Cain 1 RatDoV unbetaed(ish)

"It's up to you," he said, putting his suitcase down on the doorstep. "Am I coming or going?"

The chill words struck at her heart.  "Cain, I love you," she choked out, the words falling leaden from her lips.

"So you've said."  Cain's heart broke again, a splinter of it causing a deep ache in his gut as he turned the knob to leave.  She'd been so beautiful when they met…. 

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Cain Everson was a very happy man.  No one ever saw him without a smile stretching across his face.  His enemies were jealous, his friends were reluctantly aware of his enviable state.  Money?  He had it, and girls too, when the fancy struck him.  Accomplished, affluent and ambitious, everything he ever wanted was open to the handsome brunet.  And, boy, did he know it.

Of course, to top off his perfection—the murmuring hordes had to admit—he was also very "down to Earth."  He didn't flaunt his station in life, nor did he impose it on others.  Should the cause be right, however, his baby blues could be as cold as ice and twice as unrelenting as flint.  His nature being what it was, it was no surprise when he found himself queuing up for the underground, his subway pass inspected and approved.

He watched the train pull into the station with the fascination of a boy, his head jerking so quickly to follow the progress of the people that one ear-bud fell from his ear.  It was late enough in the evening that people moved with a pace of latent urgency, ready to be at home with their families, and emptied and filled cars apace.  The car Cain stepped into being a recently vacated one, the seat choices were vast and diverse.

He landed opposite an angel, he assumed.  Or, perhaps a Nubian princess, all high cheekbones and long lines.  His eyes greedily traveled the length of her: the tight curls at her head, the notebook opened on a lap bedecked with a bohemian kaleidoscope skirt, the long fingers that held the pen scratching so furiously across the page despite the rough start of the ride.  In awe of the beauty before him, Cain felt his body lighten, feeling airily like anything was possible.  The feeling was all-too-familiar, and addictive.

As the ride dragged on, he let his gaze leisurely peruse her frame, as though it were a thing owned by him.  His mental high granted him that permission, pointing out some very worthy points of note about her.  In profile—he thought to himself, passionately—her face was commanding and calm, the eyes drawn down to the page she was writing in deep concentration.  He found himself tracing the aquiline features with his mind's eye, wondering desperately if he could have her focus on him for a moment.  He looked off from his angel princess for a time and sighed, chalking it up to a weary wish.

And was subsequently disconcerted as he turned back to see fathomless dark eyes and flawless toffee coffee skin staring back at him.  His eyes hungrily traveled back and forth across her visage, committing it to memory.  His eyes lingered on the full lips as they spread into a soft smile, one speaking volumes of understanding at the situation.

A smile that said: “You poor boy.”

Lips that consoled.  “You don’t have to worry.”

A mouth, reassuring, “I’m used to those looks.”

An answering smile turned up the corners of his lips, transforming into a goofy, and slightly abashed, grin at being so caught out.  A smile and grin that conveyed both his appreciation and shame, one she understood.  She accepted it with a barely perceptible nod and the sound of ripping paper before her attention was turned away completely.  A matter of seconds, a mere moment in time, and they understood one another completely and perfectly.  His expression turning smug, Cain resumed his casual voyeurism, taking in every detail for his imagination to supply later.

Altogether too soon, he found his precious possession leaving him.

“Lola.  Lola, darling, we have to go.”  A man stood beside her, his hand out impatiently towards her.  When she turned an annoyed gaze at him, he had the grace to look sheepish and flushed.  “Our stop,” all the more ready to leave.  She nodded and stood, the graceful sway of her hips and the sight of their joined hands cut off as the doors slid shut behind them.

As the train pulled out of the station, Cain quickly shot to the other side of the car, eyes mournfully watching her disappear.  He slumped sideways in the plastic bucket seat, suddenly dejected.  Lola, he’d said.  Lola couldn’t be his.  Cain stared blankly at the row of empty seats before him in a stretch of eternal proportions.  Lola was never meant to meet Cain, nor fated to be his, he moped resignedly.  His gaze drifted along the endless row of slippery seats to finally rest on the place where he’d last seen her.  A strip of paper intrigued him.  He picked it up, the torn edges ruffling against the pads of his fingers.

Lola, it said.  A phone number.  A click to link his imaginations reference of a torn notebook page and an understanding and knowing smile.  Lola, it enticed him, and he sad solidly back in the seat a moment more before bounding out of the newly opening doors of the subway car, his intended destination suddenly upon him.

Cain Everson was a very happy man.

(no subject)

i'm procrastinating.


so last night i went dancing. on a rooftop. it was hot. *suddenly becomes paris hilton*

i've been watching porn and answering questions about orgasms. joy of joys.



back to the grind.