| Cian usually strolled through New York and its respective stores and homely shopfronts like he owned them — he was wholly at home on the streets, ducking and weaving across crowded pavements. But thanks to that ever-mystifying something called magic, it was time for him to experience something totally new: the mirror. He'd been uniquely uncomfortable and awkward while entering the antique store named 'Once Upon a Time...', and it'd taken about a minute of him coughing, clearing his throat, then mumbling things about tales to the pretty girl behind the cashier before she realised what he wanted. Then he'd been swept through the store in a cloud of confusion, trying to absorb the eclectic surroundings as best he could, before picking up a snowglobe on the way, paying for it, then getting ushered into the back room, and taking a deep breath and stepping right into the ancient glass— —he emerged into a chilly, airconditioned shop. His mind whirling and disoriented, Cian let himself be led out to the front of the store, again picking up a trinket to pay for his passage (a matching snowglobe, as it happens). Then, a little bit poorer, the world spat him out onto the humid pavement of Las Vegas, hands in pockets, more than a little nervous, peering around for Abbie. Abbie had been pacing actually. Since the journal entry she shared with Cian her heart had been doing a fair bit of racing within her throat, thrumming inside her head. She'd been waiting outside of the shop for a near hour, wringing her hands in anticipation. It was strange. Even the skin on her body wanted to crawl off though it was truly the only thing that was holding her together at this time. A hand swept through auburn hair taking in a deep breath and letting the oxygen soak through her blood stream a fair bit. Calming. Yes, she needed to remember to breathe, she turned to face the doors then and--- -- she saw him. Forget thinking. Forget breathing. She just stood there. She'd seen Cian before of course but this . . . felt different. This felt . . . it felt . . . she realized she was holding her breath and exhaled in one shaking whoosh of air. Her legs were locked and eyes captured to the Irishman only a few paces away. He was like a deer frozen in the headlights, alone in a new city, briefly wondering if perhaps she wouldn't show — but the second he saw her, Cian melted back into movement, gangly limbs turning into a brisk walk over towards her side. One corner of his lips twitched into a smile. "That," he said bluntly, nodding back towards the store, "was really remarkably fecking weird. Hi." Hey, boy wasn't used to teleportation. And he'd much rather brush things off with whimsical quips than immediately address the awkward issue of, er, their journal conversation. That could wait. Oh thank goodness he had started to move first. Abbie wasn't sure she could force her legs to do so much as take a single step. However, when his face broke out into a smile she felt one spread over her own face, maybe a hint of color brushing her cheeks as well. "Well, I never said it wasn't strange." Her hands tucked into the pockets of her her jeans giving a sheepish shrug her eyes glancing to the side. "But it beats airplane fare, right?" Her eyes rose to meet the clearness of his own. That was a mistake because words were now stuck in her throat the way her legs were frozen to the spot. What was she about to say? Think, Abbie, think! "I -- um." Incoherency. She wasn't used to incoherency. "What I mean is . . . ah . . . " What did she mean? "I couldn't have afforded a spontaneous plane ticket out here, so it really does." After a moment, Cian bit his lip. He'd tried to be relaxed and self-assured, but her sudden stuttering had turned their attention back to the metaphorical elephant in the room. Oh. Right. Well, guess he couldn't escape his confession that easily, huh? "Cat got your tongue, eh?" he tried, a bit feebly. His hands were still jammed into his pockets, his shoulders at a strangely tense slouch. Shit, it'd been over a year since he'd last fumbled through this sort of conversation with someone. Nina knew exactly how avoidant he was about this sort of thing; too bad he didn't have his friends to fall back on now. Or the journals. Or alcohol to make the words come easier. He and Abbie were right there, face to face, and it looked like he'd just have to wing it. (Ha. No pun intended.) It was awkward. His body language said everything, even his feeble attempt at lightening the mood. She almost wished she hadn't opened her mouth. Maybe then there would be the illusion of everything going smoothly. She cleared her throat trying to rid herself of that metaphorical bump. This wasn't words on a journal. This was them. Face to face. A woman and a man and all the nervous, fumbling human emotions that came with it. She'd read novels where the women quivered under the intent gaze of a man, she had found it romantic but a trifle silly. No one could literally tremble from someones eyes. Yet