FicWad

I can feel eyes on me, burning ice cold. It isn't something I'm comfortable with, but I continue to sing. I'm used to the gazes of many, but I've never felt anything this intense. It's threatening to take my breath away. I managed to keep on singing somehow, even though my heart is racing. As I'm nearing the end of the song, the gaze disappears and the pressure from my chest is gone.

By the time the concert is over and I've gone backstage, the gaze is a distant memory, until I feel it on my back, causing my muscles to tense. I turn around slowly and find ice blue eyes examining me. He flashes me a warm, sunny smile, making the room feel hotter.

"I was impressed with your singing." He's sweet sounding, like maple syrup and butter melted together.

I'm startled, but quickly regain myself. "I'm always impressive."

A light chuckle, his fingers brushing against his lips. "But, you seemed troubled." I find myself stopping a moment, not sure how to respond. I feel like some pathetic boy talking to the most popular girl in school. "Was it stage fright?"

"Your eyes." It sounds stupid, but strangely enough I don't regret saying it. "I felt your eyes on me."

"So you are blaming it on my eyes?" He's moved closer to me and is radiating warmth and cold all at once.

"Why are you here?" One of his fingers is on my cheek, an ice cold brand, leather gloves rough against my skin. "Going to threaten me?"

Now his other hand is on the other side of my face. "So rough, so vulgar." His face is close to mine, cool breathe against my lips. "We need to work on that."

I press my forehead against his and close my eyes. "Only when you stop being such a control freak."

"Do you have a death wish?" His lips are brushing against mine as he speaks, like cold marble.

"Do you?" I kiss him, trying to warm his lips or maybe my own. He's cold, sweet, warm, melting, soft and every other word I can think of. His hands are running over my neck, scratchy leather contrasting the soft flesh it covers.

When we finally break apart, he giggles. "I could always finish what I started and kill you."

"Then go ahead and make my day." If he thinks I'm going down without a fight, or without him, he has another thing coming.

"So aggressive." One of his hands is touching my face again. "You're lucky I find you so amusing." He removes his hand and turns away, leaving me cold. "Keep amusing me and you'll stay alive." As he leaves, I can feel all the warmth going with him and the moment he's gone, the room feels like an ice box.