Fireflies

52

It was all good. Too good to be exact. The night had ended with his lips on the feel of her own. His grazing hands gripping the corners of her curves.

Their ragged breathing and the sound of their two souls colliding seamlessly matched like a rush of adrenaline.

Everything seemed so slow and fulfilling.

Each breath, each kiss, nothing was amiss.

Her hesitant responses faded like the diminishing lightning bolt. Claire's motion accorded to his every touch.

What came after was the magic of two attached lips, two beating hearts.

At first, he gazed at her with eyes seeking for permission. And she gave in to the hidden wishes of her heart.

Then the moment happened.

Mark cupped her face, caressed the softness of her skin, and then he inched himself closer.

Mark pulled her in, locking her in his embrace as he lifted her up into the comfort of his lap. They wrestled in frenzied touches, kisses, and smiles while being observed by the paschal moon.

He grew bolder, better in taking in each other's cup, filling each mind of nothing else but the dominating sound of the voices in need through the presence of the stars.

Mark needed her like this, in his arms.

She needed him even more than she ought to admit—she had found herself leaning towards him because he had this hold of her, this grasp of heat that she could never resist.

His mouth molded perfectly in hers. His hands massive enough to cup her shoulders and tightly wrap his arms around the sides of her waist.

She had lost the panic and fear. She had completely forgotten, in those moments, the naught of her life—the nightmares of Marina that kept her up at night.

He whispered in her ears the most confident praises, as if prayers were made to the wonders of her lips.

Mark made it his mission to make her recognize that she could be the most desirable, most admirable lady to a single soul.

The most unforgettable piece of his life's puzzle.

The daring charmer who could always let him cave in.

"Claire, I missed you," he mumbled in between kisses. "I really do."

She giggled in response, unable to truly resist his charms. "I notice that."

"We should stop."

She nodded her head, the rise and fall of their chests profound upon the ringing of their ears.

"I can't believe that just happened," she said in gasps.

"I can't believe we found each other again."

———

"You look flushed," said her Mom as she closed the hotel door with glistening eyes. "Your hair is a mess."

"Oh, I stumbled on the ground."

Her Mom chuckled. "Oh dear, does that also mean your lips stumbled upon someone too? Your lipstick is smudged all over, have you forgotten to check yourself in the mirror as soon as you left?"

Claire's eyes widened and she rushed to the mirror by the wall, shrieking in surprise as she saw how she had looked absurdly disheveled going back.

Her Mom had been right. After she left Mark's room as soon as they came back from the rooftop, she couldn't find herself remembering anything else.

All she could think about was the kiss.

THE KISS.

It was the lips of the most dashing fellow, the hold of the most muscular bod.

Claire observed her florid face and then she couldn't help but zone out, just watching herself get lost in the midst of recent memories.

"Did you perhaps, had your first kiss?" her Mom appeared at the bathroom door, crossing her arms together and a smirk on her face.

"No," she said in the most obvious denial. "Of course not. I just stumbled, remember I just told you Mom?"

Claire's Mom ended up laughing at the poor liar.

———

The next morning, Claire jolted awake upon the sound of someone cooking from outside. She covered her face as the rays of the light outside slipped in to the sheets.

She sprawled around the bed after a few more moments until picking herself up to go outside. Claire remembered that her Mom started to make arrangements as soon as she decided to stay with Claire a little longer.

She could still hear her response when they talked before. "If it makes you happy, then it is all that it takes for me to support you."

Claire fumbled around the mirror and then opened the door to her room, eager to see her Mom who probably cooked and left a little later than she said she had intended to.

"Mom? I thought you were leaving ear—"

There stood at the kitchen counter the desperate pair of hazel eyes. Claire froze for a moment, forgetting the bliss and remembering how they both haven't mended things.

"Claire, I'm here to talk to you," Angie said as she inched herself closer towards her, placing the ladle back down to the counter as soon as they locked gazes.

"Angie?"

"I made breakfast for both of us," she sheepishly muttered and placed down the dishes on the table.

Claire could only watch her. She had almost forgotten how unfortunate things have become between them because the moment she realized that Angie, Jaemin, and Mark knew each other, she had wanted to clear her head.

At first she thought she had been made a fool but then maybe, as she looked at Angie now, there had been a reason as to why they had to keep it all to themselves.

"Why did you not tell me?"

Those were the first words that came out of her mouth. Claire gripped the chair she was holding onto and then she looked away, unable to truly stay mad at the girl who had been there for her a lot more.

Of course, people always had to keep certain secrets, all to themselves as long as they can. They either kept the truth to bury something greater or they chose to have the burden alone.

"I didn't know how to tell you the rest of how Mark and I met," she said as she sat down on the wooden chair. "There was something you did not have to know."

"What?"

The coldness of the morning finally slipped into the bareness of her back and so she shivered.

"If Mark remembers, he will probably not tell you. But things have been a mess the moment he went to Bukidnon and left Vancouver. He grew apart from us, from Jaemin and I," she said in hesitation, but she continued as Claire moved towards the other chair across Angie. "When we moved here, I told Mark that my brother and I would have to go away soon and he had ended up becoming too occupied with a girl from his dreams."

She stared blankly at the ceiling trying to process Angie's words.

"What?"