(the look she flashes him is tight, upset,) I know, but...
(if she'd have known, she would have said other things. maybe. they're all crowding around on the tip of her tongue now, vying for first position. she has no idea how to voice any of them or if she even should, and she's thinking about that when he kisses her, gentle and warm on the apple of her cheek.
it makes abby's ears go pink.
to think that he might have liked her too and hadn't said anything– it's almost too much. it fucking sucks.)
Peter, I–
(she can't think of what she should say, and maybe it's easier to show him anyway. he's stepped back, so she has to come in close deliberately, nervously, to cup his face between her calloused palms and kiss him properly. her fingers brush through the soft hair at the nape of his neck; abby gives him something harder and longer, a stand in for about a thousand words.
when she lets him go, it feels better than before, like she's given something weighing on her permission to go with him.)
Be safe. (she rolls her eyes to punctuate it,) As safe as you ever are, I mean.
[Peter always ends up being the first to kiss, huh? But this time, it's not him who's going to end up leaving. Looks like he's taking a page out of Wade's handbook — vanishing, leaving a lot of what-ifs and moments that would've been nicer with company. He's almost relieved, though. It's a young, silly crush, y'know? He'd been devastated when Wade left, and he couldn't fathom being that deep a cut for anyone else.
This is good. This is fine. Abby's a beautiful woman and the sky's the limit.
He kisses her back with soft intent, the gesture practiced even when so much time has passed. It's an easy goodbye. A good one. And though he has guilt and regret, it's not quite so palpable as it tends to be with him; she'll be okay, and he's happy to know. When they pull away, he reaches over, helps tuck back a wayward strand of hair with the same energy of a polite boy tidying the art supplies, eager to offer whatever service he can to repair the things around him.
It's a trait too easily developed in a decade. He grins.]
Hey, last time I checked, you get into plenty of trouble yourself.
[His eyes are warm, maybe shinier than usual. Maybe it's a trick of the light. Or maybe he's a sap. We all know which one is more likely. The weight she'd felt parallels his in its own way, and he feels it lessen in tandem.]
(she receives the gentle tuck of hair behind her ear with another uncertain smile, teeth closing gently around the inside of her cheek, pressing down. all she needs is for the interaction to be over now, if only so she doesn't do something stupid like tear up in front of him. how embarrassing would that be. he's oddly beautiful to her, standing in the light. his gaze is warm, and caring. if she had to have a last memory of him, she's glad it's like this.)
I'll try.
(... to get into trouble, or to take care of herself? might be a bit of both. her little joke.
abby shoves her hands into her pockets, and leaves before he can catch her expression crumbling at the edges.)
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(if she'd have known, she would have said other things. maybe. they're all crowding around on the tip of her tongue now, vying for first position. she has no idea how to voice any of them or if she even should, and she's thinking about that when he kisses her, gentle and warm on the apple of her cheek.
it makes abby's ears go pink.
to think that he might have liked her too and hadn't said anything– it's almost too much. it fucking sucks.)
Peter, I–
(she can't think of what she should say, and maybe it's easier to show him anyway. he's stepped back, so she has to come in close deliberately, nervously, to cup his face between her calloused palms and kiss him properly. her fingers brush through the soft hair at the nape of his neck; abby gives him something harder and longer, a stand in for about a thousand words.
when she lets him go, it feels better than before, like she's given something weighing on her permission to go with him.)
Be safe. (she rolls her eyes to punctuate it,) As safe as you ever are, I mean.
no subject
This is good. This is fine. Abby's a beautiful woman and the sky's the limit.
He kisses her back with soft intent, the gesture practiced even when so much time has passed. It's an easy goodbye. A good one. And though he has guilt and regret, it's not quite so palpable as it tends to be with him; she'll be okay, and he's happy to know. When they pull away, he reaches over, helps tuck back a wayward strand of hair with the same energy of a polite boy tidying the art supplies, eager to offer whatever service he can to repair the things around him.
It's a trait too easily developed in a decade. He grins.]
Hey, last time I checked, you get into plenty of trouble yourself.
[His eyes are warm, maybe shinier than usual. Maybe it's a trick of the light. Or maybe he's a sap. We all know which one is more likely. The weight she'd felt parallels his in its own way, and he feels it lessen in tandem.]
... Take care of yourself, Abby.
no subject
I'll try.
(... to get into trouble, or to take care of herself? might be a bit of both. her little joke.
abby shoves her hands into her pockets, and leaves before he can catch her expression crumbling at the edges.)