Title: From Across The Room Part 3: Revelation/Truth Rating: PG-13 Author: Alse E-mail: alsepang@hotmail.com Disclaimer: NEVER SAID I OWNED SAILOR MOON. For Sake-chan, who was the first person to put up my fanfiction and to give me glowing reviews on it. Thanks! *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* FIVE YEARS AFTER I saw him from across the room. He was breathtakingly handsome, with raven-black hair that fell into his eyes and looked soft to the touch. The first time I saw him, I thought of reaching out and softly pushing the hair out of his eyes. Something about him drew me and it wasn't just his looks, which were amazing. What was it then, that drew me to him? Was it the enigmatic air, the obvious brilliance of his mind, written all over his face, or was it his charm, the charm that drew so many other women to him? Or was it his eyes, the subject of lovesick sighs from many a smitten female? T hey were deep and dark, the darkest blue that was nearly black, almost purple, yet distinctly, unmistakeably of a sapphire shade. They were eyes with shutters that rarely opened. Now and then, when he spoke to his best friend, Andrew, who managed the cafe, he smiled, and the shutters flicked open slightly so that you caught a glimpse of the man underneath. I was on the outside, looking in. He never saw me; I was a waitress, here for the summer, a girl with blond hair, who might have passed for any of the other breathless, admiring, besotted girls who had (real, bleached or highlighted) blond hair and who giggled over their soda glasses and melting sundaes, making bright eyes at him. He never noticed anyone. Perhaps he was modest, unassuming, refusing to believe that he was the one the girls came to see; or he might be truly oblivious to them, accustomed to the sighs, the shy glances, the bolder, more flirtatious laughter from the prettier and more confident girls around...who knew? They asked a great deal of questions about him. "What's his name?" "What's his number?" "Is he from around here?" "What's he studying?" "Where does he stay?" "What sort of girls does he like?" "Does he have a girlfriend?" I couldn't answer them. Even though the waitresses and waiters were the only ones who had the opportunity to come close to him, he stuck closely to his friend and barely shifted his gaze from his coffee. Sometimes, though, he would look up suddenly and glance around, expecting to see something, somebody, before the faintly hopeful look on his face vanished and the coffee mug claimed his devoted attention once again. He appeared to be waiting for someone, but I had a strong feeling that it wasn't an appointment sort of thing. He seemed to be hoping to run into someone. Aside from his self-imposed solitude, he was one of the nicest persons I had ever come across. He didn't like the fan club he had, but he was always unfailingly courteous with them, even the bold girls who tried everything to get him to notice them. There was, I saw, an innate strength and gentleness that made him patient with them. He was kind, too,and there were little incidents which told. Of course, it only made him more attractive to the besotted girls around. I think that somewhere deep inside me, I had always known who he was. I had thought he reminded me of someone the first time I saw him, and seeing him made something wiggle annoyingly in the banks of my memory, as if I had known him before, in another life. Yet I could never recall him; every time I came close to pinning down his identity, it slipped away and continued to lurk at the edges of my mind, a blurry imprint of something that might have crossed my path once. I didn't realise it until nearly a month later. It was about nine in the evening and he had already been here for five hours. The café was still crowded with a steady stream of people flowing in and out for dinner. When I threw a glance at the booth he had chosen to reside in for the day, just to make sure that he didn't want for anything, I froze. He was leaning back against the cushioned seat, head resting there as the rest of his tall frame curled slightly to accommodate the small space. His eyes were closed and dark lashes dusted killer cheekbones. Raven-black hair fell into his eyes and in glossy, untidy streaks against his forehead. He looked very tired...almost weary of something. It wasn't the dark, silent man I had been accustomed to, whom I saw asleep in the café then. It was a boy of seventeen, almost eighteen, the school troublemaker, genius and heartbreaker, who had fallen fast asleep outside the office of a high school principal five years ago. And now, five years later-- I understood something else, something more. It felt like the whole world was rushing through my mind at that moment as I stood, frozen and immobile from the sudden information overload. My heart thumped crazily in my ears and I don't know how long I stood there, just looking at him. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder and I jumped, emitting a small shriek as I did so. Andrew was looking at me quizzically. "Hey, are you okay? I've been waving at you for the past ten minutes and you didn't even respond." I gave him a tremulous smile. "I-I'm fine. Yeah, I'm all right." I breathed deeply and tried to get my bearings, but I couldn't. Then he woke up. Had he felt the weight of my unguarded stare? He lifted his head and his eyes clashed directly with mine. For the first time, I was suddenly tremendously aware of him, of the sudden fire that flared in the turbulent dark blue eyes and the stunned, somewhat bewildered look on his handsome face. Heat seared through me and I was sure that my face had become first cousin to a cherry tomato. With a terrible effort, I wrenched my eyes from his and looked away. I was deathly afraid at that moment-- afraid of everything-- afraid because I suddenly knew that I had fallen in love against all odds. It was a love borne of a brief encounter on one side five years ago, a love born of the memory of a face never forgotten, yet never recalled, a love that bloomed unrealised and into life five years later in a little café in a bustling city. He must have felt that-- whatever it was-- that sang between us at that incredible point outside of time. I knew it then, because I had seen the stark amazement in his face and the spark in his eyes, an answer to the spark I sent out. When I dared to raise my head again, he was gone. (c) 2001 Copyright original storyline by Alsepang Did you know? The Chinese civilisation is probably the only ancient civilisation to have remained fully intact until the twentieth century. Greek, Roman, Egyptian, Aryan, Phoenician, Persian...these civilisations have been long gone, whereas the Chinese somehow kept their dynasties and clothing until Western influence took over.