Title: Sun Kissed.

Rating: PG-13 (Language)

Summary: It was our first, behind it so many secrets, but then in that moment, nothing could ever matter more than this…

Disclaimer: I own the Characters and the story line but in all events please remember that this is F I C T I O N and that none of it is real. All bands mentioned, TV programmes and possibly Countries or Cities are real and I do not own them, any quotes used are owned by their author but have been labelled accordingly.

Please note: No characters were hurt in the making of this story, how ever by all legal rights the author will not take responsibility for the actions of some members. The actors in this story are professionals and have been trained to perform these stunts. Please do not attempt to re-enact anything you have seen today.

A/N: There is no gender preference so you can imagine it to be who ever you want, although I did actually have M/F kinda in mind but what ever works best for you also any supposed "Spelling" or "Grammar" mistakes are due to the fact that I'm English and this is set in England... go figure.

Enjoy the Show.

“You know we’ve been going together for like 2 weeks.…”- Donnie Darko.

Sun Kissed

Only fools rush in, a true saying if you believe in all the sparkle of Hollywood. I always quite liked Marilyn Monroe and Frank Sinatra, their voices always seemed to make me perky, especially on the tough days. Those tough days seemed to be around the most in the summer; then again old Blue eyes always did have a summery voice.

Deftones, Puddle of Mudd, Hundred Reasons and even Lost Prophets… I prefer punk mainly but those bands are definitely worth the listen in the summer, they just make the whole season just right, especially when you’re driving around in your car, the sun blazing down and your air conditioning is out of whack. I thought about that a lot as we spent our days together, laughing and joking under the summer sun. True to say this is not LA, hell this isn’t even America, but we always said we’d take the trip and find ourselves one day. Yeah so Brighton is no LA, it’s not exactly brilliant, but it’s home to me. It’s only home because of you though, and maybe the Gay Pride Festival in August.

We grew up together, and yeah okay we haven’t exactly always been friends, I mean you had your gang and I had mine, then there was that thing with the spider and the toad…

But now we’re stuck together just like glue, brought together by our love for punk and black clothes. I was there when you got your conch pierced; you were there when I sat in one of the bathrooms of the Churchill Square shopping centre trying to stop my newly pierced lip from bleeding.

Boy those were fun times.

We spent a lot of time together, whether with our other friends or just the two of us, you were there when I died my hair black and got it cut like Brody Dalle, I was there when you ripped a hole in your jeans. I remember us joking about it under the summer night’s sky, a beer in our hands as we lounged around on your front yard.

We weren’t that different I guess, personality wise anyway, we were both real calm but really loud when we wanted to be. Appearance wise it was totally different, we were nothing alike. I was short, you were tall, I had longish black hair, you had short black hair, your eyes were warm brown and always trimmed with dark thick lashes, my eyes were blue and always trimmed with black make up. Your lips were thin and bowed shape, my were full and slightly red. Our skin was the same colour, really pale, well until we forgot to put the sun cream on one time and ended up getting burnt bright red, we couldn’t stop laughing for ages about that one. We both liked the same bands as well, Amen, The Distillers, Mötley Crüe. We used to argue for hours over which song was the best of all our albums.

I still say Hello…by Amen, you know I love that song too much.

I always liked to sit on the seats just outside the shopping mall, it was the only place I could go to have a cigarette in peace, well if you call hundreds of people milling around on a Saturday afternoon peaceful. You always sat with me and chatted away, usually about this great gig you heard about at one of our favourite bars here or in Eastbourne. Sometimes you would even beg me to go with you, to spend the night around yours just so we could go to a party or something. Sometimes I would agree, just so I didn’t have to go home, and sometimes I couldn’t say yes, because of what was going on back at home.

You always knew things were tough for me, although you never pushed me to talk about it, I guess you were afraid of what I would tell you, so you usually just said nothing. Not even when I broke down crying in the bathroom of the cinema in Eastbourne did you say anything, you just hugged me and dried my eyes, making a small joke about my mascara running.

You always knew how to make me smile.

It seems a lot of our important events happen in bathrooms of public places. Like the time we had that argument in the bathroom of the shopping centre, over red lipstick of all things. You said it would look too girly, I said Brody wore it, you said that Brody was a girl then I asked you what the point was. We ended up laughing and running out, leaving the lipstick I had nicked from Boots in the sink, the tap still running.

Then there was the changing fiasco in the bathrooms of Coffee Republic. You had spilt coffee all down your favourite top, and made a right scene about it too. It was just lucky we had managed to go shopping and you had bought a new top. You decided to change in the cubicles, whilst demanding I stayed out and kept an eye out for anyone. Next thing I heard was a loud thud before you burst into a fit of giggles, refusing to answer the door to me as I banged on it loudly.

You had fallen over and gotten your soiled t-shirt wrapped around your head…

So why should this time be any different? Why should the situation have to be different, if it’s tradition for our most memorable times to take place in public bathrooms then surely this time is no different. Lord knows that, well we’ve been in trouble more than a few times for using the wrong bathrooms, this time not being an exception. The security guard must have yelled at us five times for it but still we didn’t care. We were in the pub, that one we always go to, the one where they have a security guard because fights are always breaking out.

