a/n this is my first fanfic posted here, so if you like please R&R and if its liked enough I will write more to go along with this
so anyways...
Him
I stare at him from across the room, I'm not afraid of being caught. It seems as though everyone is slightly ignoring me today instead of Mattie. It bothers me sometimes that I never catch him staring back, but right now I am just grateful for being able to look at him. I haven't seen him for so long and the last we saw of each other we parted on harsh grounds. Things I say to him I do not always mean, but I do fear that sometimes that I strike a nerve in him. I can tell.
I've always been able to tell… from the way his eyes would widen with a flash of green before darkening and turning away from mine. Lips sealed as if contemplating the correct response to what I have said. Normally it's just to glare back at me, a new fire in his eyes, as he reprimands me and throws a couple of insults here and there. But as of late his fiery sprit that usually backs him when we speak seems to be dwindling and when his eyes darken, they stay dark. I can see his muscles tense under his uniform, his hands grabbing tightly at the hem of his sleeves. Now those swirling pools of green that has been in shadowed for many days now seem calm and without fault staring at a wall, but he's still nervous. I can tell.
He may be hiding it well from the others, but he can hide nothing from me. Raising his tea cup to his mouth I see his pale hands flex slightly around the cup. I notice the way he unconsciously shifts whenever anyone walks too close to the chair he is situated in, when they do talk to him his answers are abrupt and blunt. He doesn't wish to speak with anybody and I'm trying my best to comply with his wishes, no matter how much I want that fire to return to his eyes, to replace the still dull green that they are now, for I know that these are not the eyes of the man that I know. The man that I know has eyes that would put the most beautiful emerald to shame, with a great warmth to rival his sometimes ferocious nature. For the many years that I have known him, I have seen all his eyes have to offer. The emerald irises almost always betrayed his emotion, no matter his attempts to hide it from everybody. Especially me. Not that I mind, for he is yet to realise that to me he is an open book laid out in front of me, each emotion printed in large clear font easily eaten up by my own eyes. Often I wonder if he reads into me as much as I do him. I doubt he does, as I believe that he doesn't feel as I do for him.