Tommy
She sat there, small and fragile against the weight of the world, her fingers curled around each other. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she held herself like she had to carry everything alone.
I reached for her anyway. My hand brushed hers, and she didn't pull away. She let me take it, let me hold it, and somehow, that simple connection felt like an anchor in the middle of all the chaos.
"Emma," I whispered, my voice low, "you don't have to carry it all by yourself."
Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and searching. The fight in her gaze softened for just a moment, and my chest tightened. I wanted her to know she could trust me with the part of her nobody else ever saw.
I lifted my other hand slowly, letting it hover near her cheek before brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. My thumb lingered there, brushing lightly over her skin. The warmth of her face under my hand made my heartbeat stutter.
"I wish…" I started, swallowing hard, "I wish I could make it easier for you. Make the world quieter, just for a while. For you."
Her lips parted slightly, and I leaned closer, my forehead resting lightly against hers. The scent of her hair, the faint smell of pine from the woods, everything about her pulled me in.
"Tommy…" she breathed, and it was the softest sound, hesitant, like a question.
I kissed her again, slower this time. Not just a brush of lips, but a kiss that lingered, gentle and careful, exploring something I didn't have words for yet.
Her hand twined into mine, fingers threading tightly as if holding on would keep the world at bay. My other hand cupped her face softly, thumbs tracing her cheekbones, memorizing the shape of her.
I gently pushed my tongue against her lips, and she opened them to let me in. I stroked her tongue with mine, feeling and tasting her, savouring the sensations. She reciprocated and I groaned at the feeling. I put one hand behind her head, holding her closer to me, my other hand slid around her waist.
When we finally pulled back, just a fraction, we stayed pressed together, foreheads still touching. Neither of us spoke, but our breaths mingled, hearts hammering in sync. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could see the storm of thoughts behind her eyes — fear, hope, something fragile and fierce all at once.
"I…" I started, voice breaking slightly, "I just… I don't want to lose this. You."
She squeezed my hand, and a small, uncertain smile tugged at her lips.
"Me neither," she whispered.
For a moment, the world outside the woods didn't exist. There was only us, the soft rustle of leaves, and the quiet promise that we'd found something neither of us had expected — but couldn't imagine letting go of.
We stayed like that for a few moments longer, foreheads pressed together, arms around each other. My chest was still pounding, but there was a warmth spreading through me that I couldn't name.
Then, almost without thinking, I tried to break the tension. "Okay… serious question," I said, grinning nervously. "Why did the mushroom get invited to the party?"
Emma pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching. "I don't know… why?"
"Because he's a fun-gi." I winced at my own words, but I had to say it.
And then she laughed. An open-mothed laugh that made her whole face light up. Her shoulders shook slightly, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
I laughed too, relief flooding me, because it was impossible to look at her and not smile.
Her eyes softened after, but there was a flicker of something else there — shyness, maybe, or worry. I reached up slowly and brushed her cheek again, thumb lingering, just to see if she would let me. She did.
I leaned closer, and this time, our lips met again, slow and gentle. My hands held hers firmly now, threading our fingers together, grounding both of us. I pressed my lips lightly to her jaw, and moved round to her neck behind her ear, careful, savoring the way her skin felt under my touch.
When we pulled back, I whispered, "You're… amazing, you know that?"
Emma's cheeks flushed deeper, and she looked down at our hands, squeezing mine. "Stop saying things like that," she murmured, but I caught the tiniest, shy smile tugging at her lips.
"I can't help it," I admitted softly. "You make me feel… I don't know… like everything else just fades away."
She let out a breath, half laugh, half sigh, and shook her head. "I should get Zoey home… she'll be hungry."
I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. "Yeah… of course. I'll walk you back if you want."
She shook her head quickly. "No, I'll be fine."
I grinned anyway, feeling like the luckiest fool alive, because even if I didn't get to hold her hand all the way home, I'd had this — this little stolen world where it was just us.
And somehow, that was enough.
Emma
The path back from the woods felt different somehow. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, painting patches of gold on the ground, but I barely noticed. My mind was tangled up in Tommy — the way his hand felt in mine, the warmth of his lips, the way he kissed me and looked at me like I mattered.
I held Zoey close, feeling her little fingers curl around mine, but even she couldn't anchor me completely. My chest still fluttered from the kiss, from the way he had put his arms around me without hesitation, like he wanted to protect me from everything, even the things I couldn't say out loud.
I couldn't stop thinking about the way he smiled when I laughed at his corny joke. The way he'd whispered my name, so soft it made the back of my neck tingle. And that hand… brushing my cheek, holding my hand. I had never felt like anyone had looked at me that way before — not my friends, not my family, not anyone.
It scared me a little, how much I wanted it. How much I wanted him. The world I lived in at home felt heavier than ever after that. Mum shouting, looking after Zoey, Teddy probably getting into trouble, the twins climbing something they shouldn't be — it all pressed against me like a weight. And yet, thinking about Tommy, about the woods, it all seemed bearable, even small.
I knew our feelings were growing. Every time I saw him, every laugh, every brush of his hand against mine, it was building into something I wasn't sure I was ready for — but didn't want to stop. I bit my lip, trying to steady my thoughts, trying to make sense of the dizzy, fluttering mess inside me.
He made me feel seen, not like the eldest of five, not like a girl trying to survive a house ruled by shouting and empty bottles, not like someone who had to be invisible to get through the day. Just… me. Emma.
I tried to imagine telling him things — everything I kept locked inside — without feeling small or weak. I wanted him to know me, all of me, even the messy parts, even the parts that didn't feel worthy.
A breeze rustled the leaves above, and I let out a shaky breath, a small smile tugging at my lips. I could still feel him there, lingering in my chest, and I realized something I hadn't admitted even to myself before:
I didn't want this to end. Not the summer. Not the woods. Not him.
I reached home, but my heart stayed behind in the clearing, with him.