Enraptured

by Dally-Fang

She merely stared at him, enchanted by his sparkling, cerulean irises, engrossed by his dainty touches, fascinated by his constant smiles, enthralled by his positivity, enraptured by his liveliness, his creativity, his persistence, his electrifying aurora, his compassion and understanding and kind-heartedness. Series of Leah Clearwater drabbles.

2. Best Friend's Duty

Best Friend's Duty

She wavered and wobbled but lumbered forward with her knees tottering and teetering, with her stare glazed over and her pupils dilated with adrenaline, with her lips temporarily etched with an elated beam; she screeched with joy, applauded to herself, and tittered with laughter, attracting the attention of the residents of that fine neighborhood.

"Leah, what are you doing?" he questioned as she shakily sauntered forward and lost her balance, prompting him to swoop down and sweep her off her feet. She cackled, clapped, and drowned with laughter—with dark laughter, swamped by bitterness, submerged with sorrow, overpowered and overcome with long-term misery.

"Apparently, I can get drunk; it just takes a really, really long time," Leah divulged, giggling when he hastened inside his home while sagging his shoulders and shaking his head. "You're disappointed."

She pouted, eyes enlarging, hands quivering, throat aching—whether from the vodka or the turbulent emotions gushing from her heart, she did not know.

"A bit," he confessed as he laid her on his couch, ensuring her well-being before rubbing the bridge of his nose and flaring his nostrils. "You were doing so well. I really thought you were moving on, but I was mistaken."

"They're expecting a child," she stated without any of her previous humor. "They're also getting married. They announced it in front of everyone, and they stared directly at me, knowing that it would destroy me, knowing how it would affect me, and knowing that I would react badly. Why did they do it? Why do they continue to hurt me?"

He wordlessly consoled her, brushing away the fresh cascade of tears, skimming her cheekbones, smoothening her tousled locks, rubbing her heaving shoulders, placing her head on his chest, and never recoiling or retracting when her snot stained his shirt.

He was her best friend after all; it was his duty.

"Thanks, Drakon," she whispered heavily before reposing.

"You're welcome, darling," he responded with his lips hovering above her cheeks and with longing and affection blossoming in his chest.

But he was her best friend, so he banished those treacherous sentiments and comforted her when she whimpered in her sleep.

It was his duty after all.