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THE WAY TO SAY I LOVE YOU : accepting !» @borntoswim
2. With a hoarse voice, under the blankets
3am has her between the sheets, sliver of moonlight cast onto one cheek, faint warbling of the television in the background. despite emphatic protests of i’m sick! and so are you!, petite limbs tangle with his obnoxiously long ones. he’s grumbling half-heartedly, back facing her– says he’s not sulking or whatever she wants to call it. what a load of crap. she tells him this and grins, cheekiness watered down by consistent sniffles. numbed fingers slip under his shirt and press obstinately against bare skin; he’s yelping as he attempts to twist away from her, covers catching onto his legs, torn away from hers. they bicker like children and engage in an impromptu round of tug-of-war (she wins).
eventually all the pent-up energy gives way to compromise: she offers him a corner of the blanket and after a moment he accepts, begrudgingly letting her worm her way back into his arms. caterpillar ji. when are you ever going to turn into a butterfly? amidst muffled laughter clenched fists bat at his shoulders, defiant. somehow in the thick of it all, boys have managed to equate friendship with relentless teasing. annoying, snarls out but she sounds less intimidating and more petulant. she’s never been good at holding grudges. the ensuing silence has heavy lids lowering as she listens to him inhale, exhale, pulled breath-by-breath into awaiting slumber.
so this is how she says i’m thankful for you, with cold hands and stifled giggles and head nestled close to his. when he smiles down at her, all sleep-worn and predictably affectionate, that’s how he responds.
i know.
