(no subject)
She was put in a position where she knew she was going to fail. Night had fallen, and everyone was in a punch-drunk state, heavily liquored and perfuming the air. She had to manage a manual car with no prior experience and a severly inebriated boy as the only guide. She crumbled to the tile floor of the bathroom as soon as they got home, replaying the drunk laughter and utter frustration she felt in her stomache. She felt like hours passed as others entered bedrooms filled with smokey haze and red cups. An unrhythmed knock loudened the dark bathroom and she rose up to answer it, her eyes watering. Contacts, she said. Sure, he said. He held her close and she smelled the wine on his lips. She could have rid his mouth of the grape sin if she would have let herself get close enough for a kiss. What would make you happy, he asked. You can’t do it, she said. Now this was a boy who wanted to be able to do anything; this isn’t what he liked to hear. What would make you happy, he repeated. And she looked at him, sad, not angry anymore, just - sad. What’s the one thing you can’t do? she asked sincerely. Tell you how beautiful you are, he said, eyes locked on hers. And he kissed her damp cheek. And she won’t ever tell, but on the inside, she was crying, thanking god, thanking anything, for the first compliment she ever needed so much it hurt. She was thanking anyone for that first compliment she got.