Bleached like flax, soft like skeins of silk. He'd told her that once, in one of those rare moments when he was sweetly sentimental and talkative all at once. A far cry from his usual coldly-withdrawn self. His fingers had run gently through those pale golden strands that were even now flying free behind her in the wind.
She smiled slightly, shifted her hands on the steering wheel.
A different pair of shades protected her eyes from the rushing air and the dust and sun now – tinted so pale blue that people actually glanced black and asked her if her eyes coloured her glasses instead of the other way 'round. Even back then, he'd seen right through her; smiled crookedly in a gentle and impossibly charming fashion, and told her that, even under the smoke-grey glasses she'd been wearing at the time, she had the most beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen.
She'd responded honestly, taken a little off-guard – that she loved his own eyes, grey-green set into a chiseled face and framed by long silver strands. Dragon-eyes, she'd called them laughingly. He laughed with her and the green intensified for just a moment – just like a dragon's.
She shifted down two gears until she was safely round the bend, then slid back up. The sun was warm, but not enough to cancel out the chill breeze that always came with driving the convertible.
The car had been his. Sleek, silver, shining. All the words suited him. Granted, she'd been more than a little put-off by his long silver locks, until she'd realized that he wasn't so old as it had seemed. Old enough, still; she at the tender age of sixteen and he already thirty-two. She'd told him frankly, that he'd probably been sticking it in his first girl when she was being born, one thirty on a Saturday morning. He laughed at that, too, notwithstanding her coarse way of putting it. Laughed until she turned red with embarrassment and longing.
Even now, she could see him sitting beside her. Like the time when driving, and she'd been in the passenger seat and making faces at him until he lost the cool façade and gave into laughter. Those dragon-eyes had crinkled, and she'd realized for once and for all that she was totally lost. Now he sat there, leaning forward with a small smile to change the stations on the radio channel – classical, would you believe – not worrying about his expensive Luis Vuitton suit, the one that always looked so good on him.
She didn't even cry, now, thinking about that horrific accident that had taken his life.
No. She just smiled, and kept on driving.
NaminéxSephiroth, cutting it fine for the due date. For Silver Moon Droplet's contest, a crack!one. I'd have written my huuuuge idea for it, but worked out that that was better left for another time. Because I want it to be epic. This is reminiscent of the very last scene of Cruel Intentions, to me. Makes me smile, and sad at the same time. XD Character death onoez!!