tratie one shots, vol. i

[ looking at him ]

words: 995

. . . 

When she looked at him, she saw happiness.

Everything about him screamed the emotion. The way the lines on his freckled face shaped dimples when he smiled, the way his eyes lit up like the beacon of a lighthouse when he talked about things he loved. He'd shake his head and kiss her cheek just because she was doing something he deemed worthy of the action. If they made eye contact for too long, he would wrinkle his nose and look down only to glance back up with a grin dancing from ear to ear. The jokes he made were for the sole purpose of hearing her laugh, the one he complimented her on every time he succeeded in listening to it. He was the reason she looked at her phone and smiled, the reason she laughed until she cried and forgot the cruelty of the world for brief seconds. He'd play with his dark curls and laugh when she said she was jealous of his hands. He'd pout when she did the same to her own hair to get back at him.

When she looked at him, she saw serenity.

He had the unbelievable ability to put her mind at ease. Nobody had the effect on her that he did. She could be in hysterics, heart-wrenched sobs producing from her soul and the essence of negativity plaguing her mind, but his very voice would have her smiling in moments. Her downwards spiral into depression flipped into bouts of peace and joy. His existence offered the highest form of amity in her, and she wholly accepted it with gratefulness and appreciation. And the best part was that he loved her endlessly, after all the times she showed the awful portions of herself to him. He stuck by her side, ready to help her conquer the demons at her mind's door. He didn't plan on deserting her, and he made sure she was reminded every time they spoke to each other.

When she looked at him, she saw passion.

Even his breathing was fiery at times. When he had her pinned against his truck, lips taunting hers with feathery almost-kisses, his ragged panting drew out his clear want for her presence. The very fact that she belonged to him, that he was there with his body pressed up against hers, that his interests rested with her and his actions in those moments they had. And his eyes – oh, his eyes – they were truly the most extravagant thing about him. Intense, much like a herd of racing steeds or the waves of a tsunami or an atomic bomb exploding. Fervent, much like a crowd dancing to a rhythmic beat or the ferocious shriek of a hawk or living with purpose. His eyes changed color like the wind changed directions, and they shifted to mold to his emotions. However, when they peered into her eyes with a shock wave with the voltage of an electrical burst, they caught fast to a zealous reverberation of meaning. They tapped into a feeling she couldn't explain, they locked onto her heart and held her in an ineffable trance.

When she looked at him, she saw comfort.

To talk to him was to walk in the sunlight on a pure sandy beach with no shoes on. To be in his arms was to be serenaded by the crickets while gazing at a brilliant sky of stars. His kisses were ginger, his embraces were warm. If she was in a lions' den of her own dark thoughts, he was waiting at the top to throw her a rope. The idea that she had someone to support her was enough to make her head spin, but that someone being him all but lessened that. In his sweetest caresses she found innermost peace, and in his voice she found a mental home. In hard times, she knew he was always there to lend an ear and listen; however, she didn't need to be in a bad place to be reassured by him. She could've been in the happiest of moods, and he still found ways to elate her further.

When she looked at him, she saw hope.

Being with him made her realize how much she wanted to have optimism. Occasionally, she forgot why she ever felt anything other than excitement for the future. The possibility of staying with him for good made her ecstatic to discover what was laid out for their relationship – she couldn't wait to find out. Oftentimes she would catch herself daydreaming about the thought of becoming permanent, a concept that would have terrified her before he came along. She never thought anyone would have the feelings he made clear for her, yet there she was, with him, proving her wrong in the best way possible. Even if she wasn't motivated or inspired, he encouraged her to push through it. He reminded her that her depressive episodes were temporary when she thought they would last forever. He was there for her, he understood that he didn't understand, and he was okay with that.

When she looked at him, she saw many things. She saw eunoia, she saw a future, she saw love. In him, she found so many reasons to live, reasons to thrive in the life she was given. There was a connection between them that she didn't have with anyone else, and she was determined to hold onto it for as long as she could. He was the life jacket keeping her afloat in her sea of inner demons, he was her guiding light in a sky full of other stars. The very prospect of him offered a refuge for her sane mind to get away from the other portion of it. She was positive that with him by her side, she could defeat anything her dysfunctional brain threw at her.

When she looked at him, she saw something that she was never letting go of.