youth, aaron taylor johnson

xlv. real life

"How'd you get so good at this?" She asked quietly as she felt him tie the hair tie around the bottom of the braid

   He leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, "well, you make me braid a lot." His breathe was barely just a laugh, and he turned his face to kiss her cheek. He pulled away quickly, as if afraid of what he'd do if he let himself linger.

She got up then, as if she sensed it too, finding an excuse in the tea. Aaron watched as she clutched the mug for warmth, and he shrugged off the sweater he wore to hold it out for her. She kneeled a knee up onto the edge of the bed to reach for it and put it on slowly, letting the warmth of it and the smell of him wrap around her. She folded the bedding back silently and crawled down underneath it, feeling Aaron smile as he shifted his body sideways and looked down at her. He reached over to adjust the old floral comforter, pulling it down slightly for her once it rode up to cover over bottom part of her face.

  Máire felt the pads of his fingers brush across her face, and she tried to swallow the harsh breath it pulled out of her. She bit down on her bottom lip when she felt irrational tears start to glaze her eyes, as if her body was subconsciously reacting to the memory of what had happened the night outside the pub and the way everything had unfolded. She feared the amount of time it took to rebuild the friendship they'd altered that night, and the idea of having to go through that again. He was leaving soon. He'd be getting on a plane in a week, living an ocean away for months. She was afraid to risk it again.

She stretched out the arm of hers that had ended up beneath her head, sandwiched between the pillow and her bed, extending it gently towards the arm of Aaron's that held him propped up on his elbow. Against her better judgement, she ran her fingers down his forearm, lightly drawing imaginary veins across his warm skin. Aaron gave in, readjusting so that he laid face to face with her, feeling her slow breathe fan out across the the expanse of his face.

He reached out his hand up to her face, brushing away some of the flaked mascara that had smudged under her eyes with the pad of his thumb. He bit back the words threatening to spill out of his mouth. Nothing felt real in that moment, the world shut out from her room — a false trap that made him feel like could tell the girl anything and everything would be safely confined to her bed, away from the consequences of life. He couldn't help but to gaze at her, far from the stolen glances he'd been stealing for weeks, but straight back into her own gaze that hadn't once moved from his face.

Her skin glowed under the dim warmth of the lamp light, so much so that he wouldn't have been able to tell out the blush in her face if he'd been any farther away. Her eyes were that of her fathers, he realized now, their piercing grey-blue appearing softened in the moment. They looked the stormy Irish skies her father had raised her beneath. Aaron thought about it, the way her family's home surrounded them outside of her room. What kind of man would he be to set their daughter up for the heartbreak he was afraid would eventually come if he admitted to what he felt for her?

   No, he couldn't do it, he decided, she deserved someone whole. He knew he had already hurt her enough. He shut his eyes, feeling the way they began to glaze over just as he had recognized hers doing, too.

  "Why do you look at me like that?" Máire asked timidly, her hand reaching up to rest on top of the one that laid palm down on the pillow between them. Aaron felt his heart drop. His eyes opened again, finding himself staring back into her unflinching observance. He studied her features, unable to decode any feelings masked behind her expression. He knew she was studying him just the same.

  He swallowed, trying to play dumb, hoping that the ghost of a smile he tried to draw upon his face would distract from the way his heart had begun to race. "Like what?"

  "Like you did that night — " She dared, looking down to focus on the beaded necklace around his neck she'd brought back for him from the camp she had worked at over the summer as a joke. She didn't want to look at him, she wanted to merge herself into his body and avoid it forever, go back to the moment she'd given him that necklace and the grin on his face as he'd laughed and hugged her in that shitty restaurant the first week he'd gotten back to London. That night outside of the pub had shifted something fundamental. She had memorized the way he'd kissed her, the taste of his mouth. She resented the fact that it was the only thing she had wished to experience again since. She shook her head, "like you're in love with me or something."

Máire could hear the hitch in Aaron's breathe. When she looked back up to him, he stared at her so intently she thought she might die. Melt from the way the blue of his eyes felt like fire. He turned the hand that rested under hers over so that their palms faced one another, and their fingers intertwined.

    "Well," he started, and tried not to think about it. She knew, even if he'd been too scared to say it, and he knew everyone else could tell, too. If he shut it down now, he wasn't sure there'd ever be another moment. He had tore himself inside out trying to hide it, she at least deserved honesty. It would only hurt her more if he didn't. There was no use in worrying if something would change, things already had changed. He took a moment to consider, and then whispered, just so she could hear, "I suppose, the easiest answer is that I am in love with you."

  The words slipped from his mouth so effortlessly he could barely even process what he'd been saying until it was already over, like his heart had already made up its decision on it and had just been waiting for his mind to catch up the entire time. Everything was alright — the world hadn't stopped, the floor beneath them hadn't cracked open to swallow them whole. The clock above Máire's bed kept ticking.

   Aaron's face was etched with worry, rubbing her hand with his thumb, trying to gauge her reaction. There wasn't any urgency in her features, no need to run away or impulsively make any split second decision. She let out a quiet hm, her mouth barely forming the ghost of a smile before turning back down slightly into a frown. She chewed on her bottom lip as she considered what to say next. Máire brought their intertwined hands down and kissed the back of his hand gently.

"What do we do now?" She asked against his skin, holding their hands close to her as if scared it would all slip away and reveal itself to only be a trick of her imagination.

"I don't think I'm in the place to do anything, Máire." Aaron bit down on the inside of his cheek, upset that it was the only thing he could give her but knowing anything more would be fallacious. There was nothing else to offer but himself. "I love you just to love you."

Máire didn't respond, and for a moment Aaron was scared that the answer hadn't been good enough. That it had only taken him a few moments to break her heart. Just barely, she nodded. She brought herself closer into him as if to assure him she'd understood what he meant. She almost felt relieved by his words; the way they held no pressure or expectation. He loved her, that's all she had really wanted. She didn't need to know what that meant right away.

She felt his free arm find its way around her to pull her in, drawing mindless lines across her back. She brought her unoccupied hand up to his neck to ghost over the beads of the necklace she'd been studying before; he'd hardly taken it off since receiving it, the presence of her he never seemed to go without. He'd take her to America, too. She smiled at that. He pressed her lips to her forehead, and finally, she responded: "I love you too, Aaron."

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END OF ACT TWO!
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