AN: Not sure where this popped up from. Anyways, Naya's POV.

Disclaimer: This isn't real, I don't know how Heather and Naya spend their days, I don't know how they really feel…but in my world it's something like this:

I catch myself watching her again. I've been doing it since the day we met. She goes about her business, and I watch. Every move she makes mesmerises me, the flash of gold as she spins around navigating the choreography on set with ease, or the full on assault of blue as her eyes catch me staring, before she politely ends whatever conversation she's currently a part of, and heads my way.

I try not look, I'm desperate not to see. I barely trust myself not to look into those perfect crystalline eyes and just break, completely and totally shatter right there all over the sidewalk. Yet I can't stop myself.

Since the day I met her there has always been something captivating, something that drew me in, fascinated me. The fascination grew to want as we became closer, the want became love after she shared my bed, and over the period of time that followed, she stole my heart.

I feel guilty. I feel wrong. Most of all I feel scared, scared of what these feelings are doing to me, scared of how fragile I've become, how many nights I slink home to my apartment and just cry, plug in my earphones and cry until my head aches like hell and I fall into a deep exhausted sleep.

It all started innocently enough, until suddenly it wasn't anymore. Clothes came off too easily as she was all soft touches, milky skin, whispered words…she was all sleeping in my bed six nights a week, ordering for me whenever we got takeout, she was perfect… She is perfect. She is his.

I try not to look, but I can't help but watch. When she answers the phone, casts me that signature apologetic glance before she turns her back to me and leaves the room, it lights a fire inside my chest, one that burns slowly and constantly, and I swear it's incinerating my organs one by one, each day he has her and I don't.

I need to let her go. For her. For me. For everything… How can I possibly go on like this? How could I ever go on without her. From the day we met, she's always been the soft to my hard, the light to my dark, the blue to my brown, the Heather to my Naya… How do I even start to learn to say goodbye to that?

I know she feels it too. When she lets go, in the privacy of my room, the safety of my sheets, when her golden hair splays out on my pillow and her ocean blue eyes gaze up at me from behind hooded lids, we talk without words. Sometimes we talk with words too, "You're my life Naya", that's what she tells me, she says "I love you" and it rolls off her tongue so easily. Then he's calling her, and she's jumping up, running away from me again, that oh so familiar apology in her eyes.

I should stop. We should stop. But we can't. We need each other like we need oxygen; it's a non-negotiable, un-deniable demand, a necessity. I listened patiently as one drunken night she explained all the reasons why we could never officially be what we so clearly are. I forced myself to keep the pain from my eyes as she talked about her family, the press, things people expected from her, obligations I could see weighing so heavy on her shoulders. She couldn't hide the pain in hers as she looked back at me, and I could see it all – the giant tear in her heart, torn between what she desperately wants and needs and all that she feels she has to be.

So now I watch. I tell myself it's enough. I try so hard to mould myself, to be what she needs, to somehow force my feelings back beyond the boundaries of platonic, to take back my undying and unconditional love, my fascination, my adoration. Then she looks at me, her eyes easily finding mine through whatever crowd or situation surrounds us, and when I see everything I feel reflected there, and I know that this isn't something we can fight.

I long to run to her, take her in my arms, kiss her until we can't breathe. I ache, burn, scream, desperate to tell her, this is it, what we have, it's that epic love, that fairy tale happy ending that every one dreams of but doesn't truly dare to believe exists. I want to scream so loud, I want to cry and kick and scream until she hears me. Yet when we're finally alone, and she melts into my arms, her lips brushing mine, I don't even have to whisper, but I know that she does hear me, and that she knows it too.

So I watch, and I break, every time he calls, or worse comes to stay. Every day I cant have her, cant hold her, every time I have to catch myself, pull back, reign myself in, it breaks a chunk off of me. Every time we finally give in, let it take over us, let ourselves just be, uninterrupted, uncensored, those pieces are all brought back together, and with every kiss, every touch, every whispered word, she makes me whole again.

I know this on-going repetition of total destruction then painstaking, repair is damaging. I can feel the scars it leaves on my heart with every consecutive cycle, I know one day it will consume me, but I just can't stop. I'm looking, and I'm watching. She's moving effortlessly to the beat. The swing of her hips, the shine on her hair, the sparkle in her eyes, the knowing look when her gaze catches mine – she is everything. Without her I'm nothing, my life would be nothing.

Slowly I feel myself breaking more and more, I'm getting harder and harder to piece back together, yet I know that I'll let it go on until I'm broken beyond repair, because I'm just not capable of stopping. She's the force that makes my world spin, the gravity that keeps me coming back to her, the sun that lights my days and the stars that make my nights beautiful. She's my unbreakable addiction, one I know I'll never break because I'm never going to want to.

This is intended as a one-shot, but if you want more, my other story 'She's Beautiful – I'm Breaking' is very similar, but from Heather's POV with a Happy Ending.

Reviews are love. They are basically the catalyst for me to write more Heya, so holler if you like :). Apologies for the angst. Thanks for reading.