-

.his phenomenal eyes.

- aka

written for you

-

I sat alone on a small, uncomfortable stool, my eyes glued to the stage on the other side of the room, where a boy with semi-long blond hair that fell before his eyes sat on a stool identical to mine, and everyone else’s in the club. His green eyes were cast downwards, towards the guitar held on his knee. One foot rested against the leg of the stool, while the other was left dangling near the floor of the stage.

I watched as he moved his fingers to get the right key on the guitar, then he lightly strummed his fingertips along the strings, as if testing the sound. He cleared his throat, then looked up, licking his dry lips. He shook his head curtly, hardly even moving it at all, to clear wisps of blond hair that tickled his forehead. His green eyes were piercing, yet dull. So passionless and wounded. He had been through so much, I could tell just by his eyes. And his posture. Slightly slumped; broken. Unfeasible.

He cleared his throat again to get the crowds attention. They all looked at him in interest, while some just looked drunk out of their minds. Most, however, were alert and watching him with intent gazes. If I had been him, I would have been nervous as hell. But maybe he was. Maybe he just didn’t show it.

If he was nervous, he was excellent at hiding it under that mask of emotionless weariness. I could detect a confident aura around him, yet he did not look confident in the least. He looked tired; upset almost.

He had beautiful eyes, though. So captivating; so wounded. I was drawn to them and couldn’t look away from those enchanting orbs that cut through the crowd. It almost looked as if he hated the people before him, his eyes was so bitter as he gazed at them. As he scanned through the crowd, his eyes fell on mine, and he hesitated, then continued to eye the crowd down.

“I assume I’m supposed to tell you my name,” the boy spoke in a dry, husky voice that made my spine tingle. He had a nice voice. It was dark; ruffled almost. Disturbingly attractive. It was one of those voices that just stood out in a crowd. If he had been surrounded by many people who continuously talked, and suddenly he began to speak, I would have been drawn into his voice. I would have noticed it.

A smirk crawled onto the boy’s lips at an almost agonizingly slow pace as he strummed his fingers along the strings of his guitar a second time, still testing, even while he had captured the attention of almost everyone in the crowd, except for a couple who were busy with each other in the far corner of the room. He threw his head back so the hair that still hung in front of his eyes would shift out of his way, but it slid back nonetheless.

“I don’t think I will,” he said slowly, in that torturously husky, slightly hoarse voice. “Not because I don’t want to. Just because I’m assuming you don’t care.”

“I want to know!” a girl in the front suddenly cried. The boy glanced down at her, first a little surprised, then he relaxed and gave her a half-smile in amusement.

“What’s your name?” the boy asked, raising his thin eyebrows skywards. The girl, who looked no older than eighteen, grinned shyly, despite being drunk. She ran her fingers along the front of the stage and murmured, “Alysha.”

The boy gave her a coy smile and shifted on the stool. “Alysha. That’s a beautiful name.” He looked up at the crowd and regarded them slightly lazily. His posture relaxed even further, now that he once again had control of the situation. “Would someone buy Alysha another drink?” he questioned the audience. They all looked at each other and a dull chatter began to drift through the room. I glanced at a few of them, listening as they suggested different alcoholic drinks that were cheap.

“I’ll get’er a tequila,” a man around the age of twenty-five spoke up. He stood up and walked through the club towards Alysha. He looked up at the boy on stage, who watched him sharply with eyes that resembled the wariness of a hawk. The man took Alysha’s wrist and pulled her out of the chair. She giggled drunkenly at him as he pulled her over to the bar. When the boy on the stage cleared his throat, everyone’s attention flickered back onto him.

“Anyways,” he said nonchalantly. Hell, I loved his voice. It was so pleasant to listen to. I faintly wondered whether he was just playing the guitar or singing to the music he created. His voice was so nice I knew he could sing wonderfully. I knew his voice could make people swoon. I hoped he’d sing. “I’d better start what I came here to do, huh? I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me talk all night.”

