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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 17:45:26 GMT
He feels like a cat, lying in wait in the middle of the night. It's only the early hours - it's still light out here.
It was a miracle he managed to find himself back where he started, outside Noemi's apartment straight after his blind date. His shirt is still pressed nicely, his hair parted, eyes grim. He's thought of something bad and he's not afraid of it, not now.
The walls swirl in front of him.
He hated the place.
@noemi
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 18:49:02 GMT
Her manner has the same deliberateness and sterile feeling it always does, but instead of a little black dress and bright red lips she's wearing a cream peplum dress, a tan sort of pea-coat. Her makeup is hardly anything, and her hair is pulled back. She would almost seem... relaxed, unless you know that the more closed off she looks the more comfortable she is.
Although no one knows her that well.
Noémi was supposed to go out to dinner but turned tail as soon as her date showed up in a taxi instead of a town car. Now she's upstairs and she's fiddling with her keys, just a few doors down from her apartment, and then she looks up and sees him -
two seconds to gain her composure, a slight frown and then her face betrays nothing. She walks in front of him and unlocks the door. "Your hair looks stupid," she says condescendingly, but she wants to call him a fucking coward and spit in his mouth.
@frank
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 20:01:29 GMT
His eyes look up slightly, and he smiles and for the first time, he knows he's faking it and he wonders if she does too. He was god damn glad she came back though, it'd mean he wouldn't have to wait any longer.
"Yeah, I try." A whole train of excuses would've come trailing out of him but he's decided he's tired of all of this and Noemi wouldn't want to hear a full explanation anyway. Still, he can't fight the urge to shake his hair because she pointed it out. He might as well admit she still has an iron hold on him, because he doesn't have to say it to her face.
"Can I come in?"
@noemi
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 20:08:12 GMT
Nae doesn't say anything, but she opens the door for him and waits until he walks inside before she closes it behind him.
It's surreal - why is he here, and for what? Even more surreal is that she doesn't feel it necessary to ask. He's here and her fingers are itching to wrap around his neck - maybe so she can kiss him, maybe so she can leave feeble bruises and a reminder that she will always be scratched onto his skin, in one way or another.
She throws her purse on the couch, she takes off the coat, then Noémi crosses her arms and looks at what the cat dragged in, unwilling to ask Frank why he's here.
@frank
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 20:22:23 GMT
He walks into her apartment with grandiose steps, surveys the room; nothing has changed. It doesn't surprise him. It's bland and it's white and the kitchen where they drank is, well, the same. Should it be like that? Should she change, just because he's not here anymore? Okay, maybe that thought in itself was a little conceited, but Frank would rather not care right now.
He leaves his coat by the door, and now, he's right in front of her.
"Say, Noemi. I've figured something out."
He caresses the side of her cheek with the back of his hand, smooth skin - just because he knows she'd hate it. He then wraps an arm around her, and presses his lips against hers, and now there's nothing beautiful about it. His hands eventually end up in her hair. It's not innocent, it's not clumsy, it's not sloppy - it's rough, forceful, and Frank means every second of it.
He lets her go.
"I like you. Noemi." There's not a bit of affection in his voice. It's more of a factual thing. He tilts his head and smiles like he's done something good for a change.
@noemi
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 20:31:17 GMT
His touch makes her sick to her stomach and it's astounding how much can change in just a week or two, such a small amount of time. It seems like less had changed between when he saw her on a desk beneath his brother to when she found him asleep on the sidewalk. Years, and it was easier to kiss him than it is now.
There's a feeling like she's lost and when he kisses her, her throat tightens but of course she kisses him back. Frank's grip loosens her ponytail and now she's missing when she baited him into kissing her and he's terrifying that things can get turned onto their ass so easily.
"I like you." Are they sixteen in the hallway? Say, I really like you. I'd like to see you on your back, she thinks and so she blinks and ignores his acrid smile. "You're a fucking coward." When she wanted to say it so badly, she imagined saying it through gritted teeth, flinging it at him like an accusation. But instead it's bland, her voice sounds like an echo. Here is a fact, here is the truth, and her eyes flit to his lips and she's kissing him again, hands on his neck and thumbs pressing slightly onto his warm skin.
@frank
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 21:38:13 GMT
He both feels like laughing and throwing everything up. If there is anything to throw up, he would've done it by now.
"Where's the bite?" He asks, baiting her, but he leans into her, taking up her kiss and deeps it - he wants it to be as crude as possible, prove to himself that Noemi is no angel, no devil, he still can't define her and it's killing him. His lips move almost desperately, trying take as much of her as possible by the time he leaves for the night.
His hands wonder to her back, and it finds the zip lodged near her neck. He makes a show of it, to no one, of course, and it slides down like a waterfall and he sighs into the kiss, especially now his fingers are touching bare skin, beautiful, soft skin, and he doesn't realise how much he misses this feeling.
@noemi
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 21:50:42 GMT
She might think he was drunk, if it wasn't for the lack of liquor on his lips. Nae nearly wishes she was - this is overwhelming.
His hands grasp at her and it makes her dizzy, woozy. She thinks about unzipping her own dress, what, a few days ago? When she closes her eyes she sees nameless hands unzipping, unbuttoning, pushing, pulling. Her eyes are closed and she feels as if she's been spinning in circles incredibly fast.
And, wait, this is Frank and he's unzipped her dress and she's standing here nearly bare and for one thing that isn't fair and for another it's Frank and this is all so unceremonious.
