Word count: 362
He saw her tense at the feel of his hand on her shoulder. Tactfully, he withdrew his touch, cursing inwardly all her inhibitions which have done nothing but drive him up the wall.
He wanted her, plain and simple.
The first time he met her, she gave a passing glance and never even waited to see if he would reciprocate. No matter, she’s insignificant, he thought at the time.
The next time they met was an accident. For a few glorious moments, the world was theirs alone. Time flowed around them and between them and she glided away, butterfly flying to thr next blossom.
From then on, it was push and pull and he woke up one day, not knowing how it happened – how he allowed it – yet feeling it deep within his bones, that she had become necessary.
He found himself observing her more closely than ever, wondering how the sun gleamed from her smile, how delicate her pale skin was that he feared breaking it with a whisper, how her eyes – oh those eyes – drew others to her even when they knew that too much adoration smothered (and she fled most of the time). She was illumination and all the darkness wanted, desired was to capture her.
He knew better though. She seemed so impervious to corruption but it was because she kept everyone at bay. She would hold his hand and her hand and everyone else’s hand like they were all special. She would smile at him like she would a baby or a dog, indulgently but never in the same way he has come to smile at her.
He has started the war, beginning with little touches and words and looks and he knew she has felt the onslaught. He could feel the barriers snapping up even as she allowed (and dare he say encouraged?) the changes.
He will not drown her though. He will lose if he does so he won’t. So when she tenses at his hand on her back, he removes the offending appendage. He would allow her this one concession. After all, he planned on having her in the end.