Retrouvailles

Track 2: Prey

Track 2 | Prey | 4:40 | Pastime

"As long as you notice, I'm hoping that you'll keep your heart open."

His eyes danced thoughtfully along the melting whites and speckled blacks of her appallingly large novel, ducking his nose into the billowing puffs of steam in his mug. They curled aimlessly around his nose, stinging his eyes, but he refused to break his gaze. Vibrant, shimmering tresses waterfalled around her soft cheekbones, highlighting the swirls of rare gold in her averted hues, and they drew him in like a deep, enamoring fairy tale.

Her spoon twirled around her dish like a dancing ballerina whose mind was focused on anything but the task at hand, and the hardback in her grip towered up to the rim of her darling optics, the enamored pools of color glistening in the sunset like firelight, warm and inviting.

The uttermost corners of his lips were impossible to keep from curling up at the sight, and he continued to admiringly peer at her from behind his fingers, sugar sweet hues tracing the way her own flickered from each side of the page, back and forth and back and forth before lithe fingers delicately flipped the paper.

The air was filled with a particularly poignant scent of what seemed to be an enticing mix of coffee beans and paper; he inhaled and exhaled like each breath was his last, the loud and obnoxious sigh eliciting a shuffle from the opposing seat.

Another flick of a page sliced through the painstaking silence like a sword, and at this point, the lack of much-needed attention he was receiving was twisting his joints at a sinful angle, his entire body quaking with the desire to be noticed.

A fire ignited in his soul once her eyes clashed with his, but it was as short-lived as his satisfaction, and she was quick to flick her gaze to the distracting fingertip that was tilting her novel forward. Her plump, pink lips parted to breathe indiscernible words into his ears, but he only processed a limp, muddied slur, his hues trained primarily on her rosy flower petals glossed with this captivating lustrous sheen.

"Dazai?" The man betrayed no shame in his blatant attraction, only responding to her curious voice with coffee colored doe eyes innocent enough to set anyone -naive female or not- on edge. The view of her visage smeared by thick, butterfly lashes, he traipsed his piercing gaze up her face, drinking in the soft quirk of her mouth, the dust of sun-smooched splats across her nose, and finally, the way the faint, synthetic cafe lighting made her hues glow like they were sizzling embers. Eyes locked for the smallest moments, there was a question in his gaze.

A question she was quick to answer with the aversion of her own.