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You never thought your life was particularly exciting. You had your hobbies, sure, but all-in-all the days just blended together in a blurb of organized chaos every human on the planet had gone through at some point in their lives. Your coffee shop was your rock and business was doing well enough to keep you alive and comfortable in New York. You never expected more.
So when a sharply-dressed man wearing thick black shades and a charming smile waltzed into the shop, you didn’t think much of it. You saw all kinds of people every day, why was he any different? It wasn’t until he spoke that you noticed all the little things about him with never-before-seen clarity. It was an explosive wave of attraction; something you've never experienced before. It seemed like you were lucky you happened to be manning the counter that day.
“Hey darlin’,” his voice drawled out, elbow resting on the counter. “Been thinkin’ of trying something new. Any recommendations for me, doll?”
He leaned in slightly on the last sentence. It wasn’t the first time a customer came in with flowery nicknames for you, but no one ever quite executed it as this stranger did. Maybe it was some sort of Southern charm he possessed, or maybe it was the smile but he definitely had something a lot of people didn’t.
You raised a brow at him and smiled, “Maybe a caramel macchiato? It’s one of our bestsellers.”
He nodded and hummed, seemingly pleased with the suggestion, “Gimme a large.”
“That would be four dollars, please. Oh and… your name, sir?”
“Just put… Corinthian.”
You wrote it down on the cup, not even bothering to ask. You’ve experienced your fair share of weirdos and pranksters coming in and asking you to write down all sorts of ungodly things on their cups, so it was no big deal.
Five minutes passed and you looked for the man, ready to give him his order. You found him in a corner booth with an arm draped lazily over his seat, one leg rested on top of another, and his other hand tapping on the table. Still, the man was intriguing enough that you decided to add a free muffin to his drink.
“Here’s your order, sir.”
He eyed the muffin and shook his head, “I didn’t order this.
“It’s on the house.” The mystery man simply smirked. Then he kept coming back every week.
-
He didn’t know what made him keep coming back to that tiny little coffee shop in New York, but hunting down Ethel Cripps had proved to be a difficult task, even for him, and he needed a break. The coffee was good, but you were better. Cute enough for him to keep visiting.
If he had to describe you he would say you were… interesting. You sat down with him during your break several times over the past two months. The two of you chatted about anything and everything and it had been the highlight of your day. And his, though he would never admit it. Before then, he frequently entertained the idea of eating your eyes. He'd savor every bit of sweetness your humanity had to offer and he'd have a piece of you everywhere he went but that all went down the drain when one day you brought him some cupcakes you baked yourself.
He just finished going over the list of people that might lead him to Ethel for what seemed like the twentieth time. The memory played in the back of his mind over and over again as he leaned back on his chair.
“Oh! I almost forgot. I made these for you! Sorry, they’re not the prettiest but I think they’re pretty good." You pushed a warm paper bag to his side of the table.
He reached for one cupcake, took a bite, and hummed.
When he turned to look at you, you stared at him, eagerly waiting for his reaction. For his approval. It was an odd feeling.
“So…?” you inquired meekly.
“It’s good,” was all he said.
He could never seem to erase the image of your smile from his mind, even weeks after.
In all honesty, he often wondered if he was capable of emotions. Positive ones. He felt bitterness and rage towards his creator, and a sick satisfaction with every new kill, but nothing compared to the sheer fulfillment that came with eating eyes. It made him feel oh-so-human. So much more than a Nightmare, and in a way, that's all he could really hope for: to be more than what Morpheus intended him to be. He never really bothered to make connections with humans for any reason besides his own gain, so now, whenever he thinks of you, he wonders if you were the answer to all his questions all along.
The Corinthian knew he would have to leave when he finally found what he came to New York for, but he did secretly hope he could squeeze in a visit every now and then. You were… good company. He knew about that reality TV show you watched every Friday night, your childhood dog whose ashes and photos you kept around in a special corner of your room, the humble beginnings of your coffee shop, and that old university sweater you brought sometimes because it was, quote-unquote, “the only damn thing that could keep me warm these days.”
Maybe he could keep you warm. Best not to entertain that thought. He had only ever been good at making humans cold. You spoke to him with so much enthusiasm, blissfully unaware of who and what he was. You made him feel so free. Ironically, it's what also made him want to stay. The first time you called him by his name had solidified that.