She pulls back and holds his chin between her forefinger and thumb. "Aren't you lively?" she says with a smirk, a prod at his usual grogginess. Wanting to hurt him is a familiar feeling.
@frank
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 21:59:46 GMT
He only smiles a little, this time genuinely amused. His mouth doesn't always curl like that.
"I'm awake, let's put it at that." He grabs her hand and moves it away, and goes for butterfly kisses as well, from her cheek, to the line of her jaw and right down to her neck. He doesn't bother unhooking her bra, but continues touching the exposed, white skin within in pseudo of an embrace. He's quick, there's an impatience about it, but that's only expected.
It'd be so humiliating if he fell asleep now, when things were finally looking up.
@noemi
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 22:18:10 GMT
She laughs a little, but it sounds hollow. It sounds like it's bouncing around the inside of her chest, like there's nothing inside of her. Wouldn't that be poetic justice, to be completely empty? Right now, though, more so than ever, she's sure she has a heart because Noémi can feel it hurting and her pulse is pounding where he's touching her.
She drops her head to rest on his shoulder and she inhales deeply and wonders if he enjoys seeing the slightly frayed edges of her, the parts that are just beginning to unravel. He caused it, and that's why he's the coward. Frank is picking at all her scabs and getting surprised when she starts to bleed.
Everything is far away but, robotically, she lifts her head to kiss him again and starts tearing at his shirt with clumsy fingers. He's precise and she's all over the place - since when? Since always, she was just so good at hiding it. Now he's found out all her hiding places and she has to stand in the open.
@frank
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 22:39:27 GMT
His hand trails upwards, following her spine, climbing up to the top of her neck and pulling her hair free. It's then he tangles his fingers into it, touches soft and deft. He didn't think he'd like it, having her head on his shoulder, but he's already moving on, now making her prop her legs onto his waist.
He kisses her like a ghost does now, because she's slow and doesn't do things properly. Frank now leans closer to her face and frowns, but whispers near incoherent French close to her lips, so they almost touch, but not quite.
He still looks at her as if there's something in her, though. He's too big a contraction to catch, to realise himself.
And it's in the hesitation, moment of silence of drinking air does he kiss her again, wilder, passionate, and it's almost an emphasizing act. It makes him hate himself for being unable to be cruel to her and snap her - she's as brittle as glass and just as beautiful.
His hands are peeling at her dress now, unhooking her bra.
@noemi
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Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 22:56:19 GMT
time...skip....??
So here she is, wrapped up in his shirt on her couch, with her head tucked into the crook of his neck. It's probably inevitable that he'll push her up and get off. She thinks about years of high school where he tucked hair behind her ear, invited her wherever he could, saw her lead some boy to an empty class room or up to her dorm room, the girls he slept with to try and make her jealous and that's all gone now. She's looking into a window that fogged up with their hot breath and exhales. She's satisfied and painfully sad -
because Noémi is a smart girl and has used enough to know when she's being used.
She rolls over and sits up a little, her knees on either side of Frank's hips, her hands by his shoulders. Her hair fals like a curtain around them, keeping their faces close and isolated from everything else. In one small moment Nae hopes she can find a little vulnerability in his face. It's karma and it hurts but she's willing to be weak for it.
Her hope is that he won't suspect it.
So she stares at Frank's eyes, looks at his eyelashes and then the bridge and tip of his nose, watches the air come out from the part of his lips and her gaze goes back to his eyes. She exhales through parted lips and kisses him again.
This is a kiss that makes her toes curl, and she's only touching him with her lips. It's one last shot to keep him in love with her instead of just infatuated.
Ah, but Frank never really did say he loved her. She's tempted to tell him how she feels, just to see what he'd say in return.
@frank
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Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2014 22:14:26 GMT
The echos of his subconsciousness swirls around his head in spirals, and maybe that's why when his eyelids are heavy and he forces them open anyway there's a headache in front of him and the literal one thumping at his head. He doesn't even know why, until he realises there's only one reason why.
He's been pulled from sleep. For a first in a long while now, and he scratches the side of his head and looks at Noemi with a impassive glance. Of course, he doesn't know what she's done because his eyes were closed, just like every other missed sign of affection. You can't miss it if you've never known it, but there's a strange feeling of comfort, looking at Noemi. She is, after all, everything he's ever really known.
"Can you get off me?" It's not authoritative, but it's far from kind. She should know the deal from the first kiss last night. She should know he's not that cheap - and that if he ever was, that was a lie, that was yesterday, and he can't go back as much as he'd like to.
The sunlight bathes the room in a warm glow, and nothing has changed. The white almost looks warm, the furniture, almost comfortable. But all Frank will see is a utilitarian room, minimal and cold, and he can't find himself able to attach a positive emotion to it.
@noemi
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Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2014 23:34:46 GMT
With an absent look on her face, she moves both of her hands to Frank's chest and pushes hard to push herself off. She hopes the pressure hurts.
Now she's sitting on his thighs and the shirt is falling off her shoulders. Ringlets frame her face and the soft glow of light frames the ringlets. It'd be appropriate to say she looked regal, like a modern Marie Antoinette. She purses her lips.
Looking at Frank is like watching someone come out of a dark room. He's back in her apartment and it makes her hair stand on end, makes her blood boil. She's turned stupid and she hates herself for it.
"You're going to regret this," she says softly in French, and it sounds like she's ordering an execution.
@frank
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Post by Deleted on Jan 31, 2014 23:49:52 GMT
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