/lit/ - Literature

>>23081275
Her heart races as his hand grips her small shoulder. "Just leave that douchebag." She gulps at his words. "What has he ever done for you?" His face lingers mere inches from hers. She studies his sharp jawline, his piercing blue eyes, and handsomely clear skin. Guilt overwhelms her as she finds herself anticipating— no— desperately desiring his face to meet hers. For a few moments they stand there, her heart shamefully pounding in her chest and his, steady and confident. In one sudden moment, his lips are pressed against hers, and a warm feeling rushes through her chest. All of her apprehensions melt away, and in that moment, she wants nothing more than him, his embrace, and his strong, masculine body. As he pulls away, she unconsciously moves towards him just an inch, before catching herself in the act. "I'll wait for you." He says, his deep voice bringing chills to her body.

She remembers these events as she hears the front door open. Anon steps in, his lanky form appearing much like a shadow in the doorway. He looks at her before turning to lock the door. "Hey." He says, his voice hesitant. She wants to respond, but her throat tenses before her words can escape. Anon looks at her again. She notices how unlike Anon is from 'him.' How Anon's pale, rough skin wraps around his gaunt, impoverished face— how in comparison to 'him', every feature appears to be a mockery of the masculine form. She cannot stop thinking about 'him.' Anon approaches with a small container. "It's late but... Happy Valentine's." He looks away, but she can tell he's trying to gauge her reaction. She takes hold of the chocolates, and notices the small paper pinned to the top. Her heart guiltily lurches in her chest as she pulls it open.

>"Words and feelings are hard for me
>But you're my one and only
>You brightened up my life that day
>You make me smile in every way"

She holds the poem over her mouth, trying to stifle her sob. "What's wrong?" Anon asks, as he gently holds her. "It— it's— beautiful..." She lies. She knows she can't live without 'him.'