Silhouette

Bit of fanfiction. Jareth/Older Toby

A silhouette waited by the curtains as they fluttered by the open window and reclined against the sill as he heard the front door close downstairs. The sound of foot steps on the groaning steps signaled the arrival of his prey but he waited, melting into the shadows. The bedroom door swung in and Toby stumbled in carrying a crinkled paper bag under an arm and two dark ones under his eyes.

 

The shadow smirked, knowing nothing in that bag would fix those tired eyes as long as it was exam week. Toby tucked a strand of blond hair that had freed itself from his ponytail behind his ear and leaned against the wardrobe when kicking off his shoes became an awkward dance. The smirk that the shadow wore turned into a grin dangerously on the verge of becoming a chuckle.

 

It was close to midnight and the night air was warm, almost muggy as it filtered through the window screens. The boy’s next move was to turn on the fan, the bag was set on the vanity, and he began tugging his shirt over his head but little did he know he had an audience. He sat behind the glow of his computer monitor and pulled the cool slender neck of the bottle from the paper bag.

 

He got the cap off and sealed his lips on the glass mouth for a swig, grimacing at the harsh burn.  He drank until his head was swimming with images of sweaty wanton bodies and his eyes began to sting. Once the lights were out and Toby was sprawled out on the bed, his long limbs going every which way, the shadow moved from his post by the window and drifted over to the bed.

 

 This was what he waited for: those beautiful blue eyes to close, golden-tinged lashes fanning out and fluttering as the boy below him began to dream, the steady intake of breath that smelt of vodka, and the corners of those perfect pink lips turned slightly up. Every night for the past two weeks he had spent waiting for Toby to return to the apartment, waiting for Toby to drift off to sleep or to pass out depending.

 

The silhouette stepped into the light cast by streetlamps outside revealing a strange looking gentleman that watched the boy’s chest rise with two different colored eyes from under a wild mop of feathery hair. With a gloved hand, he combed golden bangs away from the sleeping boy’s face.

 

“What is it you dream about?” he whispered to the sleeping human. The question was answered only by the distant hiss of cars on the rain-slicked street outside. Truly, Toby was no longer a boy but a lanky young man with somewhat delicate features that made the strange man wonder if he did indeed have some fae blood in him after all. It had taken him that long to track him down and longer to muster the strength to venture to this particular world again.