Kiss and Make Up
Definition: to resolve a quarrel; to become reconciled; to become friends/lovers again; to renew friendship/relationship after a feud.
"Look what happens when you get careless! I've told you many times to take better care of yourself. Yuna, you can't blindly trust every guy you meet. They'll take advantage of your naivety and you won't even realize it!"
A soft, kind, and loving baritone male voice is now full of hurt, anger, and worry. A sweet, innocent, and demure young lady is now timid, anxious, and ashamed.
"I-I'm sorry… I d-didn't know h-he would…" she hiccups tearfully, "…do that…"
Yuna jolted awake, panting raggedly, beads of sweat tickling her brow. Her eyes were glued shut, refusing to open. Her head was in a hopeless state of sluggishness, preventing her from coherently gathering her thoughts together. The room felt so stuffy and warm that she could hardly breathe.
Too much heat, she groaned soundlessly, as she fidgeted restlessly in bed unable to move. Huh? Why am I...? In the midst of her grogginess, it took some time for her to realize she was trapped in a tight cocoon of thick blankets. She feebly struggled to free herself while barely clinging on to consciousness. Darn this fever… I should be at school right now, not at home sick...
Even though the door to her bedroom opened slowly and carefully, the unexpected intrusion startled her. Mom? Dad? They're home? What time is it? Yuna immediately stilled and feigned sleep, hearing the faint rustle of clothing and the quiet shuffle of footsteps. The person silently passed by her bed until they paused to unlock the window and slide it open, bringing a whiff of fresh, cool air to breeze inside. Yuna welcomed it gratefully, and flinched when a cool damp piece of cloth touched her scorching hot forehead, gingerly wiping the sweat clean off. The stark contrast in temperature soothed her, quelling the unbearable hotness of her skin, and then a palm gently pressed against her forehead to check her fever.
"…still burning up," a male voice whispered, being cautious not to awaken her. This doesn't sound like Dad. Who is this? Yuna felt his fingers brush the tendrils of hair stuck to her face, carefully tucking them behind her ears. It felt comforting, this familiar affectionate touch. She could feel his reluctance when his hand drifted to stroke her flushed cheek. A wistful sigh slipped past his lips. "Yuna…" It can't be… Is it… is it really him?
The moment he stopped and pulled his hand back, she panicked. He's not going to leave, is he? No, not yet! With a short burst of strength she didn't know she possessed, with what being sick and all, Yuna blindly reached out and hastily snatched his hand. This action elicited a surprised gasp from him.
"…w-wait…" she croaked hoarsely, desperately, clutching his hand tightly - afraid this might be the only chance to talk to him. The hesitation she felt from him in the silence soon led to him sitting down on the mattress beside her, cradling her hand in the loving security of his grip.
Yuna struggled to open her eyes, because she wanted to see him so much. In all honesty, she couldn't believe the boy was here, taking care of her. Lately, he had been avoiding her like the plague since their break-up days ago. Fluttering her eyes open, she blinked slowly and found the distasteful white ceiling glaring right back at her. Holding no interest to her, she averted her eyes. The person who held her hand was a teenaged boy with snow white hair, and tan skin. His bangs fell softly onto his forehead, accentuating his gentle brown eyes. He was wearing a forest green t-shirt over a white sweater, and beige khakis.
"Ba… Baralai…" The seventeen-year-old sickly girl produced a weak, weary smile. Delighted to receive a smile he hadn't seen for so long Baralai grinned in return, albeit a bit nervous.
"Hi, Yuna. How do you feel?" he greeted bashfully, charming her with his usual boyish smile. Hearing him now, Yuna wanted to cry. His voice had such a wonderful, healing effect on her lovesick heart, it made the pain she felt for the past few weeks disappear.
"…b-bad…" Yuna coughed, and took a painfully deep breath, "H… h-horrible." Finally acknowledging the state of her dry and scratchy throat, Baralai moved closer and took it upon himself to assist her to get up from bed, but not before asking for permission to lay hands on her.
"Um… may I?"
"Oh, y-yes…" she remarked quietly, although upset by his awkward behavior. It's not like he hadn't touched her before; sometimes, Yuna disliked the gentleman in him.
He pulled the two blankets down and gripped her sides, pulling her to sit upright against the headboard. On reflex, Yuna wound her fingers around his forearms, next tightening her grip on him to balance herself. Taking his time, he shifted her into a more comfortable position - if only to stall the moment to let go of her.
