bakerstreet | Sweethearts (aka the cutest meme to ever exist)

Sweethearts (aka the cutest meme to ever exist)

THE CHILDHOOD ѕωєєтнєαят MEME

You never forget your first love.

HOW TO
① Comment with your character. You can state preferences and such in your subject.
② You can play this two ways -

a. the characters are young kids/teens and are right in the midst of their first love
OR
b. they're meeting again as ol' jaded adults and realizing the magic's still there! or something like that...

③ Play.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"...no. They're-- not."

Reaching out is very careful. It feels important to touch her cheek, just carefully, to try and keep her from further shying away.

"--who did that, Rach?"

She doesn't flinch away, at least. Her breath trembles just slightly, but she stays still as she can.

"I-- don't know," she says, and at least it's honest.

It's the next sentence that gets her hesitating-- because how else to explain this and keep his worry as low as possible? Maybe he won't note the fact that their bruised eyes look entirely identical, if her hair stays in the way.

"It's not-- mine."

He can't say for sure, of course. He hasn't seen his own eye since it really started blooming into a pattern of darkened skin. But he can't help guessing.

He can't help remembering how the wound on her leg had looked so familiar and how long his own shoulder had ached.

"... 's it-- mine?"

She's always been quicker. If either of them knew first, it would be her.

He tries not to think about what it must mean that she didn't tell him.

"I don't know," she says again, intending entirely to plead ignorance or lie.

It's just that she can't entirely, when he's looking at her with such concern and her heart is fluttering just for being with him. He's always made her feel safe, even now when nothing else done.

"...Maybe."

Most likely.

There's an unhappy sort of dull throb in the bruising around his eye, but he drops the ice pack all the same. One hand has to stay carefully on her cheek; the other, damp from the pack, moves to touch his own shoulder.

"...this yours, Rach?"

He's been protective of the new scar on his shoulder (it isn't his to not care if people see, after all), but he's got the inkling she doesn't need to have seen it to know.

She doesn't need to see it. There's a tension in her own shoulders as his hand shifts, eyes dropping away from his once she notes where his other hand is resting.

There's a few moments where she weighs her options; finally settles for something akin to the truth, "...Probably."

It's too much to process at once. Even taking a slow, careful breath, he can't begin to understand everything rushing through his heart--the surge of joy that the other piece of him is the young woman he's been falling in love with; the rush of anger against the unknown at the marks of cruelty he carries with her; the sinking sensation at the realization that she seems to have known and not wanted it to be true.

His fingers tremble as they drop from her cheek, but are steady when they lift the ice pack again. This time, it's offered in her direction. "...this'll... help, a little."

The shake of her head is cautious; delicate with the nerves of knowing he's figured it out.

"'s-- your injury," she manages to get out, "Y'need it more than-- I do."

"I'm okay."

More than anything, he's starting to feel numb all over. This should be wonderful, finding out it's her. The nerves radiating off her can't help dampen it painfully.

"It'll take the edge off."

"I'll feel-- better if you do, though," comes the quiet reply.

That's how all of this works, after all.

That gets the faintest bit of a shaky laugh before he relents, leaning back in his seat and pulling the ice pack back to his own eye.

"...so."

It shouldn't feel so much like he's suddenly burdened her.

Her breath trembles a little as she lets one hand reach out to him.

"So."

He finally knows, now.

It's confusing. It's like something odd and terrible has settled over things (it feels like a lump in his throat, that she doesn't want this), but now her hand is reaching out to his (and his heart is leaping in this throat straight past the lump, because maybe he's wrong).

It takes a second, but his fingers spider out to catch careful hold of hers.

"So there's-- this."

"Yeah."

Her voice is soft as her fingers squeeze briefly but nervously around his.

"...Does your-- promise not to ask still hold?"

He needs a careful breath. That much can't be helped. What can be helped, at least, is keeping his voice soft as his fingers squeeze hers.

"I promised."

That eases some of the tension in her shoulder, then.

"Thank you." And then, because she can't help hating that her situation is impacting him like this, she has to add, incredibly softly, "'m-- sorry."

"--hey. No. Don't-- apologize."

His fingers squeeze tighter around hers, entire body shifting forward. The ice pack is abandoned again in favor of looking at her properly with both eyes.

"I feel-- bad, though."

That he has to deal with the repercussions of her mistakes. That he somehow still manages to be entirely sweet despite living through it.

"Don't."

A piece of him knows it's not that easy. It just takes a moment to get his mouth there as well, gaze dropping to their hands as his second--slightly clammy from the ice pack--joins the first in carefully holding Rachel's.

"Or... try not to, y'know? We're carrying... enough, without... either of us carrying-- bad on top of it."

"...Okay."

It's nice to have his hands holding hers. Her own will escape to rest around his, as well.

"'m-- 'm glad it's you, you know."

That gets a blink. It also gets a moment of silence, the way his heart's lept so abruptly into his throat.

"...really, Rach?"

"Yeah."

There's absolutely no hesitation in her statement. It's clearly true.

"It's... You always make me feel-- safer."

Even with all of this.

He knows her. He knows the quiet honesty in her voice and the sincerity in her features.

He can't help the way it makes his heart start to hammer.

"...I'm... I-I'm glad."

That actually gets her smiling, despite how tense her shoulders still are.

"Really?"

It's ridiculous, being so in love with a smile. It has a soft, tired laugh on his lips as he pulls back one hand to get to thee ice pack again, the other staying firmly wrapped up in hers.

"Of course. 'm-- glad you feel safe with me. And I'm-- It's a relief, you know? That-- it's you."

It meant he didn't have to force himself to fall out of love. Or, at least, that people would understand why it was taking him so long.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject