Episode Twenty-Six:
THUMP
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F A W N ' S P O V :
"Um, sorry you had to see me like that," I mumble, trying to refrain from getting lost in the seas of blue and green melting together in the depths of his irises, sitting in such close proximity that I can actually take the time to observe them closely.
As I observe his eyes, his pupils travel further south, settling on the top of my upper lip.
The silence that follows is nearly unbearable, his hands firm on my waist, and eyes forever locked in what must be the most frustratingly long gaze of my life. Slowly, barely at all, I can feel his featherlight fingers shifting their position on my waist, traveling higher, then lower, then settling back in place as though none of it had even happened. Like the brush of shoulders as you walk by someone in a hall, touch existent, but no one but you and that person would ever know contact was made.
Sometimes even the people who make contact wouldn't know, yet it happened.
"Elliott?" I whisper, trying my best to keep my emotions in check as I squeak out a word.
"Do you know what's happening?" He asks quietly.
His calloused hands reach the small of my back, and I know now that I am not imagining things.
I am not alone. I am not crazy.
I'm scared out of my mind, but –
I like Elliott.
Or maybe I just like whatever it is he's doing, distracting me from, releasing me from, but I know that I don't want him to stop. I want him to keep holding me like this, and keep looking at me like that, and saying things that insist he's fine with my want – for him.
Fuck.
"Fawn, do you know?" He repeats, voice lower than before but not necessarily gravelly.
"Y-Yes,"
"Are you okay with what's happening?"
He slowly reaches over himself, flipping us so that I'm surrounded by nothing but his scent, body, and soul.
I can't decide which is the most alluring.
"Tell me I'm crazy." He breathes, the scratchiness of his voice only coming through when I look away from him, so I can relearn how it is you breathe.
I've forgotten at his point.
"This is some cruel dream," he mutters.
"It's not a dream," I whisper.
"It's not real life," he leans down from his place in the sky to where his face is looking down upon mine, directly, no weird angles, no weird shadows, just him and him alone.
"You're always s-so n-negative," I respond, causing him to inch even closer to me.
"Kind of my thing," he smiles, "Just like your thing is ruining the moment,"
And with that, his lips landed on mine.
It was something I don't think I can explain using words.
Though, I imagine the words wow and fuck would be a couple.
Words.
Such silly things make this living, breathing, miracle in front of me look black in white despite the explosion of heated passion fogging my brain, and clouding my vision.
Hands.
Hair.
Lips.
Hearts.
Thump.
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"What took you so long?"
I remain quiet.
"Goddamn it, are you mute now? Jesus, Fawn!" Emerson waves his hand in front of my face.
"Are you still pissed about the other night?" He widens his eyes and I merely look out the window of the car, doing my best to keep my cool. Not like I'm angry, just sad. Just don't want to cry in front of him. Not now.
"You're so fucking petty, I could've done way worse than that,"
"I came to help you, and you only hurt me." I whimper, and he turns glances back at me from the front of the car.
"Are you kidding me?" He asks, "I asked you to come!"
"You wouldn't have done shit for me if I didn't text you to begin with. If I didn't ask for help myself you never would've 'come to help'. Shit, I should've just kept fending for myself. I wouldn't have to deal with you." He chuckles, and his fingertips tap impatiently on the leather upholstered steering wheel as we wait for the light to turn green again.
"Why do I even come here if all you ever do is treat me like this?" I question, "You wanna know?"
"Sure." He snarls.
"Because I care. Emerson I care about you, and for some idiotic reason you can't just accept that it's the complete and honest truth. Why is it so hard for you to believe that it's possible for you to be loved, to be cared for? Why is it so hard? Why is it that you run away from all the people you love?"
"Shut the hell up already! All this self righteous bullshit is making my head hurt. The only reason you're here is to make yourself feel better about the fact that you're helping your less than fortunate, fuck up of a brother."
"You know that's not true,"
"I don't know anything anymore. All I want, is for you to help me with this, not persuade me to come back home again." The mirror above his seat is angled so I can see the serious expression etched into his brows.
"Fine," I huff.
"Great," he concludes.
The car goes back to being silent, and I flinch when Emerson reaches to turn on the radio.
"So you're not going to tell me why you were late?"
"No. When will we be there already?"
"Soon enough,"
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QUESTIONS:
What did you think of Elliott and Fawn kissing?
Thoughts on the second part?
Any theories on what Emerson and Fawn may be doing, or what happened earlier?
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Hey! Thx for being so patient! You guys are the best, and I really do appreciate all the new readers and voters, it's incredible that new people are finding and enjoying this! Do let me know what you think of this chapter by commenting, answering the questions, and voting!
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Thx again!
- tat <3
NOTICE: UNTIL JANUARY 5th THERE WILL BE NO UPLOADS SO I CAN HAVE A BREAK FOR THE HOLIDAYS, AND PREPARE MYSELF FOR A NEW YEAR OF AMAZINGNESS!
*I'm sure you guys are busy with the holiday season as well