We Were Blue // Completed

6//

"We are more frightened then hurt; and we suffer more from imagination than from reality."

-Seneca

It's like electricity zapping through the room every time Damon steals little glimpses of me. Like lightning striking my body when I catch those storm blue eyes wandering over me. It only confuses me because I can't figure out what exactly he wants. Does he want to be with me? Or want nothing to do with me? And if it's the latter why's he acting like this?

Maybe Roman's right, as much as it kills me to say it, he had some good points. Nothing was ever settled between Damon and me which means there's an abundance of loose ends. Of 'what ifs' and those things make it hard to fully move on, even if you've convinced yourself to do just that.

Loose ends lead to moments like this where we both can't seem to keep our eyes off each other, but our gaze never meets. Every time I try to catch him staring, he snaps his irises to the other direction and pretends to be intensely interested in something mediocre. But he's never quite fast enough to leave me doubting he was looking.

The monotone voice coming from the front of the classroom is simply background noise to the interaction clouding my ability to focus. What I really want to know is if he feels it to. Dammit he has to- or maybe I'm so desperate for him to that I've convinced myself he does.

He eyes flicker to mine and they linger longer this time even when I turn and capture them with my own. Thunderstorms work in them as strikes of emotion I can decipher gyrate in their depths and in that moment somehow I know he feels it too.

Our stare down breaks as the piercing bell chimes and everyone begins moving in a blur to escape the room, but I don't move- I stay put. A rough hand gently touches my arm and I immediately jump at the sudden contact.

Concern coats Damon's features like a thin layer of dust as his lips perk up in an uneasy smile. "Are you okay?" sincerity rings through his words as his eyes go soft.

I lift my gaze to see that everybody has left, even the teacher, leaving us all alone. I bite my lip and stand from my seat quickly causing the metal chair to squeak as it rubs against the tile flooring. It takes everything in me to ignore his nagging presence as I throw my books into my bag and sling it over my shoulder.

I spin around and almost bump straight into him, not realizing how close he is. Fog clouds over his irises as he stares down at me and runs a hand through his hair. I swallow thickly because it feels like the room just rose ten degrees in temperature. Oh fuck my stupid hormones, "Yeah," I mumble, my tone much raspier then I was expecting. A blush crawls onto my cheeks and I shift my sight away from his eyes.

He inhales deeply and lowers his head making it closer to my own. Visions of him pushing me up against the desk and kissing the hell out of my erupt through my train of thought. I internally scold myself and push it away to the very depths of my brain, because that is never going to happen.

Tingles dance in my arm as he takes my hand in his and begins playing with my fingers. He used to do this when he was feeling nervous about something and I never knew how much I missed it until right now.

He angles his head so he's staring straight into my eyes. "We need to talk," My eyes follow his lips shamelessly and I have to gather all my strength to look away from them.

His hand is still holding my own but the contact will only destroy me in the long run because I know he'll never be mine again. I pull away, immediately missing the warmth he provided. Hurt dashes through those magnetic grey irises of his and I want to punch myself for being the one that caused it.