all for love (blance)

isnt that lovely?

OFFICER ITS THIS CHAPTER RIGHT HERE...!! (i fucking loved writing this omg.)

It was still raining, though it had certainly died down. Spill and Brew walked together, both being sheltered by the umbrella. They didn't make much conversation at first, mainly because Brew was...nervous? Scared? He couldn't tell by that point. "Had fun?" She said, breaking the tension. That was Spill. She always knew what to say and how to say it. And he admired her for that. It must have been why they were such good friends. Why it was easy to talk to her.

He didn't respond right away. He hesitated, before talking again. "For the record..." He began, "we didn't actually do anything." Spill let out a small laugh.

"You don't have to lie to me, Brew. You know I'm understanding about that kind of stuff." She nudged him in the side, gaining a small smile out of Brew. But it quickly faded when he thought about the night with Lance. What they did do. What they didn't do. What he didn't do. And what he wanted to do. He looked down at his feet.

"I wanted to do something, though." Spill's walk slowed at that. She turned to look at Brew, a bit shocked.

"Wait, your serious?" She asked. "You really didn't do anything?" She regained her pace, face still confused and curious. "What was all that then?" Brew shrugged.

"It was just heat of the moment stuff, I guess. But, yea. We didn't actually do what you think we did. We didn't-uh-" His face went a bit red thinking about how to put it into words, but he found some. "We didn't kiss, we didn't...do any of that." Kiss was the only word he could find. "But I really wanted to." He looked up towards the sky, wondering if Spill would be able to tell if he cried since the rain could cover it up. "I don't know..." he shook his head, trying to shake off the thoughts he had.

"Well, what did you do then?" She asked, genuinely. 

"He was so...nice. He told me to shower and change into some new clothes, but, as embarrassing as it is to admit it, I didn't want to shower. Because its a bit hard for me. I guess. PTSD and stuff. Especially not in someone elses house. He offered to give me a bath instead. Said it helped him. And then he filled up the tub for me and put a punch of bubbles so I could get distracted. And..." His face warmed, recalling the memory. It was something that would never leave his mind. "He washed my hair for me. Used shampoo, then rinsed it, and then used, I think conditioner? And rinsed it, and I just..." He became more lost in thought. "It was so relaxing just having him there. His fingers in my hair, him just looking down at me, smiling, I felt so.." He couldn't help but smile, his face growing warmer, feeling the need to hide in his hands because of it. "Safe. I don't know I've never-I don't know what this feeling is." Spill smiled, warm and soft, before earnestly looking at Brew.

"Lance has a soft spot for you." She said. Brew's jaw visibly opened.

"Really?" He asked. 

"Yeah!" She said. "I've barely really known him, but we went to the same highschool. He never acted that way with anyone. Always shut out the world, shut out his friends, didn't let love get to his heart. But with you, its different." Brew recalled that word. Love. That word felt unfamiliar to him.

"Love?" He blurted without thinking. 

"Yeah." She said. "He's never let anyone love him the way you do." His confusion grew deeper, as did his curiosity. 

"What does...love...what is it?" Brew was expecting her to mock him, maybe even make fun of him, but she didn't. She smiled as she talked.

"Its exactly how you feel about Lance." She said confidently. "Its when you care about someone. When you want the best for them, and you want to be with them. It's when you miss them when their gone. The person you think of when you see people on TV kissing each other, or hugging, or just talking to each other. There's a difference between loving someone and being in love with them. When you love them, you care. But when your in love with them, you feel the butterflies in your chest. And that burning feeling in your cheeks. And you stay up late at night, thinking about them. And there are things that remind you of them, and those things make you smile." She looked up at the dark sky. It was more of a grey, though, the clouds hid the stars, the moon was but a gentle glow, and the rain was illuminated in the yellow street lights and cars passing by them. It was still humid through the rain, but the rain made it cooler, bringing in a semi-cold draft. Brew looked up with her. Thinking. About what she had said.