Disclaimer: Ah, if I owned them, then I wouldn't have to write fanfics, ne?
AN: Hmmm, a half page effort that was kicking around my desktop for the past month. Not very deep, or good, or (insert adjective of choice here). Ah, it's also plot-less and OOC. Enjoy!
Night Glow"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, laying his palms flat along the desk. His voice was muted, but hard nonetheless, a silver blue edge shining through velvet. Silence grew as we stared each other down, neither wanting to break first. Cold blue eyes bore into me, demanding an answer. Icy intensity overwhelmed me.
I turned. The tension was lessened minutely. Frustrated I ran my hands through my hair, pulling at the elastics till it was loosed, hanging lankly around my face and over my shoulders. My hair was still wet from the rushed five A.M. shower that had left me late for my first meeting. No breakfast or lunch, not even a cup of coffee to jog my synapses before being driven into the political arena. I'd been on my feet all day, meeting and greeting the pompous penguins known as world leaders. My face muscles ached from the smile they'd been contorted into all day. I came home looking for a soft bed, fuzzy slippers and lots of chocolate. The very last thing I desired to be involved in was a confrontation with him.
There was no escaping it though. As soon as my hand touched the doorknob, I felt a presence.
That still didn't prepare me to find a tall dark body standing in the shadows of my, supposedly, locked room. Files flew everywhere as I dropped piles of folders and briefcases. Recognition dawned just before the scream was released. No matter how good he looks standing in shadows, it's still a creepy way to operate. Which he knows. Which is why he does it. I'm not going to strain my face muscles smiling at him.
He hadn't spoken until now. Didn't need to. One long stare from those steely eyes and I was stuttering and tripping over answers to unasked questions. I fall apart with just one look from him; lose the composure I've built up over the years. I can talk down anyone, young or old, male or female, but just being in a room with him makes my pulse jump and mind melt. Now I know what he needs to hear, what he craves, I just don't want to say it.
Neither of us had bothered to turn on a lamp. Gray light flooded through the balcony doors and crept between the window curtains. I stood illuminated in front of my desk; he stood shadowed and looming behind. No light touched the hidden contours of his face, or fired the dark eyes. And I stand here, every imperfection visible, though softened somewhat by the hazy light. And he asks me what I want him to do.
Life sometimes seems inexplicably unfair. He has come to me, albeit through breaking and entering, but still he has come to me. I did not chase him, beg him, or scream for him. And he asks me what I want...him…to do… And the one day chosen for this miracle, is the day I decided I never ever wanted to see him again. Life is a wonderful, mystical mind game.
I look at the night sky, unable to turn around again to face him. Up above the moon hangs heavy and silver white against inky black universe. Stars blaze and fade, most of them already deceased, passed on in a final blaze of glory that human eyes won't see for hundreds of years. Galaxies die and are born before my eyes, and I feel so small for agonizing over this petty problem. But I still can't bring myself to turn around and face him.
"What do you want me to do?" he repeats with quiet urgency. Shivers run up and down my spine, uncontrollable, gathering strength. Tears threaten but do not fall, held back by sheer force of will. Grip my upper arms and cower in over myself. A curtain of limp hair falls to either side of my face, no longer blonde but gray in the night illumination.
"Just go. Go and…don't come back …" I whisper, the tears beginning to slide down my cheeks. I step away, my back still towards him.
"Re-"
"No!" I scream and the sound is ripped from my throat, hoarse and wild. I can hear him moving, probably sliding around the desk, leaving me again without a word. My body shakes and shivers. Lids flutter over my eyes. One sigh and…
My knees give way.
Shoulders slump.
Hands unravel.
Too late! Eyes close…
Strong…arms?
I open my eyes slowly, feeling strong arms around my waist and shoulders. He's sitting here, breaking my fall. Kneels on the floor of my darkened room, holding me up, resting me on his knees. Neither of us make as if to move. Another moment and he leans down to where my head rests on his shoulder.
"What's wrong?" he asks softly; worry just seeping into his voice, layering it slightly with anxiety. He pulls me up closer, working a hand underneath my knees.
"No food today…sorry," I apologize quietly, gripping his shirt as my head spins. I try to get up, push to my feet. Dizziness overwhelms. Gentle hands pull me back down, reminding me of their strength, telling me not to fight them. We sit another moment on the floor, basking in the gray of the night radiance.