Royally Kissed | ✓

44|1; the second chance

She'd stopped chewing then because her lips fluttered up a small smile. "Thanks," she said, taking it from his hand. And from there, she couldn't remember if they had any proper conversation throughout the movie. Whether it was because they were too engaged into it or for an entirely different reason altogether, she wasn't sure.

She was aware it didn't have to have a reason, though. The two of them were comfortable enough not to accompany it with small talks–the ones you to try to fill into an empty envelope with words that didn't really matter. What was a greeting card when you didn't write something heartfelt, anyway? The ready-made letters were too impersonal. Scripted.

So she didn't pretend to be a chatty extrovert, and just enjoyed the moment. But within herself, she really did want to talk to him about something that required much more courage as those of extraordinary days where you had to actually prepare for a speech.

Albeit if she did, it would feel like she was running a red light. On the other side of the street, shattered dreams awaited, regrets were waiting to hold you captive.

In the middle of the movie, Paige looked at him sideways with a sense of uncertainty. Owen had probably felt her eyes boring into his face so he'd turned aside, only for her to look back into the screen as fast as she could.

Owen cleared his throat, and she braved herself into those deep-set of eyes. He just smiled, and though Owen wasn't required to talk, he was unusually silent this time. He was the one who always had something to say, someone who'd perfected thoughts in word form. But tonight, he was mum through and through.

She couldn't help but feel uneasy. More because of the odd rhythm of her heart. Of course, they were alone in a secluded property, temporary living together under a single roof, and they both had feelings for each other.

Feelings that might be uncontrollably hard for both of them in this kind of setting, to be honest.

Owen stood up out of the blue, only for her to realize that he'd be jostling more firewood into the fireplace, the very action igniting crackling flying ashes around it.

He must be cold, Paige thought, before she cursorily glanced at the blanket around her as Owen padded back to the couch.

"Hey," she'd called out softly, and he'd arched a questioning eyebrow. "This is big enough for two." Even as she said this, she could tell her cheeks were turning a shade of crimson.

He blinked, gazing down at the fleece blanket in a manner that didn't conceal his hesitation. "You sure?"

She nodded a little too stiffly. Owen, in between faint reluctance, finally obliged and sidled next to her as he peeled one end of the blanket and wrapped the rest of it around him.

Their knees rubbed against each other as they'd both perched them up the couch, looking like owls in need of comfort. She didn't like this too much closeness.

She didn't like it because it scared her upon realizing how much she actually wanted it. It was like that blinding moment where you could see nothing; your fingertips were trying to reach for anything that wasn't even there amidst the darkness, and you suddenly bump into something to hold on to; and suddenly, a crashing wave of dismantling relief stole your breath away.

He was that kind of comfort.

At one point, their heads turned to each other at the same time and she'd blinked in surprise. But she didn't turn back. Not from that crumbling warmth of his breath against her lips, anyway.

He'd fractionally parted his mouth when his shadow dawned on her face, making the hairs on her neck stand up. From another person's eyes, it probably didn't seem quite right, Paige had thought for a fleeting moment. But this was the part where the lines were blurred, where nothing was right or wrong anymore. Where nothing but freedom and solace had dwelt into.