here she was and she felt like her knees were about to lock and give way. There was this space between them and she wanted to break it. Quite literally. She found her voice. It wasn't the time for silly fillers and casual conversation. It wasn't the time to be afraid. It was time to look down at the precipice and step off and see where the fall would take them. "Did you mean what you said?" Her question hung in the air, heavy it it could be easily felt. That made him laugh, abruptly, like a short bark, and he cast his gaze around the slightly-abandoned street. It was early afternoon, three hours' and a world's difference from the moment he'd stepped through that mirror. "I'm here, aren't I?" is all Cian said, finally glancing back to meet her eyes. His smile was still there, but more hesitant now, quivering. He was maintaining it for show, still trying to keep the conversation flippant. "Don't think I ever say things I don't genuinely mean," he continued, quietly. She saw the slight tremble to his smile, instinctively taking a step forward. "Cian." Her voice didn't waver despite every inch of her that wanted to shake and fall to millions of pieces. Her fingers curling in the confines of her jeans, eyes searching his. "Tell me how you feel. I need to know. I need to hear it." And another laugh. The questions seemed almost stupid to him, because wasn't the answer obvious? One hand finally emerged from his pocket, to scrub awkwardly at his hair, his entire body shrugging. "I feel that—" A blunder, a pause, as Cian tried to stumble over the words. He was good at sarcasm and irony; less good at this. This thing called communication. "—I feel an absolute moron, to be honest, because I like a girl who I first met in writing and who lives entirely across the country. I tried not to, because I don't like pursuing relationships and you seemed fine in your own world and I don't do long-distance anyway—" Another heartbeat. "—but the fact that you can close your eyes and appear by my side in a moment, and apparently I can do the same through a bloody magic mirror, well. It makes it feel less and less like long-distance by the day." Hands back into pockets, and his eyes flicked to the ground, gazing straight at the tips of shoes. Cian had decided to ramble, and he hated seeing people watch him as he did so. The laugh. His laugh. He did it so rarely that even in moments like this she wanted to smile and she did. She felt the corners of her mouth begin to tug upright as she listened to him, he seemed so awkward. That hand swept through his hair and his feet shuffled like a child's. Cian wasn't looking at her. She didn't blame him. Look what she was asking of him. This was face to face, he couldn't hide behind ink or distance. Neither of them could. Her right hand slipped from the warm confines of her pocket and her fingers outstretched until she felt the smoothness of his wrist beneath her finger tips. She could feel the stirring in her chest continue to swirl around even now and she closed the space between them. She swore she could hear his heart pounding now, or maybe it was hers? "You know, I really like the sound of your voice. You shouldn't look down so much. It muffles it." Her words were hushed and warm, tilting her head so she could try to catch his gaze. At the touch, Cian's hand instinctively moved and tightened on hers, fingers overlapping. He looked back up. "Yeah, teachers were always telling me I shouldn't—" He stopped. Evasive bullshit again. At least he could recognise it this time. With a bit of a sigh, breath exhaling in the warmer air — intensely aware of everything, Cian could feel his lungs stretching against his coat — he looked right at her. Cute. Abbie'd always looked cute. "So, now that I've gone and blabbed everything in a muffled manner and made a complete arse of myself..." She shook her head. "No. No, you have not. You've---this is the most sincere and open I've heard from you Cian, besides around Christmas and I really, really like it." A sheepish smile of her own, it did feel warm right now. Warmer than usual, and when she felt his hand wrap about hers her thumb instinctively brushed over his own, securely. "Cian, I like you too. A lot." There. Those words. Those words that felt solid and heavy on her tongue now settled in the air for his ears to hear. Her fingers gave a brief squeeze. His hand was so soft, so secure and held hers so very gently. "I like that you're you, that you're honest, I like it when you laugh." She chuckled, biting her lower lip. "I like the fact that when you get nervous you look away. I like the fact you're so generous even if you deny it with all your being. I like our late night conversations. I like your voice. I like you Cian, I like you. I think I might be . . . " His fingers suddenly tightened, if a bit involuntarily, and he instantly interrupted her: "No. No, you aren't." He was tripping over his words again, but this time there was another type of urgent insistency in Cian's words. "Please