Note: Kataangst! ...Katangst...? Kataangstara...? Hmmmm...
When she looks at him, a boy made of air, there is an ache in her heart that makes her chest explode. It's horrible, this envy inside of her that rises on the back of a desire that's not for him but rather for what he can give her. There are so many things inside him that she wants, none of which he should give her. Everything about their moments - the darkness, the curl of his fingers against hers, the way she stoops to let their breaths mingle - is so terribly unforgivable.
She doesn't care.
On a night like this she doesn't want to be bound to the earth by her common sense. There's a memory of wind in her hair and water beneath her feet as she soared through the air. There's a lonliness, hungry and heavy, deep within her breast. It digs bitter roots into the dirt, turning her footsteps into shuffles and her posture into a slouch. She dreams of flying, only to wake up with her back pressed to the ground.
So she pulls him close, by the collar that she just straightened, and slides her mouth over his. Under the star-freckled skies, she kisses him like she loves him and tries to grasp a cloud that will pull her away.
She's become so sick of gravity.