Fight From the Inside

10 | Like a Leaf is to a Tree (So Fine)

Warning: here be smut. Enjoy!

Her eyes are green.

Roger frowned and peeled his sunglasses off, hanging them from the small pocket on his half-buttoned shirt.

He never noticed her eyes were green.

She stood, frozen to the spot, toothbrush hanging precariously from her mouth. After a few painfully awkward seconds, she held up a single index finger to Roger, running to the kitchen. He frowned at himself, toying with the thin black leather straps hanging around his neck. Maybe he wasn't welcome. Maybe he shouldn't have come. Maybe she didn't want to hear what he had to say.

She returned moments later, sans toothbrush, and gave Roger a small smile, snapping him out of his brief self-deprication session in her doorway. She crossed her arms, looking down at her black polished toenails, unsure of what to do. He cleared his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans.

'Say something, you twat.'

Roger opened his mouth, hoping the words would come out on their own, but he unfortunately found that wasn't the case.

"Madeline, I... well, er, uh... shit. What happened... uh, I don't-"

'Wait', she thought, watching a desperately uncomfortable Roger fumble around the English language. 'Is he... nervous? Because of me?'

He blushed, cheeks turning a deep red as he frowned and cursed the ground under his breath. He was failing miserably at the task at hand, positive she thought he was an inarticulate jackass.

Without warning, her hands were buried deep in his thick blonde hair as she stood to meet him on tip toes, almost at eye level with him, looking deep into his baby blues. Her hands in his hair seemed to cease all thought within him, calming the angry waves of self-hatred that swelled there and ultimately forgave him with her gentle touch.

Blue on green. Black on blonde. He imagined they looked good like this together. The fire in his chest rose as she gently raked his scalp with her black fingernails, sending shockwaves down his spine.

He smiled down at her and laced his fingers through her own mane, cupping the back of her head, gently caressing her face with his thumb just as he did the night before. Instead of finding lust behind her eyes as he did previously, he found sadness, sorrow. His eyes traced the remnants of black mascara trailing down her cheek, the trailed edges dried and flaky. She'd obviously tried to scrub it away at some point this morning, but didn't quite succeed completely.

He lifted a finger and traced the path down to her jawline. She sighed, eyes fixed on his while he gently swept away the remaining black flecks. Tears threatened to well, pricking at her eyes as she watched him concentrate on removing any and all remnants of the pain he caused. She felt relieved, she felt vulnerable, she felt overwhelmed. How could he do so much to her just by looking at her?

He looked deep into her eyes, catching a stray tear with his thumb as it fell down the contour of her cheek.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you standing there."

He tucked her dark hair behind her ear, lovingly taking in the more minute details of her face. Her eyes puffy from crying, her messy hair, the almost unnoticeable dusting of freckles across her nose, the fleck of gold in her eyes, the trace of toothpaste drying in the corner of her mouth...

He loved all of it.

"Don't do it again, Roger."

Her mouth was suddenly on his, light as a butterfly on a delicate flower. She ghosted petal-like kisses against his soft lips, his eyebrows raised in surprise.