She had moved out of his arms, almost like a shadow passing by him. He hadn’t expected her to leave, hadn’t wanted her to. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he had allowed himself to lose himself in someone. To actually put down his guard and be someone rather than a portrait of who he wanted to be, who he pretended to be. He wasn’t trying to hold her down, wasn’t trying to make her stay there with him but the solace it had brought was intoxicating. It wasn’t something that he could let go of so easily.
His eyes followed her as she walked about the small area. She was telling him something but her voice was far too soft for him to be able to make clear over the loud thoughts roaming in the center of his mind. But he watched her, far too closely. The way her hair moved with each one of her movements, the glance of her eyes to his, the conscience and almost timid movements of her body as she walked. She was every bit as beautiful as those works of art that he admired, that he had always loved. Art imitated life and yet he knew that not even the greatest work could capture what he was seeing now.
Was he blinded? He knew that some people would say he was. Shannon would. He would tell him to be careful. Maybe get to know her a little, sleep with her and walk away. But for him to feel this way so suddenly after not even an entire day? It was crazy even to himself. He wasn’t one to shy away from crazy though, he embraced it with every ounce of his being. Crazy and unusual were the things that made up the inner workings of ones self and seeing her now, he knew that was one hundred percent true.
“Do you believe in fate?” She questioned quite suddenly, lifting her voice as if she had known all the time she had been nearly whispering making it almost impossible for him to hear. But she was looking at him now, an expectant look in her eyes as she waited for him to answer. It looked almost like the question meant so much to her, as if it would make up the rest of how well they would know each other. Her fingers lifted and took the ends of her hair between them, twirling them carefully. It looked like a nervous habit. Was she unnerved right now? Had she shown too much?
He couldn’t help but wonder if there was a wrong or right answer. If there was a reason for her asking him. What was she thinking of? What was going through that head of hers that seemed so inspired, so sudden and sporadic? He thought about it, brows tensing just a little as he took small steps towards her, the boards beneath him too damp to creak, the wind passing in from the holes in the ceiling mussing the strands of his hair. It was cold, he could feel goose bumps run along his arms but he didn’t make an attempt to warm himself up. There wasn’t any reason to, he wasn’t even paying mind to it.
Her eyes followed him as he came closer to her. She seemed surprised by his approach but she didn’t move, didn’t even attempt to. He stopped in front of her, eyes down on hers and he nodded. He wasn’t sure in what form he believed in fate because there were so many reasons why he shouldn’t. He had paved his own way for so long, had been the one to catapult himself to where he was now. And yet the atmosphere right now, the melancholic draw that made him unable to look away from her made it seem like nothing else mattered but whatever had put this moment together. He hadn’t done it. He hadn’t been the one to make this happen. So who had? She couldn’t have. She seemed more unsure than he did.
“Somehow I do.” He whispered down to her and by the reflection of a glisten in her eyes he knew that there hadn’t been a right answer but there had been one that she had wanted to hear. He managed a breath of a smile that felt whole, true. He couldn’t remember the last time he had given somebody a part of himself but just by the single admittance he felt that she had taken something that he had given on over willingly.
She smiled in return, a soft and delicate one that he hadn’t expected. Her hand touched to his arm, fingers lightly trailing over his skin. She gently tugged his arm closer to her, hand resting on her waist now as she reached up and cupped his face in her hands. She was hesitating, her eyes never leaving his as she pressed herself to him. “I do too.” She whispered, her lips parted as a small breath escaped from between them, washing gently across his face. He wanted her there, his hand pressed against the small of her back, bringing her closer against his chest. He sighed at the feeling, the sweetness of her touch. He leaned down closer to her and whispered his lips to hers.
But just at the touch of her lips she was away from his arms. She shook her head, fingertips touching to her lips before her gaze met his again. There was a wave of hesitance silently emanating from him and he was left standing there confused, unsure if it meant that he had actually pressed this or not. He wanted to reach out for her again, feel the softness of her lips to his. But again she was shaking her head and she walked over to the small table next to the makeshift bed and pulled out a black sweater which she zipped on.
"I should take you back to your event.” She softly said, grabbing her keys and wandering off towards the door. He stood there a moment, brows tense before he turned to her, crossing the room and gently taking hold of her arm. She gasped lightly and turning around to face him, her eyes glistening with either with the reflected emotion of what he was feeling or with regret. She tried to take her arm from him but he didn’t let her go. He kept his grip light but he didn’t want to leave things like this. However things were now. Whatever this was.
“What if I don’t want to go back?” He questioned in all honesty. Going back meant letting go of these sudden feelings that had made tonight into something entirely different. Being around him had filled him with a longing for everything he had pushed away and all of that longing had culminated there in her eyes. How was he supposed to walk away from that like it hadn’t happened? Like she hadn’t pushed him towards feeling something, anything at all?
She shook her head and finally took her arm from his hold. Her hand rested flat against his chest, her eyes holding his as he again shook his head. “But you have to.” She whispered without much room at all for argument. She turned away from him and headed out to the staircase in the dilapidated building. He really had no choice but to follow after her, what he wanted left behind in that makeshift room that was filled with a quiet sorrow he wanted to chase away. Was it her sorrow or his that he could feel?
They made their way outside. The cold Winter air biting at their skin as she led the way to her bike. He sighed as he caught sight of his coat that she had thrown down from the roof. He leaned down, lifting it up. His hand reached into the pocket and drew his phone out, smoothing over the cracked screen. His eyes watched her get on the bike. Another low breath escaped him as he slipped his coat on and dropped the broken phone into his pocket. He got on behind her, hands holding onto her as she immediately started up the engine and wordlessly drove back the way they had come from.