious she was because in the end she already knew. From the beginning she knew

But how could she possibly tell her best friend to his face that she knew what was truly happening in his home and just now that she'd thought of kissing him yet again? 

Instead, what she was rewarded with was a low snicker and a peck to her forehead. "You realize that it's written in bright red letters on your face whenever you have a thought and it's about me, right?''

A weak punch was thrown at his chest. "Shut up, you just like to tease me!"

Then, Wooyoung did his annoying eyebrow raise and sly smirk, emitting a 'hm?' as he pressed their foreheads together. She could only let out a defeated whimper before the older boy planted a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. Their supposed 'feelings' never got in the way of their friendship, for the most part at least Although stares exchanged between them would linger a second longer, holding a deeper meaning, smiles just a tad more affectionate; nothing else really changed. Not to Charlotte's knowledge.

Then, where did it go wrong? What was all this? Is it the deeper meaning of when she and Wooyoung shared their first kiss?

Even thinking about it made her flustered. The only thing she could recall were the vivid arrays of red and gold reflected in Wooyoung's eyes just before he uttered words that made her heart flutter, leaning in to attach their lips with snarky remarks. Their 'experiment' was nothing more, was it.  

She remembered how her heart started beating a little differently around him. It was never a cathartic, italicized 'oh' moment—that sense of grand discovery never came to her the way she hoped it would like in those coming of age movies she and Wooyoung sneakily spent countless hours cuddled up watching. Charlotte had no idea how she began to stare at him a little longer, noticing just a bit more about the littlest things he did, or how his eyes would automatically trace themselves to Wooyoung whenever she told a joke, hoping for the older boy to be the first to laugh. Oftentimes, he was. He barely ever missed one.

And oftentimes, he would return her secretive glances as well, actually it was most of the time.

A shy, flabbergasted Charlotte could barely ever find the answers to these questions, because every time they held hands—a gesture very casual and overdone amongst them— she began to take on a whole different perspective of how Wooyoung would always stroke his thumb over her skin. Has he always done that to others as well? Her heartbeat was too loud for her to properly hear her thoughts, therefore she discarded the question. She just hoped her palms weren't that noticeably sweaty those times.