don't say it. You're, what, nineteen, Abbie? It's too— look, I'm not—" Cian breathed out again, sighing. "Just don't say it. We've known each other for a while, but you don't actually know me. But if you want to, you know, maybe go see a movie tonight, call it a date, see if it works." She pressed her the fingers of her free hand to his lips to silence those words, chuckling. "I think I might be able to give this a try if you want to, Cian." A small grin spread itself over her delighted face. Her eyes searched his. "You don't have to be scared of me." Those words were hushed, the tips of her fingers leaving his mouth to cup his cheek in her hands, cradling it like something precious. Cian could've smacked himself in the face at the end of that. Foot, meet mouth. "Er. Please forget that, then. I'm lame. I'm willing to give it a try." She swallowed back the urge to laugh, the way his face scrunched at that moment was far too endearing. Her hand slipped away from his cheek while the other held onto his own hand steadfast. It was then she noticed how close they were. How that space between them had dissipated as quickly as the words fell from their mouths. Abbie stood near feeling that tingle of nervousness begin to poke at her spine once more, she stared up at him as the silence lingered on. "So, um. Maybe you can tell me what happens next?" Her head ducked slightly, the tendrils of her hair brushing her cheek. "Well, for one, I'm not scared of you," he answered with a chuckle, looking down at her as her hand finally slipped away, "'cos how could I be? You're like half my height." But before she could punctuate the pause with a laugh, Cian dropped contact, his hands pulling away to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes instead. Until he leaned forward, closing the distance and ducking his head down to pull her into a kiss. And so he preempted anything she could have said, hands fixed on her neck to tug her closer, their foreheads meeting as their lips did. It was gentle -- not his typical style, certainly, but a style he'd found himself subconsciously adopting for Abbie. And even through the featherlight touch, she'd be able to tell he was smiling. She was about to, her lips began to open and the chortle would have escaped the confines of her throat when she felt fingers delicately sweeping her hair from her eyes with the utmost care and soon the distance was closed with his lips on hers. Her eyes did widen in slight surprise but then her mouth seemed to mold with his perfectly, so those widen eyes did close. It felt natural. She felt the smile of his lips against hers and she returned in kind. The warmth of Cian's hand on the back of her neck was pleasant, reassuring and her own arms slipped from where they were hanging to wrap around his neck, nuzzling her nose against his in a gentle eskimo kiss. "That was definitely worth the wait." Was all Abbie said in a whisper and she finally did chuckle pulling him down for another kiss. That was as much of a green light as he'd ever receive. Cian dove back into the kiss with renewed vigour, the pressure harder and his fingers interweaving across the back of her neck. Soon enough the world retreated: it was just the two of them there, embracing on a warm Vegas street alone outside the storefront. When they finally broke, he couldn't help but add, wryly, "That's what happens next, by the way." Despite looking persistently younger than his years, he was experienced; a couple years' rusty had simply left him awkward and tentative, fumbling his way across dusty social connections. But now he looked happy and confident -- transformed, even. It might not be raven's feathers, but it was something. She didn't care about the stares, she didn't care that they were standing in the middle of a sidewalk either. All she cared about was the feel of his hands and his lips on hers. The way they moved over hers so carefully and now with a new, excited force like bubbles finally coming to the surface. So when the kiss was broken and her cheeks were flushed, a smile plastered on her face she could have sworn there wasn't really a ground beneath her feet and she nearly swayed. So that's what it meant to have your breath taken away. She bit the inside of her lip literally biting back the grin. "Oh really?" Her brows rose tilting her head to one side. "Well we're just obligated to continue seeing what happens next now aren't we." There was a light in his eyes now. There always had been one honestly. However it was sometimes hard to see and only really shone every now and again but at this very moment? His eyes were twinkling, and Abbie took his hand. "I think I like not knowing what's next." "Add in several thousand miles' distance, magic, reincarnated memories, six loud Irish brothers, and -- a sister? I don't have a bloody clue what comes next," Cian laughed. There was a thoughtful pause and that optimistic tug at the corner of Abbie's mouth. "Like I said, I think I like not knowing what's next." |