Actually, that wouldn’t be so bad. I could listen to him for hours, nonstop.

“I’ve got a piece I’d like to sing,” he looked away from the crowd and he reached up to scratch his neck absently. When he looked back at the crowd, his eyes were a little distant. “Have you ever seen a person and have never gotten over them? You didn’t even know who they were, yet you remembered their face for weeks afterwards?” He looked down again as the whole room fell silent. “This song,” he said quietly, “Is about something like that.”

I was drawn into those words, just like I was drawn into the rest of him. I don’t know what fascinated me about him, but he was just so interesting. I wanted to know him. I wanted him to talk about the more of the meaning of the song he was about to sing, so I could have a better understanding of him. Of his feelings. He entranced me. It was the most strangest feeling.

“This song is dedicated to that girl who I wish I would have talked to. Who I wish would have noticed me. It’s dedicated to her.”

He began to run his fingers against the strings of his guitar and he closed his eyes, allowing the music to wash over him and take him in with it. He cleared his throat, then began to sing, his beautifully bruised voice filling the dimly lit room and matching the tune wonderfully. Professionally.

“It seemed like so long ago
When I saw that smile
Captivating, motivating
Moving me like no other”

I was entrapped with his words; his beautiful voice. I loved his voice even more when he sang. It was so rough, so husky. So sexy.

I couldn’t look away from him. His eyes were still closed as he sang, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I watched his fingers work and his toes slightly tap at the beat. The song was beautiful; soft and gentle, carrying a nice breeze to it.

I watched as the dim lights danced off his features. The shadows on his face darkened when a light flickered and more hair dropped in front of his eyes. I refused to take my eyes off him, even when I lowered my lips to the straw in my iced tea — I wasn’t in the mood for alcohol at the moment — but stopped, confused, when the straw hit my cheek.

“Unacceptable, indistinguishable
Your eyes, I’ll never forget
We were so close but we never touched
You never noticed me
Never noticed me”

I watched as he began to strum faster and his eyes opened so he could gaze at all the people who were staring back at him, most with a look of pure fascination on their young faces. They were just as trapped in his words; in his song, as I was. It was just so beautiful — too beautiful.

I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to sing to me. I wanted to be able to see every inch of emotion in those phenomenal eyes of his; so full of dark emotions that I wanted to dig out of him. He was so young, much too young to have such cold eyes. But I liked them. They made me want to figure him out. I wanted to know him.

How had he fallen in love with music so? How had he learned to play the guitar so smoothly? How had he trained his voice to become so beautiful — or maybe it was just naturally that way?

How old was he? He couldn’t have been older than twenty-one. Was he in college? What courses was he taking? Did he plan on being a musician, or a vocalist? Or both?

So many things I wanted to know about him, yet I knew I’d never get the answer.

“I watched longingly as you turned
You left me all alone
Amazing, the power you had over me
And you didn’t even know”

I felt like I was a pitiful person at the moment, wishing I could know this wounded boy who sang so powerfully; who put so many emotions into his song but not in his eyes. It seemed as if he saved all of his emotions inside him just so he could express them in his songs and let others feel what he was feeling.

I knew I’d never know him. I was just lusting after him because he would probably make something great out of himself one day. If he had been one of the people sitting in the crowd, I probably wouldn’t have even noticed him. I wouldn’t have even gave him a second glance.

“Yeah, it scares me to think
It scares me to think
What you can do to me
Without even knowing”

I clutched the glass of iced tea in front of me anxiously, wishing so much that he’d look in my direction. That his eyes would meet mine once more, and he’d hesitate again. He’d notice me.

Hell, this was just like his song, wasn’t it? I was going through it right now!

I was lusting after him, yet he had no idea. I could relate to this song so well, mainly because I was experiencing it right now.

I watched him with a look of yearning in my eyes. Oh, I wanted him to look at me.

