fleur and i sit on the roof.
"that band is so lame" i say.
she drinks orange crush and puts the can down.
"you know what fucking sucks, vincent van gogh? you know what grinds my gear?"
she sounds so full of anger. i almost don't want to ask what fucking sucks what grinds her gears. i sit in silence and wait for her to tell me anyways.
"i do want you. and i don't fucking know why. you're obsessed with your little manic pixie dream girl."
i look at her. her face is angry. she chucks the can onto the people dancing in the backyard.
"i've always been here, asshole. and i'm invisible to you."
"invisible?"
"yea, invisible."
"is that really what you think you are to me?"
she doesn't nod, doesn't say yes.
"i see you, fleur. the image of you is so loud, it screams at me."
she's crying. she ties her hair back with an elastic around her wrist. fleur is so beautiful. she's honey sweet and her innocence fucks with my head. because she's not innocent. she brings me to my knees. she makes me sensitive.
"you're so-" i start.
"so what?"
i lunge on top of her and kiss her. her lips feel so chapped against mine and slimy from her lip gloss. but it feels correct. it takes her a couple seconds to kiss back. and when she does i flip her on top of me. i pull her hair so she's as close to me as possible. her body is so small compared to mine and it feels amazing.
she pulls away to look at me. her eyes ask if this is okay. and it's more than okay. she puts her hands under my shirt on my stomach and her fingertips are so cold. i want to be inside her. not sexually. i want to be in her head in her heart in her fingertips while she touches me. i want to tell her to come find me, but it feels like i am found. her teeth pull at my bottom lip and i moan. the rain is pouring inside my stomach. the blizzard is in my head. but the sun is in my pants. she notices my lap.
"i'm sorry."
she puts her palm over it and i tense. fleur is a ghost. she traces phantom lines on my skin. i pull her so close to me that i can feel all her curves, not that she has many. this is better than the drugs. fleur is sacred. i want her to devour me.
i think about her teeth chomping down on me. i think about keeping her eyeballs in a jar. i think about what song is in her head. i want to peel the dry skin off her lip. i bite down and peel it off and blood drips in my mouth. we still kiss.
