Dreams

•Fourteen•

•Steven's P.O.V•

      The air was freezing.

      I could barley see anything, other than her.

     Pure blackness surrounding us.

      Yet, her lips were so warm.

      I knew she was scared.

      Her eyes so wide and filled with anxiety, frightened she'd set me off, push me away with her innocence and misunderstanding.

      It was amusing, quite frankly.

      The way we disconnected, and how I retracted--just enough to peer down on her--her head held just high enough for her to maintain eye contact.

      Those big green eyes oh so terrified.

      My palm had caressed her cheek, brushing a few curls off her skin, fingertips gently rubbing the sensitive skin behind and below her ear.

     She shivered.

     I smiled warmly, tilting my head, my free palm gently touching her own.

     She smiled weakly, with a hint of shyness.

     Her extremely attentive gaze had flickered from the lower portions of my face--it was evident when she looked to my mouth, not just by the way her eyes moved, but, how she shifted, it was as if I could feel the butterflies fluttering in her stomach--before returning to my eyes.

      Bringing her close by her hand, just enough to where her chest nearly touched mine, I sighed quietly, wanting to kiss her again- yet, I chose to rest my forehead against hers.

     She sighed shakily with relief, and slowly shifted on her heels, before--suddenly--raising her calfs and tilting her head, abruptly pressing her lips to my own.

      So warm.

     •Marilyn's P.O.V•

     Once boarding the next train, I had sat across from Steven--whom sat alone--whilst Calvin sat on my right, I had given him the window seat.

     We were all tired, especially Steven.

     In fact, he was out like a light. His face was slightly hidden beneath the left collar-flap of his jacket, his head resting against the window, curls slightly misplaced and tossed over his eyes, long legs outstretched and widely parted, his arms crossed over his chest, as he breathed softly.

     Calvin, on the other hand, had his magazine out again.

     He was fondly looking back at pictures of Robert Plant, again, David Bowie, again, and, Steven in his blue and black stage costume. Yet, each time he studied the picture of Steven, he would look up, and look at the singer himself, furrow his brow, and look back down.

      Once, he even mumbled; "He looks happy- but, he's not. Why?" He leaned his head all the way back, as he looked up in my general direction, his dark eyes searching mine for a reasonable answer.

     I'd only mumbled back; "I don't know."

     My gaze had fallen back upon Steven, whom was still fast asleep.

    He seemed so..uptight. Even whilst asleep..

     As if, he was afraid to let anyone in.