If The World Ends Tomorrow | ONGOING

𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓃

𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟸𝟸𝚗𝚍

"Tell me something," I demand, we're at New Park, on one of the many benches. 

Eden is reading his book, he's a quick reader, he's on a different book, almost every time I see him, which is just about every day. I grab another daisy adding to my crown of them. My fingertips smell like grass, and the underside of my nails is stained green.

"What do you want to know?" He looks up.

"Have you ever kissed a girl? Or a boy, who am I to assume?"

"No," He shakes his head. "Well, one time, in elementary school."

"Scandalous," I tease.

"And you?" He glances at me.

I shrug. "Oh, y'know, here and there, sometimes...everywhere." 

I'd probably kissed over 100 guys, the majority of them I was high or drunk while doing, to this day only one of them ever meant anything. It'll stay that way until the day I die, not that that's far off.

"Wow, what a clear answer."

"I try my best." I smile. "Did you like her? The girl."

"As a little boy likes a girl, it wasn't anything monumental."

I have no clue what that word means but I'm gonna guess, it's something big, otherworldly.

"Do you know where she is now?"

"She went to Switzerland for school, I believe."

"Fancy," I murmur. "Here. Tilt your head." I hold up the crown of daisies. He leans his head down, and I place it on his head, it's a little too big but it works. "Perfect, you better cherish it till the day you die."

"I will."

I smile. "Good."

⋆・○・✮・○・⋆

I'd always dreamed of my first kiss being something amazing, maybe it be under a streetlight my clothes soaked from pouring rain, maybe it'd be on the top of a Ferris wheel, maybe it be at my front door, I had countless ideas of how it would go. 

I'd never imagined it'd be at 3 in the morning, at Olds, on a creaking swing, but it was.

His ear piercing glinted even in the dark, usually, it was covered by his hair, but his hair was tucked behind his ear. He'd reached the age where his hair was growing in, his chin dusted with it.

I know he felt me staring, I wasn't being discreet about it. 

He handed me his cigarette. "Don't look at me like that."

I took the cigarette. "Like what?"

"I can't be what you want me to be, Giselle," he rasped, his voice a melody, though his words hurt.

I shook my head. "You are what I want." My eyebrows furrowed. "Just you."

He turned to me, the left corner of his lip split, and swollen. He had a new injury every time I saw him. 

I don't know why I did it, but I leaned over, ignoring the screech of the swing. 

His lips were soft, I could feel where his lip was split, the cold steel of his piercing, and the prickles of his stubble.

He tasted like smoke and peppermint.

I hated peppermint, but it tasted like heaven when it was off him.

The words I told him, the words I'm always thinking playing in a loop.

You're all I want.

All I've ever wanted.

Just you.