Hazel eyes are calling from across the room. Legs are moving on their own. Something's pulling, something unseen. It's almost as if the world has stopped in this instant.
Reality comes back as crude remarks are yelled across the room. Then the eyes are further away until they're out of view. Now a dark bathroom is coming into play. Being forced to the ground in front of a man is the next part. Now you know what to do.
It's a practiced art, one you know too well, and as your eyes close, your throat relaxes, and your head moves, the hazel eyes play in your thoughts.
You can't face him now.
Finally you're allowed to leave, and this time you're lucky. This time there were only three. You do as they say and pray things go faster, and eventually you're given permission to get up off the floor.
You leave the room and look around; he's gone, thankfully. Now you don't have to show him the broken look on your shamed face. You run your hand through your hair and head for the door, no longer in the mood for this place. The lights and music send you into a state where your head hurts, and even though there are tons around, you feel as if everyone is staring at you.
When you leave though, you're not expecting to be pulled away from the entrance by strong hands. You go to cry out, but there's a hand there. You know what's coming next. Someone else here to use your body in some way. You're dragged away just a few feet, and your back meets the wall of the building. You don't fight. You never fight anymore. You keep your head low, waiting to be told what to do.
Then you feel a hand under your chin.
You look up, meeting hazel eyes. Your mouth opens, but there are no words to be said.
"I've been looking for you," that melodic voice is quiet, meant only for your ears. You almost break, but soon remember who you are to him.
Shaking out your shoulders some, you look at his face, but are unable to meet his eyes again. "And did you have a reason to?" You would usually flirt, be all over him. He's alone right now, but for how long? Not that it had ever mattered before, but tonight you just can't bring yourself to it. No clever comebacks, nothing mean to say even comes to mind. You wonder if you look as broken as you feel; you wonder if he'd even notice.
Of course he would. It was him.
It was part of the reason you were in love with him.
His eyes search your face, and you wonder what his own says. Does he see it? Is it written across your face? You need to fix that then. You can't let anyone see you like this- especially not him. Not now. You straighten up, pushing of the building and smoothing down your shirt. You cross your arms over your chest and give him an expecting look.
He softens, perhaps fooled by your change in demeanor, yet part of you doesn't believe that. He gives you a look over before pulling a slip of paper out of his pocket. A ticket. He doesn't say anything, simply smiles and walks away with a nod.
You look down. It's a ticket to the concert they're having to gain some more support for their little glee club. You scoff some, looking down and debating throwing it away. But you stop. You know you're going. He knew you'd come. There wasn't a doubt in either or your minds- except why he would be giving it to you in the first place.
You look after him as he joins up with that irritating boyfriend of his. You roll your eyes, sighing and stuffing the ticket into your pocket before walking towards your own car.
As you get your door open, another hand is grabbing you.