Life Is Beautiful.

It is a gift.

It is meant to be shared with those whom you hold dearest.

The final bell rings. He stands and stretches before turning to send her a smile. Her eyes watch him but she doesn't say anything. Instead she smiles back, trying to calm her slightly racing heart. As he approaches her, she feels her face redden but not out of embarrassment. She knows she can't help it. When he's close he says hello and then leans in close to whisper. His words are like honey; sweet and irresistible. The only answer she can come up with is yes. He wants to walk home with her. Their friends joke and laugh and make remarks but neither appears fazed. Deep inside her heart is raging though. It wants to break free. But she keeps it inside.

They move down the halls, both of their every movements completely deliberate.

His hand brushes against hers every so often but he makes no move, even though he wants to. It's so hard to resist. His eyes stay forward though he wants to look at her, to stare at her. He continues to look forward even after they've left school grounds. But now he can't take it any more. Reaching out he slips his fingers between hers, relishing in the slight gasp of surprise that escapes her lips. From the corner of his eye he can make out a tiny smile on the perfect lips and a light coloring of her cheeks. It all felt so natural.

Her heart is beating so fast, so loud, she can't hear what's happening around her. Feeling his fingers between hers is making it impossible to breathe. He's speaking but she can hardly hear him. It takes all she can to respond with single words and soft giggles. Somehow this feels right to her. Like she's not doing anything wrong. But at the same time it felt so dream like. He was never like this. It was like this was something he was going to do before he dies. This worry lasts only moments though as she can't help but keep herself in the dream-like stance. It's just too perfect.

They near her house and their pace slows almost to a stop. Neither of them wants it to end just yet. But the unavoidable is unavoidable. Soon they reach her house. Even sooner it seems they reach her front door.

He stops. She stops too. Neither of them moves a muscle. But they have to let go. He makes the first move, letting his fingers glide out from hers, missing the contact instantly. The warmth he felt quickly fades leaving him feeling cold. She's looking down, he notices, and refuses to look at him. There's an awkward silence that neither wants to fill. Something has to be said though or one would break. Finally he mutters a soft, "Later."

Without replying, without uttering a word, she nods. Once again her dream comes to an end. All good things do. Turning she takes out a key and starts fumbling with the lock on her door. She doesn't want him to see but her hands are shaking and there are a few stray tears in her eyes that she can't rid herself of. The story would repeat itself again tomorrow. There was always the next day and the next and then the next after that. Tomorrow would always come. But it was going to be the same sad ending. She knew this and as she stands thinking, and fumbling, she begins to cry soft, little, tears.

Being dense was one of his noticeable traits but at the sound of nearly silent sobs he knew that being dense was no longer an option. Always she'd treated him so kindly; always she'd been there to heal him. Now it was his turn to heal her. Heal her broken heart and shattering dreams. With strong, yet gentle, hands, he reaches out with both and wraps them around her arms, gently tugging her around to look at him. A soft "Ohh" escapes her lips and yet she still says nothing. Instead she looks away, clearly embarrassed. He softly whispers something to her, letting go of one arm to gently lift her chin. Then, without hesitation, he leans in and presses his lips softly to hers.

She takes a deep breath but can't breathe. He steals every ounce of breath she has. She knows she's blushing but she can't do anything. Even after their lips part she can't breathe. He's standing there, looking at her though, with a smile on his face. In a daze she smiles back. Even as he mouths something, and even as he turns to leave, she can say nothing. Frozen, she watches him going, trying to remember for as long as possible the feeling of him against her.

Today was good day. Tomorrow would be a good day too. And the day after that, and the day after that...