K.TH || PRINCE CHARMING

ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ ᑎIᑎETEEᑎ

What did she do that was better? Did she look better? Was she a better cook? Could she read? Was my illiteracy the issue?

"Am I ugly?" I ask, very matter-of-factly.

He blinks in surprise.

Realizing how pathetic and insecure that sounded, I retract my statement.

"I mean, not ugly; I know I'm not ugly. Not that I'm a narcissist or anything! I just know that I'm not entirely unappealing to the eye."

His lips twitch with a smile.

"What I mean is," I say, realizing I'm rambling.

"Are there things about myself visually that would be considered unappealing to the male eye, someplace I'm falling short in that I'm not aware of?".

I look to see what he will say once I finish my tangent, only to see an endearing smile on his face.

I frown, and he clears his throat, regaining his composure.

"My apologies, lady (Y/N), I was unsure whether or not you were jesting".

"My eyebrows furrow; why would I be joking? This is a serious question. If I were your partner, would something be lacking in me?".

I use my arms and motion to myself. "Like, is something amiss? Am I missing something but have too much ego to recognize it?".

Another smile from him, the kind of smile you give to a foolish child.

But I do see him look at me, like really look at me, so intently that it makes me buzz a little bit.

His eyes slowly run over my entire being.

He starts at my hand dangling off the chair, looking at every knuckle and fingertip before his gaze move to the planes of my arms, dragging his gaze up to my shoulder and collarbones.

They move momentarily over my chest before ascending quickly; a real gentleman, I'd have to say

And finally, to my face.

When his eyes reach my face, an unreadable emotion blooms in his eyes.

His eye linger for a while on my lips before moving to my nose, almost like he had to force himself to look up.

His eyes climb my nose bridge and run through the expanse of my forehead. They linger there for so long that I fight the urge to clasp my hand on top of it.

Maybe I had a zit.

His eyes weave through the twists and braids in my hair, and the pieces that are resting on my neck from where I undid the bobby pins.

He finally holds my gaze again.

But this time, it's intense.

I've noticed that he's never shied away from eye contact unless he is feeling guilty, always trying to meet my gaze and stare into my soul with those saucers of his.

He continues to stare at me, and I try to stare back, but when I do, what I find in his eyes causes my breath to catch in my throat.

A look so tender and kind. A gaze without judgement and full of adoration for a stranger.