This story is being reposted from 2012 as part of this endeavor. It’s been lightly edited for spelling, punctuation, grammar and for clarity. See the original here.
Angel’s curse really is a curse. It’s going to take some time for Cordy to come to terms with that.
1361 words | [PG]
I watch him, the way he moves around the edge of the room instead of entering the center where I am. I smile, rolling my eyes. He’s so predictable sometimes.
“Don’t be such a baby.”
“Cordy, I don’t-”
I huff, blowing my bangs up, then cross the room and grab his arm. “It’s not the end of the world.”
I watch the emotions play across his face—horror, terror, confusion, embarrassment. He thinks he’s so good at hiding them behind that impassive expression. But his eyes give him away. I can see right through the façade. Sometimes without much effort. I’m starting to think he’s not trying as hard to keep things from me anymore.
He takes a deep breath as if to settle his nerves. Not that he needs to breathe. I’ve long since stopped thinking of him as different, though. Angel’s just a guy. A guy with the emotional maturity of a ten-year-old.
“Like this.” I grab his right hand, slipping it around my waist, and take his other in my right hand. We start to move around the room, circling and turning. He’s more graceful than you would think looking at him. And he isn’t stepping on my toes. I frown at him, but he’s looking anywhere other than me. “You’ve done this before.”
His eyes dart around, finally resting on my shoulder. “Maybe,” he mumbles. Read more…