Fourteen: I
You came back. Three years, I waited hopefully.
Blue, cold and cruel—the first thing I noticed when you looked at me. Your smile, friendly and affectionate, spread warmth and melted that ice—that eye. I averted my gaze, hurt; still, I welcomed you just like how an old friend would.
Red. Blood rushed up to your cheeks to fill a bright blush, deepening as you rebuked the centaur's teasing.
I excused myself, 'Paperwork. I'm a Commander now, you know.'
Envy. Hurt. Dejection. My huge grin covered that lie.
It was clear who you want.
And I am not Fowl.
A drabble! This is Kit's fault.