ƈσʅԃ ιɳ LA < dσɾႦყɳ

6

"corbyn matthew besson, don't you dare say that!" i cry out, like a wounded animal. his words hurt me, there's no doubt about it. corbyn just gives me a hard stare through his tears, holding me in place with his hand on my chest, pushing me against the wall.

"and why not? are you afraid to get hurt? well guess what: you hurt me first!" corbyn is seething, i can tell, and i'm almost scared. under his anger, i know he's vulnerable, and i know he's scared, that's why he's lashing out.

"corbyn, please, please calm down. i-i'm sorry okay! you know i'd never want to hurt you! i just couldn't take it." i sob, closing my eyes tightly so that i don't have to face him.

"dani, i- you- i don't understand!" corbyn whimpers brokenly, his head falling into the crook of my neck as he cries. i hesitantly envelop him into my arms, cradling his head tightly. how can our situation just change so radically?

"w-what don't you understand?" i ask hesitantly.

"i'm confused dani. i-i thought i loved him, but now all i can think about is you." his voice is muffled by my clothed shoulder, so i gently pull his head up so that we can look into each other's eyes. i see the pain, the confusion, the vulnerability, all stuck in them, and all i want to do it help him. we breathe heavily, too close together to be friendly. i know what i'm about to do could end very badly.

but when i see his eyelids fluttering closed and his head inching forwards towards mine, my heart skips a beat excitedly; he wants this as well. my hands trail up to his head, placing themselves softly onto his cheeks as we finally join lips, beginning soft and hesitant but quickly becoming familiar, passionate and too desperate. he backs me into the wall again, making me breathe out exasperatedly from my nose and our tongues dance against one another, battling.

the walk towards the bedroom is painful, bashing ourselves against the corners of the stairs and holding onto each other for dear life, unwilling and almost unable to separate our lips from each other's. the soft noises coming from deep within our chests cause shivers to run down my spine, our hands roaming the cervices of our bodies.

i fall backwards into the bed, letting out a soft 'umph' as my head hits the pillow, and corbyn straddles my thighs, my hands holding his hips firmly. his eyes are wild, unconventionally out of control, as though he's been overtaken by some feral creature. neither of us were fully aware of our mind-states and the consequences our actions may have, but in this frantic, messianic, intense moment, neither of us cared.

♡ ♡ ♡

it was only afterwards, when i lay in bed with my arm wrapped around corbyn's sleeping figure and a sheet covering my naked body, did the questions arise. there was so much i wanted to ask corbyn, but i couldn't wake him, not after that. i was afraid to, too scared that if i did, i might erase the specialness of this act of love and rebellion.

i glance down at the sleeping boy in adoration, his eyelashes framing his face as soft snores escaped his slightly ajar mouth. he looked angelic.

was this what you wanted, corbyn?

did this mean as much to you as it did to me?

will we even talk about this, or will it fall behind us and become another fragment of our tainted friendship?

was your body talking, cause you don't know what to say?

drAmA
who am i kidding, this whole book has been drama