His Eyes
The air seemed to thicken as I sat down across from him, my movements stiff and awkward. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to act.
Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)
You must be the girl they’ve been talking about
He said, his voice deep, smooth, almost too calm.
The way he said "girl" made me feel like I was some object, something to be examined, not a person.
I didn’t answer him. My fingers twisted in my lap, the dress feeling more and more like a prison with every passing second.
He didn’t seem to care that I was uncomfortable. In fact, he didn’t seem to care at all. He looked at me like I was just another thing he had to deal with.
Caelus Di Silvestro (ML)
You look... nice ❄
He said, though there was no warmth behind the words. It felt more like a command than a compliment.
I didn’t know how to respond to him. I didn’t know what this was. What this was supposed to be.
My mind was a mess of confusion and panic, but I didn’t have the words to make it stop. I had never been this afraid in my life.
And yet, somehow, I knew. This wasn’t normal.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
I had been avoiding his gaze, keeping my eyes on the table, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, as if that would keep me grounded.
I was in a strange, beautiful prison—one I didn’t know how to escape from.
But then, he leaned forward slightly, and I felt the pull of his presence. It was almost as if the air between us shifted.
Something about him commanded attention, and I couldn’t help it. I finally lifted my eyes and met his gaze.
His eyes were the first thing I noticed.
The kind of blue that I could only compare to the sky—the sky that I loved so much, that made me feel small and yet safe.
His eyes were sharp, like they could see straight through me, but at the same time, there was something unsettlingly distant about them.
They weren’t warm. They weren’t welcoming. They were calculating.
But the color—the color was beautiful. Like the sky at the edge of dusk, when it’s both dark and light at the same time.
A deep, piercing blue that somehow made me feel like I could fall into them and disappear.
His jawline was strong and defined, sharp like the angles of a sculpted statue, and his lips...
Those lips were perfect, curved with just the right amount of definition.
He looked like someone you’d see in a magazine, one of those models Isleen used to read about in the magazines she kept hidden under her bed.
The ones with the flawless faces and perfect bodies.
It was almost surreal, as if he didn’t belong in the same world as me.
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