I breathe you in but honey i don't know what you're doing to me (i'm a moth to your flame and my wings are burning)
Wyoming is stunningly beautiful whenever the storm is easy and nerve-wracking whenever the rain is pouring pouring pouring down.
For the most part of the week, the wind is howling and the streets are empty and bolts of lightning cross the sky with angry, burning, crooked fingers, keeping the people of Jackson in their homes. The patrols are canceled for your age group (you think you might go mad cooped up in your small garage-turned-home place) and the town is drenched in water, overflowing with cold and consistent rain and by the third day you start to develop signs of panic.
Joel is keeping you busy. He makes some renovations at his house and he needs your help. You bring tools and measure walls and climb ladders and ruin your favourite pair of jeans on a rusty nail sticking out the wall (Joel made a couple of warnings about it and you waved him off). You paint and you swing the hammer and you laugh and laugh and laugh at silly old movies you watch with him, at the end of a long day.
The storm is crazy outside, loud and wet, and dangerous. Joel says nature is angry and he makes sure the checked blanket is covering both of you when he finally flops down on the couch, smelling like shampoo and pancakes. you say it's just the beginning of spring (spring storms are like this) and help yourself to the snacks he made for you movie night.
On the last day of March Joel ask you not to be part of the annual March tradition of all the kids in Jackson (his voice is grave and stern and tired like he already knows your answer). It's a silly tradition, childish and stupid, but you think about Dina and the fact that if you'll skip another social gathering you will be really letting her down so you dismiss his worries and promise to be home before midnight.
"You don't even wanna go." He booms in a voice like thunder.
"It's just one night. And it's in the town's borders. It's like, next to the weapon warehouse. Not even that far. Like… a couple of streets away, behind the bar".
(Joel sighs and sighs and sighs but nods anyway and closes the front door to his house with blank expression).
//
You knew tonight is going to rain, (though not quite so much), so you're not surprised when you step outside into a biblical sort of storm.
You pull the hood over your wet hair, put on your only pair of waterproof boots and zip your coat up. The streets are empty and you make a small detour from your designated route, trying to avoid stepping into what looks like a newly formed lake of rain and mud.
When you reach the bonfire, on the other side of town, the storm is lashing out across the dark sky, cold and angry and strong. There are no lights to illuminate the night here, but still, there is a comfortable number of young people around a bright fire pit and their laugh is a happy sound that makes you smile.
Dina is standing away from Jesse, with a large group of people around her (all looking at her with adoring eyes and soft smiles and you get it, but there is a hot spark of anger and jealousy in your chest and you take a deep breath to calm yourself down).
Dina seems to have their attention, telling some sort of (exciting) tale. She smiles her special smile when she sees you and you wave to let her know you've noticed her, before finding a dry spot next to the fire and flopping down to a sitting position.
The wind is wailing and howling and you're drenched to the skin. Jesse sits next to you, a small smile on his lips. You talk a little (a complaint about the need to show to social gatherings like this) and when he spots Dina, making her steady way over, he pats you on the shoulder and moves away. You raise an eyebrow but Dina, holding two cans of beer, shakes her head and you don't say anything.
The evening is pleasant and cold. You and Dina talk and talk and talk, about history before the outbreak and about old movies. You talk about fixing tools and sewing wounds and horses. You talk about music, and about electricity (Dina knows a whole lot about wires and fuses, switches and contact forms and moving parts and you listen to her without understanding a word, simply enjoying the sound of her excited voice). You talk about old comic books and about art and about traps. You talk about guns, about bows, about distant stars.
Your heart pounds in your chest like a wild thing. Dina's eyes are dark and deep, reflecting the dancing flames of the bonfire. Her hair, in the relative darkness, is black with a purplish sheen, wet with cold rainwater and beautiful as ever. She has a look, like a rapture, but not a cruel one, just very powerful and sure and you must be fucking insane to think she too might be feeling the same undeniable attraction you feel.
You sigh quietly and shiver and Dina leans closer to you, her shoulder brushing your arm. The air is cold and dump but she is warm and solid and radiates warmth so you snuggle closer to her.
"It's nice." She tells you.
"Yeah." You say.
The bonfire is hot and bright and the people who gathered around the fire are young and loud. They make so much noise you can barely make out the hissing of the rain and the cracking and snapping of the flames. they play music and roast potatoes and talk about patrols. Behind the crackling fire, they look fainty artificial and you don't move closer to them. You like the relative solitude behind the flames, alone with Dina in front of the whole town.
