One Shots

Fireworks (PG-13)

A/N: I don't really know what this is. I'm feeling a little glum over a past relationship and so this sort of just happened :o

                          Fireworks (An Analogy of Love)

    There isn't a way to tell you how it feels to fall in love. I guess it's sort of like lighting a firework and then it blowing up in your face. You think you're just going to spark it up and step back, watch it explode in beautiful colours in the sky and everyone will marvel at how incredible it feels to see it.

    But falling in love is more like sparking it up and going to step back but not quite being quick enough, and so it shoots up and smacks you in the face and explodes all up on your skin and it burns and stings and you wonder how the fuck you're going to come out of this. Alive or dead or maybe just barely scraping along.

    There isn't a way to tell you how it feels to fall in love, but I guess the firework analogy will just have to do. I mean, people are always comparing falling in love to fireworks. It's the first thing people ask after you kiss someone for the first time; were there fireworks? Tell me all about it!

    That question always seemed a little silly to me because, well, no. There wasn't any fireworks. I don't walk around with one in my back pocket, and then just before I lean in for my first kiss––with some handsome guy that I've been crossing my fingers to be the one, with every damn date we've been on––pull out a firework and light it behind us so that when I go back to my friends I can turn around and say, yes. Yes, there was fireworks.

    But only because I fucking lit one.

    See, when I have my first kiss with someone, I don't tend to feel mind blown. It doesn't work like that for me. It's the little things I fall in love with, and it's after I fall in love with them that kissing starts to mean something. Without the little things to be in love with, I just find kissing a boring, sloppy mess of useless guessing; is he going left or right? Am I going left or right? Too much tongue or not enough? Jesus what the fuck am I doing?

    But you learn how to kiss properly along with the little things. You learn that, well, he doesn't really like too much tongue and at first, he likes to kiss chaste and slow. Build it up and then, then he likes tongue. But just a little, every now and again, like you're teasing him.

    And he likes to feel the pad of your thumb gliding along his cheek bone as you work his mouth, pausing for a breather but not pulling away. Just pausing with your mouths open, breathing into each other, eyes closed, the scent of arousal all around you and that is the fall. When that moment comes.

    And then it's back to kissing and finger tips rolling earlobes gently between them, lips dragging along the length of necks and leaving light kisses along their way. And you learn that when he starts to lean back, pulling you along with him, it means that he's ready, that he wants to move on past the first stage of foreplay. He wants to go further. And so you do.

    It's when he starts to undo his own belt buckle in a hurry that you know he really wants you, you know he can't fucking wait because, god damn it, you're too damn slow at this stuff and I really Need You Right Now.

    You know when you're smiling down at him, watching his fingers fumbling with his jeans and thinking: Jesus, I could have done that faster, that you're absolutely and completely into him. That there isn't a single thing he could do in this moment that could frustrate you or upset you or just down right annoy you. No, because this moment is a perfect moment.

    And it isn't about romantic candles after a lovely home cooked dinner, and it isn't about saying those three words that make up a perfect moment. No, it's about the little things. The little things you notice in that moment, like the way his nostrils would flare as he breathes in and out harsh breaths while his fingers tug his belt open and the little quirky smile as he stares up at you, feeling oh so incredibly successful.

    It's seeing the way his eyelashes flutter against the skin beneath them, the way he rolls his lips between his teeth in anticipation and the way his ears turn a bright red when he's feeling so unbelievably turned on and hot and shit, just get my fucking shirt off because it's too fucking much right now. And so you do, and he didn't have to say it. You just saw the little things, added them all up and took his shirt off without him having to say a word.

    I think that's when the fireworks come into play the most. I think the phrase: were there fireworks? Refers to the first moment you realise you're actually in love with someone. It's not a physical presence. You don't hear any loud explosions or see any fancy colours dancing around your faces and over your shoulders.

    You just sort of pause half-way naked and look at each other and you can sort of see the fireworks going off in their eyes and you realise that that's it. That's the moment. That's the fireworks and the love and everything right there in his blue blue eyes that were now a mixture of incredible colours.

    The moment only lasts maybe two or three seconds, but it's like time slows down for you just to take it all in. And it's sort of strange, falling in love. Because you're happy and excited and there's this light feeling in your chest that makes you feel like a bloody helium balloon.

    But deeper in, maybe hiding just behind your heart or in the shadows of your bony rib cage, there's the fear and the pain and the awaiting sadness, setting a time limit on everything as it grins and laughs and, well, you just sort of ignore it and go back to the perfect moment.

    You forget about the shadows and the darkness and the time limit, and I think that's how it should be. Living in the moment, is what people call it. That's how you should live. In the moment. Find the perfect ones and make them last as long as possible and don't think too far ahead into the future, or think of what ifs and don't go searching out faults or over analysing every little thing he does.

    Just love them. Love them and balance them out with your own little things. Make him fall in love with them too, and try not to expect the unexpected. Try to just live. In the moment. The perfect moments. And

                  fall

      in

         love.

    Because I think, really, we take those moments for granted the most and we forget when the darkness closes in, how great it was to live them. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, try not to forget but try not to hold on. Because you can fall in love, and you can fall out of love. Neither one is easy. But you did it once before, and you'll do it again.

    Fireworks fade, sure, but there are plenty more that you can simply find and light up and sometimes you might step back quick enough, sometimes you might not. Just never regret taking that step, and never regret not. It all leads somewhere in the end.