It was raining and one of your employees caught the flu. Polly was a good kid, so you offered to cover her shift for the day. Maybe you could get her some soup after you were done with your work.
It was a slow day, too. Not many customers came and even fewer stayed for longer than ten minutes. Just when you thought it would be good to close the shop early, in walked the man you saw every week: all in his handsome blond glory.
"Oh hey cowboy," you greeted cheekily before getting a mop to continue your work. "I thought you weren't gonna come today."
You got in the habit of calling him nicknames as well. You didn't really know his name, and he never bothered to ask yours since you had a tag. He left his umbrella by the door and walked over to you.
He tilted his head and smiled: a soft smile you rarely saw on him in the two months you've known him, "And what makes you say that?"
"Dunno"—you led him to a seat before you began mopping—"not everyone would bother since there's a storm raging outside."
You could feel him watching you.
"For you, sweetheart? I'd do anything."
"Those are some mighty big words from a guy whose name I don't even know," you giggled.
"Also, are you gonna order something or what? I might close up shop early since I don't think anybody else is coming in."
He ignored your question.
"Oh, but you do know my name," he leaned back in his seat. "You've known since the day we met, doll."
He could see the gears turning in your head before you laughed in disbelief, "What? Corinthian? No offense but either your parents hated you or you're weird. But if that's what you want me to call you, then… hey, Corinthian."
He laughed. A real, genuine laugh, and it shocked him. He didn't remember the last time he did that, or if he did at all. All he knew was that his name sounded so sweet coming from your lips.
-
The Corinthian was, for the lack of a better word, an enigma to you. You knew he was dangerous and yet he was beautiful. It was like being a moth that can't help but be drawn to a flame. He gave your days some much-needed substance and you couldn't help but want to know more about him. Was it risky? Maybe. You weren't sure if his name really was just "Corinthian" or if he was hiding some big secret. Maybe one was true. Maybe both were. Maybe neither were. It didn't really matter when he looked at you like you were telling him the secrets of the world.
You've never seen him without his thoroughly opaque shades. Whenever you asked, he often reasoned that he had a condition that made him sensitive to the light. Sometimes he was in a smooth-talking mood.
"Well, I have to keep them on or else you'll blind me with your beauty, sugar."
His words ranged from the kind that would make you swoon to the kind that made you laugh with how cheesy they were. There were three things about him that you knew for sure: one, he was a massive flirt. This aspect of his personality was found in every word he’s ever said to you. In recent meetings, he's gone as far as bringing you little trinkets from his "work trips". He never told you much about them but he never failed to bring back some sort of souvenir. Among these souvenirs was a wooden carving of a dog that resembled your childhood dog you told him about before. You even asked him if this was the intention and for the first time, the man had been taken aback as if he was caught doing a crime.
"It's as cute as you; thought you'd like it," he teased, leaning close enough that you could smell his cologne.
The second thing you knew about him was that he was definitely well-off. He dressed and acted like it, too. You realized this when his gifts started becoming more and more extravagant: a gold bracelet there, a simple diamond necklace here.
The third thing you knew about him was that… well, he was lonely. Or at least it seemed like it. Perhaps it was a harsh assumption to make, but of all the fantastical stories he told you of canoe rides in Venice and dinners in Singapore, not once did he mention another person. Not one friend, family member, or significant other.
Significant other. The thought made you uncomfortable. You enjoyed this odd friendship you had with him and yet the boundaries seemed so blurry that you began to wonder about things friends would never do.
-
The first time you saw him outside of your coffee shop was at a park nearby. At that point, you’ve been seeing each other regularly at the shop for about three months. The park had lots of dogs during the weekends and it was always nice to see them play and be pups. You had just been enjoying a gentle breeze when that beloved Kentucky accent echoed behind you.
"Well, well, well, fancy seeing you here, doll."
You turned around and there he was. Corinthian. The man who was single-handedly making your days (and your nights) just a little bit better.
"Oh, hey!" you greeted him heartily. "Didn't take you for the stroll-in-the-park type."
"And what would my type be?" he asked, sitting down next to you on the bench.
"I dunno, me, probably, since you somehow always manage to find your way back to me," you giggled. And then you realized what you said. "Oh. Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"
He laughed and took your hand in his. You couldn’t help but notice how well they fit together, "Relax, sweetheart. You know you can do that around me"—he squeezed ever so slightly—"hmm?"