Please... I wanted to gaze into those deep green eyes of his; so jaded and worn. So deep and captivating. So beautiful.

However, he closed his eyes, preparing for the chorus and speeding up the song.

“You walked away
You never knew
You were so blind, I was so stupid
Maybe one day you’ll figure it out”

Yes. Exactly. Maybe one day, you’d figure it out.

While you sang at this old club, a girl you didn’t know was lusting after you. She was imagining you noticed her, you were looking at her. You were telling her your dreams, your wants, your needs. Your hopes. Your failures. Your strengths and weaknesses. Everything.

You’d tell that girl it all.

That girl — me — would miss you when she left the club. She’d think about you and what a major impact you had on her life. She’d hope that you’d have just looked at her... to let her know you know she’s alive.

Did you know I existed?

You just needed to open your eyes and look at me.

“It seemed so long ago
When I saw that smile
Enchanting, inciting
Moving me like no other”

Yes. He opened his eyes. He was so into the music now; so lost, I knew he would never see me at this rate. He was busy trying to perfect his words, to strengthen them, to impact the people who were listening. I glanced around at the watchers, the listeners. They were all lost in the music. The beautiful music.

I didn’t blame them. It was amazing. Music had never had such an affect on me. Never. This was just too good. What was he doing in an old club, singing to people who had nothing better to do than go to club and hook up with older men and have a satisfying night with them, then repeat the process?

I remembered the last man who had picked me up. I was drunk already. He had been kind, gentle with me. He spoke soothing words in my ear while he kissed my neck and grazed my skin. He had been at least five years older than me, but I couldn’t remember much else. I had been too wasted.

“Unspeakable, assonant
Your eyes, I’ll never forget
We were so close but we never touched
You never noticed me
Never noticed me”

As I remembered what I could from that night with the stranger, I found myself wishing that it had been the boy on stage, currently singing with so much passion it was overwhelming, who had been kissing me and running his hands all over my body. I wanted him. I wondered if his hands were rough or soft. I guessed they were rough.

And his lips...

I found myself staring at those pale lips as he sang. Oh hell. I wanted to taste them. They were just taunting me as he sang while his eyes slipped closed again.

I wanted to just get up, climb on stage, and kiss him until his beautiful voice left him. I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck, run my hands through his dark hair, feel my way along his whole body and have his hands roam all over my own.

“You walked away
You never knew
You were so blind, I was so stupid
Maybe one day you’ll figure it out”

Yeah. Maybe he would. He’d figure out that I was yearning for his touch; his lips. His passion.

What would it be like kissing him?

I assumed it’d be like nothing I had ever experienced. He seemed like he had underwent so much in life, especially sexual intimacy. No doubt he had been with so many girls it was mind boggling.

Oh, it’d be so great if he’d just look at me. Let me know he knew I was alive. Let him know I was listening to his words, his song, his heart.

“You walked away
You never knew
You were so blind, I was so stupid
Maybe one day you’ll figure it out”

The glass of iced tea was forgotten. All that was in my world now was the boy’s beauty. He was so stunning. So unique. So perfect.

Oh God, he was perfect.

My fingernails scratched anxiously at the table in front of me. He opened his eyes. Oh shit, he opened his eyes. If only he’d look at me. Just... look...

“Maybe one day
Maybe one day
You’ll figure it out
You’ll figure it out”

My breath caught in my throat. His eyes suddenly locked onto mine and I almost fell off the stool I was sitting on. His eyes pierced into my very soul, as if trying to take it out of me. It hurt. There was so much emotion, so much need. So much pleading.

He was so hurt. So wounded.

I refused to look away from those captivating green eyes that pinned me to the spot. He, too, refused to look away from my own eyes. It was almost as if he was singing it to me, so intensely, so passionately. So much went into his words, so much went out.

I wanted to cry for him.

