The best way to describe Farkle and Riley's relationship with each other would be none other than blind. Not because they were unaware of the chemistry they shared, not because they didn't know how one felt about the other, but simply because neither can find the exact words to say, the words that filled their heads each time they saw each other, unspoken, yet spoken in physicality. Instead of exchanging the words that lingered on the tip of their tongues for as long as they could remember feeling such a way, they communicated with their eyes. Riley's warm, brown, chocolate eyes always had a way of welcoming Farkle into her bay window at the depths of the night, not having to say a thing other than "You're back." And Farkle's ocean blue eyes would stare back at her, not so that it was creepy, but just enough so that she knew he was there. There beside her in the wee hours of the morning, holding her hand and comforting her in the silence of her dark room, that grew brighter and brighter by the hour. Then they would flash a measly smile, and continue on with their lives. Nobody knew about this unspoken routine between the two, for then it wouldn't seem as magical as it actually is. The guy whom she'd known since they were children, and the girl he's been in love with since they were children, finally reunite as something more than what they both could handle, and without having spoken it, the way they look at each other tells all. Perhaps one day, maybe when they stop listening with their eyes, one of the young hearts will muster up the courage to break out of their comfort zones and confess their undying love for the other. But that day is yet to come, and for now, there's only the bay window, and time.
