"I was waiting," she says once they get down the hill, "but you never did anything." "Should I have?" She laughs so suddenly, so loudly, he seems to shake with the boom of it. "Done something!" "Kissed you?" / ShikaTema short tumblr drabbles

"Actually," he says, "that's just how we met again. It's a long story of how we really met." He pauses and then grins in his holier-than-thou way and finishes, "would you like to hear it?"

That's not your first love, she wants to say. Your first love isn't the time you became conscious of another in a sexual manner. It isn't your first crush. The first time you feel butterflies and heartbeats over someone. Your first love is the first time you feel your heart stop beating.