Wings

13: Pretend Like I'm Not Falling In Love

NPOV

Track: I Am Falling In Love, Isak Danielson

Today has been a long day.

The night sky sprawls above us, a canvas painted with twinkling stars, and the air is thick with the heady scent of pine and damp earth. Will and I sit side by side on a blanket spread out by the the lulling waves of a nearby lake, the flames of our dwindling campfire casting flickering shadows across our faces. We're exhausted from hours of gathering supplies and tending to our makeshift camp, and the fatigue only seems to heighten the tension between us.

I know Will's meeting with his parents didn't go well—after all, if it had gone how he wanted it to go, he wouldn't be here with me again—but he refuses to admit it, and I'm not sure if I should press it or not. I don't want him to feel like he has to talk about it, but I don't want him to think it would bother me if he's honest, either. I just...I don't like the way his face falls every time he thinks I'm not looking, and I wish he would stop lying to me, even if he won't give details yet.

I steal a glance at him, the firelight illuminating his features in a soft, golden glow. His bright blue eyes shimmer with the reflection of the stars above, and his tousled blond hair catches the light, framing his face like a halo. He's beautiful, in a way that steals the breath from my lungs and makes my heart race.

"You look nice," I say before I even realize I'm saying it, my voice barely above a whisper, but the words hang heavy in the air between us. When he doesn't immediately respond, I think that maybe I should take it back. Actually, I lied—you look completely regular under the night sky. Just like you look completely regular under all other types of skies. Right, yes, that's totally believable.

Will's cheeks do flush pink even though he doesn't immediately say anything, but finally he looks away, depriving me of his expression. If I sit up, I think I can see the blush lingering on his cheeks, though. "Are you allowed to say that?" he murmurs, and there's a warmth in his tone that tells me he liked that I said it regardless of whether it's allowed.

"Probably not," I agree, my heart stuttering.

"You look nice too," he says, half-asleep and still facing away from me. Then, after a moment, as if he had taken time to summon bravery: "If it couldn't hurt you, I'd kiss you—if you were okay with it, obviously. If it was safe. I wish we were allowed to be...something."

I swallow. My heart speeds up a little at his sleep-deprived words. The stars twinkle at me, betraying no answers on how to handle this situation. I wonder if it would be cruel to ask him what happened at his parents' house when he's apparently so willing to be open with me right now.

But no. He clearly isn't ready to share details yet, and I won't take advantage of his weakening consciousness just to find out what happened—his trust is infinitely more important to me than knowing what his parents said to him.

I reach out and gently tilt his chin back towards me, my fingers grazing his skin with a feather-light touch. "Me too," I say, my voice soft but sincere. And then, summoning my courage and praying Hades won't smite me over a mere compliment: "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

He shivers, and he rolls over to meet my eyes. My heart is thundering out of my chest, and I try to ignore the way my limbs—especially my fingers and toes—feel tingly, that feeling of sitting strangely for too long until your extremities buzz and threaten to go numb. I know I'm pushing my limit—I shouldn't be tempting fate like this.

But even so...

The air between us crackles with an electric tension, a silent understanding passing between us. We both know the risks, the consequences of giving in to this forbidden desire, but with the stars watching down on us as spies, we can never have this moment—we might love more truly and yearn more desperately than any couple on Earth, but at the end of the story, we will still walk away from each other for the sake of staying alive.