When falling in love, the use of the term "fall" implies that the process is in some way inevitable, uncontrollable, risky, irreversible, and that it puts the lover in a state of vulnerability, in the same way the word "fall" is used in the phrase "to fall ill" or "to fall into a trap".

I've been more than a little invested in this pairing of late, and wanted to spend a little time with it. Quick drabble, less than 500 words; excessive use of the semicolon as always. Thank you for reading.

Love is an unfamiliar thing, and causes him to tremble under a soft, lingering touch. Pale fingers glide down his bare arms, over the thrum of his pulse, and twist into his own when they reach his hands; the boy worries that his hands must feel clammy to the other. He fidgets, uncomfortable. His palm slides slick against the other's and he despairs. There is a laugh from above him, a hum from a mouth curled in an endless smile.

The boy makes such a small noise, helpless - don't walk away from me - and he turns his burning face away. For a moment he notes idly that the shadows on the wall don't seem as large as usual, but he is pulled from his thoughts; a nuzzle at his exposed neck and he gasps out loud in the quiet room. "There is nothing for you to fear." A low whisper against his skin. He shivers, cool air on his heated skin. He can feel that eternal grin at his throat before that mouth is kissing him lightly, causing his breaths to stutter out of his lungs, teeth nipping gently at his throat.

The proximity is foreign to him as well, but very welcome. The other boy is so warm, pressed lovingly against him, his mouth even hotter as he feels a mark being sucked into his collar. His breath draws in sharply and instinctively rises to meet him; his spine curves as he arches his back to push closer. His body is driven by passion and it terrifies him. All he's ever had is himself and now he's giving it away.

That mouth hovers over the skin of his heart, brushing gently. His laugh sounds like music; he turns his head to press his ear to the rhythm beneath, and the boy looks at him, startled.

"I can hear your heartbeat," he says. Their eyes meet - apprehension in blue, amusement in strange crimson. "It sounds very nice."

His mouth is a quivering line as he stares down at the other, laying against him to listen more. "W-What does it sound like?"

"It sounds like you're in love."

His eyes sting as he combats the arrival of tears, confusion in the other's features. He shakes his head, squeezing tightly at the hands within his own. He feels like his heart might burst; he is unfamiliar with love but this boy has recognized it within him, and maybe, he thinks, feeling the other squeeze back, this is finally his turn to receive it. It's hard to keep back the tears and one breaks free, slipping down to wet the fabric of his pillow. He feels like he's overflowing. Yes, his heart must certainly sound that way.


Their eyes meet, and he smiles.