She's wearing black leggings, an oversized, navy blue sweater, Christmas socks, and black Vans. Her long, auburn hair is pulled up in a ponytail. Some might say that she looks like she rolled out of bed and threw on random clothes from her closet, but she looks breathtaking to me. It's almost enough to make me forget the fact that I was crying. Almost.

She gives me the once-over, eyebrows raised. I must look like absolute crap--as soon as I got home from my Politics class, I changed into sweatpants and a hoodie. Plus, there's my face and that whole situation.

"Have you been crying?" She finally asks, trying to mask her shock and failing.

The direct question catches me off guard. "Uhh, no," I say. I cringe at how unconvincing I sound. Also--did I just lie to Kylie? "I mean, yes. Maybe. I hadn't cried in, like, ten years, but... life, you know? It just catches up with--"

I would say more, but Kylie walks up to me. Before I can ask what she's doing, she wraps me up in a bear hug. I try to pull away, but she won't let me.

Kylie doesn't say anything-- just rubs my back in slow circles. I keep my arms dangling by my sides, afraid of what would happen if I accepted her hug. As it is, it feels like something is loose in my chest, and is knocking around inside my ribcage. I get the feeling that if I move an inch in the wrong direction, I'll dissolve into tears again.

That cannot happen.

"Come on, Connor. Hug me back, please," Kylie pleads.

Despite the pinball in my chest, I slowly raise my arms and hug Kylie.

"Good," she whispers. "That's good. Now, can you tell me what's wrong?"

I carefully release the breath I didn't know I was holding. "I got let go." My voice shakes on the last word, and I clear my throat to get rid of the tight knot in my throat. The knot only grows larger. I clear my throat again, but a sort of squeak/gasp excapes me. Hot tears form in my eyes. I try to blink them back. The pinball knocks around even faster, and I feel myself reaching an sort of precipice.

I dangle on the edge...

"You can cry," Kylie says quietly.

And fall.

The tears burn as they slip out of my shut eyes and soak Kylie's sweater. I clench my hands into fists and try to control my breathing, but I can't stop the shaky exhales and ragged inhales. It takes every bit of strength in me to not break down sobbing.

After who-knows-how-long, the tears stop flowing. I loosen my hug on Kylie, but she keeps holding on until my breath finally evens out. As I'm calming down, I gradually become more aware of how Kylie's body feels against mine. She feels so warm--ridiculously warm--and I wish I could somehow bottle her scent and keep it for myself. She smells like lavender and soap and something else that I can't name. Contentment, I guess.

Probably sensing that the hug is turning into something more romantic, Kylie lets go. We separate. A leftover tear slips out of my left eye, and I reach up to wipe it away. Kylie beats me to it. She places her hand on the side of my face and wipes the tear gently with her thumb, giving me goosebumps. Before I can even process what's going on, Kylie's face is approaching mine, and she's closing her eyes. Completely out of instinct, I close my own eyes.

We kiss.
 

Last edited by azutid (December 11, 2018 4:24 am)

[This is the last chapter from Kylie's POV.]

The apartment door swings open with ease, and before I can even think about how odd it is that Connor hasn't locked me out, I'm standing in his apartment. Connor's standing in the middle of the living room, a shocked expression plastered on his face. Unsure of what else to do, I close the door behind me and look at him. He's wearing baggy, dark gray sweatpants and a BYU wrestling hoodie. His eyes are glistening, and his wavy brown hair is sticking up--as if he's been running his hands through it. He looks like...

"Have you been crying?" The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I try to cover up my shock--Connor crying is like the end of the world.

Connor blushes bright red. "Uhh, no." He shakes his head. "I mean, yes. Maybe. I hadn't cried in, like, ten years, but... life, you know? It just catches up with--"

While he's stumbling over his words, my impatience wins out. I rush over to him and give him a bear hug, nearly lifting him off the ground with my momentum. He tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip. I rub his back in circles, trying to speak comfort through them.

Connor doesn't hug me back.

"Come on, Connor. Hug me back," I plead with him, wishing he could feel comfortable enough with me to allow his emotions to take over.

Woodenly, he lifts his arms and hugs me.

"Good. That's good," I whisper, not knowing what else to say. "Now, can you tell me what's wrong?" I wince at how patronizing I sound.

Connor exhales. "I got let go." His voice breaks on the last word, and he clears his throat. He clears his throat again, and a small gasp escapes him.

I don't know what to say to that. I wish there were some magical words I could speak to make everything okay, but they don't exist. "You can cry," I say softly, hoping those words will be enough.

Within a few seconds, Connor's torso begins shaking, and I feel a wetness on my shoulder. Tears. Based on the intensity of the shaking, I can tell that Connor feels like sobbing, but he won't let himself. I keep rubbing his back.

