I See
By Magnes
This is something I wrote ages ago. I stumled across it the other day and decided to share. totally short and pointless, but to the point at the same time. F/K mild slash. Enjoy.
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"I don't get this cubist stuff Fraser. I mean, what do you see?"
What do I see?
I see the way your eyes light up when I walk into the room. I see your eyes follow me even as you try to be subtle and hide behind your paperwork and poor vision. I see the way you smile for me alone, a warm, welcoming smile that could melt a heart of ice, as you have melted mine. I see the effort it takes for you not to touch me when I'm near, you, who are the embodiment of motion. I see how you stand near me, follow close, ask things even when I know you know the answer. I see how I relax you, my voice, my calm, my consistency. I see your need to protect me, thinking me an innocent in this Chicago wilderness. I see you hide your fragility behind bravado and a sharp tongue. I see how she still has the power to hurt you and I see the vicious pleasure that power gives her. I see how your peers respect you, though you rarely notice the regard they hold for you. I see the gratitude in an old lady's eyes as you protect her son's life at the risk of your own. I see the joy my presence gives you and I hope you see what you mean to me.
"Earth to Benton! You gettin' all retrospective on me, buddy?"
"What I see, Ray, is the end result of if you took a child's drawing, chopped it up, spread it on a pan, and left it in the oven until it was half-baked."
"You don't like it either?"
"Not even a little."
"Let's go find the Impressionists."
I see your loneliness, your need.
I see your love.
Do you see mine?
