Boy meets girl.
She's not perfect: she's got a mole under her jaw and a front tooth is crooked, her eyelashes stick together and she bites her nails. Her voice squeaks sometimes when she's angry. All he can think is: I want to kiss that stupid fucking mouth until she shuts up. All he can think is: I want to fuck her.
Sometimes the backs of their hands brush when they walk and the worst part is, she has no idea. Or maybe she has all of these ideas but she chooses to ignore it. He runs his hand through his hair to stop it tingling. This is stupid, he decides. She's just a girl. She's just a dumb, pretty girl. All he can think is: I'm stupidly in love with her it burns in the back of my throat and my stomach and I want to lick that crooked tooth with my tongue until she moans into my mouth and clutches my back and neck and
But then girl meets boy. Boy meets girl meets boy. And he's beautiful, he really is, like a magpie with olive skin and eyes the colour of a moonlit forest. He can see why she wants to walk right in and get lost in the depths. Anyone would. He coos and ruffles his feathers and takes her back to his nest, and in the morning he stretches his wings and squawks a merry tune. And our sidekick thinks: fuck you. I want to fuck you.
He has these dreams, sometimes, where soft curves melt into his edges and he moans and tangles his hands in hair but it's black oil in his hands and God he sets on fire, ignited and alive. He dreams of dark trees with bottle green leaves that rustle with confusion. He dreams of tan skin with paper white marks in the shape of his hand. And when he wakes up, warm and perplexed, he gets dressed and makes coffee. He blinks to make his stupid feelings go away. All he can think is: don't think about it. All he can think is: Oh, fuck.
Boy meets girl meets boy. He's the white knight, the other boy. She's the damsel waiting to be saved. No: she's the Princess madly in love with the Prince and he's the stable boy, watching from the edges. He watches them kiss in the sunlight, the whole kingdom in their footpath, and he's angry. He's just not sure who he's angry at.
He decides to get fucked, because that's what she wants him to do. He drinks until he can't quite remember why he's drinking. Boy meets boy, and buys him a drink. This is new, his blurred mind decides. The enemy looks different without her stupid stupid beautiful face to fight over. All he can think is: you have a gorgeous smile. No wonder everybody wants you. He says this to him, he thinks, and next thing he knows he's pressed against a bathroom stall where the floor is sticky and this boy, this fucking boy doesn't have any crooked teeth at all. Their noses bump together and his hand scrapes too hard into his skin but that's ok because his other hand is doing very well in other places. He's lost in a forest with no map but that's ok because he feels like he's home. And well, he says around his tongue, there's no place like home.
The magpie preens in the morning and sings his song. He touches his face in the mirror and turns to the stable boy and says – well that was fun, but you should probably leave. Serenity is coming over soon.
And that's it.
And all he can think is: boy meets girl meets boy.
All he can think is: you'll build your nest too high someday and I guess I'll be there to catch you.
n. b. My first ever chaseshipping! I love them almost as much as thiefshipping but never wrote them because I never felt I could do them justice (ie write anything without murder in it). I wrote this as a 20 minute exercise to calm myself down about my very important literature exam tomorrow and thought I'd upload it as I kind of like it :3 Eh.