Pretty Broken Butterfly

It's In Our Eyes...

When I asked him why I should be allowed to feel those emotions for those reasons, he said because I'm human and humans are known to be fallible.

I know of the choices I made and I know the destruction that was left in their wake. If I shut those emotions out, if I shut out any of my emotions going through this, then how am I supposed to ensure that I'm giving my all into being a better man in the future?

Even from a distance, I observe the convulsing of Charlie's throat as she swallows before she looks away.

I lean back in the booth, my body and mind still now that she's in the vicinity, and I watch her and Alek make their way over to me.

It's a long go of it because she gets waylaid by nearly everyone, customers and employees alike, yet not once does she get frustrated or impatient.

Not that I expected her to. Charlie's not the type. Her dad always said she had the patience of a saint and it's not a lie. Charlie once told me, after we stood talking to an elderly man about absolutely everything and nothing at the same time for twenty minutes, that you never know someone's story. They maybe just need someone to see them and it costs her nothing but moments of her time to show them she does.

Alek leans down to whisper something in her ear, and she tilts her head back with a smile.

The cotton of my t-shirt is abrasive against my skin as I try to rub away the pain that's become an unpaying tenant in the middle of my chest.

I see it. The way they fit. The way she's able to lower her guard with him because he makes her feel. I can even see the chemistry between them despite it being cooler than what I expected.

And even if there's fucking jealousy at them being together, the brief glimpses of joy when she interacts with him lets me know that she's healing and there's nothing more beautiful than that.

Maybe this isn't a good idea.

I don't want to mess up and set her back. She seems to be on a good path now and her healing is the most important thing in the world right now. Surely we could have figured out something else besides her having to come face to face with me.

Climbing to my feet as they get closer, I fold my arms across my chest

Fuck. Too aggressive.

I drop them and shove my hands into my pockets, but...no, that won't work either. Seems too casual.

Dammit.

But then I don't have to worry about stupid shit like the damn placement of my arms because they're standing right in front of me and that fucking mint and chocolate scent that will always be associated with her teases my nostrils.

My hands reach for her in reflex before I realize what I'm doing and I drop it, squeezing it into a fist. "Sorry," I mumble, lifting the other to the back of my neck.

But then something fucking amazing happens that seals the breath into my lungs.

She smiles at me.

It's small.

Barely there, really, but since I've not been able to take my eyes off her since she walked in, I catch it and I fucking memorize it.

"Breathe, man," Alek says, the laughter loud inside his tone.

Blowing out a breath, I glance toward him to find him watching me with dancing eyes.

Motherfucker is getting a kick out of me being so nervous.

My lips twitch and I let him read the playful, silent 'fuck you' in mine.

Still want to punch him in the dick, though.