What Will It Take?

“What will it take to make you hate me?” you whisper. Your breath forms a cloud in the air, and for once it’s not smoke. Your face is hidden, shadows formed under the hood of your sweater. I can barely make out the shape of your mouth. Your nose… 

Your eyes. 

Murky green and staring straight into mine, up through those lashes like a lost puppy. My hand reaches your cheek, and you lean into it, bringing us closer. 

“Nothing,” I breathe, though even that seems difficult with your lips an inch from mine and your hand on my hip. “I could never hate you.”

And I can see the wheels turn in your head. You, a sad boy with shattered eyes. I can see you thinking of ways to make me leave so you won’t hurt me any more than you have. I can see your eyes darken and I feel you start to pull away. So I react, my lips meeting yours before your hand leaves my waist. 

You hesitate, only for a moment, before I bite your lip and then nothing else in the world matters. 

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