#makeout partner!

[prettypinkravegirl]

"so do i get to apologize for last night  or are we pretending that you liked it?"

[prettypinkravegirl]

aftershocks || infractusxanimus

[ the hangover feels like ass   and she really should've   drank the whole bottle of   water, but then there was   that really flippin' weird   hallucination of the dude   roaring in the middle of the   rave and she definitely   isn't going to be dropping   acid for a very long while. ]

[prettypinkravegirl]

no rave in this club (yet) || hyperfocuses

[ she's out sticking fliers in everyone's lockers (well, every third locker), but then the boy she'd made out with is passing through and he hadn't reacted negatively to her fairly trashed questioning. yes, she'd been completely tactless, but as much as this was liberal california, it was also hick town, california and he'd seemed... open. yeah. open was a good word for it.

  caitlin folds the little one-fourth sheet into an airplane and flies it across the way. it bonks the back of his head before falling lifelessly to the ground. it's the worst kind of love-awareness not on the planet. ]

             "hey you! he-who-dances-like-a-dork. come to a meeting, yeah?"

[prettypinkravegirl]

language problems || se-reveiller

se--reveiller:

[ alright, no panic attacks so far today. he’ll add that to his tally chart sheet tucked neatly in-between folders and notebooks. it’s kind-of sad, but knowing he can manage a day means he could possibly manage a week. and a week means another until it’s four, and that’s a month — point is, he’s trying.

so when he looks up from his sheet to see caitlin at his locker, a raised brow comes before a smile until she totally just interrupts his train of thought via her lips.

holycraphowmanytimesisshegonnadothis. ]

"whoa, caitlin. hey, uh, didn’t see you there. or expect you."

[ can she even understand him? like, his lips are pressing against hers just as hard, and he should probably shut up because obviously they both like kissing each other, so. he’ll simply stop talking and rest his hands on her hips. ]

          her lips move to his mouth when she meets no hesitation and he's mumbling something and it's probably really adorable. caitlin has a small internal debate about whether or not being verbally communicable is as important as being physically communicable, because the lip-locking deal they have is pretty damn pleasurable. in the end, the need to just hear him say things in addition to the fear of him attempting to actually speak paragraphs against her face wins out.

          "would you mind repeating that? maybe not so closer to my mouth--not that i want to be farther from your face, but i'm better at speaking english than speaking make-outs."