original shorts.

ocean eyes.

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Alexandria sipped her coffee carefully, so as not to burn her tongue. That feeling most people associate with strong alcohol -- the way it burns on the way down, and warms you to your core? That was what Alexandria felt without fail every time she drank coffee. Coffee was like a drug to her.
Well, it was actually a drug, she supposed, but most people didn't think of it as such. Danger hidden in plain sight. A wolf in sheep's clothing.
A delicious wolf, though.
She took another sip and set the mug down on her nightstand, leaning back onto her pillows and turning the page of the romance novel she'd been deeply absorbed in before she began musing on the addictive properties of coffee. It was nine in the evening -- or 21 o'clock, as people said around here -- and Alexandria was lying in bed drinking coffee (which didn't seem to caffeinate her in the least but tasted delightful) and reading a book. For once in the last few weeks, she felt more alive than dead.
Rain poured down outside, drenching the streets and rooftops, washing away the dirt and grime that continuously accumulated in the Old Town. It pattered on her window, the rhythm consistent and comforting, soothing the sometimes oppressive silence in her head.
The tapping grew louder, more consistent. More even. Almost as though it were a hand rather than water.
Alexandria nearly laughed at that thought. What a ridiculous notion. She wished she had someone who'd knock on her window at night. In the rain, no less.
Suddenly, something crashed into the window. Alexandria jumped, cursing. Probably a tree branch or some such, being thrown around in the wind. She hoped it hadn't broken the window -- literal window shopping was the last thing she wanted to worry about right now.
She walked across the room and yanked back the drapes.
And nearly had a heart attack.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Alexandria yelled through the window at the blue-skinned, blue-haired girl perched nonchalantly on her windowsill, as though she scaled six-story buildings nightly. "How did you even get up here?"
Pacific rolled her eyes. "I climbed," she yelled back. "Now, are you going to quit standing there with your mouth hanging open like a fish and let me in, or will I be sleeping on your roof tonight?"
Alexandria glared at her but promptly shut her mouth, which was indeed hanging open like that of a fish. She fumbled with the catch on the window, finally sliding it open. She shivered in the gust of frigid air that blew into the room, wondering how Pacific had been standing outside in nothing but a thin white blouse and a blue satin skirt without freezing to death -- but then again, considering that Pacific spent most of her time in the depths of the ocean working for siren royalty, Alexandria supposed the below-freezing temperatures in the city tonight likely felt downright summery to her.
Pacific alighted gracefully on the carpet, completely dry despite the pouring rainstorm outside, and brushed nonexistent dust from her skirt. Alexandria shoved the window closed after her and pulled the drapes closed over it, then turned around to face Pacific.
"You still haven't answered my first question," she accused as Pacific's eyes darted around the room, taking in the paintings on the walls and the rumpled bedsheets, the cup of coffee still steaming on the nightstand. "Why are you here?"
Pacific settled her full attention on Alexandria. "I didn't answer it because I assumed it was not a serious question," she said, looking incredulous. "Do I need a reason to see you?"
"Do you have a reason?"
Pacific let out a breath, as though steeling herself before admitting something difficult. "I...I missed you."
Alexandria's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "Really?"
Pacific glared at her. "Yes, really. I missed you, Alexandria. Satisfied?"
Alexandria was absolutely satisfied. "No," she said. "Not satisfied."
Pacific sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Look, Alexandria. I understand you are angry with me. I understand that you likely wish I had not come tonight, that I had stayed in my halls beneath the sea. But I have been thinking too much since we argued, and predominantly those thoughts were about you. Specifically, about how much I would loathe my life were you not in it." Pacific locked her eyes onto Alexandria's, and Alexandria felt every ounce of sincerity in that ocean-blue gaze. "I am not sure how much I can change -- how much I can go against my nature, deny who I am. But for you, I am willing to try."
She took a deep breath, and her gaze turned sad, a lamentation for something already lost. "You deserve so much more than someone who is willing to try, Alexandria. You should not accept that." She turned back to the window, steeling herself to leave.
"Wait," said Alexandria, stopping her. "Pacific..."
"It's alright, Alexandria. Do not feel pressured to settle on my account."
"Pacific, I wouldn't be settling."
At that, she turned around.
Alexandria looked at the floor. "What I said to you that night...I didn't really mean it. I was angry, and scared, and I wasn't thinking clearly. I don't want to ask you to do the impossible, Pacific. I want to you try. That's all I ask."
Pacific walked closer cautiously, step by step, until their bodies were nearly touching. Her hand brushed Alexandria's jaw, drawing her eyes up to hers. "You're certain?" Pacific asked, quietly, almost trepidatiously.
Alexandria was suddenly acutely aware of the negative space between them, the mere inches between Pacific's lips and her own. "Positive," she managed.
Pacific smiled that strange, ethereal smile of hers, charming and sorrowful and dangerous all at once. But Alexandria was beyond fear now. She'd listened to her head long enough -- it was time for her heart to take over.
And when she listened at long last, finally giving in, she found that nothing had changed. That same rhythmic heartbeat was still there. Pacific, Pacific, Pacific.