Toyed heartstrings

Confrontation

When she woke from her rough slumber, Buttercup shot up shooting glances around her dark room. The sun poked through her curtains, yapping at her to allow the rays in. A deep sigh trailed out her mouth, as she realised she fell asleep at the foot of her bed where she had sat last night tracing her lips.

Last night...

Oh god.

Butch kissed her.

And she kissed him back...

Why did she do that? Why did he do that?

A scarlet pink cosied around on her cheeks, thinking about it again. He was drunk. It was as simple as that. However, Butch's speech was moderately coherent enough for her to understand. Usually, if he was drunk his speech would slur and go all funny.

A hand jotted up to her lips again, tracing the thin lines and cracks that made them up. Butch pressed his baby lips to them, moulding them together. He had good lips, she couldn't lie about that. It felt incredibly hot when he swiped her jaw like that. But she wouldn't tell him that. Never. She wouldn't break the bro code.

No. She couldn't think about him like that. They were best friends. Just friends. Butch would never look at her the same if she thought otherwise.

But do friends go around kissing each other?

This was Butch, maybe in his drunken state he was trying to be the flirty one. But she didn't think so. Her heart raged, sinking to the pit of her stomach while she recalled that he loved another girl. Buttercup didn't understand why that feeling didn't bode well in her chest. Why her heart thumped in anxiousness when Butch mentioned 'her.' He would have told her right? That maybe he had someone he fancied, best friends talked about that. That information was completely concealed and censored from her.

His tears.

That.absolutely.shattered.her.

Butch Jojo never cries. That wasn't a profound discovery. He just didn't. Some could even argue that his receptor cells didn't work, while he loved getting good fights in, without barely feeling anything. His face was completely disarrayed with tears thundering down it; it didn't go with him. She didn't like it. Reminiscing, how the droplets clung to his long lashes as he sobbed while rubbing them. All she wanted to do was cup his sharp masculine jaw line and tell him it was okay. Rub the tender skin under his eyes, while peering into those emerald lush forests.

But friends don't do that.

So she hugged him instead. And boy it shouldn't have felt the best thing while he was having a breakdown. The wrap of his arms secured her and his frame to each other, making her melt away and cosy into his chest. Her insides giggled with heat at the contact of his muscular body. It felt normal, normal to be blended like that. His biceps, his abs, his lips, she had the urge to feel them. But that's dirty to think of ; they're just friends.

But do friends kiss? They did. Twice. It shouldn't mean anything. Buttercup sometimes sees friends kiss each other on the cheeks and you can basically hold hands with anyone. Hold hands? She did, didn't she? Intertwined his large hand into hers, felt the calloused skin that was beautifully adorned with roughness, strength and momentum. The slight tremble of twitches soothed under her hand, and she quite liked that.

But he left, breaking that small slither of hope that maybe it meant something more. Butch bailed, and Buttercup pondered whether she wasn't that... pleasant to kiss... her heart sank as her shoulders slumped at the thought. Butch has probably been with a lot of girls while she hasn't really... had any expertise in the dating section. Lime eyes crinkled in disappointment towards herself, perusing that she was a lousy kisser.