Author's note: This was written for livingdeadgirl, in a ficlet/drabble challenge over at LiveJournal. Basically, someone requests a ficlet from me, gives me requirements, and I write it, between 100-1000 words. This is one of the ficlets written for her in that challenge. She liked it, so now I'm uploading it here. Please review, they are much loved. Requirements:
Line: I looked into your eyes and saw a world I wish I was in
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I mean any copyright infringement. Please do not sue me. Savvy?
I'm not very good with words. I'm more of an actions kind of guy. Act before you think, say before you think, and I am really making myself sound like some idiot, typical male action stud, just without the stud part. Hey, I think I look fine, but most human women would probably freak. It's the red skin.
Or maybe the shaved horns. Or the big hand. Or the tail. Or the, never mind.
But, when I saw you, I lost all ability to think, to speak, to act. All I could do was stare and vaguely hope in the back of my mind that my jaw wasn't hitting the floor. And then everything came back, only I had forgotten how to do things properly, and while in my mind I could spout off poetry and think of romantic things to say - which shocked me to know end after I realized what I was doing -, I just could not say that stuff.
One thing, I was nervous as hell, my mouth was dry, my throat was tight, my stomach was doing flip-flops, and I had manly, er, male pride holding me back anyway.
You were beautiful and scared, hugging yourself, head bowed and your eyes were downcast when not looking around curiously. And then they looked at me, and I stared right into them.
I looked into your eyes and saw, a world I wish I was in.
Where I wasn't a freak, where you were a happy girl, and where we could be together and walk in the streets without receiving stares and screams and hatred and fear. A world that was just you and me, and no evils to fight, no boogie men to kill, no plans of world domination to throw down the toilet.
And then you turned away, following Clay to your own room, and I was left already addicted and going through withdrawal.
I felt touched just to be looked at by you and not shunned and shrunk back from, to not see fear in your eyes, but curiosity. I felt touched just being near you. I still do. And you don't even have to touch me, ever, and I'll still always feel this way.
Not that I don't want you to touch me, God knows I do. But I'm not sure if I can ever say the words I think and feel.