COMPLETED
Burton High is not a white-collared, run of the mill school. We've got the art kids, we've got the weird goths that hang around one particular place as though they're a pack of wild animals. We've got the druggies and the cheerleaders and...
A/N: Don't forget to comment and vote! Here's the Chapter Aesthetic for Simon and Paige's trip to Boston! Next update TBA.
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The crowds continued to ignore us, oblivious to the devastation that was occurring in this tiny corner of the world. His tears were real though, and it was turning my organs over one by one. The short row of chairs that I had just been sitting on with Liz were now what separated us.
When Simon had told me that he was with a Kristina a couple of seconds ago, he sounded as though that was the only thing stopping him from talking about this. That somehow, somewhere, our relationship had changed for him too.
He just stood there, his shoulders rocking as I heard his sharp intake of breath.
"You weren't supposed to find out like that, Simon. You weren't supposed to find out at all actually—"
Suddenly his body was in front of me. He had climbed over the chairs like he would a set of stairs, ignoring the weird looks it attracted. I stared up into his eyes, pain swirling in the depths of them, and all I wanted was to comfort him. To be there for my best friend.
But then, once again, my hormones took over and the only thing that my mind could focus on was how close I was to his chest, how even the slightest movement would have me within his grasp. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, I could feel his breath against my cheek as his tears disappeared and left a struggle in their wake. His hands kept twitching at his sides, as though he too wanted to just reach out and touch me.
"How could you do this? We're friends Paige. We're never going to be anything else," he burst, his voice filling the space around us. I shook my head and suddenly felt terribly small. I guess I was wrong about what I thought I heard before.
"I kn...I know that. I didn't mean...I never wanted to hurt you," I stuttered, tears of my own threatening my vision. Pain was etched into his features, every word that left his mouth coated in it. I wanted to turn back time. I had barely started to understand this myself, let alone prepared myself to confront Simon with it. I felt like I was throwing him into a battle that wasn't his. My mind struggled to grasp onto something, any form of reason, any idea of what to do next.
So my mind gave up reason. I stepped forward, into the safety of his arms, and touched my hand softly to his cheek. His mouth opened on a word, but I stopped it by reaching his eyes with my own. There was a war there, but one side had clearly won. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his, softer than a breath.
When I was little, my grandma told me that while I was crawling around the house, I started playing with an outlet. She caught me just in time for me to zap my finger. My finger was sore for a couple of days.
Electric is the only thing that I could compare to this simple peck. Though it was over before I could even blink my eyes once, that brush of our lips had set fire to every nerve in my body. If I had stood there a moment longer, my body's need to be close to his would have taken over and I would have touched him, pulled him closer still.
