Bobby insists on saying goodbye just outside the airport, slightly beyond the lip of the awning. Clark doesn’t protest, even though it’s cold and foggy and drizzling and the air tastes stale.
“I’m only going to be five hours away,” Clark says.
“Uh huh.”
“And that’s just by car. It’s only a two-hour plane ride.”
“Uh huh.”
“So, really, when you think about it, we’re not that far away at all.”
Clark keeps talking and Bobby keeps listening but the words just sound like goodbye goodbye goodbye. Because losing someone you loves hurts, but losing someone you didn’t know you loved until right this second hurts even more.
“- and there’s still Thanksgiving and Christmas and every other Easter –“
But Bobby doesn’t want Clark just on Thanksgiving and Christmas and every other Easter. He wants him now and five minutes from now and ten minutes from now and pretty much forever. And the idea that he wouldn’t have him for longer than thirty seconds is what makes Bobby kiss him, in a very sloppy, un-Bobby-like way. His lips are too wet and Clark is too stiff and it isn’t even a really good kiss, but kissing Clark makes him forget that two seconds later he is going to turn around and walk into the airport.
And it’s a good thing Bobby insisted they say goodbye in the drizzle. It’s harder for Clark to tell he’s crying.
YOU ARE READING
Osculation
Romance"As far as I can tell, there are two basic (kissing) rules: 1. Don't bite anything without permission. 2. The human tongue is like wasabi: it's very powerful, and should be used sparingly." In which Anna writes about a lot of people kissing.