//
"I feel bad for keeping you away from your friends." You confess quietly to Dina after a boy you don't really know walks away with his head hanging low. He has been trying to get her to go back to the group of her adoring friends, with no success.
She huffs an amused laugh. "Please," she says. "I'd rather stay here with you. You're a much better company. And you don't ask me inappropriate questions about Jesse".
"You mean I'm hotter." You joke with a clogged throat and a hammering heart.
"Yeah," she shrugs and there is a half-smile on her face that almost makes you choke. "That too".
Some people from your age group (you know their names but not their stories and you wave politely when they pass by you) are throwing stones and cooking meat and kissing in the shadows. Jesse is sitting a few feet away to your right, his eyes squinted in deep thought and he's busy, talking with Cat about something you can't hear.
The human voices are muffled, disturbed by the roar of the fire and the storm, and you enjoy being alone in plain sight with Dina.
"So, about the inappropriate questions…" You say and Dina laughs a tired kinda laugh. You can tell she's a little worried. When you mention Jesse, her eyes darken.
"You guys are on one of your breaks again?"
"Yeah. This time it's final".
"A-ha." You say and laugh and Dina hits you on the arm with a closed fist. (It doesn't hurt).
"Not the first time I've heard that".
"Well, this time I mean it".
"I don't get it." You tell her and she gives you a weird look, charged with unspoken truths and Impossible lies and everything in between, but she doesn't answer.
(Instead of answering she makes her own kind of question. She motions to Cat, who'd sitting between a black girl with thick black and white dreads and a tired-looking Jesse and doing her best to avoid eye contact with you).
"What about you guys?"
You are truly puzzled because you and Cat are nothing of a thing, not in the same sense Dina and Jesse always were. She's a good friend and you had your fun. You enjoy her company and she has a lot to say about self-defense disciplines and art and jazz and dancing and feng-shui, but it's not like you and her have what Dina and Jesse have.
"What about us?"
"That's what I thought." Dina says with an amused smile and doesn't elaborate.
The rain gets heavier and Dina tilts her head backward and opens her mouth to catch the drops. Her skin is wet and shining and you mimic her and drink the water from the sky. The rain is so cold it hurts your teeth.
"I love it!" Dina shouts at your direction, to be heard over the complete roaring tumult of people and fire and rain.
There is a flash of blinding light that feels like a blow to your eyes and then the thunder rolls (angry beast screaming for sacrifice and for blood and for chaos) and your ears hurt. You flinch and Dina is laughing again, a good-natured laugh that makes you ache and ache and ache.
"You're such a dork." She tells you affectionately and you shove at her but don't protest.
You busy yourself in roasting potatoes. Dina eats one and you eat two ("You pig." She says when you're eyeing the third and then she licks her fingers clean and you laugh. "Look who's talking." You say without missing a beat and you try not to think about her tongue anywhere but her own fingers).
The storm gets stronger as the night deepens. There is consistent crackling from the fire, loud booms, a rumble, and then someone's high pitched voice lets out a playful scream that makes everybody laugh.
Dina rolls her eyes and you give her a nod of agreement.
(Fucking babies).
It's cold but the fire is burning your face and you like the feeling that's spreading in your gut. The potatoes are hot and the whiskey that's been passing from hand to hand around the bonfire is cold as ice and it makes you giddy and agitated and a little sleepy.
The night echoes of young life and of easy happiness and of power that comes from large numbers. It's safe and you think back to your childhood, to how scared you were and how unsteady everything was back then and how nice it feels to finally be in a place you can call 'home'.
The lightning flickers again a couple of times and when the rain redoubles (it feels as if a giant is trying to drown Jackson in buckets of icy water), Jesse and some tall boy with black hair and broad shoulder (that you don't remember the name of) stretch a canvas sheet above the bonfire, to keep it aflame.
Dina smiles at you her crooked happy smile. "Play something." She says in a soft voice.
"I only know sad songs." You say it like an apology and she nods once, lightly, almost a non-movement, and you're a goner.
You take out the guitar from its case and strike the chord a few times with cold stiff fingers.
"Yes." Dina whispers and her eyes brighten. You smile at her, suddenly overwhelmed.
People are gathering around you when they hear the first few notes (Dina moves a little aside so that you can be isolated, like on a stage, and you feel exposed). The boys and girls around the fire are no longer kissing, and no longer throwing stones and no longer talking or cooking or sucking fat and sauce from their fingers. You focus your eyes on the dancing flames, just to keep yourself steady (you don't like the crowd) and you strum the guitar and sing an old song Joel taught you a year or so ago, and then you play another one (your voice is small but melodic and Dina's eyes look more liquid than before).
