Jonas Brothers: Sugar
Title: Sugar
Rating: Er. There's some language, but nothing else.
Summary: He has sugar in his eyes.
Beta'd by author_abz , my besty-best.
A Nikki-Note: LOOK. I know it's not explicitly stated, but it's Kevin/Nick, okay? Just go with me.
You crumple the paper in your hands and I think,
I thought I was stronger than this.
There’s so much he ought to know, but too much bullshit standing in the way of the truth. So you tried to write it down, tried to put the words in little orderly sentences standing like soldiers on the now wrinkled paper. You just wanted to tell him, just let go of it so maybe you could stop holding on to some faint hope…
You wrote carefully and slowly like you haven’t done since you first penned “do you like me? check yes or no” in the second grade. She had blonde pigtails, but you can’t remember her name now. Something with a “J.”
You’re so fucking frustrated and so fucking tired you can’t breathe. Let me do this, you plead. Just let it be over with. Just let me tell him.
But it’s not over with and it’s can’t be over with and no matter how much your yearn for it to end, it can’t. It never will. It’s the thought that haunts you day and night. It can’t be made right because it’s nothing but wrong.
You’re pulling yourself to your feet when he walks in. Oh, him. With his brownie colored eyes and Hershey hair. You imagine he has soft chocolate kisses to match.
He smiles, vaguely, in your direction, and asks what you’re up to. You kick the paper wad under the desk and say an innocent,
“Nothing.”
He picks up his guitar and begins to strum soft candy melodies. You want to melt and be part of it, part of him. He can feel your gaze, but it’s nothing unusual. He glances up smiling, welcoming your attention.
You’re both surprised when you cross the room and gently tug the instrument from his hands, but he still melts like chocolate against you as you press your lips to his. His lips aren’t warm and smooth like you imagined, but rough and chapped, like raw sugar.
You press your hands against his chest and feel his heart pounding beneath your fingers. You shouldn’t be doing this, but, oh God, why can you let this feel so perfect if it’s wrong? It can’t be wrong, then, right?
You find yourself in silent prayer as you push your tongue into your little brother’ mouth.
You promised not to test us more than we can bear.
And now that I’ve tasted raw sugar kisses, I can’t endure another day without them.
It’s not guilt you feel in the pit of your stomach, though.
You pull away and look at the softly melting eyes of your brother. He smiles, soft and sure.
You kiss his forehead and smile back.
It’s love.
Rating: Er. There's some language, but nothing else.
Summary: He has sugar in his eyes.
Beta'd by author_abz , my besty-best.
A Nikki-Note: LOOK. I know it's not explicitly stated, but it's Kevin/Nick, okay? Just go with me.
You crumple the paper in your hands and I think,
I thought I was stronger than this.
There’s so much he ought to know, but too much bullshit standing in the way of the truth. So you tried to write it down, tried to put the words in little orderly sentences standing like soldiers on the now wrinkled paper. You just wanted to tell him, just let go of it so maybe you could stop holding on to some faint hope…
You wrote carefully and slowly like you haven’t done since you first penned “do you like me? check yes or no” in the second grade. She had blonde pigtails, but you can’t remember her name now. Something with a “J.”
You’re so fucking frustrated and so fucking tired you can’t breathe. Let me do this, you plead. Just let it be over with. Just let me tell him.
But it’s not over with and it’s can’t be over with and no matter how much your yearn for it to end, it can’t. It never will. It’s the thought that haunts you day and night. It can’t be made right because it’s nothing but wrong.
You’re pulling yourself to your feet when he walks in. Oh, him. With his brownie colored eyes and Hershey hair. You imagine he has soft chocolate kisses to match.
He smiles, vaguely, in your direction, and asks what you’re up to. You kick the paper wad under the desk and say an innocent,
“Nothing.”
He picks up his guitar and begins to strum soft candy melodies. You want to melt and be part of it, part of him. He can feel your gaze, but it’s nothing unusual. He glances up smiling, welcoming your attention.
You’re both surprised when you cross the room and gently tug the instrument from his hands, but he still melts like chocolate against you as you press your lips to his. His lips aren’t warm and smooth like you imagined, but rough and chapped, like raw sugar.
You press your hands against his chest and feel his heart pounding beneath your fingers. You shouldn’t be doing this, but, oh God, why can you let this feel so perfect if it’s wrong? It can’t be wrong, then, right?
You find yourself in silent prayer as you push your tongue into your little brother’ mouth.
You promised not to test us more than we can bear.
And now that I’ve tasted raw sugar kisses, I can’t endure another day without them.
It’s not guilt you feel in the pit of your stomach, though.
You pull away and look at the softly melting eyes of your brother. He smiles, soft and sure.
You kiss his forehead and smile back.
It’s love.