A/N: Just a breather from reality. Maybe a one shot, I’m not exactly sure. Depends.

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The Way You Look Tonight

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I see him standing there, in that suit I always loved, the light crouch of his shoulders, his polished shoes shuffling as he waits for his turn.

The tie. I used to always help him put those on. The insufferable prat had no idea how to work one.

His hair. I can just feel its silkiness between my fingers, curling the tiny strands on his neck.

That smile. A few well chosen words and that smile was always a promise.

His eyes. Piercing green. Up close, they had tiny, gentle golden flecks. His eyelashes surprisingly long. I can still feel them tickling my cheek.

Those hands.

I shouldn’t be here.

He’s my childhood friend, my childhood dream. My enemy, rival. A one-time lover. The biggest regret of my life.

I know he feels the same about me.

And yet I’m always here, hiding in the shadows. I can’t bring myself to walk up to him, to lay my hand on his shoulder, to whisper in his ear how much I’ve missed him. No, I can’t do that. Making the first move would mean it was up to me, and he had laid the terms that night. A consensual night between two friends, nothing more.

Only it was more. A lot more. At least, in my eyes.

That night, I realized I was in love with him.

I wasn’t falling in love with him, I wasn’t starting to. As I watched him sleep, I realized I had been, all along. My entire life, I was in love with him. It took me my entire life up to that point to realize it but there it was, the realization.

Had I told him?

I’m not sure.

There’s no use thinking about it, anyway. I would still be here, in the shadows, watching him from a distance. Nothing would change that, nothing at all.

Except seeing him. And watching as his eyes slowly slid over in my direction. I could see them focusing, his eyebrows knitting slightly.

I should’ve run. I should’ve turned around and escaped, or at least ventured into the restroom. But I was curious what he would do once he realized it was me. Because I knew he would recognize me, he always did. His eyes always sought me out in a crowded room and the feel of his hot gaze on me made me shiver.

And I was shivering.

We stood there, squaring each other off. The champagne in his hand, the cell phone in mine. It always came to this standpoint, this challenge.

We loved each other. There was no question about that. Love had never been a problem.

It was the commitment that we were both afraid of.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, his eyes remaining on me. I took a step back. I suddenly yearned to walk up to him, to slap him, to yell in his face all the words that were clouding my mind. What a bastard he was. How could he have done this to me, make me miss him the way he did? How could he expect me to still like him after all he’s done? Because that’s the thing, I hated him. I hated him for what he’s done, making me feel this way. Making me feel alone and empty at the thought that we’d never be together the way we’d been together that night of passion and curiosity.

So I turned around. We wasn’t worth my words, my time. I turned around and swiftly walked out, the change jingling in my pockets with every step. I strained my ears for any following footsteps, deep breaths, even a faraway yell of my name.

Nothing.

It always was nothing. Never anything.

That’s why it was a mistake, the largest regret of my life.

I was in love with him, and it was ruining me.