"Sing more." Someone says (excited and jumpy and a little drunk) so you do.
(You don't want the attention but you want to play something and you want Dina to keep looking at you like that, so you sing a song you've heard many many many times at Joel's place. It's an easy enough song and you remember all the words and all the right chords so you don't stammer even with what feels like hundreds of eyes on you).
Dina tucks her hair behind her ear and the Hamsa bracelet on her wrist reflects the light of the fire. She smiles and it's an easy smile, like sunshine on a summer's day. Your voice dies down, people clap and cheer and you focus your stare on the smiling girl at your side and you cannot, for the life of you, avert your eyes
Dina is burning brighter than the fire. She's burning brighter than the stars in the sky. She is magnetic, exhilarating. Her eyes search for yours and her stare is jagging you like bolts of lighting. She moves her eyes to your mouth and thunder is roaring in your ears, like the swell and rip of a hurricane.
(Someone's calling you name and it's a crackling, impossible journey to avert your eyes but finally, you do and the spell is broken).
//
A sandy blonde kid (Lucas or Jonathan or Elija, you're too drunk to remember) asks for a story and people clap again, the sound of the clapping mixes with the distant sound of rolling thunder and you wonder what time it is and if Joel is sitting in his dark living room, frowning at his old wall-clock and waiting for you.
(You hope he doesn't because everybody knows who the request is for and there is no chance in hell or heaven you're gonna miss one of Dina's old stories about prophets and kings and watchful gods and a distant hot land with burning sand the colour of flames).
(You really don't want to disappoint Joel, but you also can't seem to move. You're glued to the ground, wet and cold and miserable, but happy and content as a baby, waiting, like everybody else, to the words Dina conjures so well).
"No, guys. C'mon. it's too late." She does her fair share of pleading and when the crowd gets impatient, she gives you a side glance, as if to say 'I'm sorry' and you smile at her a tight happy smile, tuck your head between your shoulders and snuggle further in your goat.
"The chariot is made of fire, of blue heavenly flames, and it lurches through the misty skies, bucking and rolling…"
You lean back and lose yourself in Dina's captivating voice.
//
Dina digs her fingers in your hair and the feeling is a static prickle on your skull. The blood is roaring in your ears, sparks writhing across your skin and you think that if she doesn't kiss you (or let you go) you will be forced to do something so so stupid.
"Dina." You say her name like a warning, like a plea, like it's something sacred you don't quite know how to handle. (Holiness and Dina are foreign concepts to you, uncharted and scary territory, and you do your best to tread carefully).
She's hugging you from behind and you lean back, just a little, to rest your back against her chest. Her left hand is curved around your waist. It's an intimate gesture that you have no idea how to react to. All you can do is let out a small sigh, a breath really, and let her hold you.
"Your song was really nice." She says, right in your ear.
"Yeah," you say. "I thought you'd like it".
"I did like it".
"Good".
"Aha".
"Your story was beautiful".
"I thought you might like it." She parrots back at you and you shake your head a little, small smile stretching your lips (a smile you know she cannot see, but no doubt knows its there).
Rain is falling in sheets all around you. You are standing in front of your door, at Joel's backyard. The windows in the big house are dark, and you figure Joel must be asleep already. It's cold and dark and the rain makes it harder still to see. You can hardly make the outer wall of your home, a dozen paces in front of your face.
(You figure it must be long past midnight, but you have no idea what excuse you're going to exhaust tomorrow. You can already tell how displeased Joel is going to be with you).
Dina is still hugging you from behind. You were about to put the key in your door when she wrapped her arms around you. Now you can't quite remember what you were talking about and how exactly you got there and why is Dina next to you and not snuggled in her own bed, away from the rain and the wind and the nerve-wracking thunder.
As you think that, thunder rumbles in the distance and the noise rattles the branches of the trees and shakes deep inside the house. The rain falls cold and strong and violent and both you and Dina are wet to the bone.
You're not cold. Standing in her arms, wrapped and hugged as you are, you feel a sense of warmth settling around you. It makes you wonder whether it's Dina's body or her presence that makes you this warm and content (or maybe the whiskey and the hot hot hot potatoes you ate next to the bonfire).
There are no lights from the big house to light the backyard. It's dark (very dark) and you like it that way. Here, in the darkness, in Dina's arms, you feel powerful and weak and brave and scared and you're so so drunk you feel stupid.
