~~Ashley's POV~~
"You'll bore holes in me if you keep staring like that."
I cleared my throat, darting my eyes away. Daniil had accompanied me to my favorite tree spot and offered to help me draw when I met with a hard wall. Turned out the freak could also draw. I'd need a research the things he could not do.
Prolly stay away from me?
Cringing at the thought, my eyes drifted to him again. Making rhythmic movements with the pencil's lead in a tranquil setting was what made his side profile quite a view. More than that, however, I kept oscillating between asking a question I deemed unimportant before and letting it slide. As 'none of my concern of course.
"What happened to your face?" There! I finally asked, inviting regret only a millisecond later but it was too late. His injuries were healing and I like I said, would originally not care less about the red and green patches still outlining his features like lines out of a map. But now that our relationship was evolving into something I could not quite place a finger on, my curiosity seized the chance to do me dirty.
He offered his usual chuckle – wry and silent – before tilting his face partly to me. "An accident" was all he said before reverting to the drawing dedicatedly. Yet delicately. As though it was a project he needed to finish soon but could not afford to botch things up.
"Does it still hurt?" I asked subconsciously, the words spilling like milk from a holed can.
"Do you really care?" he returned low-pitched, almost seductively, raising his eyes once more to mine, effectively shortening the distance between our faces to merely a breath.
Deep blue eyes.
Blood.
Makayla's lifeless body.
Grotty scenes from that night that zoomed recklessly through my thoughts.
Every single thing that once repelled us went AWOL. Still, I needed to break free. I knew I had to but for some reason, just couldn't.
His eyes were so fucking close. Yet I kept staring deep into them, those hazel orbs entrapping me the longer our stances lasted. Like those were never a source of pure horror, I left my eyes affixed, the thought to look away only occupying a pinhole at the back of my head – significantly much.
The silence between us was disturbed by a puff sound when he huffed behind the mask, his right undereye folding afterward like he was smirking.
"Anyone ever told you you've got beautiful eyes?" he drawled spellbindingly.
I finally snapped our eyes apart, the speed urgent with the need not to get lost in his again. Attempting to get up, I wasn't even halfway through when his hand encircled my waist, yanking me to sit back down.
I would've groaned from the impact dealt on my tailbone if not for the loud thump behind my chest that hauled my attention from the pain, reducing it to a measly sting.
I never expected that!
With my hand over my agitating heart, and brows creased in both confusion and a tinge of tension, I tilted my neck to him, letting the 'What the fuck?' look do the scolding.
Without a word. And with the hand still around my waist! He raised those slender fingers of his, the nail polish snagging my attention as he dipped his forefinger beneath the band and unmasked. Seamlessly. "I'm not a monster, Ashley. Why do you keep trying to get away from me."
'That's right, Ashley. Why do you keep running away?'
He'd proven his humanity over and over. I'd also acknowledged those times with deep sayings of gratitude. I wished I could "scratch that" and just apologize, or prolly sit back down and let the atmosphere continue unscathed. But the signals flicking at a warning speed in my head would not diffuse that quickly. Especially not now that it felt like I had tower speakers inside of me in place of a heart.
"Let me go," I said in undertones, minutes cracks molding onto my voice like a little child feigning toughness that ended a fail.
'His eyes though.'
They weren't blue but the unease hovering around them wasn't any less. Yet their beauty was unmatched. Predatory yet enthralling. I thought such ironies only existed in books and movies.
My trance was interrupted when two hands waved in my face, a half teasing smile settling between them. He was indirectly telling me I was still moping even after he let go as I "instructed."
Shoot!
I'd felt his hand slip away from me but stupidly got carried away.
"I'll take it from here." I snatched my drawing book from him and sprung to my feet, his dark chuckle following me up.
"What are we having for lunch?" he asked casually – like we were friends – getting up while I receded my form to get further away from him.
Clasping my books to my bosom somewhat protectively, I tried shooting him a hard glare but all it took to get it softening – or rather morphing – into something inexplicable, was my gaze on his lips when he opened his mouth to talk again. That part of his face had been covered, probably why it seized the opportunity gotten, to gobble my focus.
He had a fresh cut that I could stand out from the rest.
Why in God's name was I able to catch that?
What the heck was going on with me today?
Like that wasn't enough, my guard joined in, crashing into dust and removing the metaphoric barrier between us. I was now taking advancing steps toward him.
Me.
Toward Daniil.
God, I needed to get my head checked.
I was subconsciously trying to put a confirmatory seal on my assumptions. And yeah, I was damn right! The blood coating the opening looked fresh, only a few minutes – or at most, hours – old.
This definitely happened in school. Today as well.
"Who did this to you?" I asked, the authority sprouting from my tone quite a mystery.