Just So Beautiful

He was just so beautiful; his hair, never changing, never a single strand out of place, arranged sleekly over his pale skin, blending and smoothing. It caught the light, reflecting, absorbing, refracting; changing colour and staying the same; becoming blinding in its beauty and perfection and then, suddenly, not so perfect after all as it becomes sweat soaked and fingers are curled in it, and yet- it's beautiful in the way it shines, flops in his eyes, makes him seem even more washed-out then before.

She was just so beautiful; her hands are so white and yet dotted with little round freckles he loves to touch one by one; tiny little marring spots that add to the entrancing nature of her long pale fingers as they stroke up and down his skin, making him shiver and watch her hands and he can see the veins throbbing beneath the surface, so fragile, he takes her hands in his and kisses them so gently like they might break, because he doesn't want her to break or go away, ever, ever.

He was just so beautiful; his eyes, so cold, so warm, so welcoming, so forbidden. They draw her in like a moth to a flame, the colour of his eyes, the feeling in his eyes pull her towards him, and- the pure colour of them, the clearest she's ever seen; like shining little pebbles in a flowing river, washed clean by the constant pounding of the water; washed-out, and yet- more wonderful then before, she finds herself sinking into them, sinking into the deep rushing water of them as he holds her tight and she wonders at the beauty of his grey eyes.

She was just so beautiful; her mouth like a little round cherry blossom in the pale freckled expanse of her small face, her lips rounded just so, so red in her fair skin, like they don't belong. A small little bubblegum tongue behind slightly crooked teeth, hidden in those cherry lips, in that pink mouth; they make him study the curve of her smile, the brilliance of her happiness. He traces the outline of her lips against her skin, slowly with his finger, then with his tongue, wondering how God could have made such beautiful thing as her mouth.

And he is just so beautiful; she clings to him, sobbing, telling him, no, no, he must have made a mistake, what is he doing, how can he do this, doesn't he love her? Don't you love me? And yet as she holds him tight she takes him in, absorbing his beauty, storing it within her for when she needs the strength to go on; she takes in the smooth skin beneath his black cloak, the drawn bones in his face as he tries to get away from her with only wet cheeks; and she holds on to him as hard as she can, screaming, no, no, you can't leave me, please don't leave me, I love you. I love you. He is just so beautiful she can't help it, she needs him, she needs him and his strong arms and delicate beauty and-

She is just so beautiful; even as he tears away with a shattering heart he can't help but look at her, the tears flowing from her dark brown eyes as she begs for him to stay, the way as she weeps for him little water droplets gather on the end of her ski-jump nose and drip off one by one. He takes her face in his hands, brushing away long strands of her distinct burning hair, and she clutches at him, saying desperately that he is making a mistake, that she can protect him, and all he hears are the words in her pleading eyes, asking him a question; and what can he answer? Nothing she could bear to hear. He answers her question with one of his own, and gives her the only thing he can give her; a kiss and a promise that neither of them know if he will be able to keep.

And he is just so beautiful, she thinks, with her broken heart and wet cheeks as she watches him go away.