A trail of lightning spreads across the heavy clouds and you lean your head on Dina's shoulder but keep your eyes fixed on your front door. You don't dare turn your face. You just stare at the tin roof and the crying sky and the heavy clouds above your head.
"What are you thinking about?" Dina asks in a hushed voice.
"What do you think it is?" you answer in a whisper, barely audible, and make a small motion to the sky.
"What?"
"The thunder".
Dina's voice is deep and full of emotion. Full of lust and hunger and something you don't want to think about.
"Thunderbirds returning to their high crags".
"Yeah?"
She shrugs and you feel it in the base of your skull. "Or just an atmospheric discharge".
"What's the difference?"
Dina lowers her head and drags her lips across the skin of your throat like she didn't hear you, or like she doesn’t plan on answering. You give an embarrassing, involuntary shiver and mentally kick yourself at your treacherous body's reaction.
"Dina…" you say ones, very softly, and hope she will hear you and understand what you're trying to say.
(What you're trying to say is 'stop' and 'don't go there' and 'I can't lose you over something like this' but Dina is deaf to your inner pleas and you can't voice them out loud).
"Ellie." She answers and her voice is deep and raspy and wet. She sounds old and tired and you want to shelter her and kiss her and you wan to never let her go.
A spray of rain gusts at you. Thunder rumbles somewhere close at hand. Dina's hand in your hair pulls hard, and the other tightness across your middle. You are standing so close you can feel her breathing (you feel the rise and fall of her chest). You can hear the small sounds she makes, right into your ear, gusty small breaths of inhalation.
You are flushed tight together, so close you almost can't tell where your body ends and where hers begin.
You shiver, and Dina shivers with you.
The wind grows stronger. The howl across the back yard is a screech, like something immeasurably huge is in pain and you wonder (briefly) how can anybody sleep in this utter noise.
(You are happy they do).
"Dina," you try again and your voice is so raw and so small you almost feel ashamed. (Only, you don't. All you feel is turned on beyond measure. You're having trouble not turning around and pushing your hand down her pants. The only thing that's stopping you is your relatively sober brain and the thought that tomorrow, when the storm is gone and the sun is out and there is no trail of alcohol in your body, you will lose your best friend).
"Ellie… Turn around".
You turn. Her eyes are glowing with hidden fire and you know she feels the same. You try to say something, protest, remind her of Jesse and of friendship and of tomorrow but she surges forwards and then, easily and perfectly, it happens.
//
Dina's kisses sting like fire and like lighting and like something forbidden you can't get enough of.
Her teeth bite at your bottom lip and she slips her hands under your wet shirt. Her nails are soft and she scratches your lower back and you moan quietly into her mouth, pressing your body against her.
You don't feel like laughing and you don't feel like talking, but you make a small noise that can count as a laugh and say 'Dina, what are you doing?' but she just walks you backward until the back of your legs hit your bed and you tumble down onto it, dragging her with you. You lie there with her straddling your lap, trying to remember how to breathe.
Nothing is aflame or exploding or melting into exotic puddle. There is no sound but your heavy breaths and the storm that's raging outside (rain and wind and violently shaking windows). Dina is looking at you with dark dark dark eyes, pupils dilated and mouth open. She is smiling at you like you're the only person in the world and then she yanks the shirt off of you without warning and throws it on the floor beside the bed.
Inevitably, something new and dangerous and undermining crashing into you like a ton of bricks. You look up at Dina and think that the stars that you like so much has nothing on her. she shines bright and beautiful and eternal.
Dina is warm and soft against you and you're painfully aware of her fingers stroking innocently up and down your bare arm. She shifts, pressing closer and you make a small noise, like a gasp. You have your hands on either side of her body and she is so hot her skin almost burns your palms.
"Dina," you say with a dry mouth and a hammering heart. "We can stop now. We don't have to go any further".
"Why?" she whispers.
"Because nothing has happened yet. We can just forget it all. You can sleep here, and tomorrow…" but Dina is looking at you and there is no fear in her gaze, and no regret and the weak protest die on your lips, forgotten.
"Is this what you want?" she asks softly.
"No." You answer truthfully and then she leans down and kisses you. Her kisses are burning burning burning you. She bites your bottom lip and you jump. She laughs against your mouth.
"Is this okay?" she asks.
You tug at her slightly before her tongue is licking into your mouth and you squirm, trying to press her closer to you.
For a minute or two, you are just making out, heated and hot and desperate. Heat flooding through your body and you know your place must be freezing cold, but you don't feel anything, just Dina and Dina's warm skin and Dina's hot mouth and her strong strong sure hands on you.
