hell or flying | Chaelisa

Chapter 10

I couldn't believe my eyes. My beautiful nightmare, sitting right in front of me, her brown eyes boring into mine. After all these years, I got the chance to look at her. Really look at her. See how much time has changed her. See whether her eyes looked more tired than I remembered. I could tell almost instantly which features were now sharper, that she's grown older. I could observe everything now from the one simple look we've exchanged. And this time I was sure it was longer than just mere seconds. That our eyes have been connected for longer, as the air grew distinctly thicker.

History repeated itself over again with the way our eyes focused on each other and everything else seemed to cease to exist. However, given our situation, I couldn't speak for the beautiful dark-haired woman sitting on the leather couch in front of me, her body visibly tensing. No, I could no longer even assume what she might be feeling. Because this time around, I knew her nowhere near enough to deliver a good judgment. To tell what kind of collection of feelings flitted through her eyes.

But no matter what happened between us, one thing I knew for certain; she was still the person to complete me. My second half, that I would spend the rest of my life searching for. Nothing could change that, even hurt that split us apart once again. So though I no longer knew her, nor the person she hid beneath the cold exterior, I could still see something.

Unlike the first time we met, she seemed to be surprised. She didn't see this coming; she didn't expect it, and it was obvious. Though I knew she was trying hard to conceal, she felt anything at all. This time, she wasn't prepared to see my face as she must've thought she was alone in Chanyeol's office. So this time around, I no longer saw indifference. The hurtful ignorance, as if I was no one to her. But then again, that's probably how she perceived me now. How could she not?

No, this time I could clearly see lightnings flashing behind her dark eyes, lighting up the deep forests within for just a second. But there wasn't just one silver rip through the mesmerizing browns. There were millions crashing against one another, clashing as if going to war. Each one trying to outshine the last in its size and terrifying bolts, as it tore through.

There were dark clouds in those eyes. Full, dark grey - almost black, clouds shielding them away. They were thick and had it not been for the stormy weather, I wouldn't be able to see past them at all. But each time the lightning struck, her emotions flashed and I could see them more clearly. Although she tried to hide it, there was panic, and fear, perhaps even hatred, and so many more striking against one another. They were all battling hard with determination, however, there was no winner among them. There was only confusion and chaos, no one gave up and no one fell down to their knees in defeat.

It was captivating me in more ways than one. It was oddly beautiful how so much could go behind a pair of irises. How by one glance alone you could see everything they saw, they felt, and they were dealing with. Like you were looking straight into their head through a glass. Like there was a direct pathway to their soul.

That made me remember her words, the way she would talk about the way my eyes shone when they met hers. She was right then, and I understood fully now - eyes were the windows to one's soul. Even so, it saddened me. Because the windows to hers weren't grand, dust-free, and so clean that you couldn't tell what was just in your reach and what was shielded away.

No, her windows were smashed, and only sharp shards of glass were stuck to the wooden sashes - from which the colorful paint seemed to peel off, leaving shabby rain water-soaked wood. And though you could try to pick up the pieces, you could never put them back together because though the glass broke, as soon as it fell to the ground, shards turned into tiny fragments.

So though I whispered her name inadvertently, a small gasp following, I couldn't tear my eyes away. And neither could she. Not for a few more beats, at least. At first, I thought that was a good sign. That maybe she wouldn't march out or come over to slap me. I surely deserved the latter of the two. But she didn't. She remained seated, glued to the spot as if the soft cushions held her in place, drowning her in them like quicksand.