drift // complete

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He sat next to her on the bus today. She sat on the outside, him on the inside. She kept inching closer, until, finally, their knees touched.

It was May thirteenth, and she felt happy. It was new. It was different. Then again, ever since she met him, it'd been different.

She no longer felt scared.

"Can I.. braid your hair?" she whispered. She was surprised he even heard her.

Their gazes met, and for a second she swore she saw the colour of his eyes shift. The corner of his mouth lifted up in a half smile. He nodded.

In one swift motion, he took his silky blonde hair out from its usual bun.

He was so beautiful. He was so alive.

Greyson turned fractionally, but their knees were still touching. She smiled.

She ran her fingers through his hair. It was soft. She weaved it into a braid, undid it, and settled with just pushing it behind his ears every couple of minutes.

"Phoebe," he said.

Her breath hitched. She hadn't expected her name to roll off his tongue so easily.

"Yeah?"

"Why do you keep touching my hair?"

She bit her lip. Brought her hand down to her lap, "I dunno," she said. "I just like it. It's nicer than mine."

He was silent.

"Hey, Greyson,"

He looked at her.

"Why are you holding my hand?" She asked.

He looked down at their intertwined fingers and shrugged.