DESPOINA
His red eyes hook into her until she can barely breathe, but she doesn’t run. She doesn’t slip into the shadows and run until he is just a memory behind her. Instead she stands still—so very still—and lets the darkness trace lazy fingers up her sides. She lets the shadows of him call out to her until she feels her self listing as though they are waves washing up the shores of her heart, as though she is a boat set adrift.
“I’ve been okay,” her voice is quiet, always so quiet, as though she is scared of what might happen if it gets loud enough. Would she shatter? Would she simply fall apart? She doesn’t know. She isn’t brave enough to try and find out. “Just…around.” It’s pathetic and she drops her back gaze as soon as the words leave her lips because she is too ashamed to look at him. Too ashamed to see if know hers for what she is.
Broken.
Alone.
Unwanted.
A shrug of her shoulder as though none of this bothers her. As though she doesn’t mind being alone, as though this life is something that she has pursued her entire life and it wasn’t thrust upon her. “What about you?” It feels lame and does nothing to speak to the entire galaxies that spin in her chest when she looks at him. When she looks at the supernatural, ethereal beauty of him. The endless power of it.
Her mouth opens but nothing comes out.
She shuts it and looks down at her feet again.
I guess the sound of your voice in the aching will just have to do