Opposites Repel - Liskook

Chapter 42 ~ Terrace Chats

3rd Person's POV ~ 

"Because...you're you." He shrugs. 

"Discovery of the year..." She grins, looking at him for a while. "Idiot." She provokes, nudging his shoulder with her head. He smiles slowly, opening his mouth to let more harsh yet friendly words flow as easily as they always did. 

They had a weird type of banter. Not only were there crude insults taken as heart warming compliments, but the unthinkable topics they talked would seem weird to outsiders that weren't inside their precious circle of non-common sense. 

Their conversations flowed from all sorts of extremes, traveling from : 

"Is that your mother? There's no way she made you, she's gorgeous !" 

And often times to touching yet joking insults thrown ruthlessly at each other :

"Oh please, don't listen to them. You're good looking. Too bad you're stupid, though." 

Even when their banter had no destination, they seemed to be crashing into several dead ends together. The moment one topic had dried out of anymore to talk about, they flowed right into another one, their rhythm like no other. 

The words tumbled from his lips like little pebbles onto sand. They dropped too fast for you to catch them and landed softly in his lap where his left hand clasped his right. Each word seemed to flow seamlessly into the next and was spoken so softly that it caressed the ears without transferring any meaning, yet at the same time, it seemed like behind each syllable, a heavy weight was attached behind it. 

The moonlight splashed down its watery white-silver glow onto the city, bathing them, illuminating them. And in the distance the trees were silhouetted against the deep velvety sky. Outside was nothing but moon speckled darkness, but at least it was not the kind of utter blackness that swallowed a person whole, it was instead a shadowy world painted in grey-scale. They pulled on their padded jackets and tightened their boots, stepping off the ledge with one another's help out into the cold rain-dampened yard. It wasn't like them to be out for this long, late at nigh-

Yes. It was like them. The description fit them so whole heartedly that they each felt awkward when they went home even just a minute earlier. With them, there was only one rule. The later, the better. 

"Anything on your mind lately ?" She asks, her feet shuffling against the concrete of the terrace. 

"No. Why ?"

"You just seem kind of down." She smiles. 

"Oh, don't tell me you're worried." He asks, ruffling her hair playfully. 

"Ew, I'd never say that." She nods, walking with him down the stairs in silence for a while. "But are you okay ?"

"So you do care !" He claims triumphantly, casually slinging his hand over her shoulder.

"Don't." She mutters. 

"Then I won't tell you." He winks. 

"Sure." She shrugs. "It's your loss anyway." 

"Mhmm...." He mumbles, rolling his eyes and walking along with her anyway, stepping down from the last step of the staircase to the grassy lawn. 

"You know what ? I do care." She huffs. "Cry me a river." 

"I actually might shed a few tears in joy." He beams. 

"This is serious." She insists, pivoting sharply and planting her feet firmly in front of him. "Are you okay ? You've been a little off for the last couple days."

"I'm fine."

"Mind proving it to me ?" She asks, her perfectly shaped eyebrow raising further into her forehead. 

"How ?"

"Over a cup of coffee." She says, making his lips part. "Tomorrow." 

His heart was racing, and he felt the need to go run and clamber up the stairs just to scream on the rooftop. 

"Actually, no." She says. "You don't like coffee. Let's go to that lantern fair downtown." 

"Sure." He shrugs, hoping movement would get rid of the heavy flutter of butterfly wings in his stomach. "What time ?"

"What's the fun in planning it out ?" She grins. "Let's just meet up whenever and watch the chaos unfold." 

"You don't do anything normally, do you ?" He chuckles, leaning against the wall by the back rail of the staircase. She walks over, her back thumping against the spot right beside him with both their hands stuffed in the warmth of their pockets, each hiding their crossed fingers. 

"Precisely." She nods. "It's no fun." 

"Yes, but it also means no anxiety, no rushing last minute to do things." He lists them off. She still remains stubborn, shaking her head teasingly at him. "You and I are very different." 

"And somehow, we seem the same." She shrugs. 

"So what is it ? A date ?" He asks nervously. 

Some are scared of clowns, some of heights or falling. He isn't scared of any of that - not spiders, not snakes, or the dark. What scares him is being indirect and loosing her in the end. He's scared of coddling her in this fake friendship that both of them knew wasn't just a camaraderie. He's scared of making her think he wasn't interested, because in all honesty, he was. 

She didn't know what to say. It felt like her tongue disappeared as words didn't come as easy to her anymore. Every conversation with him was burdensome as it was funny and relieving. 

'Just tell him,' She thought. Each time they flowed into their usual banter, she'd wanted to tell him something she'd had on her mind for quite some time. 

'Just tell him you like him.' 

Yup. Quick and easy; like ripping off a bandaid, if you will. Except it wasn't like that. Only if the bandaid was covering a still bleeding wound that was gushing blood and sticking to the weak adhesive that would turn brown overnight, then yes. Only then would it properly represent her situation. 

Every time she was close to confessing, she'd chickened out. But not tomorrow, no. 

Tomorrow, she'd tell him.