Follow the story of an angel and a demon as they struggle to exist in a world where their love cannot be.

Secret Admirer

The moonlight caresses her body carefully, highlighting each of her features with a pale, silvery glow with a delicacy that could never be recreated. She is fragile beauty as she lies there--among the sheer covers, sinking pillows, and flawless gatherings of pristine feathers. Her lashes are fair and heavy; they’ve drifted down over the golden irises that have captivated me, and part of me longs for their iridescent glow. I ache to see just how they shine against the night—would they replace the very sun, put shame to the stars?

Her hands, petal-soft and gentle, are cupped beneath her, and her lips are gently parted as air slides past them. Like her cheeks, they are rosy and supple; quiet splashes of color that leap out for my attention. Her brows furrow a little, her peace seems compromised, if only for a moment, and pearly teeth catch pinked flesh for the barest of moments. I feel myself stiffen—has she sensed me?—but I find myself as ease as she shifts, then relaxes again.

The small movement sends her golden, silken hair tumbling over the side of her face. Just a few strands falling here and there, and yet I want to will them away; loving each of them so with unfamiliar conviction, and yet still wishing that they would not obstruct my view of her. But as time passes and they remain, my wishes ebb into easy acceptance. They are every bit a part of her as the graceful white arching from her back, or the sweet, small curve of her mouth as she revels in a dream that I cannot see.

I close my eyes, the image of her ingrained behind my lids, and I entertain the idea that I am there with her, creating the corners of that smile, wandering the expanses of her mind’s eye with my fingers intertwined with hers. The sky would be our stage and we the dancers—spinning and whirling and meshing and living, above the clouds where no one could see, where no one could deny us. We are away from the hate that I aided in creating; we are so far above it, it no longer exists. It is only she and I, for as long as eternity would allow.

Illness strikes through me suddenly, an ugly cold feeling that shatters the serenity that once engulfed me and I am forced back into the harsh reality. It is clear that I should not be here, lingering outside her window like the shadow I am. My time grows short.

And still I stare, pressing my hand and my heart against the window pane, watching and cherishing every rise and fall of her chest. Her wings rustle a bit and a grin forms a crooked line across my face. I wish she would awaken, if only for the breadth of a second so that she would see me, so that she would know my heart. But she does not stir, and my breathing takes on a new labored pattern. It is time to leave my ethereal beauty behind.

I turn and immediately am forced to greet the constant ache that burns through my core with the distance between us. I acknowledge it as a comrade, one that has served by my side long and well. It is pain that I feel, but it is dual determination that will bring me back, and I will sit outside my angel’s window, and I will watch over her, and I will love her more than I did the previous night.

But I will not draw to near, lest I taint her unharmed beauty with these ruined sinner’s hands.

The End

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