my hands have been shaking and i'm not one to want to remember the ordeal.
or, whatever the fuck that was.
it's only 11 and i've been treating his hangover with a shit ton of water and gatorade and his face is adorable when he's blushing (but who am i kidding, he's always adorable.)
when i bring him back to bed so he can lay down he makes a grab at my wrist when i turn.
"can you stay?" he mutters. his grip is weakening, mostly hesitant.
i look back at him.
grin a bit.
"yeah, man." i respond. i let him let go of my wrist and i make it for his hand. we're the same height. his hands are much thinner than mine though. a bit tender. a bit weaker. i squeeze it when i continue, "not like i got shit to do today."
he hasn't lay down yet, i'm about to tell him to, and then he says,
"thank you." while looking away.
"hey," i inch close, "can you look at me?" i ask.
he does. my free hand cups his cheek and i lean forward, enough to let him know that he has options to push away or not.
but he stares back at me, only, and it's a sign where i can finally kiss him.
the grip in my hand is tightening, and our foreheads are touching. my heart is exploding and the way this kid is looking at me is as if he's going to murder me with being so pretty and adorable.
"i love you." i say, eyes trained on his.
"i.. i love you too." he says, lips stretching to a grin.
i'm about to ask, then suddenly his free arm hooks around my neck and pushes me down to the bed, kissing me, hard, and i have never felt so alive in my life.
i love you, i say in my head, i love you, i say to him again, and it's stuck in my head like a loop in a beat.