You make another small, desperate noise at the back of your throat and Dina shift on your lap. You kiss for a long moment, the silence that has fallen on the world is broken by the rain and the little whimpers you and Dina make.
Your hands roam her body, across her back, and she arches into your touch, her fingers grip tightly at your flesh.
There is not enough time in the world because there is so much you want to do. You try not to stare too much, but it's Dina and you've been dreaming about this for as long as you can remember, from the moment you laid eyes on her, and you can't help but break the kiss to run your adoring fingers over her nose, trace her brows, the bow of her top lip.
"Ellie." She sighs and you are too scared to think about her next words, whatever they may be, so you swallow and kiss her again. (She huffs a 'yes' into your mouth and you tighten your grip on her).
You're not brave enough to tell her things (you are not brave enough to tell her how much you want her and you are not brave enough to tell her in how many ways you want her and you are not brave enough to tell her that you're terrified to lose her).
You don't say anything. Instead, you try to show her and you hope she understands.
You kiss her again and it's funny and sweet and addicting. You fumble awkwardly with her wet close and when she is gloriously naked in your bed, skin a little cold and dump, (but her body is so so hot), you touch her in all the ways you wanted to and never dared to dream of.
You touch her with tenderness and you touch her with purpose and you touch her like you can't completely believe she's really here, kissing you, moaning into your mouth, moving against you, searching for the right angle.
(You think it must be some sort of heaven) (some sort of hell).
You push your fingers deeper, move your palm just right and she trembles and curses and moans, low and guttural, and everything like satisfaction.
It's easy to make her come and you find it mesmerizing.
(Dina comes shivering and trembling and moaning. She is slick and tight and burning around your fingers and you can't stop moving your hand, even when her trembles become shakes and she lets a string of very inappropriate words into your ear).
(Dina comes with your name on her lips. At first, it's a whisper, then a moan. "Ellie," she says. And then "Ellie! Ellie! Ellie!" and her voice is loud and high and you are a little worried Joel is going to burst in any second, angry and sleep-deprived).
(Dina comes, and you come with her, out of solidarity, moving frantically on her thigh, covering her leg in wet sticky smears and she laughs a breathy laugh and squeezes you butt).
//
Dina wrapped her arms around you and she kisses you behind the ear, whispering dirty little words about how good it feels to have you inside her and how hot you are and how she thought the evening will never end and she'll be forced to touch you there, in front of everybody, and you smile and almost pass out.
"That's…" you fish for the words, but your mind is blank and Dina is laughing quietly into your shoulder.
She is beautiful and intoxicating. You're having trouble looking at her and touching her the same time and you can't focus on kissing her while two of your fingers buried deep inside her, so you compromise on pushing your nose against her neck and panting and panting and panting while you fuck her in a steady rhythm.
"Again?" she asks, amused, and out of breath.
You can't force yourself to answer.
//
you lie together in your bed, warm and exhausted, the ache between your legs is very distracting and pleasant.
Neither of you is asleep because you can't stop touching each other and you can't let go and even though it's late (it's almost morning when you finally stop coming) you are not willing to break the spell yet.
You want to tell her things. You want to tell her you love her and you want to tell her you never love anyone like you love her and you want to tell her how your love for her runs as deep as your bones and thump at your heart and makes you stupid.
(You want to tell her about the first time you kissed a girl and the first time you tasted blood at the back of your throat. You want to tell her about the first time you realised loving girls were different and about that one time someone called you a terrible terrible terrible word and how you hit him so hard he slipped and hit the back of his head on the ice. You want to tell her about split lips and your dead parents you can hardly remember the faces of and you want to tell her she makes you feel safe so safe so safe).
You want to tell her everything, tell her the only thing you sure of is her, but when you turn your head and meet her dark eyes, you think she must know because she kisses you and your teeth press tightly into her mouth.
She kisses you hard, eyes tightly shut and brows furrowed.
You don’t say anything because you think maybe she already knows.
It's too hot in your bed but you kiss her back and sleep with her in your arms because you can't let her go. Not yet.
//
When you wake up it's already very bright and Joel is making something in the small kitchen of your garage-turned-home. He's making a horrible noise as if on purpose, clashing pans, and singing.
When you lift your head off the pillow, he doesn't make eye contact. You don't have to look around to know Dina is not here and you close your eyes and hold back tears.
"The storm is over, kiddo," grumbles Joel as he turns the corner and sits carefully on your messy bed. (You hope he can't smell what you smell in the cold little apartment). "I made you something to eat before your patrol round".
You bite your tongue, hard, and nod.