Ever After

Halloween (6)

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This chapter is in Jack's perspective.

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I couldn't stop myself from doing it, couldn't pry my lips from his. For what felt like the longest time, we were just standing there, my arms travelling in order to seat themselves protectively about his waist, his pupils shielded by their eyelids, our lips inseparable.

It was exactly what I'd been afraid of, what I'd been dreading for what felt like ages. It was the reason I threw our memorabilia to shreds, the reason I ignored his stare for so long, the very reason I kissed Naomi – all of those moments, every one of them worthy of thousands of sobs, had been torn to shreds, tossed out the window with one, single connection.

And yet, not one part of my body could find the decency to care, the will to stop. It was as if he were giving me life, bringing me back the happiness I'd dismissed from my life, the happiness I'd ignored. I'd spent so many nights alone in my bedroom, trying to distract myself from the only thing on my mind – it was him, all him, the person who made my my best, the person who made me feel as if Naomi weren't a bitch, my parents didn't care about my sexuality, and that there weren't three bastards chasing us on our tails.

We'd locked lips for a few moments, only to soon release ourselves of one another, finally managing to do so without locking lips two seconds later. I watched his expression carefully, being sure to take in every detail; the widening of his irises (their usual golden, chocolaty shade), the moistness to his lips, and the wide space between his eyes and eyebrows. His eyes fluttered for a moment, pausing briefly before his lips made to saying something, when all I could hope was that they would just kiss me again.

"Jack..." he murmured, forcing me to lean an ear closer. "... I thought..."

"I thought so, too," I breathed, shocked at the fact that I'd managed to form words. "I just..."

"'Can't stay away?'" he joked, once again failing at raising only a single brow. "I know. It's what they all say."

"Sure," I teased, giving him a run for his money in the eyebrow-raising competition.

He then shivered in his shirt, reminding me that he was only wearing a polo and a pair of shorts – feeling the need to no longer be as ice-cold as the wind whipping against my cheek, I shrugged off my blazer, letting it slide gently around his shoulders, a fit far too large for someone of his size. I couldn't hold back the smile dying to get out of me – something about it was so adorable, the way he looked so petit in such a large blazer.

The smile hurt in a way, a way I'd never expected a smile to sting. It was a painful reminder of how much I'd come to miss him, of how many thoughts of mine he'd occupied while I was away from him. It hurt to think of it, hurt to think of what it would feel like to go home after this, to be alone with my thoughts once again, the very image of Mark stapled in my mind. How much I loved seeing him in person, I could not express – seeing him as nothing more than a figment of imagination barely gave off any emotion at all, but seeing his eyes light up less than an inch away from my face made it impossible not to savour the moment.

He shot me a smile in response, just before kissing me once again, fitting his small hand in mine as he did. It was a short kiss, simple and sweet – nothing more than a gesture of tender loving. Once he'd pulled away, he'd continued to smile before gesturing at my blazer (resting somewhat comfortably on his shoulders), adding that we should probably go inside. I tried not to smirk at the thought of the romance continuing in private as he opened the screen door, stepping over the balloons we hadn't let out and into the air as he did. My toes kissed his heels as we wandered inside, me taking a place on the sofa, him heading into the kitchen for whatever was wrong this time.