West [ COMPLETED ]

XVIII

In the beginning we were careful not to touch each other. He laid out his sleeping bag a good two feet from mine, and as we had stopped and bought me a pillow yesterday there was no reason to be close.

I lay there listening to the silence, wide awake, wishing for sleep to come, or at least that Weston would go to sleep but I could tell that he was fully awake, because he tossed and turned and his breathing never became even.

My urge to cry was gone now, in its place just a dull ache. I stared, wide eyed, into the darkness.

"Ave?" I heard Wes stir and whisper.

"Hm?" I didn't even bother pretending .

He didn't speak again, just reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder, giving a tug so that I rolled over to face him.

He rubbed my shoulder gently, and I wondered what he was going to say.

"Just... Come here please," he whispered.

I was silent for a long time, but finally gave in and stretched out my arms to him. He pulled me towards him with a shaky exhale, laid my head on his pillow, and hovered over me, just like that other night when I wondered if he was going to kiss me.

This time he actually did.

He hovered for so long, I could tell he was giving me a chance to push him away, he was telling me what he was going to do and giving me a chance to stop him.

I rested my hand gently against the base of his neck, stroking with my thumb. He put his other forearm down next to me, caging me in with his arms, our chests touching, and he leaned down and kissed me softly on the lips. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, and he pulled back slowly. I savored it, my heart thrilling at the sensation of it. Ever so slightly I lifted my head, and he sensed it, and kissed me once again, and this time we were falling, kissing deeper and deeper, slow and hot, making my insides curl with heat. When our breathing became rough and we had to break away to breathe, Weston bent his head and kissed my cheeks, and then my lips again, softly, once.

"I'm sorry for starting this. I never should have kissed you to begin with."

"I'm not sorry." I rubbed my thumb across his lower lip.

"You can do better than me."

"Shut up. You know exactly how I feel about you and it doesn't matter what you say," I said.

"I know. I was a teenager not that long ago."

I was silent, knowing there was nothing I could say to change his mind either. He thought I was young, and that I would get over whatever crush I had on him, that my feelings weren't real.

"Let's sleep Ave." he pulled me close to him and nestled his face into my neck, pressing soft kisses there.

"Goodnight," I whispered back, heart beating furiously.

Warm tears filled my eyes and spilled over then, soaking the pillow, and I finally fell asleep.

•~•~•~•~•~•~••~•~•~•~•~•~•

The next day I was surprisingly calm. I didn't even have to try to maintain the shell around my heart anymore, it was just there. The former day's bitter grief was faded and in its place an accepting sadness.

Weston and I spent the last two few hours of our trip playing out favorite songs, talking, and sitting in companionable silence. The wall was gone, and if even a little bit of it remained, I still sensed an honesty to it that last night had fused between us, even though I had tried to fight it in the beginning with my pride.