I was standing at the sinks washing my hands. I didn’t have a bag with me, just my credit card in my pocket and my cigarettes in the pocket of my black hooded jacket. You were looking in the mirror, admiring the new ball on your lip ring, which oddly enough was the same style as the ball on your conch bar. You had this thing about keeping things the same, everything had to match. I told you this as I decided to touch up my mascara and eye shadow just a little.

“I just don’t see the point in having all these different colours.” You tell me, stepping back to admire your brand new red T-shirt with Kung-Fu fighter stencilled in white on the front. “If I only ever where black, red and green, what’s the point of choosing different colours?”

“Yeah but the pinks balls look cool.” I answer as I shove my make up back into my pockets and sink to the floor, resting against the wall. “Would you quit admiring yourself? You look beautiful enough as it is.”

You smirk and regard me for a moment before playing with your fringe a little, making sure it comes over your left eye a little, the strands shiny with gel. Then to play with the back a little, spiking the short strands a little, so it looks like you want it to. I just watch you, chipping off the nail polish on my nails and considering that maybe red is not a good colour as nail polish and to just stick with black.

“You think that security guard will be back?” You ask as you sit down next to me, crossing your legs and I draw my knees up to my chest.

“Probably.” I answered, brushing the shards of acrylic from my jeans and looking at you, not at all surprised by how close you were.

I could see every shade of down in your eyes, I could see the tiny flecks of chestnut around the pupil which were soon swallowed by the dark bitter chocolate brown which was also the same colour as your natural hair. You smile a little when you realise I’ve been staring, your eyelids sliding down a little as your gaze falls just that little bit on my face.

“How long have we been friends?” You ask me in a quiet voice, a soft comforting voice that made me shiver mentally.

“Five years.” I answer almost silently, my eyes studying your face, taking in the dimples that appeared as you smiled almost shyly, the way your eyes creased a little as the smile lit up your face.

“That’s such a long time.” You sigh as if you have heard heart-breaking news. “Do you know that the average a friendship will last between two people is three years?”

“Really?” I look at you surprised.

You smile again and shake your head. “No I’m just making it up… I just wondered why we always stayed friends for so long and never took it any further.”

“Maybe because we feel we don’t have to.” I answered again, realising that once again your warm brown eyes are studying my face with that mysterious emotion. “Or maybe we’ve been too afraid to venture further, in fear of losing what we already have.”

“You mean our friendship?”

I nod a little, unable to look away from you, the way the light caught your eyes amazing, the way your skin glowed so softly was almost breath taking.

“Don’t you ever wonder what it’s like to kiss though?” You ask me in this slow manner that makes me wonder if suddenly you’re uncertain.

“I guess, sometimes.” I reply in the same slow manner.

You lean a little closer, your breath tickling my skin as your eyes flitter over my face as if you’re looking for something there.

“Do you think giving it would change anything?” You ask at a low murmur.

“Yeah,” I answer softly. “I think it’ll change everything between us.”

“But I still want to try it.” You whisper.

“I know.” I whisper back, my gaze settling on your lips which are now so close, so very close that I swear I can almost taste you now, my nerves buzzing, almost stinging as I wonder if this is just a dream, or if this real. “Me too.”

I forget everything; everything that I thought would bug me when I kissed someone. I forget the thing about parting your lips at the right time, making sure your breath doesn’t smell bad, the things about how to kiss properly. All I can think about is your lips and how close they are, how close you are and that I couldn’t care less if things change after this.

Then I felt it, that small chill, like the sea breeze pushing away the heat of the summer, dancing across my hot skin. I felt velvet against my lips, melding against my own as if they fit perfectly. I felt your skin brush up against mine as the kiss became deep, your lips massaging against mine as our lips parted, our tongues coming out to trace each other shyly. You tasted like vanilla ice cream, the type you can only get from that ice cream shop in Eastbourne, the stuff that makes you melt and moan in delight.

I melted.

I felt your hand run into my hair, your long fingers tangling themselves into my lock, almost as if you were keeping me still, silently encouraging me. I ran my own fingers over your jaw line, resting my fingers there delicately, letting my thumb stroke your skin softly as we ran our tongues together, more confidently, tasting each other exploring what we had never experienced before. Your touch alone sent chills down my neck, across my scalp making me gasp a little into the kiss, your teeth grazing over my lower lip, tugging slightly making me shiver slightly.

Then you pulled back, allowing the kiss to linger, your lips leaving mine so slowly as you sat back a little licking your lips. I followed, still tasting your delicate flavour on my lips, lingering like a memory. I smiled a little at the stinging sensation in my lips, the redness of your normally pale lips, the small flush that had now filled your pale cheeks. You looked amazing, your hair slightly messed from our activities, mine probably no better.

“How do you feel?” You ask softly.

I smile a little more, looking at you through a haze. “Different… you…”

You nod an agreement. “Different, but good.”

“Yeah.” I answer softly nodding a little also.

“Maybe we could do it again some time.”

I nod just before your lips connect with mine again, the world around us falling away as this became all that mattered to me, and to you. Because it was our first, behind it so many secrets, but then in that moment, nothing could ever matter more than this…

You're here by my side, in the summer, our last summer The world passes by in the summer, our last summer The light makes shadows fall, surrounded by each other Alive to watch it all, THE view from our last summer THE view from our last summer...- Lost Prophets.