You could only nod slowly.
"And for the record, you're right. You are my type."
He kissed the back of your hand, leaving you breathless, "Now, I think I want some ice cream, don't you?"
You would never forget how he licked his lips, and how much you wanted to kiss him right then and there.
-
The first time he kissed you was at a carnival. Since that fateful day at the park, you started seeing him more outside of the coffee shop, and you loved every second of it.
He allowed himself to have this. To enjoy this. He knew that Morpheus has escaped and would be coming for him soon, and so he allowed himself the pleasure of being with you while his creator was busy looking for his tools.
You led him by the hand to a game of darts, your eyes wide and sparkling at the giant teddy bear displayed at the front of the small booth. With what he could only describe as the determination of a massive toddler, you walked up to the booth and handed in ten bucks.
The guy behind the booth looked up from his phone and looked at the two of you, before scoffing and taking the money, "Knock yourself out."
The Corinthian watched you hopelessly try to hit the bullseye, but none of the darts were sticking.
"Wha- This is rigged!" you exclaimed. The boy laughed mockingly at you.
"No, but maybe a couple more tries might do the trick."
Your date rubbed circles on your back to calm you down before stepping forward and handing his own ten bucks. The guy greedily took it and gave him a new set of darts.
The Corinthian winked at you before throwing the dart.
You knew it was gonna land dead center, but what you didn't expect was the force of his throw being so great that it split the board.
You could barely contain your excited squeals before grabbing both of his cheeks and kissing him. Needless to say, he was left speechless.
"She tastes like vanilla and soda," he thought.
-
The first time you saw his "eyes" was just a couple of days later. He had settled wonderfully in your life, and while the two of you never made anything official, you were happy.
He made a dinner reservation at a fancy restaurant you've never been to so naturally, you got all dolled up for him. The dress you wore was the classiest one you could find in your wardrobe. It was plain red: a color he expressed a fondness for on several occasions.
But the taxi driver dropped you off just a little bit earlier than he should've, and you still had to walk for a minute or two to get to your destination. Unfortunately for you, New York was never the safest of places.
"Look what we have here," a man stepped out from an alleyway you passed.
You froze up. Catcalling was not unfamiliar to you, and yet you still couldn't bring yourself to stay calm when it happened. Your heart was racing.
"Come on, sweetcheeks, don't get so shy around us," another man stepped closer to you and you could smell the cigarette smoke and a pungent something emanating from him. "The jacket needs to go, I think, show us that slutty little dress you're wearing."
"No, I don't think she'll be doing any of that, fellas," a familiar voice intervened. "Not unless you want to lose your eyes."
You could almost cry with the amount of relief that washed over you. The two men who were harassing you, however, not so much. If anything, they got even more hostile.
"Ah, this your girl?" one man taunted, tugging at the sleeve of your jacket. The Corinthian hummed and grinned. It was the kind of grin you found to be very menacing at the moment; nothing at all like the cheeky one he would don during your weekly meetings. "After we're done with her, she won't be."
The other man charged at him, a pocket knife ready to stab into the Corinthian's jugular, but nothing happened. You blinked and all you could see was your date, your partner, standing tall as his attacker slowly fell to his knees with heaving breaths. In his hand was his own knife, now bloody.
The first man took a step back, and tried to make a run for it. He pushed you to the side, thinking it would buy him time but the Corinthian placed an arm on his shoulder, and suddenly all hopes of an escape were thrown out the window. Your date helped you up with his other hand and guided you to get behind him.
"Y'know, I don't appreciate filthy fucking bastards like you messing with my girl," he snarled, stepping you closer to the man who was now shaking. The Corinthian brandished his knife once again, ready to strike when you grabbed his wrist. He turned to you with a look of surprise and lowered his weapon when the other man used it as an opportunity to land a weak blow to the Corinthian’s face and run off.
The strike had removed his sunglasses… and then you saw it: the teeth.
You didn’t run, you didn’t scream, but you sure as hell didn’t get any closer to him. What kind of person had TEETH for EYES? Meanwhile, as you stood there in shock, the man in front of you, if you could call him that, calmly picked up his shades from the floor, wiped them with his handkerchief, and removed your grip from his wrist.
