Greek Eyes

“You have eyes worthy of the Greeks,” he tells her, running his hand along her arm as they lay, curled together on the sofa.

“The Greeks?” For this is the first time she hears this and is utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Eyes that show the deepest of sorrows,” he whispers, trailing his fingers up her shoulder. “Yet, they hold the richest laughter.”

“You always were a poet of sorts,” she murmurs back to him, not sure whether she likes his assessment of her or not.

In truth, it scares her that he can read her so well. When it is obvious she is his soul mate… but is he hers?

Is that even possible? If you soul mate is really meant for someone else? Aren’t soul mates supposed to be a two-way street kind of thing?

“What’s wrong?” It almost unnerves her at how he can just feel her mood swings before she has time to fully comprehend that her mood has changed.

His fingers are at her neck now.

“Just thinking,” she sighs, looking up at him.

While her eyes are dark, his are a clear honey. Most of their days have seen joy, she muses, but those days, hours, moments where they have seen tragedy… jagged fragments of his innocence had left him, quickly.

“Your eyes are only what Greek poets have tried to write about,” she muses, mumbling to herself without realizing. But he has heard.

His fingertips are at her cheek now, and he smiles, for this… this study of him will be key in her realizing that he is hers, for it is already a given that she is his soul mate. Perhaps she does not understand yet, not consciously, but it is soon.

With his fingers at her cheek, he draws her closer to him in a kiss.

And right before their lips touch, she knows.

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Notes: Can you believe my inspiration came from an O.C. fanfic? (Shakes head) Craziness.

It was one word. Tragedy. And that set off the whole Greek thing and… yeah.

Well, tell me what you think!