Why don't you see me?
Prompt: #1 ‘Look Over Here’
Pairing: Alex/Duncan
Rating: PG
Song: White Horse by Taylor Swift
I knock on your front door, helplessly caught between the despair of knowing that you probably won’t answer and the treacherous hope that you will.
Nothing. There is no sound that lends itself to the idea that you are coming but still, my body tenses and I find it hard to breathe, my teeth worrying my bottom lip as I stare at the wooden door before me. It feels like an age but a small part of my brain is whispering that its been only a few seconds.
I go to sigh in disappointment, when a shadow behind the glass freezes it in my throat as you open the door.
I see you blink at me before your eyes become slightly unfocussed.
You stand there in your old-man jumper, looking dazed, your hand still on the door handle, as if you cannot wait to shut it again and I feel a pang of something that I can’t put a name to in my chest. I feel my face turn red though it’s a toss-up as to what’s causing it; the cold weather, the fact that my breath is still caught in my throat making it impossible to breathe.
Or it could be that you finally opened the door and, for that split second, you actually looked at me before you subconsciously wrote me off.
We stare at each other for a moment in silence, my eyes never leaving yours and I see you begin to focus on me again. Begin to take me in. Your eyes look me over before resting again on my face and I feel a shiver travel up my spine.
Why is it that you can affect me so?
“Alex?”
Your voice washes over me and, despite the cold, I feel a warmth spread throughout my body at the sound of the concern that my name was laced with.
I find myself breaking out into a huge grin and making a cringe worthy noise of happiness. Embarrassment will take me over later, I know. But right now, with you looking at me and sounding like your concerned about my welfare, it’s just a little too much for me to keep it contained.
Your eyes travel over me again before you glance behind, into your house. I feel the worry and longing that are rolling off you and for the first time I wonder if maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I also realise that I have no idea what to say or do next as I have never been in this situation before. The smile drops off my face as I begin to worry but, as I go to excuse myself, to write off this little visit with platitudes, you turn back to me and ask that one question that I never dreamed that you would.
“Would you like to come in?”
You nod to yourself and step to the side to allow me to enter. Your house is warm compared to outside and the solid heat wraps itself around me. I gaze in wonderment and happiness around me as you stand by my side fidgeting slightly.
It’s obvious that you were in the middle of something and that I am keeping you from finishing but, for once, I’m going to be selfish and keep your attention on me for as long as I can.
“Tea?”
I nod in affirmative and follow you as you direct me to the living room. Sinking into the comfy sofa, I take off my coat and scarf, and look around myself. Drinking in the warmth of your home I also find myself drinking in the sight as well. Pictures of the children who are not your own but who you value as your own rest upon the mantlepiece. There’s a tree in the corner, decorated haphazardly but lovingly and a small pile of presents that are already underneath. The whole scene is cosy and fills me with a sort of sadness as I know that I have no place being here.
Before I can turn morose upon the subject, you come back with a tray full of tea things and, after setting them down on the small coffee table, sit down in the armchair next to me.
I pick up my mug of tea and we both reach for the biscuits at the same, fingertips brushing together ever so lightly.
I can’t look up at your face but, even with the tension that suddenly fills the room, you don’t pull back immediately. Instead it is a few moments later when you move and reach for a different biscuit.
My face is hot and it takes me a few seconds before I can look up, but when I do you’re not looking at me but to the side where there’s a door that leads to your office space. I can see your papers and work piled on the table and, as you turn back to me, I see the longing and distracted look in your gaze.
Suddenly this seems to be a bad idea. My selfishness is distracting you from your work. I know that you don’t really like me, that you only tolerate me as something that has to be suffered through. And as much as that hurts, I accept it. I even go so far as using the power that I have to force your attention onto me. Its pathetic but all I want is for you to look at me. Just look. Not at the badge that adorns my chest or the fact that I am younger than you. Only me.
But instead your gaze, once again, slips off to the side and the silence in the room becomes oppressive. Putting down my tea and biscuit I smile as you look at me questioningly.
“It was nice seeing you again.” I hear myself say.
You nod but you aren’t thinking about me, its easy to see and I find myself smiling ruefully as I pick up my coat and scarf.
You see me to the front door but I don’t turn around once I step through and you don’t say anything.
As I make my way through the empty streets I think about you. Once again you didn’t look and once again I find myself growing just that little more desperate to make you.
My fingertips, where you brushed them, are warm and I press them to my lips, not noticing the small tear that slides its way down my numb cheek.
What can I do to make you look over here and see me? It’s a question that haunts me because the answer is, is that I have no idea.