Tender gangster

Not you but your smile

*Notes

The edited pier scene

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"I still don't believe I gave in to this adventure."

"I didn't notice that you resisted so much."

The day hasn't gone well since morning. You know you've been stewing in this bloody cauldron all your life, but today a stray bullet went through the edge of his shoulder. If you hadn't pushed Porsche away in time, you could have sent him to feed fish. The ones who are hiding now under the quiet water at the night pier.

"The dying man's last will."

"Huh, don't make me laugh, Kinn. That's how hard you have to try to die from a scratch in your shoulder."

"Say thank you that it was processed in time for you."

Fox squint. Ridiculously compressed lips with a bow, through which the "thank you" breaks through.

What a child you are, Porsche! you shake your head condescendingly, fixing your gaze in front. In the distance, the lights of a big city shine, vaguely reflected in the water. And next to you, your sometimes completely incompetent bodyguard breathes drunkenly.

If the goal was to get you drunk for the sake of "forgetting", then everything worked exactly the opposite. The stupefied look and the unleashed language of Porsche give out every extra alco-grade.

"Why are you silent?"

"And what shall I say?"

You would have been sitting with your profile to him if your fingers, hot from alcohol walking in the blood, hadn't touched your palm tensely resting on the pier. Why do you even let him do something for which you would have put another in his place once and for all long ago? And you don't resist too zealously.

Meanwhile, Porsche completely falls back on a slightly cool surface from the night breeze.

"Fall down next to me!" and he has a smile from ear to ear.

"Mhm... it's messy here."

"Pfft, what a tender gangster," he snorts, starting to furiously sweep away the dust with his hand, "everything is clean. You don't have to be afraid to dirty your royal person."

You purse your lips skeptically, but still lie down next to him, automatically turning to face him. Or rather, to this happy smile.

"That's what you're smiling at all the time, huh?"

"Well, I just feel really good."

Sounds naive and sincere. You wonder if you will ever be able to seize the moment in the same childlike way in your life?

"Really? Have you ever been this happy?"

"A few seconds ago" Porsche answers without hesitation, with a hoarse laugh in his voice.

"You're so obstinate."

"Maybe."

Very little time passes, and Porsche closes his eyes and begins to snore softly.

"Hey, Porsche, what are you doing?"

You shake him lightly by the shoulder, but the guy just sweetly smacks his lips, which stretch back into a smile.

Come on, come on, let your mouth water again," curling your lips, you look at this overgrown child.

"Porsche, it's not funny," you try to wake him up again, "yes, wake up, so?!"

But the guy seems to have fallen into a deep drunken oblivion.

Porsche's breathing becomes smoother. If he pretends to be asleep, then it's just super professional.

In a dream, all the rebellion of this wayward guy disappears, leaving soft, despite the clear lines, features of a beautiful face. Carefully, barely breathing yourself, you reach out to him with your palm. You touch his temple almost imperceptibly with the very tips of your fingers. You descend lower, gently passing them over the glossy cheek.

The sharpness of his sandy cheekbones. And such inviting lips.

He's sleeping, right? Yes, and high... it will always be possible to justify by "you dreamed it".

As quietly as possible, so as not to disturb, you raise yourself on your elbow and lean towards him. At your own risk, you let his tousled hair through the fingers, trying? stop yourself, but it doesn't come out.

You decide on it.

But even the very first innocent touch of soft lips is more than enough to send electric discharges through the fingertips. This feeling is so strong that you want to cry. You've never allowed yourself to cry like this before. Inside, everything instantly freezes and stops. And Porsche is still breathing on your cheek and not moving. And you want to... don't you really want to? hug him, stroke his tanned skin, inhale its fragrance.

And it's not just about his physical proximity. It's like you want to live anew next to him. And also, like this, secretly, allow yourself to admire him. Sleeping. But even from this stolen moment, an all-consuming tenderness spreads over the chest, which turns the head and makes the eyes shine from the treacherously stuck salt under the eyelids.

You join your lips again. Drowning in a sweet moment. And you don't notice at all how Porsche's hands are occur to be behind your neck, and he responds to your kiss without any resistance at all. Only when he opens his eyes abruptly, you pull away, not really thinking how you will get out of it.

You roll back to your side and take a sitting position.

Porsche giggles.

So it looks like he hasn't slept yet?

'Kinn?" calling you through the incessant fun.

"Wh-what?" You try to even out your breathing, but in vain.

"You kissed me."

"Not at all," you understand that you are behaving stupidly, but you just need at least a few minutes to compose a decent excuse.

"You kissed me, Kinn, don't deny it."

"Not you," you lower your head, surrending to the inevitability of exposure, "but your smile."

His laugh. Still little husky.

"Ay-ay-ay, Kinn, now I see exactly who you really are."

"Mhm. And who am I?"

Your palm ends up in his. Porsche weaves your fingers. And he, with a tired but satisfied smile, puts his head on your shoulder:

"Tender gangster."

You laugh, but you don't mind. Perhaps he is not so far from the truth? Or is it next to him that you are like this?