Aisha had gone weirdly quiet, but at the question, something snaps. She pulls back, yanking the arm he'd put around her behind his back as she slams him down.
She's half on top of him. The angle doesn't work; her leg slides off the booth and she almost loses her balance as his chest hits the corner of the table too hard. As she reorients herself, she pushes his face down to smush his cheek against the table, against the papers littered there, against the —
against her own rounder, younger face, drawn out in every color from every angle.
She goes still, heavy and barely breathing and so rigid a tremor flits its way through her system. She stares at them, unblinking, until the images blur together. A blaring alarm blooms in her mind with a spike of a headache. She can't look at Alec. She can't let go of Alec, can't remove herself from this space where the push of his diaphragm stays in weightless sync with hers.
no subject
She's half on top of him. The angle doesn't work; her leg slides off the booth and she almost loses her balance as his chest hits the corner of the table too hard. As she reorients herself, she pushes his face down to smush his cheek against the table, against the papers littered there, against the —
against her own rounder, younger face, drawn out in every color from every angle.
She goes still, heavy and barely breathing and so rigid a tremor flits its way through her system. She stares at them, unblinking, until the images blur together. A blaring alarm blooms in her mind with a spike of a headache. She can't look at Alec. She can't let go of Alec, can't remove herself from this space where the push of his diaphragm stays in weightless sync with hers.
She can't —
"What the fuck."