[ It's easy to get lost when the ball drops at midnight. There's a loud Happy New Year! and kisses too, some chaste and some not, and maybe there are looks and sentiments exchanged but in the end Laurie doesn't give a fuck about any of these things.
A back-turned is all the opportunity she needs. Her hand drifts through the air, in and out through open spaces and bodies that don't belong to who she's looking for. Finally, her fingers wriggle and curl to clutch tight around the offending wrist— the other hand circles around to cup tight around their eyes. The force behind her touch is hard not numbing, forceful the way a predator means to keep their newest friend in place.
On tip-toe Laurie leans in, whispering into their ear with a tenderness she isn't capable of replicating in touch. ]
LAURIE | common room (the stroke of midnight)
A back-turned is all the opportunity she needs. Her hand drifts through the air, in and out through open spaces and bodies that don't belong to who she's looking for. Finally, her fingers wriggle and curl to clutch tight around the offending wrist— the other hand circles around to cup tight around their eyes. The force behind her touch is hard not numbing, forceful the way a predator means to keep their newest friend in place.
On tip-toe Laurie leans in, whispering into their ear with a tenderness she isn't capable of replicating in touch. ]
Happy New Year.