We stand there for a while, locked in the embrace. I listen to his breathing, noticing the way he pauses for a second before inhaling. It's all too familiar to me--when sobbing silently, it's more difficult to stifle the inhales than the exhales. It takes a couple of minutes before Connor's breath becomes more even. He loosens his grip, but I keep holding on, waiting until his breathing completely evens out. While I wait, I can't help thinking about how cozy he feels--like home. I allow myself to briefly imagine what would happen if I kissed him right now.

I let him go. We part ways, and I look up to see a tear run down Connor's left cheek. He raises his hand to wipe it, but I rest my hand on the side of his face and wipe it away with my thumb. Before I can think straight, I lean forward, tilt my head, and close my eyes. Our lips meet.

I don't know how long the kiss lasts. Almost like what happened with my first kiss, my brain can't process what's happening, and I lose track of time.

We don't separate until my body signals that I need air. I open my eyes first. The look on Connor's face makes me grin. He opens his eyes and looks at me in wonder.

"Woah," he breathes.

Last edited by azutid (December 11, 2018 4:48 am)

[I'm not sure if I'm going to write this chapter from Kylie's POV, just because I don't think it would bring anything new to the table. I'll leave this one up to you guys--if you want this chapter from her perspective, let me know.]

Kylie lowers her gaze, suddenly bashful. "Is that--are you--was that... Okay? Was that okay?" She peeks at my face, watching my reaction.

"Um," I say. Was that okay? I mean, it was okay for me, but was it okay for her? "Yeah." I give Kylie a tiny smile, silently praying that she'll reciprocate. She sighs in relief and returns the smile.

We stand there for a few seconds, smiling and nodding like idiots. Gosh, this is awkward.

Kylie holds out her arms. "Want a hug?" She asks.

"Sure." I hold out my own arms and hug her.

Once we part ways, Kylie walks over to the couch, sinks down into it, and leans her head back. I give her a questioning look, but I sit down beside her.

"I need to sit down after that. The kiss, I mean." Kylie blushes deeply.

I resist the urge to brush her flaming cheek with my hand, opting to nod instead. "Me, too." I keep my gaze locked on Kylie. She glances at me, but looks away quickly. I bite my tongue to keep myself from asking her if something's wrong. Obviously, something's wrong... with me. I just cried in front of a girl--like, crying so hard that it could almost be considered sobbing. And right after that happened, I kissed her. What kind of guy does that?

"Do you want to talk more about the job?" Kylie asks quietly, interrupting my thoughts. She finally looks me in the eyes.

I shake my head. "Not really." Talking about it may cause me to cry some more, and I think I've already exceeded my humiliation tolerance for the day. And, like almost every other guy I know, talking about feelings isn't my specialty.

Again--awkward silence.

"So," Kylie says, drawing out the word. "Are we going to watch the Peanuts Christmas Special?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Right," I say, remembering the original purpose of Kylie's visit. I turn to Kylie and pause. "Do you still want to do that?" I gauge her reaction.

She shrugs, keeping her face neutral. "I don't know... Maybe we can play Truth or Dare again?"

I bite my lip, thinking. I would much rather watch the Christmas Special and pretend that the breakdown never happened, but Kylie might want to talk. "Whatever you want to do is fine with me."

"Okay." Kylie pulls a leg up onto the couch and faces me. "Truth or dare?"

For once, dare is the safer option. "Dare."

I continue rubbing her back as she cries, speaking soft assurances. I wish that there were some magical words I could say that would give her hope and heal her trauma, but words fail in moments like these. Simply being here with her and comforting her will speak more than a thousand words--at least, I hope so.

When she begins to calm down, I pull back from the hug and wipe more of her tears. She keeps her eyes lowered.

"Kylie?" I ask, still wiping away her tears.

"Yeah?" She sniffles and shoots a quick glance upward, meeting my eyes.

"Can I..." I pause, not sure she'll let me. "Can I, um--"

"Kiss me again?" Kylie asks.

I try to read her expression, but for some reason, I can't. The ambiguity--which I take to mean as neither a yes or a no--is what spurs me to kiss one of the glistening tear tracks on her cheek. I allow my lips to linger, enjoying the warmth of her cheek. I pull back slowly. "Can I do that?"

Kylie sits back a little and wipes her dainty nose on her sweater's sleeve. Then, she leans back in and kisses me. Again, I lose myself in the moment--any concept I had of time and space before is completely and utterly destroyed. All that remains is the softness of her lips.

She tastes like cotton candy and nostalgia.

After what felt like a millisecond, but was probably at least thirty seconds, we separate. I catch my breath and notice how my heart is hammering in my chest. I put my hand over my heart, willing it to stop beating so fast.

Aaand Kylie and I are avoiding eye contact. Great.