Dom and James. You just gotta love em.
Warning: Slight cousincest, could be overlooked.
Disclaimer: You all know what goes here, fellas :D
She was the epitome of beauty, he thought, as he approached her, trudging up the slight hill to her favorite place beneath the large tree by the lake, where generations before them had sought shelter. With her back against the tree, dark, russet waves curling softly- gently in cascades down her back to her slender waist, a lock of silky hair tucked behind her ear.
Her legs- one stretched out, the other propped up and bent at the knee- long and willowy, clad in acid wash denim. Resting on her tiny waist, a thick gold belt, underneath which a black tank disappeared. And propped in her lap was her usual sketchbook- the one thing she was never seen without. The very essence of her Dominique.
But a strange, lurking darkness flawed her innocent beauty- invisible at first glance, and undetectable to the unknowing eye. But he knew. He always knew.
Shadows lingering beneath her once-blue eyes told tell-tale whispers of sleepless nights. Her hollowing cheekbones betraying evidence of her disrupted diet. Claw marks- scratch marks, littering… loitering her too pale arms- barely visible, yet always there. But most of all- worst of all- the faraway look in her haunted blue eyes, sunken and empty and no longer bright. And it seemed to him that she would never heal.
But he had to have faith- hold hope that whatever had happened to her that fateful summer a winter ago would not succeed in breaking his beloved Dominique.
It had been a year since she had spoken- had laughed and loved and smiled like she used to. The laughter that once rang like sunshine on a misted winter morning, and the smiles that banished the clouds from his dreary days. Gone- all gone.
But now, as he trudged up the slight hill, still cautious as to startle her, he was surprised to see her features undoubtedly at peace, her long, elegant fingers drifting delicate charcoal lines across blank canvas. A new story. A new life.
There she sat, illuminated by the sinking sun's last fading rays, the slightest, barely visible twist of a smile curving at her ruby red lips as she followed the sun's reflecting light with her darkened fingers, sketching.
And James could not help but break into a smile as he approached her, the dark and dreary weight, once heavyset on his heart, lifted- only slightly, but he could feel it all the same. And as if sensing his presence, she stopped- mid-drawing, charcoal fingers frozen on her now shadowy canvas- so dark, yet so finely detailed- as her eyes flickered up to meet his.
And they stayed like that for a while, hopeful hazel eyes searching once-blue-still-blue-always-blue ones as the world around them held their breaths, the lapping of the waves barely audible against the shore.
And then a sound escapes her parted lips.
It wasn't a full laugh- more of a strained one. A short, guttural mutter she seemed to have trouble holding down. But it's the most he's heard her utter in a while, and it's enough to keep him happy.
Because that sliver of a slight second he heard her laugh (for the first time in what seemed like years), he could actually see it reach her eyes. And that was all it took to know that she was recovering.
A little less angsty than usual? :3 Reviews are love!