“Well, the jig’s up,” he laughed, but it was empty and unlike anything you’d heard from him before. You could only stare at him. The first man to make you feel something in ages was definitely not human. “What? Were you expecting baby blues?” he asked bitterly, almost accusingly. Almost as if he had hoped you wouldn’t react the way you did.
The only thing you could bring yourself to ask was a weak “why?”
He wasn’t expecting that. You had genuinely looked so confused once your fear had somewhat dissipated.
“Why. Why?” he repeated, seemingly in disbelief. He quickly got angrier by the second, “I’m like this because I was made by some heartless fuck who didn’t give two shits about what I wanted! HE ONLY EVER CARED ABOUT THE FACT THAT I DID WHAT HE MADE ME DO!”
“And… and what did he make you do?”
“I’m a NIGHTMARE!” he bellowed out, the harsh truth of his existence finally out in the open. “He made me like THIS,”—he pointed to his eyes—”because he wanted me to scare the living daylights out of people whenever they slept because a-fucking-apparently, I’m only capable of being a MONSTER. ”
You could barely follow what he was saying, but you saw his brows furrowed in anguish and how his lips quivered ever so slightly at his admission. You pulled him in for a hug then and touched his cheek; a gesture that was enough for him to freeze up. You gently put his shades back on and held his hand. You always knew deep down that there was something about him that was different, but you also knew that he deserved to be heard. It was hard to push him away in that moment when all you could think about were the late night calls, the ice cream dates, and all the little sacred moments in between. He saved you, and the least you could do was take his cold hands in yours and do your best to help.
“Let’s go to my house, and then you can tell me everything,” you murmured. “This isn’t the best place for me to find out about all of this.”
His breathing was slowly going back to normal again, no longer heaving from rage. He didn’t know if he deserved your kindness. Or your love. He wasn’t even sure if he could call what he was feeling “love”, but this… if this wasn’t love, then he would never want to find love with anyone else. You looked into his eyes, two voids behind the teeth, and touched him like he was fragile. His instinct would be to never let you go; it would keep you with him for as long as he wanted, whether you wanted to or not but he knew that the conscious part of himself would do anything you asked him to do at the drop of a hat. And he would still revere you. You were not Dream and so the Corinthian would follow you to the ends of the Earth, of every realm: he would follow you even into the Sunless Lands. He would worship you, knowing that it was the sweetest, greatest act of defiance against his former master.
So he let you lead him into a taxi back to your home, occasionally squeezing his hand all while you leaned into him and breathed in his cologne. He could feel your heart race. If he had one, it might’ve been doing that too. In your house, where in every corner he found a piece of you, he knew this was the most authentic feeling of humanity he could ever get. He probably wouldn’t cease his activities, but he would settle for this, whatever this is, if it meant he could stay with you.
In the comfort of your home, he told you about his past and he explained how much there was beyond the waking world: things humans could seldom wrap their head around. He told you of the Endless, of his own creation courtesy of one of said Endless, but he was careful to omit his own involvement in trapping Dream and keeping him under the Burgess Mansion for over a century. He painted a picture for you: a Nightmare seeking fulfillment and purpose beyond his intended function, silenced by his oppressive all-powerful master. He told you how once he realized that his master wouldn’t be coming after him anymore, he finally felt free. It was the perfect sob story, and it was mostly true. You will never know the things he’s done, nor will you know the things he will do. He didn’t say anything about Dream’s escape. He would deal with it.
Now, as he lies in your bed with your head resting on his bare chest, two naked bodies intertwined, he thinks he could keep you here forever. He’s already got a new lead anyway: Rose Walker. A dream vortex. He was certain, if anybody was going to solve all of his problems, it would be her. He turned to you, stroking your hair, and pressed a chaste kiss to your head. You smiled in your sleep and nuzzled closer to him.
-
He took you to London, and then Cape Kennedy in Florida. The former you could understand, and as for the latter, not so much.
“Just a treat for my angel for working so hard,” he proclaimed with a kiss on your lips when you asked. You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. It was a nice change of pace, and you were guaranteed to be spoiled practically every day. You left the coffee shop to Polly and your friends. They encouraged you to go along with your now-boyfriend.
“Oooooh, oh my god, Miss, you should totally go!” she squealed. “I love you but, you need a break. And you need that very hunky boyfriend of yours to help with that.”
You may have pinched her arm for that.
