and I'm the kind of love it hurts to look at, but once I was enough to make you try
now, I'm underneath the rubble, trying not to feel the trouble.
They don’t burn, she says, but he can feel the way they linger on his lips when he draws his mouth away again. And he is so careful not to close his mouth too tightly, in case doing so might scatter the sensation. He thinks he’ll carry it with him for the rest of his life, this sensation of having touched something that burned brighter than he ever could. And it is this that makes him grin that secretive, boyish thing. He is not foolish enough to believe that he will ever see this remarkable thing again, this girl who has chased fire through his veins, but he knows that there is nothing in the world to stop him from harboring the memory of her. Nothing can take that from him.
The muscles had not quivered beneath his touch and perhaps he should feel scorned. He does not understand yet that his vulnerability is a strength. Someday he will. Someday. There is a twinge of something dark at the very center of him but he pays it no mind. He knows that to think about it will only invite it to grow and he has no interest in sullying this memory. So, he just goes on grinning sweetly.
The muscles had not quivered but she does shift closer. And then closer still, until their chests are so close that he can feel his own heart straining hard in an effort to seek out the beat of hers. And she lays here cheek against the smooth surface of his shoulder and his grin deepens, takes on a new light altogether. He follows suit then, ducks his head to gingerly press his own cheek against the stars splashed across her shoulder. They don’t burn, but he can feel them all the same.
It is the memory of this moment that will carry him through whatever darkness he encounters, he can feel it.
He closes his eyes with her question, exhales his own tempered sigh. He has learned that there are precious few places that are safe. But he has also learned that safety is overrated. Because if he had not worked up the nerve to venture outside of the warm confines of his comfort zone, he certainly would not have ended up here. Like this.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” he whispers and then lifts his head to kiss her sweetly behind the ear. His heart thumps with this uncharacteristic boldness as he returns his cheek to her shoulder. “Please don’t worry about me,” he rephrases and then exhales a half-breath of laughter. “Where do you live?”
THOMAS
— and you don't care for me enough to cry —
