I was in a horrible mood.
I had awoke in an empty bed, and my vision was blurry, a sign that I needed my glasses today.
So I stand in front of the mirror, my own blurry image shot back at me.
I glared at the traitor behind the glass who had ruined my life by existing, and grimaced.
I shoved on the glasses, a clearer picture forming almost immediately before the steam from the forgotten shower devoured the glass. My image was unrecognizable again.
I despise being so blind.
I ripped off my shirt, getting ready to hop in the shower.
I then noticed a filmy figure in the steamy reflection of my little world.
I could only make out piercing black eyes and a shock of jet black, ruffled hair against his pale skin.
I made out the figure bending down and grabbing a towel, then moving closer to the perfect copy of the room. He wiped the steam off the mirror, leaving a damp trail of clarity, where we could see each other perfectly.
He wordlessly moved to me, wiping off my own steamed glasses and pushing them up the bridge of my nose.
I was powerless against the stronger, better, older man.
"You have no idea how cute you look with your glasses on," he declared in his monotone voice, completely serious.
He smirked, cupping my thin face in his powerful, calloused hands that could do things from shoot up a murder's house to softly playing acustic guitar.
"Do you want to conserve a little water?" he picked me up, cradling me against his broad, muscle-entwined chest. Even before I had answered, the showerwas pounding against my exposed stomach.
"Always."
When life leaves us blind, love keeps us kind.
It keeps us kind.