Warning: Mild Content

"Wybie," she repeats.

"C-coraline."

And of all the things to blush about, the young woman's cheeks softly redden, a light combination of amaranth and cerise, at that. It's a known fact that he rarely calls her by her actual birth name. Simply, an unspoken rule amongst the pair and the rest of the quaint town.

"It's okay."

"…I know."

Coraline slides her hand against the side of his face. "Then open your eyes."

They are in her bedroom: the shades drawn, creating dark shadows across the small room, which would normally echo the teenager's personality in every shape and form. However, any remnants of Coraline Jones are packed away in sinopia cardboard boxes, strewn about the wooden floor. The walls are bare, void of her rock band posters, her windowsill empty, void of her button collection, and shelves unoccupied, void of books, magazines, and newspapers. But the bed remains in the middle of the room, snuggled against the wall, with the old origami birds still hanging from the posts.

And that is where they sit, cross-legged, in their undergarments.

"This okay?" she murmurs as her long fingers trace shapes onto his chest and she can see it rising and falling, rapidly.

His green eyes fly open but he merely nods.

Coraline's hands wander as she traces lower, down to his abdomen, and then up to his arms. Her skin is pale, crisscrossed with freckles, and is a stark contrast to his mahogany tone. She can see the muscle in his forearms and she pauses there for a moment, before running both hands down and tangling them with his. Her heart is beating faster but she is surprisingly composed, collected, and calm.

"I want you," she moves his hands and places them against her chest, "to touch me."

And he's tremendously nervous, Coraline knows, the way his eyes are quite large and his unusual silence, but she wants this, perhaps needs this, to happen before her parents drive her tomorrow morning to Michigan State University. The periwinkle-haired girl had truly never thought of it before and when they went to the twins', Maureen and Daureen, party earlier that night, the crowds had laughed at their Friends With No Benefits relationship.

"You two…" Maureen slurred, "…you two have really never banged?"

Wybie jerked his head back suddenly but Coraline simply shrugged. "What's it to you, Mo?"

The girl laughed but it was a little while later that she grasped Wybie's hand and he's grateful – he's still never truly comfortable in such scenes – as he gave her a quick squeeze but along the way she led him to the Pink Palace Apartments. It was indisputable that he already knew once they opened the front door.

But the young woman isn't exactly certain why she does it: guides his quivering hands to unclasp her bra, slips off his boxers, and sprinkles kisses everywhere. All the eighteen year old is quite sure of is the odd yet warm feeling blossoming throughout her entire body – from the tips of her wiggling toes to the very top of her head. Because it's Wyborn, her childhood friend and neighbor, who's making her feel this way. Wyborn, who's hesitantly nipping her neck and grazing his lips across her collarbone. And once she wraps her legs around his waist, inviting him in, she utterly wishes that she hadn't already done this before.

"Wybie…"

It's all rather slow, a bit awkward, but soft and by the time they are done, the pair are resting on their backs, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars glued on her ceiling. The window is cracked opened, allowing the rhythms of lightening bugs and night trucks to flutter in and accompany their heavy breathing. Blinking a few times, Coraline Jones ponders if she'll regret –

"Remember…remember when we put on that play for Miss Spink and Miss Forcible after their dog died?" Wybie shifts under the covers. "I thought it was so stupid. Tried to talk you out of it, too, but you were so determined" –

"You mean bossy?"

His mouth curls up fleetingly. "Made some BS excuse that people who ignore emotional pain wind up wasting their time or something. We got into a fight but, like, two days later you swung by with tickets to some art festival."

Coraline closes her eyes briefly. How did it get so far away? She turns, facing him, but he remains fixed. "I don't want anything to change either."

It takes him a few breaths, approximately seven and a half, until he turns and faces her so they are nose to nose. There are many words rambling away in the two young adults' heads – confessions, secrets, and declarations – yet they remain oddly quiet.

"Coraline," he says softly and gulps. "Coraline Jones."

She opens her mouth, yet closes it, resembling a fish.

There is much left to explore, wherever this is heading, but the weary travelers don't say a word and remain grateful for the dark.

A/N: And on that note...c'est fini! Thanks so much for all who's reviewed, followed, and favorited! A special thanks to "Kiss of the Breeze" and her awesome comments and suggestions :) Even though this fandom is pretty quiet, you guys have been a pleasure to write for. It's been fun continuing Coraline's world and I totally wish it was real. You know, without the Bedlam...