Your Lips I Could Not Capture

[mistkitt]

 Originally Posted: 04/01/16

by storm or by surprise. (Ladrien drabble. Click the link for the full poem.)

~*~

Adrien Agreste kept only one secret from his Lady, and it wasn’t his desire to kiss her. That he wore openly. Every half smile, every twirl of his index finger around the ribbon in her hair posed the question: May I kiss you? And every answering blush, every swift change of topic said, I would like you to, but.

There was always a but.

He’d learned many a thing about his lady love through their secret meetings. Her favorite color. Her dream vacation. The origin of the little chip in her front tooth. He knew her favorite weather and her current favorite song. And he knew that she would like to kiss him, but.

Adrien became a connoisseur of fill-in-the-blanks. But the mood wasn’t right. But she didn’t love him. But her superhero duties kept her from romantic entanglements. But she hadn’t brushed her teeth since lunchtime. He made excuses for her because it was easier than her silence.

Until the night he had her in his arms, curled up on the sofa, foreheads pressed together, tangled black and gold and white and red and blue and green. His nose rubbed against hers, posed the question: May I kiss you? And the warmth of her breath across his lips said, I would like you to.

And his heart beat wildly in his chest as he tilted his head.

And her eyes drifted shut as she leaned in towards him.

But.

She pulled away. “I can’t.”

But I can’t. Somehow he hadn’t thought of that one. “Why not?” There was no whine of frustration in his words, merely honest curiosity.

His Lady hooked her fingers around the open ends of his shirt. “Because it isn’t fair,” she said. “Without the mask, I can’t even talk to you. Why should I steal a kiss I haven’t earned?”

Because he was doing the same to her, and didn’t want to be alone in his guilt. “In that case, you probably shouldn’t be sitting on my lap, either.”

She giggled and spread her fingers open on his chest. “I shouldn’t be touching you at all,” she said. But she did. Her hands slid up, shoulders to neck, neck to the sides of his face, and her thumb traced the shape of his lips with a delicate caress before she leaned in and kissed the digit that separated their mouths. He was embarrassed by the force of his shudder. “Good night, handsome boy,” she whispered.

He watched her walk away from him, confessions dancing on the tip of his tongue.

Yes, she used her mask to win over her crush, but he removed his mask to win over his.

And in the end, they both lost.