A Fairy Out of Her Tale - Dear Diary - 36. Scene 36

14-15th January 1995

Dear Diary of Romantic Dreams,

Lydia is sleeping next to me on the bed, though unfortunately we’re both wearing our pyjamas and we haven’t done anything remotely sexual yet. At least it’s not for lack of interest (that was all we talked about for the last hour before going to sleep). It’s those annoying stitches that keep me from doing any vigourous activity least they burst open (again) and chaos reigns supreme. We had to limit ourselves to kissing and light touching and I don’t know how long it’s going to take for me to ignore the risks and go for it anyway.

Because, let me tell you, Lydia is not meant to be resisted.

It’s some ridiculously early time in the morning (or late at night?), still dark outside, and I can’t sleep. Watching Lydia’s chest rise and fall under the covers is relaxing, and her presence next to my body fills me with warmth (I’m sure it’s not just the body hair). But I still can’t close my eyes and let my dreams take over. As much as I’m enjoying this, something doesn’t feel right.

Maybe I’m just afraid a nightmare will come and spoil everything? What if I dream about Lydia dying the way Mamoru did? Or what if I dream of killing her like I killed Morumpi?

She knows what I did, by the way. It was easier to tell her the details than it was to talk to the police. She thinks it wasn’t my fault either and sees no problem in being my friend. I wasn’t going to try changing her mind, but I’m not sure how much I like how everyone is so dismissive of murder, as if the fact that Morumpi would’ve otherwise taken me away against my will erases its consequences.

I don’t want to talk about depressing stuff. Why am I always talking about depressing stuff? The more I talk about it, the more I think about it. So if I don’t talk about it, I won’t have to think about it, and I’ll be a much happier person ready to grab Lydia’s joystick (and much more) as soon as the stitches come off.

Good. We have a plan.

And I’ll chase the bad thoughts away by talking about things that make me happy, like going into Lydia’s room after breakfast and finding her reading a book about fairies. She opened a huge smile when she saw me and helped me sit on her bed (her dwarf-size bed that can barely fit half of my body).

‘Nessa! What a nice surprise! But how did you get up here? Didn’t Lóránt say you weren’t supposed to go up the stairs?’

‘Nobody saw me,’ I answered as she lifted my shirt to make sure Lóránt’s bandages had no red stains on them. ‘I walked all around my floor to find your room, but I only saw doors with Kris’s and Unn’s nametags, so I guessed you had to be on the top floor. Then I took my time climbing the steps, and here I am.’

‘You seem fine.’ Her “inspecting” hand touched my nipple. Hopefully on purpose. ‘But what do I owe the honour of your visit on this fine morning?’ She sat next to me and I turned my body to face her. We filled the whole bed that way, so I used the lack of space as an excuse to inch close enough to her that our knees touched.

She came even closer.

This should’ve been the moment when I told her she had eyes as beautiful as a tiger’s, lips as full and sweet as a ripe berry, and a body to die for (excess hair aside, anyway). I could’ve told her how much I had been obsessing about kissing said lips and worshipping her naked body. Instead, my pick-up line went something like this:

‘I want to grab your joystick, and I think you want to grab mine.’

I cringe at the memory. Hide in shame. But won’t deny its veracity.

Because, thankfully, that turned out to be the right kind of pick-up line for a dwarf. ‘Direct and straight to the point. Finally. You have no idea how much I waited for someone who doesn’t try to coat their wishes in flowery language. That said, I assumed if anyone was going to use flowery language, it would be a fairy.’

My face must have had a very clear “shut up and kiss me” expression, because that was exactly what she did.

I think Lydia is waking up. She’s mumbling about annoying scratchy noises next to her ear. Maybe she can hear us talking? I thought I was quiet enough. Maybe dwarves have better hearing than I do?

Anyway, gonna go before she wakes up. Talking to you gave me plenty of things to “““think””” about.

Thanks for reading!
Is this the beginning of a magic love story? Is Lydia's Nessa's Prince(ss) Charming?
Time for Nessa to be swept off her feet and enjoy all the great things about having a crush on someone. At least once said crush wakes up...
Now the only thing that could potentially get on their way is a silly house rule such as "there is to be no intimate contact between housemates". I mean, what kind of sick soul would come up with a rule like that in a house built to keep a bunch of teenagers away from trouble? They should've known that the teens would look for trouble anyway, and a rule like that is just the excuse they needed.
Right?
Well, you can see how Nessa takes the first morning of her new love life on Sunday. Unless, of course, you're suddenly overcome with a wish to become my patron and read right now, as well as enjoy countless other trivia and never published material on Nessa's and other stories. The link is on my profile.
Shameless publicity over, go on enjoy your weekend! See you Sunday,