Enchanted

9

I let myself stare at him, mentally documenting the arch of his nose, his cracked lips, the high cheekbones, his wide blue eyes.

He's gorgeous

But he wasn't without his imperfections. The lines of his face were interrupted, broken bones. His chin leaned slightly towards the right, his nose had clearly been busted a few times and his jaw didn't quite look right, almost as if it had dislocated and a doctor hastily screwed it back in place.

A multitude of conflicting emotions rose within me as my gaze shifted back to those warm ocean eyes of his. I wasn't sure how I felt about him but I did feel like shit for judging him.

I had made the decision to never see him again before I heard his story and, even if it physically hurt, I still stood by my decision.

Granted, he was nothing like the selfish, two-timing rich boy I had assumed he was. In fact, behind that stiff posture and grandeur of wealth, he was kind. A bit bruised and broken but kind nonetheless.

I saw him. 

As a kid, hiding his heart in case his father punished him for it.

As a teenager, rebellion surging through his veins as salty water.

I saw his heart blind him, I saw him trapping himself and I saw him giving up.

I felt sorry for him but, more than that, I understood. I could not put myself in his shoes because they would never fit and that is why I understood. This wasn't about me judging him or telling him how to live his life; this was for him to speak his truth.

My heart still ached but this was a different kind of ache — I was silently mourning the life he should've led if it wasn't for his father and, more painfully, the life that we could never have.

He was beautiful, that much was true. Years of holing himself away had left him so pale that his skin glittered under the moonlight, as smooth as pearls. His blonde curls shone like a halo above his head, the perfect addition to his shining form. If it weren't for that haunted look in his ocean eyes, he could've been an angel. Much unlike me.

I eventually pulled away from his gaze as I remembered that I was little more than dirt while sitting next to him. He was too out of my reach: another shining star billions of light years away from my fingertips.

"You look sad." He whispered into the silence, shuffling closer to me.

I held my knees tighter to my chest, silently begging him to return to his side of the bench. He got the message pretty well because sure, enough, he pulled back.

"Yeah, I am sad. When Afro mentioned that you abandoned your roots, I hadn't known it ran this deep."

My eyes were on my dirty feet but I could almost see him frown.

"Aphrodite told you that?"

I nodded. "Don't be mad. She only brought it up because I'm more or less the same. Except, I don't have an abusive parent. In fact, I don't have any parents."

The words tumbled out without my permission. I didn't bother waiting for his reaction — I didn't want to see it. I hurriedly stood up, stretching my sore limbs.

"I didn't —"

"It's late. Thank you for sharing your story with me. It doesn't answer all my questions but I understand now."

He stood up beside me, eyes laced with confusion.

"I understand that I will never understand. You've gone through a lot and I am in no place to judge any of your decisions. I can't say 'if I were you...' because I'm not. I just...I get it. Is that enough?"