"Here. Drink this." He handed her the glass of water, which was conveniently left on the bedside table. He tilted it to her lips so she could swallow it in small, gradual quantities. However, Yuna desired to quench the thirst of her awfully parched throat as soon as possible and couldn't bear to wait. Clasping the glass over his hands, she tilted it higher in order to finish the entire contents in large, hasty gulps. Once she was done, Baralai placed the empty glass cup down, impressed by her enthusiasm.
"Would you like to rest some more? Are you hungry?" he asked kindly, his voice full of concern. "I'm making chicken soup right now, but it won't be ready for another half hour or so." Old habits truly do die hard. Baralai couldn't bring himself to stop caring about her well-being, especially when her parents had phoned him after school, and begged him to come over and look after her because they needed to leave for work. He just had to go and see her, because if he didn't, Baralai would never forgive himself. "Why don't you take a shower while I finish cooking the soup?"
No response. He did a double take when he found out she had dozed off blissfully from the sound of his relaxing voice. "Yuna? Are you awake?" She started, and lifted her face to look at him. Her half-lidded blue-green eyes held sleepiness and apology.
"Sorry… very tired…" she murmured, raising a free hand to cover her yawning mouth. Despite having the chance to sleep in, Yuna still felt overwhelmingly fatigued.
His frown softened to a smile. "I understand."
"Um... what were you saying earlier?" she asked with an embarrassed giggle, lifting a hand to touch her hair. Good thing the fever camouflaged her self-conscious blush.
"I said; why not take a shower while I finish cooking the soup?" Baralai watched her think silently to herself. I am rather hungry, though, but... the food's not ready, yet and I'm all sweaty from the fever. I must look really bad right now. Hmm... a shower it is, then. While waiting patiently for Yuna to respond, a mischievous thought crept into his head. He smirked. This opportunity was too perfect to pass up. "Or do you need my help in that, too? I don't mind joining you." He gave an endearing suggestive smile that nearly bewitched Yuna to say yes. However, her rational state of mind remained strong and she flushed intensely at his proposal.
"B-Baralai!" she exclaimed, flustered, coughing from the strain she exerted on her lungs. Baralai laughed, ecstatic, not even bothering to mind his own manners. Oh, how he had missed teasing her. It was too much fun.
Self-consciously, she clenched her hands over her rapidly beating heart, trying to ease her excitement. "Couldn't help myself," he admitted finally. It shocked him how easily they fell back into routine, when mere hours ago the two were deeply depressed about their falling out. Baralai now realized that maybe the fight shouldn't have affected them too greatly. Recalling back on it now, it wasn't worth it.
Woozy from the simple, strenuous movements she had to perform; Yuna leaned forward on Baralai, seeking the support of his body. Out of instinct, he curled his arms around her, unsure of what to make of this embrace. Although their petty argument haunted his mind, it had been too long since he had held her in his arms that he wanted to savor the moment a while longer. When he didn't push her off like she had half-expected, Yuna closed her eyes and snuggly tucked her face in the curve of his shoulder.
The light aroma of Eternity, a cologne by Calvin Klein, teased her nose. It blended seamlessly with his natural scent. Yuna took a deep breath to relish the luxurious fragrance; sweet with a dash of spice, masculine, fresh, and nostalgic.
"You smell good…" she murmured, sighing in content. God, she missed him. Maybe it was the fever, but she couldn't think right now. To feel him in her arms again and to hear his solid heart beats pulsing against her cheek, it was heaven. She loved him like you wouldn't believe. If only Baralai knew how much the break-up pained her. His feelings on the fight, however, reciprocated hers.
"I am willing… to forget about our fight for today," Baralai spoke solemnly, his voice pleading. "I'm going to take care of you until you get better. So, no negative feelings, okay?"
"I don't mind." Though her voice was muffled in his shirt, he understood what she said. "I prefer this… over fighting." Next, she raised her hands to curl her fingers around the back of his neck, twiddling the tips of his hair. Before long, she began stroking the back of his head, gently intertwining her fingers into his hair and tenderly scratching his scalp. Yuna knew this pleasured him by the sound of his long, contented sigh.
He squeezed her closer to him, and muttered forlornly, "I've missed you."
"Me, too…" Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, becoming absorbed in the fabric of his shirt. She wanted to forget their fight had ever happened. The argument, which started the heartbreak and misery. It's what they both wanted.
(A/N): My Valentine's gift to you, my readers! =D It's too bad I couldn't finish the entire thing by yesterday. There's two more parts of this short story. The second chapter will reveal the crux of Yuna and Baralai's argument and the extent of Baralai's ill temper. XD I can't wait to finish it.
R & R, please! Make that a gift for me.