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29 September 2005 @ 02:50 pm
"If He Knew"  

Something I spun for my porfolio for Pratt. It's in 2nd person, so it can be any pairing you desire, I didn't really have any particulars. It started as John, then switched to George, then back to John, then Ringo, then Paul until I finally just gave up. Enjoy, and tell me what you think! (I'd like to go to college :))


You sit across from him and silently sip your tea as you watch him begin another game of solitaire. The room is dimly lit; the only source of illumination comes from the stray sunbeams penetrating the gaps between the blinds.  You vaguely realize that you have been talking, though you haven’t the foggiest idea what about. He’s not looking at you (he’s too busy concentrating on the cards sprawled before him) but you know he’s listening from his slight nods and agreeing hums.


He’s very distracting. You can’t help but notice the way the faint light highlights the brighter streaks in his hair. His tongue is poking out of the side of his mouth, and you absently wonder if he’s doing it on purpose or if it’s merely an unconscious habit. But mostly you’re drawn to his hands. The way they expertly flip over the cards is enticing, and you find yourself unwillingly focusing all of your attention on them. His veins are visible through his skin when he curls his fingers around the paper playing cards, and he has a tendency of sliding the edge underneath his thumbnail when he gets stuck. You know you’re blatantly staring at him, and you dimly acknowledge that you have the most ridiculous look on your face as you admire him, but you really don’t care. He’s too exquisite a specimen to ignore.


You feel his questioning gaze settle heavily onto you, and you realize you must have stopped babbling about whatever meaningless topic you’d been prattling on about. You reluctantly glance up, flushing slightly from his discovery that you are his inferior, and then deeper when you recognize the childishness of your previous thought. He raises an eyebrow and you laugh falsely, punching him in the arm and grinning as you scratch the back of your neck. He seems to accept your playful apology because he smiles and returns to his game as if nothing odd had just transpired.


It’s in this moment that you realize you love him. Suddenly you have the urge to tell him everything; all the times you furtively watched him, how much you adore the fact he puts ketchup in his macaroni and cheese, the color of the flowers you’ve chosen for your wedding. Any ties that may have hindered your judgment have snapped all at once and you unabashedly demand his attention.


You immediately regret your decision. His eyes meet yours, warm and genuine and filled with anxious wonder at what you are going to say. Your throat tightens and you unwillingly stutter. You know you will never be adequately able to express your feelings. There aren’t enough words to demonstrate how deeply and hopelessly you love him.


You kiss him to stall, and you pray to God that your emotions can transcend words and that your love for him will bleed from your lips and into his.


When you pull away you refuse to look at him, and he seems a little shell shocked. After a moment he chuckles and you tense, fearing he’s mocking you. He cups his beautiful hand over your, coaxing you to glance up, and all of your inhibitions shatter at the sight of his fantastic smile.


“I love you, too.”


hollywood_song on September 30th, 2005 01:47 am (UTC)