ACHES

7. blur

"Okay, remember your line?" He smirked, leaning against the brick of the bar and pulling out a cigarette.

"I can't have a sober cigarette," I crossed my arms, watching him turn the cigarette between his fingers.

"You didn't smoke the drunk cig anyway," he put the cigarette between his lips, letting it hang there while he reached for my hand. "We can leave, we both remember this part."

"We can't have one drink?" I pouted, but let him take my hand. He stuffed our joined icy fingers into his coat pocket. He lit the cigarette with his free hand, the smoke trailing behind us as we walked. I found myself watching it float off his lips, his air so proximal to mine. I wanted to hover my lips over his and drink in the space between us, let it twist in my lungs.

"We're remembering," he reminded me, "I don't think we have the willpower to stop after one drink, anyways."

I giggled, trying to match my steps with his.

"We walked for a long time, didn't we?" I asked, looking up at him. His curls tumbled over his forehead today, making him look innocent when paired with his dark, melting eyes.

"Not too long," he shook his head, "We were going to the bar I mentioned, but took a detour at this park here."

"Oh, I sort of remember that," I nodded, "I remember this streetlamp, at least." I pointed to the streetlamp, which hadn't turned on yet. I could see the amber light, foggy in the back of my mind. The way it warmed his skin.

"We sit here," he pointed at a bench, crowded by tall spruce trees and another streetlamp. I joined him on the bench, pulling my jacket tighter around me.

"Fucking cold," I murmured, staring at the snow collecting on the toe of my boot.

He laughed, "You said that last time. I gave you my jacket, and some of this." He pulled out a sparkling silver flask, and another cigarette. He handed me the flask while his lighter flickered.

"I thought we weren't drinking today."

"We have a limited supply," he raised an eyebrow, blowing a rush of smoke away from me.

"Make sure I don't drink too much," I unscrewed the flask, sipping stinging whisky in quick gulps.

"Okay, darling," he put an arm over my shoulders, taking the flask from my frigid fingers and pouring it into the back of his throat. He squeezed one eye closed, wiping his bottom lip with his sleeve. The cigarette went back between his lips, and the flask back into his coat.

"We kissed here," he said quietly, looking up at the spruce. "Our first kiss."

"I'm sorry I don't remember."

He flicked the cigarette into the snow after one last drag, "I might be forgetting."

I kissed his cheek.

"That... Feels familiar," he frowned, nudging my cheek with his.

I pressed a cold kiss to the tip of his nose. He grinned, happy I was playing along.

"Anything?" I asked, tucking a curl behind his ear.

"It's still a blur," he spread his fingers over my cheek, reaching into my hair. He pulled my mouth to his, kissing the whisky off my lips. I closed my eyes, and could feel him, then and now, hands in my hair and mouth open against mine. I let my fingers wander over his jaw, tracing the stubble and feeling his mouth move as he kissed me deeper. Soft sounds spilled between us as he dipped the tip of his tongue into my mouth, asking permission to taste me. I joined my hands behind his neck, moaning into the friction of his tongue. He tasted like tobacco and mint, and hummed into me as his hands roamed my back and thighs. He was desperately pulling me in, trying to gather all the grains of me with his hands, trying to pile me up neatly in front of him. It felt good to be needed, to be touched. It felt good to be part of a whole.

"I'm–" he breathed, chest heaving, "We took a cab to the hotel from here."

"Okay," I kept my eyes closed, letting him scatter a few soft kisses over my face. His lips were gentle and plush.

"That's where I'm living," he said, "The hotel."

"Okay," I blinked slowly, the edges of him fuzzy and glowing. The streetlamp had turned on.

"Do you want to go there?" His sweetness cut into me, softly turning beneath my heart. I leaned into his palm on my cheek.

"I want to remember," I nodded.

"Yes?"

"Yes."