When he meets her, she's fire and lightning and she does what she wants. She's angry and ready to fight for everything she has, even though no one has threatened to take it away from her. She's unpredictable. Hot headed. He dislikes her instantly but he's intrigued. She's brilliant and snarky and sarcastic and he doesn't understand what would make someone like her so angry at literally everything. Okay, not everything, but certainly a lot. Because, here's the thing: he sees her, everyday, eyebrows drawn tightly together, bronze hair curling at her chin, eyes sharp and defiant. He sees her just like the rest of the world sees her. But then there are times, when she's alone and she thinks the rest of the world has found something more interesting to look at, and she changes completely. And suddenly, she's quiet and soft and she hides behind the stands of hair she lets fall in her face. Her mask falls away only when she's sure no one is looking and then she's the girl who sits under trees and reads in between the roots, letting the sunlight kiss a face that's become pale from the cover she wears so regularly. She doesn't realize that when she's like this, there is one person in the whole world who is looking at her. And it's him.
When she meets him, he's somehow loose and alert at the same time. Relaxed and active simultaneously. He jokes with such ease, the way she does only when she's in her own head. But he's bouncing off the walls, fingers twitching, searching for something, something interesting enough to hold his attention for more than a minute or two. And for some unfathomable reason, he's decided it's her. She's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen and he gives her all the attention he has, which turns out to be quite a lot. He'll joke and his eyes flash to her, gleaming and brimming with pride and she'll give him a light smirk and he makes her feel like she is the goddamn sun. He is the boy who never pays enough attention to the rest of the world, save one thing. And it's her.
And so they become each other's experiments, somehow dancing together, yet never making contact. She starts to slide away her mask (only slightly, mind you) when she knows he is watching. He slowly starts to relax (really relax) only when she is near him. Complete opposites, fire and water, find sanctuary in each other’s company. And the best part is, it's just between them. An unspoken promise to keep the other a secret. It's something neither of them really understands, but they follow it unquestionably.
Then, something changes. Someone says something to him, something a little too harsh, and she's there at his side, snapping out a sharp insult that does nothing to help the situation, but she does it for him. The offender is right there with another rude comment, again directed at the boy she’s now standing in front of. He gently touches her arm, a soft signal to stand down, and she does, still fuming, but she listens to him. The rest of the class is bewildered because she never steps down and he never touches.
It happens again a few days later when someone grabs the girl’s book and tosses it to the ground after school. Before she can verbally dismember the other student, he is next to her, snarling out something nearly unintelligible through his rage. They are gone in an instant, having never seen him like this. He picks up the book, making a show of brushing off the cover with an imaginary feather duster before handing it back to her with a smile. She rolls her eyes and bows to him. As she straightens again, there is something in their eyes that can't be explained, but it's there.
Love? No, because who could teach a wildfire to love?
Friendship? No, because who could teach a flood not to give it its all?
Stuck in the infinite orbit, they draw each other close and then spiral away. Finally, she makes the decision for both of them. He’s agreed with her for a while now but he’d wait eternities for her. She holds ever so still as she lets him take off her mask, fingers curling under the thin marble and peeling it away from her tender skin. And no one has ever done this before because no one would dare, but she lets him be the first. She wants him to be the first because he knows her in ways few others do. She’ll lie with a silver tongue to anyone who will listen and as hard as she tries to hide it, a heart of pure gold pumps crimson mercury through her veins. He sees this, even when she’s forgotten how to look.
She gives him something in return because that’s what you do when you’re given a precious gift. Hers is something that can only be given once, and when she kisses him (without the pale, glossy lips of the masquerading facade she’s grown so used to), it feels safe. Like she was supposed to be with boy, this insane, bewildering, genius of a boy, since the very beginning.
They are opposites, and, by definition, how can they exist without the other?