Him

His plainness was beautiful to my eyes.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

Why, I did not know. There was nothing peculiar about him, nothing strange or different or frightening. He was simple. Plain. Like all the other people mingling and chattering and brushing past us. And yet he wasn’t.

Tousled hair, dewy lips, sleepy eyes atop a crooked nose. A cup of coffee wrapped between bronzed hands. Worn tennis shoes, ripped jeans, a hoodie slipping dangerously low over pointy collarbones. The lips I had traced nearly fifty times over by now quirked, and something akin to happiness flashed in those droopy eyes. He called out, and I wish I could’ve heard his voice but the denseness of the crowd drowned out the imperceptible sound. I decided that it would’ve sounded like birdsong.  

A girl. She pushed past the crowd with a toss of black curls and laughed as her hand came to rest on his arm. I saw flashes of pink nails that my mind morphed into bloody claws. Her laughter carried over even the bustling crowd and I scrunched my nose in distaste. What business had she to disrupt the beautiful scenery that had been laid before me? Supple brown skin was tumbling out of tiny blue shorts and the sheer white top left nothing to the imagination. She was bright despite the darkness of her hair and the midnight pools that were her eyes. Even from here I could see a ring in her belly, big and brilliant and glowing hot like the center of the universe. Men and boys all the same turned heads or stole glances as they wandered past. No one paid attention to the plain boy with plain hair and plain eyes and plain lips. Nobody but me.

With a trembled sigh I stood from my stool, my safe haven, my hiding spot. I brushed the non-existent crumbs from my pants and uncovered my eyes from sunglasses meant to hide secrets. Like the girl, I turned heads and caught stolen glances, heard whispers and giggles and flustered mumbles. A smile settled on my lips, a melody finding it’s home in my mouth as I hummed my way towards him. I knew it might’ve been a far fetched dream, that perhaps the girl was more than just an attractive friend or that the term “girls” was more his thing, but sitting there on that chair in that cafe and staring at someone who made my breath catch in my throat and my heart thump in strange beats, I decided. He deserved to know the effect he’d had on me, what he wished to do with it was up to him. I wanted him to know that amidst a pasty thick crowd with people of every colour and size and age, I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off of him.

I hadn’t been able to stop poring all of my attention to the gorgeous boy with soft hair and crinkled eyes and pouted lips.

Author's Note

This was just something quick that popped into my head when I saw a guy at Burger King.. It's really random and I'm not a huge fan of it but oh well! Criticism warmly welcomed.