Between Strings and Sparks

Chapter 8 - "When Two Sparks Touch"

The corridor remains silent, as if the world had stopped to watch you two. Jack's breath touches his skin, hot, nervous, asking. And for a second, you think you're going to fall apart.

But he doesn't touch.

Not yet.

Jack just raises his hand slowly, as if he was afraid that you would disappear if he was too fast. The fingers lightly touch your cheek - a warm, sorry, almost reverent touch.

- I missed you - he murmurs, as if it were a secret torn from his chest.

Your whole body reacts.

Damn chemistry.

Damn him.

- We didn't even stay away that long... - you try to say, but your voice trembles in a way that delivers everything.

- For me it was - he answers. - Because I said shit... and because you left with that face of someone who was hiding a bruise that I made myself.

The way he talks... hurts and heals at the same time.

You close your eyes for a moment, because looking at him is too dangerous.

But Jack touches his forehead to yours, and the world turns.

- Aria... let me fix this - he whispers, almost out of breath.

- How? - his voice comes out low. - With words? Because they hurt as much as...

He swallows dry.

And then do something you didn't expect.

He holds her face with both hands, and his expression changes - she becomes determined, intense, almost devoted.

- Not with words - he says, in a firm whisper. - With truth.

And before you can answer, he pulls you slowly, giving you time to step back.

But you don't back down.

When his mouth touches yours, it's not a quick or insecure kiss.

It's a kiss that seems to apologize and at the same time demand that you feel how much he wanted it - how much he wanted you, even in the middle of the confusion.

You feel his chest glued to yours, the heat rising up your back, his fingers holding your waist as if you were a safe spot in the middle of the storm that he himself is.

When you finally move away, Jack is panting, his forehead glued to yours, his hands still holding his waist as if he was afraid to let go.

- Tell me this is not over - he begs softly.

His answer comes out almost in a whisper:

- It only ends if you want it to end.

He lets out a weak laugh, relieved, and pulls you into a tight hug - one of those that say more than any speech.

But then you feel it.

His body is not only relieved.

It's shaking a little.

- Jack? - you ask, separating just enough to look at him.

He gives a crooked, vulnerable, completely honest smile:

- I'm so afraid of losing you that I can barely breathe.

Your heart tightens.

And for the first time... you see that his chaos is not just impulsiveness.

It's fear.

It's intensity.

It's too much feeling for a guy who acts as if nothing shakes him.

You hold his face with both hands.

- So don't lose me - you say, firm. - Choose me. For real.

He kisses her hand, her fingers, her palm - a gesture so unexpected and so intimate that it chills her whole skin.

- I choose you - he promises, looking straight into your eyes. - If you still want me, I choose you every day.

The band calls him in the distance, someone shouts his name.

The magic almost breaks.

But Jack holds your hand, intertwines his fingers in yours, and presses a quick kiss on your wrist.

- I'll get back to you after the show - he says. - And this time... I won't run away.

And when he walks away, still looking at you over his shoulder, you know - something has changed.

You crossed the storm.

And now... everything is dangerously more intense.