Teagan Altair

That whole 'your pain is my pain' thing was serious, she realized suddenly, her heart twisting and her stomach dropping as she felt every curse and mutter bite through her like fangs. She was trying so desperately to pay attention to her cousin, to sort this whole mess out herself but it was admittedly very difficult at the moment. Not only was Scott hurt, bleeding even, but he was only half dressed and that was a little distracting in its own right, her eyes wandering for a second to his chest before shifting away quite suddenly, her mind fighting tooth and nail to remain focused on the situation at hand.

Because she really did feel bad for Melanie. The last they'd talked, Teagan had been devastated, depressed, outright despondent, and she had been so in the presence of the very person that made her feel that way to start with. Then she disappeared and stayed gone for hours without even a single text to let her cousin know that she was even alive. Teagan would have been just as worried and just as upset as Melanie surely was right now. She understood.

But focusing with Scott around wasn't a talent she had mastered yet. She still couldn't stop dropping little touches along his arms and hands, her fingers treading ground against the pulse of his wrist as she blinked at Melanie's question, her attention shifting back to her cousin as she tried to prepare herself for what she assumed was inevitable.

Because this was a lot to take in. Teagan wasn't oblivious to the fact, even if she'd had absolutely no problem processing it herself. At first she nodded in response, shifting her eyes back to Scott and frowning again at the blood that had already dried on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, of course, always." Unfortunately that response was just a tiny bit unfocused, her hand lifting intently to scrape away the remnants of his injury, her eyebrows raised up at him as if silently asking if he was okay. 

If she wanted this talk to actually set in or make a dent at all, she'd probably have to ask Scott to leave herself. Whether out of obliviousness or sheer stubbornness, Teagan wasn't about to do it herself, nor was she really getting the hint that maybe this should have been a private talk.

She could have spent every waking moment the same way she had the night before, reveling in the mere existence of him, in the strength of his shoulders, in the dark of his stare. She spent a good chunk of time memorizing him, every inch of him, locking it away in the brilliance of her mind for later, for whenever they would inevitably have to part. Even a second without feeling his touch or hearing the rasp of his voice seemed unbearable even now, even as connected to him as she was. 

Because she was completely and totally consumed by him, in love with every part of him, wholly and ridiculous devoted to him in a way that almost spared no room for anything else. Every touch was a physical picture of him, her fingers memorizing the way his bones lined the space beneath his skin. His scars, his freckles, the dimples on his cheeks. There was a burning need to have him seared into her memory so much that he was always there within closed eyes, always waiting for her in her dreams, and she fought to accomplish that with kisses and touches, with her hands in his hair and her lips on his neck, his jaw, his shoulder and chest. 

She needed him, and she had never needed anyone before. It should have been horrifying, too, the sudden desperation that came from just wanting him around, let alone as close as they had been, but it wasn't. Nothing about this was no matter how bizarre the situation itself seemed, no matter how quickly things had escalated. Only earlier in the day they were heartbroken; she had been almost mad, though more hurt than anything, and now here they were intertwined, connected, sleeping off the after-effects of both love and lust, her entire body small as it curled up against his and situated perfectly against the curve of his chest.

Until, of course, he moved. She had always been a deep sleeper but she stirred at his movement instantly, a sleepy whine escaping her throat as she reached and missed for his hand, still partially asleep as she watched him leave with a hazy gaze. She might not have moved, either, might have just waited for him to come back (because she knew he would, had no doubt about it at all) until she heard the commotion, the shrieking and the outright physical sounds that followed. Already she was scrambling to gather up whatever clothes she could - his shirt, which was more like a dress on her - before darting out into the main room, her eyes taking in the kitchen scene with such haste that it almost left her dizzy.

And poor Melanie, the first thing Teagan noticed wasn't her cousin's upset but instead the bloody nose that came alongside it.

"Are you okay? Oh my god!" The level of severity that came with her dash towards him was almost uncharacteristic to her, but she made it there almost instantly regardless, a rag in hand as she held it up to his nose and wiped the blood from his face. "Here, lean forward and it should stop, okay?" Concern consumed her features, twisted her expression all too worried, though eventually her attention shifted towards Melanie as she attempted to figure out what, exactly, had happened.

And that realization? It wasn't gentle. It was a veritable 'oh shit' moment if she had ever had one. She wasn't ashamed or even remotely sheepish about it, though, instead a little guilty for having forgotten about Melanie at all. A text letting her know that things were fine might have been a good idea. Oops. "...I probably should have told you but, uh, Scott's here..."

They could live in a box for all she cared, honestly, though she kept that thought to herself, having already embarrassed herself enough earlier. He was right, though; they'd be fine anywhere, even here. Already she knew it wasn't like they had much shame to begin with. They had been pretty hot and heavy earlier in the most public place to her with all of her friends and family in the very next room. They had gotten caught and neither of them had cared at all. They were all but seconds away from escalating things to a very dangerous level and hadn't even bothered to stop and think about the consequences. Location didn't matter at all, nor did other people. 

And she had been fairly polite to start with, but then again, this situation wasn't exactly something she had experience to fall back on. She had no idea coming into this that she would be so affectionate at all, let alone as public and uncaring about how overwhelming and outright she was with that affection. It wasn't like she could control herself, either; just looking at him had her longing to touch him, kiss him, feel the warmth of his lips or the gentle roughness of his hands. The same danger that came with them being alone and enraptured in one another wouldn't exactly fade no matter what.

