Windows, Souls, Identity

2: A Face From The Past

Claire

Claire's day was going great. She'd aced all her exams as always, managed not to get hit on for 24 hours straight by random strangers (both guys and girls), she'd even obtained permission to start on her extra-credit research paper, ahead of the class.

Sighing contentedly, she stuffed her textbooks into her bag, slapping Jesse on the back as a way of saying goodbye before heading back to her apartment, unable to sit still in the musty library any longer. Humming to herself, she couldn't keep the silly grin off her face as she skipped along the pavement, blatantly ignoring the strange looks she received. Claire closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the hard-earned rapture coursing through her system. Her blitheness was short-lived, for a moment later, she collided head first into a solid wall of warm muscle.

Her eyes snapped open instinctively and she let out a tiny shriek. The supposed "solid wall" snorted. A pair of gelid hands wrapped around her frame, steadying her. She gazed up at her assailant, not expecting herself to end up gaping at a beguiling statue of stoic impassivity. Burgundy curls framed his perfectly sculpted cheekbones, so high and sharp Claire didn't doubt for a second that they could cut a diamond in half; there was no denying that he was attractive. But what made Claire's knees go weak was his eyes. Under the dim lighting of a streetlamp, they were an angelic verdigris colour - sectoral heterochromia, her brain told her feebly. It wasn't just the colour, but the piercing intensity of his gaze that seemed to cut through all her thoughts, rendering her helpless and painfully attracted to the raw, icy beauty in them. He was tall, with her head only just reaching his shoulder, his physique lean yet surprisingly solid; his face was inscrutable, completely devoid of emotion.

"You're high." He stated flatly, his lovely baritone voice snapping Claire out of her reverie. "Excuse me, what?" She snapped, immediately defensive, yet she couldn't help but yearn to touch his chiseled jawline.

"Well, you're high. What sober person would walk around with such a big smile?" He drawled, clearly aware of the effect he had on her. Heat rushed to her cheeks and she cursed herself inwardly. So much for being the ice queen, Claire...

His voice did strange things to her body, but she refused to give in to her traitorous body. "It's called happiness, an emotion you obviously don't have much experience with." She quipped dryly, trying not to look like she was wondering if his lips would feel as velvety as they looked.

Gabriel

He blinked in shock at her response, as fiery as her silky hair, taken aback by how true it rang and just how strange it felt to have a complete stranger announce the simple truth of his existence. She was right. He knew nothing about happiness, just the pills, syringes and the countless girls that he'd been with - nothing more than poor imitations of joy and relief.

He'd known prior to that moment of his lack of experience with the emotion, but nothing could have prepared him for how much her words stung. Forcing his face into a mask of aloofness, he swallowed the lump in his throat, desperately blinking away the sting in his eyes. One look, and he knew she'd seen right through his facade. Her eyes softened almost imperceptibly with the one emotion Gabriel could not tolerate - pity. He'd seen that look more than enough times on his own mother's face and the last thing he needed was to be reminded of it by a stranger that should not have had any effect on him.

He sucked in a lungful of cool air, immediately regretting his choice as the girl's perfume entered his system. Willing himself to get a grip, he spun on his heel and shrunk back into the shadows.

Gabriel cursed himself inwardly. So much for not letting his pathetic excuse of a father win.