So here you were, a hotel away from the convention your boyfriend had been invited to as a guest speaker. All you knew was that he worked as a consultant, which would explain all the work trips he went to. Perhaps he had been exceptional in his field and was conducting some sort of seminar. Your phone rang while you were getting ready to do some solo exploring.
You picked it up and saw the contact name: cowboy <3
“Hey honey,” you spoke. “What’s up?”
“Uh, nothing much to be honest. Just a bunch of people here who appreciate my work,” he responded nonchalantly.
“Oh, okay. You think they’d give me a ticket or something if I said I was your girlfriend?” you joked. He went silent.
“Baby, I don’t think this is a good place for you to be,” he paused. “Lots of misogynists and cryptocurrency nerds here. But if you insist, make sure you call me beforehand, hmm? I’ll be sure to give you some real… VIP treatment.”
On the other side of the phone, he was confident that once he got into Rose Walker’s head, there would be no problems, but oh, was he very, very wrong. Deep down, he knew Dream would be coming, and it was only a matter of time until one of them managed to sway Rose to their own side. His thoughts were racing as he stepped up on stage and settled for a dignified stance behind the podium. There, in front of him were dozens of “collectors”, humans who adored him and what he did. He… dreamed of a world in his image. These people were just the beginning. One day, he would start everything anew.
Before you, fulfillment came in the form of murder. Of eating their eyes and witnessing everything so unique to humanity. Experiences he’s been robbed of because of Dream.
“I don’t usually speak in public,” he began. “But the opportunity to talk to so many people who share the same passion, the same dream, well it was just too good to pass up… because you are special people; very special people.”
Your plans to take a tour around Cape Kennedy had been cut short by your own need to see your boyfriend. It wasn’t hard to figure out where the convention was being held, given that there was only one other hotel that could serve as a venue.
To your surprise, it was completely unguarded. The guards, nor any of the staff, were nowhere to be found. You saw some of the posters and cards that decorated the lobby, which then gave you the location of the main stage. Oddly enough, you started feeling fatigued with every step you took. In a few moments, you were in front of the big doors that separated you and your lover, given how his speech was scheduled to take place at this time of day. Instead, you could hear him talking, but not in a way someone would when talking to a crowd.
It was muffled, but you could still make out what he was saying, “If you think I’m going back to the Dreaming with you—”
“You’re not going back,” another person replied. You felt shivers run down your spine. You knew that voice. Why did you know that voice?
“I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”
“Do you know why I do it?” your lover asked in response. You heard nothing from the other man. “So I can taste what’s it like to be human. And you don’t care about humanity. You only care about yourself, and your realm, and your rules.”
You decide to enter as quietly as you possibly could so that you wouldn’t inadvertently make things worse and so you could be at your partner’s aid if need be.
“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules, it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”
“Or you might actually feel something,” you watched the Corinthian, now without his shades, staring down the other man. They couldn’t look more different but you knew your boyfriend was the one in danger. “I am not the problem, Dream.”
“You’re right. This was my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you… but I created you poorly then, so I must uncreate you now,” the man, who you now knew as Dream, replied with a sense of finality,
Your breath hitched at “uncreate”. The two men finally looked at you, unaware of your presence before then, and watched with wildly different expressions as you walked closer to the stage they were standing on. Dream looked at you with mild surprise and curiosity though he remained mostly indifferent to you. As if there was nothing about you that would change the outcome of this story. The Corinthian, on the other hand, was near his breaking point. All his emotions were bubbling up to the surface, threatening to tear down all his walls at the sight of you. He looked so defeated and scared, but you could see his love. You could see his desperation. His fears and hopes fighting in the name of your safety.
“What- what is going on?” you breathed out.
“What are you doing here, sugar?” he asked you softly, trying to hide his panic. “I thought I told you to call.”
“Please don’t do anything to him, sir,” you approached Dream. “I- I don’t know what’s happening but please, please, don’t do anything to him.”
You wished you were strong enough to stop the tears welling up in your eyes and to not look pathetic in front of this cosmic entity, but you would endure if it meant you could save your partner, or at least buy him enough time to get away. Your hands shook so you clasped them together, hoping you could maintain some sort of dignity. You could hear the Corinthian start begging you to stop what you were doing; to have some common sense. How it wasn’t worth it. You tried to block him out. He jumped off the stage and grabbed your shoulders. To hell with Dream. He would touch you one last time if this was to be his end.
