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Till I Wake / Eyes Wide

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Added to the Roswell Slash Archive August 9, 2001

title: Till I Wake/Eyes Wide
author: buggaboo
rating: pg-13
category: Isabel POV
summary: Isabel pines
spoilers: through S2
disclaimer: no body knows
author's note: this is my first and so far only semi-slashy fic...tis crap but oh well.

        She has a great smile, lips that any girl would kill for. Lips that any guy over the age of 16 should know are Mecca. Lips dark and pulsing with every breath. Lips that have kissed a boy that loves them, more than his dreams. Lips that have whispered in my ear, that have poured forth babble of mythic proportions, Lips that have begged for truth...and never quite receive it.

        I wish that life were easy, and love was simple. I wish that she wasn't in love with my best friend, and more than that, I wish he didn't cherish her, that he didn't want her, didn't see her as his lifeline. Truth is, he does. And truth is, she's gone.

        We've never been friends, we've barely spoken about light hearted things, we've barely ever been on the same page, there was too much going on, too many obstacles, to many trails to follow, on to nowhere.

        So now I'm stuck, pining like a schoolgirl, accepting any sign or token of affection. Every lingering hand, or soft-feathered sigh or eyes that stay, staring hard at my unchanging profile, they all make my heart beat faster, make my soul sing to sweet heaven. When I close my eyes, her face is imprinted on my eyelids. She's with me all the time, when I eat, when I dream, when I fall asleep during some boring class. Her innocence calling me over, and in my dreams, and in my heart, I go. I can't help it, when I close my eyes, all I can see, or want, or need, is Maria. And in those moments, she isn't Michael's girlfriend, or the waitress at the Crashdown, or even that girl with the beautiful, sexy voice. And I almost believe, that we're meant to be, or some crazy shit like that. I almost thing that if I just laid myself out there, if I just took that little chance, I'd get her in the end.

        But it can't happen now...maybe it can't ever happen, but I'm not quite ready to give up all hope, even false hope.

        So I tell myself, that I just have to wait patiently, and hope that one love or the other will die a quiet painless death, that something will change, that my heart will cease to feel what mine feels now...that my eyes will cease to want to stare at her perfect face, that my hand will no longer have the desire to reach out and touch her long blonde hair, so similar to mine, yet as far as you can get from mine and still stay long and blonde, due to its magical chameleon qualities. I have to hope that my heart will stop beating faster when she walks in the room, or when I hear her tinkling voice from across the quad.

        And I know enough about human nature to know, that something [i]will[/i] change, that desire will dull, and love grow quiet. I know that I'll get over it someday, maybe in the middle of the night, when I'm sleeping, and my dreams turn from erotic pre-coital foreplay, to content dreams of me in the arms of some normal man, a man could carry me over a thresh hold and a heart that understands me. Maybe it will be in the middle of a history test, or a drive out to the desert. I'll suddenly realize, that it was just a random transference of feelings or a fleeting fancy.

        Then again maybe she'll wake up one day, madly in love with me, and Michael will wake up, and no longer need his Maria, or maybe in a year or two, we'll all have moved on to greener pastures, off to parts unknown to make our own lives, independent of one another, only occasionally thinking of that girl or guy that we were so passionate about for a year or two...the one we believed we'd never forget, or that we'd never leave.

        One can only hope, that life wouldn't be so cruel as to leave me, Isabel Evens in love with a girl that I've hated or simply tolerated for the vast majority of my life. No, this is a fleeting thing, a moment in time, the proverbial drop in the bucket.

        I try to convince myself of this, and I bet you can imagine, just how damn well it works. After all, love is completely rational, and bows to ones every whim, and never makes life more complicated than it has to be. It doesn't sting, or make you cry. It doesn't leave you feeling so damn empty and scared, because, as if you weren't different enough, you have to be in love with your dead boyfriend's best friend, who just happens to be a girl, and the girlfriend of your brother, slash, best friend.

        No, love is sweet, and harmless, and fluffy, and so damn powerful that it can fucking conquer all. It gives you warm fuzzies that are never dowsed by cruel reality. It's beautiful, and strong and lives forever...

        Oh god I hope it doesn't live forever.

        Cause if it does-

        No I won't think about that...I won't dwell on her, or every thing else that I can't have. I won't dream of perfect pink lips, or shimmering blond hair.

        I'll put on my black leather, and make sure I'm dressed to kill. I'll put an extra sway in my hips, and lower my lashes just a touch. I'll be the Icy Queen, the intimidating woman, just this side of dominatrix, and I'll play the role. I'll laugh when the time is right, and keep my eyes wide, wide open.

        I'll barely even blink.

        And I'll string them along, with my dewy red lips. I'll go in for the kill, and this time, this time, I'll do it. I'll complete my task; I'll stay my heart, and let myself go. But I won't close my eyes.

        And If I do, well there's always next time.

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