Her Eyes

Seventeen

Esmae looked out the window at the thundering storm. Despite it raining as hard as it was, Nikolaos took Esmae outside to visit a library.

She asked him where books were stored and instead of explaining it to her, Nikolaos took her to experience it for herself. The library they went to was one of the older ones in London, but it still had a modern touch with a small cafe inside where people bought beverages and desserts before heading to a sitting area with a book of their choice and reading for hours.

Nikolaos pulled Esmae around the library, showing her the different genres that littered the shelves and showing her the covers of the different books. "This is a trilogy. Authors write a story across three books," Nikolaos explained, handing the three books to Esmae to examine on her own.

She brushed her hand against the covers, feeling the way there were dents in certain areas due to the way the cover was illustrated. When she moved it around, it shimmered, hitting the high lights on the ceiling.

Esmae handed it to Nikolaos to put back. She didn't necessarily want to read anything, but she found the new experience insightful. "Why is it quiet?" she asked after some time of them wandering around, noticing how everyone was either alone or with a pair. If they were with someone, they would whisper, hoping their voices weren't too loud to disturb the others reading.

Nikolaos led Esmae to a corner hidden between the shelves where there wasn't as much light as the surroundings, and no one passed through. "Because," he whispered, "individuals come to the library to focus on either reading or their work. They can't focus if it's too loud." That's when it clicked for Esmae.

The world, while it was shared by everyone, was divided by individuals. Each person lived their own life, focusing on themselves as the centerpiece. They lived for themselves, not for others, and while they did, they still respected those around them because it was necessary for life.

Esmae was living for Nikolaos. She didn't have a sense of self – at least not fully. She lived for Nikolaos because she believed it was why she became human. Everything she did was to please him, and she assumed the same of everyone else, but she was wrong. Even Nikolaos didn't live for her completely. He had his own goals, his own aspirations, that he wished to accomplish before old age caught him.

Everyone's focus was on themself, not others.

Esmae's head began to hurt as she thought about it, almost as if a revelation occurred to her. She was her own person with feelings that mattered and affected her wellbeing. She couldn't dismiss them as easily as she always did; they were important and should be taken care of with the delicacy of an oil painting.

Esmae thought for a while, biting her lip in deep thought. "Humans...are hard to understand," she sighed, shaking her head. She heard Nikolaos chuckle at her words and lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Are we? I find you quite hard to understand myself, glykiá mou," he retaliated jokingly, though partly serious, wrapping a large curl of the dryad's hair around his finger, feeling the soft and light texture it held.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted, "Really? Am I hard to understand?" she asked, not believing it herself. Esmae thought she was very easy to understand, but she failed to notice how those around her couldn't begin to wonder who she was and where she came from.

"Yes. I think you are very confusing." Nikolaos' smile grew, finding the way Esmae's nose scrunched up adorable, her freckles moving with it. "Why?" she asked, nearly begging him to tell her what he didn't know. "Well...for starters, you never tell me how you feel," he said, leaning closer to her, their noses almost touching. "I-I think I do –"

"No, no, no," he shook his head, suddenly serious, "you don't. Why don't you tell me when you're sad Esmae? Hm?" Her breath hitched, her eyes flittering between the large tsunami before her. "Because –"