One.

It doesn't seem too hard right now, maybe a little odd to focus so much on trying to hold his gaze, trying to not look away. The teeniest, tiniest bit of distraction appears in her periphery.

Two.

It's been just two seconds. Have his eyes always been that shade of purple? Such a compelling color, almost like a gem glittering in the candlelight between them. A flicker of black, a flicker of violet, a flicker of yellow candleflame.

Three.

Time is starting to slip away. To bend like a blanket around them, soft and unable to hold its own.

Four.

His gaze appears soft. Affectionate. Warm. Kiki takes a deep breath, anything to hide from the way her heart starts to flutter, even as she holds his gaze stubbornly. She refuses to fail, to fall. She's always been stubborn. After all.

Five.

And she wonders if she can stay here for a moment. The way it seems almost timeless and flowing, the way she feels like a waterfall continuing its steady decline. It's nice here. Beautiful, a place to stay and to rest.

Six.

It's made it past the halfway point, and time seems almost endless still. Beautiful. In some ways, it's hard to focus on staring, in order to avoid blinking. In other ways, she's lost like a river almost its steady stream.

Seven.

And she's pretty sure she can find Love in Hisame's eyes. Gentle, affectionate, steady, unrelenting yet not forceful. He loves her, and it's true and beautiful within his gaze. She can see it so clearly in the purple of his eyes.

Eight.

Time has stopped. She's pretty sure. Beautiful, enchanting, as that all is. She's holding a gaze and caught up within it. It's a decision and becoming less of one quickly.

Nine.

She's positive somehow that her gaze says too much. From the way, she knows Hisame holds his head up by his hand. From the way, she's been staring too long, as if caught in her staring.

It feels like she's revealed everything in only nine seconds.

Ten.

The time is up. But she doesn't want to look away just yet. Hisame's smiling from his lips to his eyes somehow. And it's beautiful.

Somehow it feels like a conscious decision to memorize the other, to commit even the color of his eyes to memory, lest she forget it somehow in the passing of time.

Eleven, and the stare is broken, distance is too. Kiki closes her eyes, letting feeling take over for vision, as they meet finally in a kiss.

Gentle and affectionate as it is. And familiar too. Almost in an unusual way. And she is kept safe in the closing of distance. A beautiful reminder that somehow from stare to kiss, they've made it.

Her face even feels a little warm, like she's bore her soul in a gaze, and now gets to reveal it in action. It's beautiful and too much all at once.

She's grateful that they are alone, without anyone else to see her loss of composure. And somehow a ten second stare is the breakdown of composure and the revelation of love, pouring out between two people.

It's wonderful and beautiful. And thankfully, away from others.

And when she pulls back, she finds herself wondering if closeness can last just as long, like breathing another in, deliberately, taking the time to do so.