Summary: He always watched her…the girl with the grey eyes. The girl he loved.

Author's Note: Experimenting with the idea of an unnamed she. Hopefully you can figure out the he.

Stormy grey eyes and fiery red hair complemented her pale complexion. Her cheeks flushed prettily when she was embarrassed, and she always ducked her head. Men would chat her up, making her giggle and her nose wrinkle.

God, how he loved that little wrinkle. He loved everything about her, but he couldn't bring himself to talk to her. Even if he managed to seem like he was simply interested, he couldn't. He didn't want to come off as one of the sex-deprived men that tried to seduce her every night.

She didn't dress like a slut, like a lot of pretty girls. Her shirts weren't too low cut, her skirts not too short. And she wasn't afraid to cut someone off—if they'd had too much to drink, then she'd just put her foot down. She always seemed so reserved for a barmaid, but he'd seen her get angry.

Her eyes lit up, and she drew herself up—she was pretty imposing at that point. She'd yelled at several people, even sending angry drunks running out of the bar. Yes, she was an impressively independent woman.

Even when her boss told her she was fired, and to get the hell out she stood her ground. "I've worked here for ten years. I haven't missed a day's work, no matter how fucking sick I was—where's the logic, Kevin? Where's the logic?"

She stayed. And almost every night he came and sat in the corner table, avoiding her gaze and watching her when she wasn't looking. But once she caught him looking—her rain-cloud grey eyes locked on his sapphire ones.

He looked away first. A blush crept onto his cheeks: he couldn't believe he'd been caught. He sat there until the early hours—after all, it was a twenty-four hour bar. When he finally paid and left, he felt curious grey eyes on his retreating back.

Over a year, his attraction grew. But she had a boyfriend. She'd forgotten all about that magical moment where blue met grey, and he didn't blame her. He wasn't anything special. But he loved her, and he didn't realize that was all the 'special' he needed.

During that year, she'd accepted a man named Joshua's request to take her out. He was nice, but she kept thinking of sapphire orbs, little lights in the darkness of the bar. She wanted to talk to him, but she never went and tried. The girl with the grey eyes, with the fiery temper, the sweet countenance…was too scared to try and talk to the man with the icy-sky-blue eyes, the ones that saw her for who she was. She knew he saw everything about her, saw her very soul.

And she liked it. Even if they never talked, she watched him, drinking in everything about him, When he was upset, he rested his head on his right arm only, creating a red spot on his cheek that she saw when he would leave. When he was just there because he wanted to go out to the bar, he leaned back against the booth, his eyes darting around.

Once he came in during the day. She wasn't too surprised to see a camera hanging around his neck—it seemed a fitting hobby for the quiet man with the shiny-sapphire-star eyes.

He filmed her secretly, preserving her on reels of film. And when he watched them in secret, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as the real thing—so he kept going back. She was his drug: one that made his heart ache and his mind keep working at night, planning out what he would say to her.

But he never carried out any of these plans.

And one night, she wasn't there. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, a man stood tending the bar. Tentatively, he approached the bar and asked about her.

The man with eyes black as a starless night met the gaze of the sky-eyed man. "She died," he said, wiping out a glass. "Mugged in the alley out back last night."

Snow-cloud grey eyes swam in his vision, a pale comparison of the eyes that had lost their light. The fiery red hair would never be flicked over her creamy shoulder, the wrinkle would never appear in her nose ever again.

The once-shining, now dull sapphire eyes lowered to the dirty ground, not seeing the shoeprints that decorated the floor. Turning his back on the angel of death with the dark-vortex-eyes, he walked outside.

As the sun set, dipping below the tall buildings that formed the New York skyline, storm clouds gathered, marring what would have been a perfect sunset. The rain fell, slowly at first, but picking up intensity. The man with dull sapphire eyes hidden behind silver-rimmed glasses looked up, and smiled.

So, just a little experiment. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, considering I've never done something like this before. Review and tell me what you think, please! :D