He takes your breath away.
Maybe it's the way he dresses; always sharp, not a scuff on his shoes or a crease in his clothes. Maybe it's the way his hair always seems to be so soft and well-kept.
Or, perhaps, maybe it's the way he laughs. The cackle that all others find absurdly obnoxious, but you find joy. Maybe it's the way he tends to speak so smoothly; that voice that can caress you and make you comfortable, the voice that could convince you do to anything.
Maybe it's the way he's so different in general. How he has both his masculine and his feminine side, never afraid to switch on a dime and let you know what he thinks. Maybe he takes your breath away because of how outgoing he is, how blunt he is with everything he intends.
Maybe your breath is taken away because of the knife he dug into your abdomen, sending you into shock as your own blood spilled over your hands as he looked to you with his gleaming gray eyes, that lovely grin plastered over his face; that smile being the last thing you see when your vision fades and your legs collapse from beneath you.
