A/N: here we go again. This'll be a story in 4 parts, and one of my first multi-part-stories. At this point it's pretty onesided RyanxEric, but you'll see how it comes out, ya?
I looked over at him with a soft smile playing on my lips, a smile so soft I doubted anyone saw it. It was almost a reflex for me now. At the same time, I tried not to react that way to him. Or I had tried – in the past. I had realized rather quickly that I couldn't stop it from happening.
He was crouching, eyes focused on that small strand of hair he had just picked up and held in a pair of tweezers. I could practically see the details being memorized behind that slight frown. I was next to him, but standing, holding a flashlight and looking at him over the table I was leaning across slightly.
He was close. I could reach over with an arm and touch his har if I wanted. Only I couldn't. I was stopping myself from doing so, and in a way, he did as well. Not that he knew.
No, he didn't know anything. How could he know of the effect his dark eyes had on me? Or just how much he did when he smiled?
I almost forced myself to look down at the table. There were two half-empty glasses of wine perched on the glass surface. There were fingerprints, a bowl of grapes. In the kitchen we had found some leftovers, but only now did it look like the victim had had a date.
We knew she was single. We knew she was a young woman who shouldn't have had to die at such a young age. A neighbour had heard yelling the night before and she hadn't answered any calls the following day, and that's when police were called. She had been found dead on the floor of her bedroom. Hands tied. Strangled.
I took a closer look at the two glasses of wine. Something caught my eye, and it was a slight difference in colour of the two drinks.
Eric was standing, watching me. I wanted to enjoy his eyes on me, but I knew he would never have the meaning I wanted him to have in his gaze. So I couldn't.
"I think it's quite obvious she had a date", I heard myself say as I looked up at him. His dark eyes met mine, those eyes that went so well with his naturally tanned skin. "Look at this", I added, and gestured him to come closer, and he complied, easily, and I wondered briefly just how close I could get him, if I would try.
I couldn't bring myself to, even if I wanted.
I motioned to the glasses. "Do you see that the ... the colours are different? In the wine?"
He leant in closer, stood right next to me, and the urge to touch him was so strong, but I couldn't do it.
"Yeah. I see it." He took his camera and backed away, started snapping pictures of the glasses from various angles. "Good eye there, Wolfe."
I wanted to tell him that my name's Ryan. But I couldn't. So I forced my lips to a thin line to help shut the words in.
"Do you think he drugged her?" I asked after a while, talking just so I could hear his voice and make him look at me so I could look back.
"I'm not sure. The neighbours said they heard yelling, so if she was drugged that doesn't make sense."
I thought about that for a while. "She was tied with a scarf, right?"
His eyes met mine again, and I tried to hold them there for as long as I could. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, so maybe he tried to drug her, but it wasn't a strong enough dosage, which led him to strangle her. Since he used a scarf it indicates he didn't bring things with him to tie her with."
He looked at me for a while. Calculating, thinking. Then he nodded, and I felt a small burst of joy, because he agreed with me, valued my opinion.
"I hear scarves are high fashion now though", he said and stood, having lifted a print, and he was turned to me, taller than me, looking down just slightly, and I looked up, my eyes studying his face, what did he mean?
"Maybe the murderer just used what was at hand. Haven't you seen how many of the girls walk around with those?"
I thought for just a second. "You mean you think her date was a she?"
He just shrugged. I swallowed slightly, hesitating. I needed to know. For what, I wasn't sure. Maybe somewhere over the last two seconds I had become and optimist instead of a realist. Maybe it didn't matter, as I spoke without thinking, for once in my life.
"Would that bother you?"
He looked at me and the question was clear in his dark eyes. He seemed a bit confused. I could clarify. I could tell him. Only I couldn't.
"Nevermind", I managed, my voice low but yet dismissive, just something off at the end to indicate what I was really feeling, but I doubted he would care to decipher it.
I could have told him. It was just that I couldn't. I could have left, too ... but I couldn't do that either.
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I hope you liked it - I'm not sure when I will update but I do think it'll be rather shortly. Please leave a review, I love opinions of all kind. thanks. C: