( closed ) holding hands while the walls come tumbling down;

[disparage]

The best thing about summer is the fact that all the crazy crap that happens seems to slow down to a nice, smooth halt. Caroline can go back to being delusional and thinking she's a normal girl hanging out with a boy she now kind of likes more than she did about a year and a half ago. Tyler's turning into someone she can't quite tear her gaze from, and she's finding that she honestly doesn't mind it.

In her room sits a calendar on a dresser by her bed. Today's date has been circled, and in pen she's scribbled Full moon across it. She's not quite sure if Tyler's keeping track of the one thing that doesn't make him normal, but she has been. It fills her with anxiety when she realises what today will actually entail. Him transforming, with his bones breaking underneath him, is the worst sound and sight she's ever bared witness to. It's one thing that haunts her when she's asleep. Abandoning Tyler during his time of need, even if he won't openly admit it, is something Caroline will gladly swallow her discomfort for. When she needed a friend, she had no one to turn to; she refuses to allow the same for Tyler, regardless of how annoyingly stubborn he is or how confused he makes her feel when he gives her a particular smile.

That's why she's at the Lockwood mansion, knocking on the door with her perky demeanour revving on overdrive. Pushing Tyler to prepare himself is what she does best; Caroline enjoys taking the wheel and pulling people along to face the things they need to in order for her to avoid hers. It's turning around on her, though, as the one thing Tyler never wants to face seems to be the very thing she fears, too. "Open up, Lockwood! I can hear you in there shuffling around!" She chirps cheerily and gives the door another hard, impatient knock.

Comments

[unsired]

He dreams in muted colors, the washed pallete of a full moon. On all fours, he prowls the forest—black, leathery nose pressed to the hard earth, tracking her scent. It's a messy, dogged pursuit down to the riverbed but there she is at last—barefoot and wading out from the shallow water to meet him. His glassy golden eyes roll skyward and he feels his bones begin to shift and reform themselves back into a human shape; it is a brief and painless affair. He experiments with flexing his fingers, grasping at the open placket of her short denim coat as she nears, yanking her the rest of the way forward to land against his bare chest. Her slight but powerful arms move to encircle his neck and his hands resettle upon the delicate curve of her waist. "Caroline," he whispers aloud in the brief interim before she crushes her lips to his with such bruising force that he can't help but release a quiet whimper.

His mother's antique clock noisily heralds the turn of morning into afternoon from the upstairs hall, startling him from his deep and fevered sleep. For a moment Tyler can only lay there in perturbed silence while he takes shaky breaths. The tenting of his boxers has never been more apparent.

He's just barely managed to drag himself out of bed when he first hears the knock, shortly followed by the unmistakable chirp of her voice. Only half-dressed in loose cotton pants and with a toothbrush dangling haphazardly from out the corner of his mouth, he rips open the door and prepares to give her his best withering glare. "Impatient much?" he means to snap as well, but it only comes out as a strangely hoarse wheeze at the sight of her.

[disparage]

It's quick - and hopefully he misses it - the look she gives, starting from just below his navel travelling right up his chest to his face. Tyler's not one to be shy about being allergic to a shirt every now and then, but Caroline's always been so when it comes to noticing it. She ensures to keep her eyes firmly on his face, channelling all of her concentration into this one task that she almost misses spotting the details of his voice.

"Late much?" It's a bit weak, but she's eyeing the fact that he looks as though he's just fallen out of bed. She likes to think everyone is as prompt and timely as she is. It's something that's almost unnatural. Tilting her head, she squints her eyes as she teases, "Did I interrupt your beauty sleep?" It's then that she allows her gaze to flicker up his body, as if bringing forth the obvious gives her permission to pretend to not be noticing what she's obviously looking at.