2/10

i can feel your pain.

{ side b ; track eight }

❝Il ne savait pas un baiser pourrait être si vivifiant.❞

His trembling fingers clutched to her knitted sweater. 

She chuckled inwardly at the spot of vanilla ice cream on the corner of his lip. 

Both leaned in, their eyes fluttering shut with the serene gentile of butterfly wings. A gust of late-autumn wind nudged their bodies closer together, tawny leaves brushed around cinnamon trees.

He didn't feel inclined to reach for his inhaler, not this time.

She wished the rosiness in her cheeks would dissipate. 

As their lips touched, the humidity between them escalated, blood rushed to the tips of their fingers, the back of theirs knees, the pits of their belly buttons. Their brains drowned in sparkling ecstasy, but also sadness.

He winced as a brief image of his lecherous family-hopping father appeared in his head; disloyal, greedy, uncaring of the consequences that follow a kiss.

She grimaced at the thought of that strangers lips on hers, and the greasy, ever lingering taste of cheddar cheese no amount of mouthwash could erase.

When they pulled back, tears were cascading down the puffy curves of their face; a train of emotions collided with the wall they'd tried so hard to put up. Their fingers intertwined and they spent the rest of their afternoon whimpering through the park like children. 

As the street lamps illuminated, their odd outing burnt out. They went their separate ways, hopping aboard a train to two different parts of the city, not once speaking of the moment they shared lip-locked.

And he hadn't cried because of the father that didn't want him or his mother.

And she hadn't cried because of the criminal that had stolen away her innocence.

They had cried for each other. For the pain that travelled like a zip-line onto the other persons tongue was unbearable and overpowering in every essence of the word.