"A very long time?" she mused, smiling, her eyes all but glimmering as he pressed kiss after kiss across the spread of her face, a low giggle escaping her throat almost instantly as she watched him, almost entirely entranced by his every move. "I like the sound of that." Thankfully he silenced her before she said something else, something like forever or eternity or lifetimes, his lips against hers in that electrifying way, her entire nervous system burning as she threaded fingers under his collar and tugged him closer, eyes slipping close as she fell into the routine again.

Every kiss felt new, felt different, felt exciting in the strangest ways and it had her falling into the moment head first, her entire being dizzy as she deepened the kiss, her teeth raking over the plush of his lower lip. She really could stay like this forever, tangled on her bed with him, his lips on hers, their heartbeats racing together as they explored each other again and again. 

It really would be all too tempting to just stay here. Already she had wanted the moment frozen, time stopped. She would have loved to just live the rest of her life out here in this second, in his arms, both of them flush and flourishing with love, his hands on her arm, her hands in his hair. Nothing could touch them here, though she doubted anything could anyway. They would have their problems, their upsets. Life would still happen and it would still happen as usual, not always a beautiful experience but a lesson, but already she didn't care. There wasn't anything in the world she could think of that would even matter so long as he was nearby, so long as she could see his smirk and feel his skin against hers which was a highly idealistic and almost naively romantic thought, certainly, but even then it wasn't too far from the truth. He had so quickly became the foundation for her happiness, for her sanity; anything was possible with him around, anything.

Her entire life had been nothing but doubts. Her doubting herself, her skills her talents, a limb that branched from the roots of her parents. Her doubting situations, the future, the past. She had spent her entire life engulfed by doubt, devoured by it, but with him she felt like she could do anything. His faith, his love, his constant reassuring affections was the most motivational thing for her. Just looking into his eyes revealed a future broader than anything she could have ever imagined for herself.

"That's not a bad idea,' she mused almost distractedly, her eyes unfocused as she thumb circles gently against his back, her head lulling against his for a second as she hummed quietly. "The cottage, I mean. It really isn't. They're pretty intimate and cute anyway." She'd always liked the idea of them, though she'd never considered sharing one with anyone. And she liked the idea of sharing it with him, of having him all to herself. She loved Melanie, adored her, and she was sure he cared for his friends, too, but she could see that eventually they would want time all to themselves, space in which other people couldn't invade.

Because it really was only a matter of time before Melanie came home and sought her out for answers. She had left movie night early, after all, and she had been devastated before. Melanie would be concerned, curious, and she appreciated that, she did, but she didn't want this moment interrupted. She didn't want this connection to end.

"I never really considered living with anyone before outside of... well, Melanie." And now she couldn't imagine anything else, their future already set in stone in her mind. Was that weird? No stranger than anything else that had happened, she supposed. "Now I can't see myself living without you. I mean, I..." She paused, sheepish again, her smile shy as she buried her face against the side of his head, noting for the second time how much she liked his scent. "I really just want to be with you for as long as you keep me, you know?"

She had never had a real, concrete example of love throughout her life. Her parents weren't even good at the unconditional love that came with having children, let alone good at loving one another. It was obvious, too; they weren't exactly secretive about how little they cared about their offspring, about one another, about even themselves at times. It was a little discouraging to anyone hoping to grow up with a healthy idea of what relationships could be, though she never really succumbed to that herself, having instead chosen to write off the entire experience altogether, both scared and soured by the idea of it. If love meant a marriage that held no affection with children that were barely anything but names to tend to then she wanted no part of it. 

So she, too, had been perfectly content with the idea of a lonely lifetime. She had her family, her friends, and her work, so she would have been absolutely fine without finding attachment in another person. Or so she thought, at least. Already she could see that she was wrong, wrong, wrong, absolutely stupid for having ever thought that she could ever live without this or him at all. 

That idea seemed absurd now. A day without that insufferable but adorable smirk of his or without his laugh or his touch or his kisses could easily be the most devastating day in her life. It was hard to imagine a world outside of this room, too, outside of this moment. Somewhere she hazily recognized that she still had things to do that didn't involve Scott Emerson -- schoolwork, family events, life in general -- but she couldn't really bring herself to focus on any of them, instead too involved noticing the different colors that made up his eyes.

"I didn't... I guess I didn't think it was real at all. I mean, it never seemed real. Like I've never seen anything in real life that even remotely came close to what they try to preach in movies, so it just never really seemed like something that actually existed outside of, I don't know, some dumb romcoms. But now I know that those stupid movies were wrong anyway, like they've never even came close to how I actually feel every time you're even close." No one had warned her that he would make her every thought about him, or how just feeling his heartbeat against her fingertips would be like getting unbelievably high on the strongest drug in the world. No one ever told her that she could be physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually intoxicated by a person.

That intoxication was strong as he hovered over her and bumped her nose, her lip tingling as his lips brushed against it. Her eyes matched his, dark and mischievous and spilling with love, her smile ever present as she reached up and twirled a strand of his hair between her own fingers. "I guess we'd be setting up camp here, then. Although we'd still need to eat, you know, I'd rather neither one of us starve to death. But outside of that? You won't hear me complaining, I assure you. I honestly never want this night to end."