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The Way He Was.
All eyes were on him as he glided across the glossy, crystal floor. His eyes - so blue, I swear, they nearly lacked colour altogether - remained still, as his gaze was fixated dead ahead of him. He walked with intent, and I couldn't help but wonder what he was looking at, what he was so set on reaching. I could have easily turned my head about half an inch to find out, to just steal a small, quick glimpse at his destination - because it was oh, so clear that he had one. I couldn't bring myself to even move, though. At least, not in the direction of where he was headed. I felt almost as if, if I moved toward him at all, even if it was just the slightest turn of the head, it would be an invasion of his privacy. It was a doltish thought, considering that his destination was out, right there, in the open. Every other person in the room, most certainly, was watching his destination with a look of intent - that is, if they weren't watching him with the exact same look. Every person in there knew where he was going, what he was so set on reaching - every person, except for me.
Maybe that was why his nearly colourless, but oh, so blue eyes seemed to shift to me as he walked passed where I stood. His head turned probably a quarter of an inch, and he, almost unwillingly, tore his gaze from his destination, allowing it to land upon me.
I don't know how I, somehow, managed to glance up at the exact moment that his eyes fell upon me, but I did. And my own brown eyes locked onto his baby blue ones, and I swear, for a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Just as quickly as I looked up, I looked back down, fixated my gaze on the crystal floor, once again. The pit, pat, pit, pat of his shoes against the glassy surface came to a halt, and I knew that he had stopped in frount of me. I could practically feel his icy eyes on me as his gaze roamed over me, and finally, after what felt like forever, I let out a shaky breath.
"Don't look at me," I wanted to say, "at least not like that."
I didn't know how he was looking at me, not really. From the way he moved, though, the way he was, I knew it couldn't have been good.
I heard a laugh then. A small, breathy laugh that could have easily been mistaken for a sigh. The difference between that laugh and a sigh, however, was that small bit of a higher pitch at the end as his humour ended and he breathed in, once again.
"Hm," was the only noise he made; a hint of amusement still lingered. That was the only thing he said, though - or rather, hummed. Really, he hadn't said anything; no hello, no excuse me, no nothing. He said nothing, and I didn't know if that made him rude or if it just emphasised the way he was.
Pit, pat, pit, pat. It went on and on as he continued his journey through the crystalline room. He walked as if he had never stopped. He stared at his destination, whatever it may be, as if he had never looked away. He went on as if he had never noticed me; I didn't know how to feel about that.
Again, the, now all-too familiar, pit, pat, pit, pat came to a quick halt, except for a quick, slow pit ... pit before he came to a complete stop, once again. This time, not in frount of me, not in frount of anyone.
"Huh," he breathed out - at that point, I couldn't keep myself from looking at him, at his destination. He had finally reached it, so it wasn't really invading his privacy; not as much, anyway.
Slowly, but surely, I lifted my golden-brown eyes. My gaze moved from the crystal floor to the short, three-step, glassy staircase. I stared at the top step for a moment, almost too afraid to look up any further. Looking up further would mean looking at him, and looking at him would mean looking at his destination - and, while that was exactly what I wanted to do, I wasn't sure if I was ready to do so.
I felt as if the whole room, the whole world, was waiting for me, though; waiting for me to lift my gaze, to look at the blue-eyed man and his, probably magificent, destination. So, I lifted my gaze, again. Just an inch, and my eyes fell upon his shoes. I took the moment to carefully study the reflections in the almost-glossy material; a blurred reflection of the room's chandeliers, of the few people nearest to him, of the twinkling lights that hung from the ceiling.
Again, my gaze lifted, panning over his body. From his pants to his suit-coat to his black and purple tie, he was so ... put together. He almost looked fake.
When my gaze lifted again, finally landed upon his face, I was met with his baby blue eyes staring straight through me. I was met with a sly smirk on his face. I wanted to look around him, at his destination, but I felt almost as if, if I looked away, he would disappear.
It was then that he finally spoke. He finally spoke.
"You know," he breathed out, the smirk on his face shifting into a charming grin. "this place truly is magnificent. Though, I'm sure you all already know that."
Pit ... pit. He stepped about a foot to his left, for a reason that wasn't clear to me, not at all. I assumed he had some kind of intent with it, though. He always did.
"Now, I'm not supposed to be here," and with that short sentence, those few words, everybody tensed. The room filled with a tension so strong, it was almost unbearable.
This place, made out of pure crystal and glass, under unbelievably strict surveillance and security, had unknowingly let in someone who was, admittedly, not supposed to be there.
"But don't worry, don't worry," he lifted a hand, almost as if it was a sign of peace. "I'm not here to hurt you. I doubt I could, even if I tried." He gestured to himself, and it was true - he was rather small.
Someone must have been about to speak up, to say something, because quickly, he raised a finger in the air, shushing us all.
"Nuh uh," he scolded, shaking his head. "No need for words." His eyes scanned the crowd again, his lips bunched at one side. He seemed to be looking for someone; was it me? No. He would know where to look if he was looking for me.
"I was instructed ... by myself ..." he mumbled that last part, "to, well, snatch this beautiful masterpiece." He lifted a hand, gesturing to the small, crystalline structer that stood on a podium in frount of him. "Tis beautiful, isn't it? Crystal and glass. If possible, I would have planned to snatch this whole building." He extended one arm, gesturing around himself at the room. It was true. It was beautiful.
"But, you know, now that I'm here, I'm beginning to think that this ..." He gently tapped the artwork. "... is not the most beautiful masterpiece in the room." He lifted his eyes, his gaze scanning the room again.
I felt my breathing hitch as his gaze graced over me, and then stopped. Again, I swear, I couldn't breathe. Why was it always me?
A dashing grin took form on his lips, and finally, he looked satisfied. "But alas, I cannot have the golden-eyed girl -"
I swear, I was going to pass out if he didn't stop speaking soon.
"- so, with this," he said, placing one hand on the crystalline masterpiece, "I bid you ado."
A tip of his hat, his fedora, and a glance in my direction was all it took to get me breathing again.
A wink in my direction.
Then, he, with the masterpiece, was gone.
I didn't know if that made him rude or if it just emphasised the way he was.