Curt’s heart beat faster as he ran through the pouring rain to the car. It was parked on the side of a small highway, and there were a few cars passing by, blowing his hair around as they zoomed past him. It was him and Owen’s first mission since that night, and the sight of the car meant more to him now. They had now kissed twice. And each time had felt more special than the last.
Owen had gone back to England for a week after that night on the ferris wheel. Curt almost cried when he recieved a letter from Owen. He didn’t know why, crying wasn’t really something he did or had ever done. He almost cried and he almost sang. The letter was short and neatly folded into a crisp cream coloured envelope. Attached to it was a single dried violet. It wasn’t very well dried, so the paper was a bit damp and purple when it arrived in america, but Curt carefully stuck it to the inside of his suitcase anyways. The letter remained in a locked drawer at his mother’s house.
It had been a week since Curt had seen Owen in person, and he was feeling a lot of different emotions, mainly nervousness. He clutched his suitcase tighter, and smoothed out his soaked shirt. He didn’t bother to check his hair. He knew it had already been destroyed by the rain. Pity, his mother had spent quite a lot of time combing it that morning. He had, of course, insisted on doing it himself but Mrs. Mega had sensed he was seeing “someone special” and forced him to sit down and give her the comb.
Finally, he got to the car and opened the door. Owen looked up from drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
“Curt,” he said, beaming.
“Owen,” said Curt, very much embarrassingly out of breath.
“Get in- damn, it’s pouring out there,” said Owen, taking Curt’s suitcase from him and putting it carefully in the back seat.
Curt climbed in and closed the door.
“Sorry, i’m dripping everywhere-“ said Curt, removing his jacket and trying to make it less wet. It wasn’t working.
“It’s fine, love, they’re only… leather seats-” said Owen, taking Curt’s jacket from him and putting it in the back seat with the suitcase. “uh…. Curt, you look…”
“Very wet, tired,” said Curt.
“No,” said Owen. “I was going to say you look…” Owen paused. The word he was trying to convey just wasn’t something he thought he should say out loud. Instead he gestured vaguely at Curt.
“What?” said Curt. “How do I look?”
Owen cleared his throat.
“Uh, good- you look… good.”
Curt grinned and Owen cursed under his breath as he started the car.
Once they were safely going very, very fast, Curt started to speak.
“You look… good too.”
“And by good, you must mean exceptionally dashing, smart, handsome, almost godlike?” said Owen, smirking mischievously.
Curt laughed. That was exactly what he meant by good.
“...Yes,” he joked, but of course, the tone in his voice hinted at it not being a joke, because it obviously wasn’t.
“I think that’s just what “good” means now. At least, I’m using it that way,” said Owen. He had the same tone. Curt blushed. Owen noticed.
“Shit,” whispered Owen under his breath.
“You just look… very, VERY good,” said Owen.
Curt wanted to sing. But most importantly, he very much wished the car would stop so he could kiss Owen again, because he really felt like doing that.
“And I suppose good means really, really hot and totally kissable right now?” Curt realized what had just come out of his mouth. Had he really just said that? Damnit, Curt, you’re hopeless. But Owen blushed brightly and shrugged.
“Maybe. Yeah, I can see it.”
“How you’re really, really hot and totally kissable right now.”
Curt felt like his entire chest was both imploding and exploding at the same time.
“Well, in that case,” he said softly, “you look pretty good.”
Owen was now very pink.
“A man like you exists, and they expect me to be straight,” he sighed candidly.
“MEN exist, and they expect me to be straight,” said Curt.
Owen roared in laughter.
Curt chuckled along, and pulled an envelope out of his pocket.
Owen finally finished wiping his eyes.
“Hey… pull over for a second,” said Curt.
“Just do it. Please?”
Owen pulled over and the car screeched to a stop.
Curt handed him the envelope.
“Here,” he said nervously.
Owen pulled a knife out of his pocket and slit it open.
He gently pulled out a single dried daisy.
“Oh, how romantic,” he laughed. “I love it.”
“I love you,” said Curt.
“Shit,” whispered Owen.
Curt didn’t have time to say anything else. He did, however, have time to notice how soft Owen’s lips were.
Wow, he didn’t know he could be this happy. Wow, he really, really wanted to sing. But not before they stopped kissing, he wanted that to last as long as it possibly could. The rain pounded on the windows. Or maybe that was Curt’s heart. Maybe it was Owen’s.
His face was very warm and that had nothing to do with Owen’s hands being on either side of it.
When they pulled apart, Curt was sure he looked like a cooked lobster.
Owen was a very cute shade of pink.
They didn’t let go of each other. Instead, they hugged tightly.
“I love you. So much,” whispered Owen into Curt’s ear. “I missed you. You have no idea how much i missed you.”
Curt was speechless. He didn’t know what to say. He hugged Owen tighter.
“I…” he said softly.
“You don’t have to say anything,” said Owen, noticing how Curt was struggling to speak. “Just… stay with me for a little bit.”
“Always,” said Curt.
When they pulled apart, still holding hands, Owen started the car and they kept driving up the highway. Curt smiled and looked out the window through the rain. He hummed a happy song.