“Figure it out”

He finished off in a whisper. I stared, completely shocked. That was amazing. More than amazing. It was... it was...

I couldn’t even into words how great that was.

As soon as he finished, the crowd began clapping excitedly. It was so loud, so intense, I had never seen them react like this before. I felt proud of the boy on stage, who’s eyes were still locked onto mine. He had gotten such a great reaction from such a great song.

The boy looked away from me and for the first time, he smiled. Although it was a small smile, one you’d barely notice, it was still a smile. It was amazing, how much more friendlier a smile made him look. He reached up and carelessly brushed the hair from out of his eyes, yet it still fell back in place anyways.

I got up. I had to go home. I didn’t feel like staying here any longer, despite the fact that the boy was here. I wanted to stay, just to watch him, but I felt sick all of the sudden. Why did he make me feel this way?

I glanced down at my unfinished iced tea uninterestedly. I pulled out a ten dollar bill and left a tip; I always did.

Then an idea dawned on me.

I looked up at the boy sitting on the stage, the smile now gone from his lips. His tempting lips. So inviting... so seducing...

---

It had to be at least 3:oo in the morning when the place cleared out. A few people stayed behind, like me, just to have one more drink or so.

The boy who had performed on the stage stayed. I had waited two hours to see him again, and just when I thought he had left, he came out of the back room with a thin jacket draped over him. It looked old with a few rips in it, and the zipper was missing, leaving his white muscle shirt exposed. A cigarette was resting in between his pale lips and I watched him from my table as he grabbed his guitar case that was leaning against the wall and then headed towards the exit.

I jumped up and practically ran over to him. He looked surprised when he saw me approach. He turned towards me with a frown, but said nothing.

I bit my lower lip anxiously. “Hi,” I said weakly, then cleared my throat. “I, um... I really liked your song.”

The boy arched a thin eyebrow at me. “Thanks,” he breathed, taking the cigarette between his fingers and away from his lips. God, I loved his voice. I wished he’d start singing on the spot — but of course, that was very unlikely and would look rather silly if he just started to sing out of no where.

“What’s your name?” I asked him. He regarded me with dull eyes, yet I saw a flicker of interest.

“Do I need to buy you a drink, too?” he asked, and I cracked a weak smile.

“I’m serious,” I said soberly, “What’s your name?”

The boy shifted and glanced at the door. “Elic.”

I blinked. What an odd name. He smirked softly when he saw my reaction and shrugged. “Parents are strange.”

I nodded, taken aback. “I’m Kara.”

“I know,” Elic responded in a drawl, then stiffened and clears his throat. “I mean, I don’t know... but I do now, you know?”

I stared at him for a few seconds. He was getting flustered in front of me. Now that was something I hadn’t ever expected to see. However, as I gazed at him, I suddenly felt my nerve failing. I couldn’t ask for his number. He wasn’t like these other men in the club. He was different. He was more sophisticated. He deserved to be treated better.

“Well,” I breathe, disheartened, “I just wanted to say... your song was beautiful...”

He nodded, but said nothing. I noticed his eyes were piercing into me so intensely I suddenly felt self conscious. As I looked back into those cold eyes, I noticed that they seemed a tiny bit warmer. Had I affected him?

I dug into my purse and pulled out three 20 bills and handed them to him. His eyes widened in surprise and he stepped back, away from the money, then looked up at me, confused.

“Take it,” I insisted, “You deserve it.”

He didn’t say anything and he made no move to take the money, so I set it atop the guitar case. I slowly turned after giving him a weak smile, but before I could step out the door, his rough, husky voice stopped me.

“Wait.”

I blinked, confused. I turned around to face him, only to see his expression alarmingly serious.

“I’m not losing you again,” he said. His words made coldness stretch into every inch of my body.

What?

“That’s who the song was about, after all,” Elic continued. “You probably don’t remember me.”

I wasn’t listening anymore. I had gone deaf.

No. I remembered it. I remembered him.

---