Work Text:
No, I didn't kiss you. And I'm not even sorry.
That's not how things are supposed to work between us. Everything has been too illogical, irrational and incoherent.
I don't like easy situations, you know that. But this has to make sense.
Anyway, the fact is that maybe I like you and right now I'm going to tell you what should happen between us.
I didn't kiss you there, under your porch, because this kind of things should start with some tender glances when we cross our path on the streets.
And if we're good, and not too stubborn, maybe a casual coffee at Granny's can be involved, afterwards.
Probably I will pretend to ignore how you like your coffee and I will hand you some sugar, which I know you don't use; and I will probably make some stupid jokes about the fact that sometimes you should really have some, because it would probably make you softer.
I didn't kiss you there, under your porch, because after our coffee, and your hundreds sarcastic glances addressed to me - causing me to be even more clumsy - I would find the courage to ask you out for a date.And I want to feel that awkward feeling of being fifteen again, hoping that your answer will be yes.
I want to be nervous all day long, watching the clock on the wall of the police station every three minutes. And being late when I come at your place to pick you up, because the activity of watching the clock, waiting for our date, made me forget about which dress to wear or if my hair are better in a ponytail or curly like always. And yes, you're going to complain about my bug.
I didn't kiss you there, because I want a dinner with you where I'm going to ask you endless trivial questions about your day, your hair and why you insist on drinking cider when there are tons of other alcoholic beverages which we can share once we go back to your home.
I want a song. I want remember it forever as the perfect soundtrack for the exact moment I saw you playing with a fork and smiling back at me, hoping you're at least half as nervous as I am.
I want to keep the ticket of our first movie together, because I already know I won't remember the title or the plot since I will probably spend the night watching you. And the ticket will be just a tender reminder.
I want to be sheepish and to feel embarrassed if I accidentally touch your hand while we (or just me) eat popcorns or because my car isn't big enough if I decide to take out my jacket while I'm driving.
I won't even kiss you when I drive you back home, because I will be too afraid of ruining a night I've been daydreaming for months.
I didn't kiss you two days ago because you need to experience what makes this life so illogical and insane, which unexpected emotions make you shiver out of nowhere or what is like to go out in the cold with one of my wool hats.
You need to live those stupid things because this is what life is.
You need to know what's expecting you if you - if we - leave our past behind. And if you choose this life, this new life, it's because you really want it.
Because you shouldn't want a stolen kiss in front of your door, as an empty evidence of our fight and how it's always a matter of competition between us, a battle for control and power.
Maybe it's just a kiss. But I do want those things too, for the first time. And I want them all with you.
But don't expect flowers from me.