Author's note: Hello! This is just something I thought of and figured that I might as well post it on here. Let me know if you like it and then perhaps I'll post more. All reviews are welcome! Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!
His eyes, those great grey eyes, oh how they get me every damn time! Why can't he just leave me alone? He knows that I
can't be with him, that I despise him with every fiber of my being. He is a horrible person; those grey eyes tell tales of danger,
murder, anger, lust. How could I love such scum? My unanswerable question. All I know is that no matter what he has done, I
will still love him. It's my curse, fate's own way of going against me. But as he pulls me close and attaches his red lips to mine,
I know that I would rather keep this curse, than live without his nighttime visits to me, any day. He slowly moves me down to
the bed and his body hovers above mine. All I see are his eyes, those that pull me in to depths I never knew. As he lowers
himself to me, I know, no matter how much I don't want it, no matter how much I don't want to be associated with him, I will
love him.
My eyelids slowly flutter open to the bright sun shining in through my open window. The sheets of my bed are covering my
body as if someone had just covered me up. In my sleepy haze I slowly reached out to the side of the bed, only to feel, as
expected, nothing. I sighed and propped myself up on my elbow, looking from the side of my bed, to the window. My eyes scan
the room for any sign of him, finally my eyes rest on my bedside table where a small piece of paper was placed; on the paper
was a tiny heart with an eye inside of it. I smiled slightly, knowing this was his way of saying he was watching me. My smile
began to wane turned bittersweet as I thought of how rarely he came to see me. Sometimes I think that he forgets about me,
during those cold, rainy days when I just want to curl up with the one I love and stay inside all day by the fire, the days that
he never comes to see me on. Every now and then it'll have been months since I've seen him, I'll be almost ready to give up on
him, ready to start dating new people, if what we had could be called dating. Then, he'll be there at my window, his cool grey
eyes entrancing me, asking me to let him, and of course, I do. He'll glide into my room, and hold me so close. Then, he'll lead
me to the bed, and he'll make love to me, like he always does. We'll fall asleep, I'll wake up in the morning and he'll be gone.
This never ending torment will continue in the same cycle for as long as he stays interested in me, then one day, he'll leave,
and he won't come back. I can no longer deny that he will eventually leave me, it is his way, however much I love him is
irrelevant to the fact that one day I will wake up, by myself, and he won't come back. It will be the last time he visits me, and I
will accept it, sure I will be hurt, I will cry, but I knew it was coming, I have set myself up for it, I've lead myself on for years
hoping that one day he will stay, but I know he won't. One day he'll leave, and he won't come back.
I lay in bed, thinking of him, it has been a while and I fear that he has left me for good this time. Seven months is a long time,
even for him. My eyes well up, and I can feel the tears burning in them, begging to be let out. A tear trickles down my cheek
and onto my silk red pillow. Just then, I hear a tap on the window and I quickly look over to it. I see him looking in, so I remove
myself from the bed and slowly walk over to the window. My eyes meet his through the pane of glass and I know he can see
the sadness of my gaze, but, ever still I methodically move my hands to open the barrier between us. He stays focused on me
as the window slides open. I hold his gaze for a few moment before dropping my eyes to the floor, turning around and walking
back to the bed, I slide under the covers and lay my head on my pillow, my eyes now focused, once again on his shadowy
figure in the window. He stares at me for a few moments before climbing into the room and swiftly closing the window, and us,
from the outside world. He removes his shoes and jacket, along with his pants and over shirt so that he is standing in his mere
boxers and undershirt. He climbs into the bed, and spoons me from behind, one of his arms holding me around the stomach
and his knees pushed up against the back of mine. His other hand reaches up to my face and pushes my hair out of my eyes
and away from my face. He kisses the side of my neck tenderly and whispers in a husky voice "I'm sorry." I let out the breath
that I'd been holding unknowingly and glanced back at him, the tears shining in my eyes. His brow creased as a tear rolled
down my cheek, followed by another, and another. He leaned forward and started to kiss the tears away while murmuring
words of comfort. My whole being shook as I quietly whispered to him.
"I didn't think you were going to come back."
His answer was much like his visits, short and leaving a great impact. "I know."
That night, was a night of firsts. We just lay there in each other's arms, all night. We did not move, neither did we make love. I,
for once, got to soak up his comforting presence. He held me all night long, just held me, no words were spoken, and none
needed to be. We basked in one another lying there, side by side, staring into the others eyes. This time, I did not fall asleep.
This time, I watched him leave me, leave me until, until it was his whim to see me again.
I had become a bit of a hermit it seemed, waiting for him. It was like he enchanted me. I moved through, day by day, like a
zombie. Waiting, always waiting, for him. My work did not fail, though it did not get any better either. I never went out and
enjoyed myself with my friends or family. As soon as I would get home from work every day I would go to my room, hoping,
waiting for him to come back. No matter how long, no matter how many months, even years! it took him to come back for me; I
knew I would always wait. Left in an eternal sense of helplessness, empty, and forever waiting on him to come back and make
me whole again, even if it was only for a little while.
Years passed and I waited. I refused to believe that he would not come back for me. My friends gave up on asking me to do
things. After all, I would only refuse; I had to go home to wait for him. Once I had him with me again, all would be well, all
would return to normal and I would go about my life happy, once again. Though still in a constant state of denial that he would
ever leave me, though I still knew he would one day; I refused to let it be that day. My mind would not relinquish its hold on
him, no matter what I did. I even went to a psychologist, though all they did was give me some medication that does nothing
to help.
I want to forget him, I really do, but when something's been a part of one's life for so long, is it possible to forget? Apparently
not, at least, not him. He hypnotizes me, my every thought; every action goes into some reasoning that he would give me. It's
an obsession, a need, an addiction that needs to be broken, but just can't be.
On the seventh day, of the seventh month, of the seventh year since he left me last, I hear a knock. The knock comes from the
window that I hold vigil for every day since he has left me. I approach the window and furiously try to interpret what lies
behind that glass. Then I see them, those great grey eyes; His eyes.