kiss my muse meme! + @heartlikegold
Kiss me, she says one night. A beautiful girl with hair like gold and wheat and Americana, a thick waist and chubby thighs and a smile that twists earnest and blue eyes that are, above all else, intelligent. Fingers that look like they’ve got dirt beneath the nails, and that peak of pretty pink frills where her bra straps ought to be, she’s lovely, you know, and Toni certainly FEELS IT. Kiss me, but they’ve drank a lot and Toni whispers to her, maybe later, maybe when you’re sober and we don’t have to worry, or rather, she doesn’t because she’s been here before, so instead she’s served a kiss on the cheek and a smile, and a promise.
Kiss me, she asks another night when she’s had her heart broken and Toni’s trying to hold it together even if she feels like parts of her are shattering like glass. When her eyeliner’s a mess about her eyes and she’s more RACOON THAN GIRL, a runny nose and her body drawn, tight and small, she glares at the other girl blearily and mumbles, “Not now,” because she’s still trying to find a reign on how she feels and what she’s going to do next, though she sniffs and says thank you, all the same, because she knows that Betty only is ever trying to comfort her in a way that she knows will work.
There’s no asking, the next time. It’s months later and Toni’s finished fixing up her bike, while Betty works on her car - they’re grease stained and there’s glass bottles of coke sweating on the radiator, and the sun’s SCORCHING HOT just the way that she likes it. Their eyes meet and there’s a sly exchange of smirks, but Betty’s the one to make the move, to kiss her fast and without apology; Betty starts, but it’s Toni that pulls her in for the next. For the next, and the one that follows, and the one right after that.
