Seize
Heartbeat
She lies down next to him, breathing quiet--running scared-- her eyes on his face. She traces the contours of his face with her eyes, picking out every little thing, memorizing the strength in his eyes and the dual emotions that she can always find in the curve of his lips. When he looks down at her she looks away; everything feels weird in her chest when there's any contact between them-- no matter how much she wants it. It scares her sometimes, and she worries that what she feels for him might not be love. She doesn't know what that actually is, but she wants it to be what she feels for him, because she knows how he makes her feel: He makes her so happy she could cry and just laying next to him like this makes her heart beat fast. Everything he does mesmerizes her and she knows she only wants to keep him happy. And isn't that what love is supposed to be about-- keeping the person you love happy?
Her brother's in love, or at least that's what it seems like when she watches him with his boyfriend. They sleep together almost every night and he's nicer to his boyfriend than he is to anyone else. She knows he'd give his life for the boy he loves, and that's how she feels about him, but it still confuses her. Her brother and his boyfriend kiss a lot, but she and the man she loves hardly do, and when they do, it's short and light. Sometimes she worries that she actually is ruined and that he doesn't want her, no matter that he swears he loves her anyway.
He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close-- careful like she's made of something more delicate than the thinnest china--and her chest seizes up for a minute, like it always does. She stops breathing and she feels her heart skip a beat; it's almost like fear, but she's happy it happens, she wants this closeness. Her comparably tiny body fits easily in his arms and he always lets her bury her face against his throat so she can breathe him in like he's some drug. Which he is to her, he smells like home, like safety and saviors and sometimes sex, but he smells good. For some reason, she knows he's smiling as he nuzzles his cheek against the top of her head and squeezes her a little tighter with a sigh. She presses a tiny butterfly kind of kiss to his throat-- always afraid that he might not like it-- and whispers a good night to him, resting a hand over his heart. He returns the words and settles down for sleep, brushing his hand along her spine a couple of times. She doesn't know if he knows that she always tries to wait for him to fall asleep first-- waits to hear him breath evenly and slowly-- before she smiles too and kisses his pulse again so she can get ready for whatever nightmares might try and scare her that night.
Her brother's in love, or at least that's what it seems like when she watches him with his boyfriend. They sleep together almost every night and he's nicer to his boyfriend than he is to anyone else. She knows he'd give his life for the boy he loves, and that's how she feels about him, but it still confuses her. Her brother and his boyfriend kiss a lot, but she and the man she loves hardly do, and when they do, it's short and light. Sometimes she worries that she actually is ruined and that he doesn't want her, no matter that he swears he loves her anyway.
He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close-- careful like she's made of something more delicate than the thinnest china--and her chest seizes up for a minute, like it always does. She stops breathing and she feels her heart skip a beat; it's almost like fear, but she's happy it happens, she wants this closeness. Her comparably tiny body fits easily in his arms and he always lets her bury her face against his throat so she can breathe him in like he's some drug. Which he is to her, he smells like home, like safety and saviors and sometimes sex, but he smells good. For some reason, she knows he's smiling as he nuzzles his cheek against the top of her head and squeezes her a little tighter with a sigh. She presses a tiny butterfly kind of kiss to his throat-- always afraid that he might not like it-- and whispers a good night to him, resting a hand over his heart. He returns the words and settles down for sleep, brushing his hand along her spine a couple of times. She doesn't know if he knows that she always tries to wait for him to fall asleep first-- waits to hear him breath evenly and slowly-- before she smiles too and kisses his pulse again so she can get ready for whatever nightmares might try and scare her that night.