Alastair was handsome, the kind of boy that made all girls at school sigh and the other boys feel jealous (or their hearts beat a little bit faster than usual). He was intelligent, all A's and scholarships and books for adults. He was talented, he could play three different instruments, he could draw and paint beautiful oil portraits, he could sing you to sleep with a voice such of a mermen.
But what made Nobody's heart ache was Alastair's eyes.
He had eyes of emerald and bluemarine, little specs of hazel and honey that dripped from them. They were calm, like the ocean on a nice summer day when kids play and splash each other and adults don't even have to pay attention. They were warm, like fields of golden and brown on the mists of autumn, when august comes to an end and you have to come back to school.
And they were so sad.
The kind of sadness that you don't see at first because you're blinded by his bright smiles. The kind of sadness that causes the perfect teen to smoke and drink behind everyone else's back. The kind of sadness that makes you want to treasure him, because he might no be here in a couple years and you don't want to regret not loving him.
But they were also full of love.
Love of the kind that makes you crazy stupid, were you just can't stop giggling and acting cute. The kind of love that gives it's all.
They were full of love for Nobody the same way Nobody was full of love for Alastair.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight (Not)Fairytales
General FictionCompilation of little stories, descriptions or poems written by the light of my computer screen on sleepless summer nights.