“(Y/n),” he gasped out. That finally got your attention. You looked at him, brows furrowed. He never called you by your name. “You… don’t have to do this. You have a whole life ahead of you, doll. Don’t throw it all away for me.”
“But you’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?”
“In a heartbeat.”
“I don’t want to die, but I don’t want you to go where I can’t follow.”
“The Darkness isn’t so bad, I'm a Nightmare, remember? I'll be okay,” he tried to reassure you, though you could see that even he couldn't believe his own words. “I’d just miss you too much.”
You let your tears flow freely onto his suit jacket as you pulled him into a hug. He kissed you. It was so different from all the other kisses you shared. It was desperate. It was full of longing. It was sacred. If anyone else could see you right now, eyes closed and holding each other in a tight embrace, they would think you were just a normal couple. The version of you from six months ago would’ve never thought of dreaming of that monotonous normality she couldn’t escape, but now it was your greatest wish: that you and he could walk out of that room alive and well with no worries besides what you were going to have for dinner and how your coffee shop was doing. You felt him freeze up, just like when you saw his eyes for the first time all those weeks ago.
“I’m sorry. I love you,” he whispered. As he turned to sand your arms, you could do nothing but watch and feel him wither away. You fell to your knees in anguish, looking up at Dream and you knew there was nothing you could give that would bring your lover back.
“I’m sorry for your loss, but this was for the best,” the Endless spoke softly, as if trying to protect you from the grief he caused. “He killed many people over the past century that I was gone, and while he had a true reason for doing so, I cannot let him continue lest I fail my duties. Surely you have wondered what he did for a living?”
You didn’t answer, so he continued, “I know this will not fix the pain I have caused you, but I have his memories. I know his love for you was, no, is true. As is yours. You were the one good thing that happened to him in all those years he wandered this world alone, and I thank you for taking care of him.”
Everything faded to black.
-
In the Dreaming, Lucienne cautiously approached Dream. Unity Kincaid sacrificed her life for her granddaughter, and Rose Walker lived to see another day, now with her brother and her friends who loved her as much as she loved them. The royal librarian, however, could not get over the fact that the Corinthian, of all people, had fallen in love with a human. She then tried to find an answer in the only way she knew how: books, but even that didn’t give her a clear answer. You were an average person.
“My lord, how… how is it possible that the Corinthian found love? I read the story of her life and there’s nothing of significance in there, at least nothing in particular that would draw him to her,” she inquired, exasperated.
“My creations are as much a part of me as I of them, Lucienne. All Nightmares and Dreams have the capacity to feel as I do, perhaps I should’ve seen it coming,” he answered truthfully. “What is most surprising is that when I… unmade him, I saw his memories. I saw his devotion. I saw a lot of myself in him in those moments but unlike me, they may have had a chance at a happy ending if I had not intervened. I do not regret taking him away, I’m only sad to be the reason two lovers were torn apart.”
“Do you intend on remaking him, sir?”
“Yes, but not now, the world does not need him yet.”
“But she needs him. You know she does. And while we can hope for the best and expect her to move on, even without her memories of him, she will feel an emptiness. She has been dreaming, my lord. Of him! She shouldn’t be able to do that!”
“What?”
“You know what this means. It’s not often the Fates let soulmates meet,” Lucienne insisted hopefully. "You can erase him from her mind, but her heart will never forget. God forbid you separate the first bonded soulmates to appear in the last thousand years."
-
You never thought your life was particularly exciting. You had your hobbies, sure, but all-in-all the days just blended together in a blurb of organized chaos every human on the planet had gone through at some point in their lives. Maybe one thing about you was that you had recurring dreams of blond hair, and woody cologne... and being called different petnames? Maybe it was your dating status screaming at you to get laid. Oh well. Your coffee shop was your rock and business was doing well enough to keep you alive and comfortable in New York. You never expected more.
So when a sharply-dressed man wearing thick black shades and a charming smile waltzed into the shop, you didn’t think much of it. You saw all kinds of people every day, why was he any different? Except he was. You couldn’t help but stare and try to remember where you saw him.
Then he spoke, “Did you miss me, sugar?”
He looked up at you from behind his shades, revealing the most beautiful pair of blue eyes you’ve ever seen.
“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”