"Silver," I whisper, shocked at the sight.
"I know you must be shocked but it's a long explanation," Harry says, my eyes taking in the sight. They're gorgeous in the strangest way. I feel captivated by the silver eyes.
"You're afraid?" he asks, my head shaking.
"It's different," I say, his head nodding.
"That's why I wear the sunglasses. It's not normal. I'm...not normal," he says, my mind slowly wrapping around this. I had never been one to believe in the supernatural, but I feel that's transforming.
"And no, I'm not pulling a Marilyn Manson with these eyes. They're not contacts," he says, making me smile lightly. As strange as it is, the fear almost fades away. I'm still nervous, but not scared much.
"I'd like to explain," he says, my head nodding. He sits on the floor and I kneel in front of him, his body at least five feet away from mine.
"I arrived here three years ago," he says, my fingers running through my hair as I process 'arrived here'. Does this make him an alien or something? I'm so confused.
"And I woke up to look for you. I have this draw towards you and I finally found you after all this time," he says, my head nodding.
"But I don't get it," I say, his head nodding.
"Okay, you need to just listen because it's going to be twisted and you're going to be really confused," he says, Harry assuring me through all of this.
"Alright," I say, slightly uneasy and nervous, but I'm assured.
"I was born in February of 1950," he starts and I drop my jaw, shocked. He looks 20.
"Hold on. Let me go on," he says, my head nodding. That would make him at least 60. I'm stunned.
"And I died in June 1971," he says, my heart stopping. I'm slightly creeped out and I wrap my arms around my knees, watching as he struggles to explain. He knows I'm disturbed and he forces himself to continue.
"I-I know how weird and messed up that sounds but it's the truth. I'm not the only one like this," he tells me, my thoughts jumbled. He's supposed to be dead.
"What does that make you?" I ask, his lips releasing a sigh.
"That's where it gets complicated," he says, my heart now racing. This is crazy.
"Some call us Watchers, brought down to earth to protect over someone. Others call us Fallen Angels. But I prefer the Descended. Because I heard something and I sinned by hearing that sound and wanting it, so I descended," he says, my eyes locking with his.
"A sound?" I ask, my response a curt nod.
"You see, the main reasons why we fall are because we usually fall for a human. Whether it's to protect someone as a second chance or if it's love, it varies. But I heard something and I fell for it," he says, my eyes watching him. It's clear he's never explained this before.
"I heard you laugh," he says, my lips releasing a sigh. I thought it would have been way worse. Well, in actuality, I had no idea what to expect.
"All I did as soon as I heard it was fall because it's a sin for a deceased to fall for a human trait, and for that, we fall."
My confusion is most likely expressed on my features and I look back at him, wanting to ask him a question but nothing comes.
"Fallen angel," I whisper astonished, so confused but I feel as though I shouldn't worry.
"I don't know what I need to do to prove to you that I won't hurt you. All I ask for is that you trust me," he says, my eyes assumingly wide with curiosity. His words barely register for I'm consumed in my thoughts. I'm looking at someone who has died and fell from wherever it is you go after you die.
