He had whispered something to me, and I could have only heard it if I truly listened to the words that came out of those lips. This part of him, the distraction, was so naturally engrained in his character that even the divine could not have sculpted a more perfect creature. I like looking at him. It is one of my greater weaknesses. His eyes never leave mine, and there’s a twinkle in there that I can describe simply as a uniquely humorous curiosity. There was something about me that intrigued him. Was it my looks? Or did something deeper call to him, something unknown to me that I acquired? Could my personality suffice? It hadn’t for the others, or, at the very least, my physical allure was all they needed. But the green in his eyes made me question his intentions. There was a level of stability, trust in his gaze, that haunted my weak desires. I would be happy with him. I wanted him. He could be my everything, and I his. But I could not impose this upon him, could not deprive him of a freedom that I could only assume he wants. But there’s a difference between him and them. I trust him. He lets me feel his trust. I want to be that person for him, the one that he can call home. But my foundation was poorly constructed, and I am still shaky from the floods that destroyed my interior. I am afraid that the roof will collapse under us, and I will be alone again, lost in mourning over the good man I destroyed in my chaos.