The dim lights seemed to flicker as the young man stepped into the spacious yet prisonlike room. He slipped silently through the throngs of people, seeming to fade in and out, his shoes squeaking almost inaudibly on the unnaturally slick floor. Not a soul noticed him … and yet he lingered, elusive, on the edge of one's consciousness as he passed by, creating a sense of instability that gradually permeated the entire crowd. Though no one bothered to glance his way a second time, his fleeting image managed to impress itself upon the retinae of all eyes that inadvertently fell upon it.

He was of average build, smaller than some, but time would rectify that. His hair swirled in a nondescript blend of color — the vaguest tints of gray and pink combining with the more obvious dusty brown and subtle gold. His clothes befitted his station and personality; why, then, did they hang on his young frame so awkwardly? As for his deep, amber-hued eyes that shot out laser beams of golden light as he stared intensely at what appeared to be nothing in particular, what invisible phenomenon could possibly be captivating them so fully? Those eyes, his most extraordinary feature, more like those of a hawk or an eagle than a human being, rarely held another's gaze; when they were not imposing their infinite glare on empty space, they were searching restlessly for something they could never quite identify. Indeed, his entire appearance reminded one of a golden eagle: in addition to his eyes and his thick yet somewhat feathery gold-streaked hair, he possessed a small birdlike face with all the severe, unbending attitude of a raptor. Yet he was not merely a fierce, untamed creature of the sunlit heavens. Darkness, too, emanated from his being — a terrible, fear-inducing blackness that appeared to revert back on him, to check his wildness and keep it at bay. As a result, he retained an erratic carefulness which caused him at times to behave more like prey than predator.

Thus was his condition as he attempted to blend in with the scattered mass of humanity about him. Remembering a few common interests he shared with a particular group of people, he approached them guardedly and uttered a single greeting: "Hello."

The word tentatively jumped out of his mouth. It carried a degree less animation than it could potentially accommodate, conveying only the subtlest undertone of youthful curiosity and lively humor along with an even less discernible hint of long-endured agony. However, these unexpected colors that accompanied the two syllables caused those around him to look up, to notice, to finally see him, and he basked in glorious recognition for a brief snippet of time before they returned to their usual practice of ignoring him.

Then a peculiar electricity thrilled down his spine. He suddenly became aware of a presence near him, of frequent stolen glances toward his person, of an intelligent, inquisitive mind and a tormented, passionate heart, both of which mysteriously mirrored his own. No matter how he tried to shake it off, he could not escape the conviction that one who observed him and knew him for himself was dangerously nearby. He directed a quick glance toward his left.

For a fraction of a second his predatory glare intercepted that of two familiar eyes, so unlike his own. In contrast to the hawk's bestial orbs, these blue irises belonged to a newborn infant — innocence savoring its first taste of life. He shook his head; he knew differently. This woman, although even younger than himself, had experienced her share of pain and tragedy — at his own hands. Her childhood had already slipped out of her grasp. Why, then, was her expression brimming with naked hope? He looked away and pondered.

Finally he shook his head again, more violently this time. Stop it, he ordered himself. Hope only leads to disappointment, and friendship means inevitable betrayal. Besides, everyone will scorn you. They'll force you to hurt her again. Yet he could not prevent himself from looking a second time, and a third. Finally, he spoke her name aloud.

She turned. Immediately the full force of her gaze was released upon him. For a moment he could only stare, enraptured by her hopeful countenance, and he saw that she was beautiful.

Then, like a rock hurled at the last remaining stained-glass window in a ruined cathedral, he deliberately shattered the only scene of beauty in the desolate atmosphere with the one sentence he dreaded to speak. Though he despised every twisted word that issued forth from his mouth, he coldly allowed them to tumble out, all the while cringing inwardly. He watched, overwhelmed with regret, as the clouds descended upon her uncomprehending sky-filled eyes — but he had already given away too much of himself. Even now he desperately strained to seize it back … but it was too late. It was a part of her now. It always would be.

Though he could not escape the sensation of something vital being mercilessly sucked out of him, he gathered up the remnants of himself and retreated into his sanctuary of isolation, with only the dense blackness as his companion. He resolved that this woman would no longer be anything more than a stranger to him; he would bury all remembrance of the piece of his heart that she had accidentally stolen from him in the deepest caverns of his soul, ensuring that any attempts at retrieval would prove futile. Even so, the two held eye contact for a moment longer; then he turned away.

Once more he was alone. He would always be alone.

He would never consider loving her again.

He would …

THE END

(or is it?)