She has blue eyes, and I love her.

They always shine with a thirst for life I have seldom seen in people. She has faced so many trials and horrors, yet her eyes remain alive and bright. Those crystalline laugh with her rare, melodious laugh and smile with her equally rare smile. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, and for her, it is true. With just a simple glance you can tell how she feels; with just a simple glance she tells you her past and her future.

However, those beautiful eyes are always hidden; they are averted, lowered, covered. She seldom talks to anyone and when she does her melodious voice is reduced to a monotone. I've know her my entire life and I have only seen her express any form of positive emotion twice. She is mysterious, considered by some to be cold an cruel. Most who have not known her for long pass her off as another antisocial girl.

But I have known her for long, and I have seen her eyes light up. I have seen her perfect lips pull up gently into a reserved smile; I have seen them part to let out a clear laugh. She has reasons for everything she does, I understand. When I think about it, I am much like her, although I do not seal away my emotions. My day is guaranteed to be perfect every morning when I sit at the table in the corner of the coffee shop and I see her approach. She always orders the same, a mocha with extra whipped cream.

We sit and talk, sometimes for hours on end. We talk about nothing and everything, darker subjects and lighter subjects. She is incredibly smart; I adore sitting in that worn seat, fingers around a warm paper cup, just listening to her beautiful voice. Occasionally, during the fall (her favorite season), we leave the small shop and walk the streets, continuing our conversation. My drink is always gone within minutes, but she sips at hers slowly, taking her time.

After she is done her drink she asks, as always, if we have time to visit the old park before whatever she and I will be doing that day. I glance at my watch and nod, watching her eyes light up even as her expression remains stoic. Then we walk more, this time in silence, along an old cobblestone path. The half-naked trees form an arch over our heads, their gnarled branches intertwined with each other. When we reach the end of the twisting path we reach an aging fountain, its beautiful carved stone scratched and worn with age. Lions as cold as a winter's night prowl the outer edge while lifeless doves perch on the second tier. On the top sits a grey girl, her unseeing eyes trained at the cold water running through her hands; it flows from the small pool behind her into her palms then down her legs and off of her stone feet.

Everytime we see the fountain I comment on how the girl ressembles her, and she shakes her head.

"No, Roy, she doesn't."

Then I sit on the edge of the water and glance at her in her old wool coat, the very same one I gave her five years ago. She brushes a strand of blonde out of her face and stares back at me, daring me to say the words I always say.

"Well, I guess it's true," I start to speak and she sighs, knowing my words before they leave my mouth. "She doesn't live, nor does she radiate light, like the sun and the stars; she doesn't have blonde hair that catches the light or blue eyes that reflect the sky. She doesn't speak in a voice as beautiful as yours, and she definitely doesn't laugh or smile."

And then I grin my lost puppy-dog grin and watch for the twitch of her lips that will give away the smile she hides. After I catch it I pretend I didn't and move a little as she sits next to me and leans her head on me. Every time I choke back a remark about how she smells wonderful, warm, and that there is nothing I want to do more than to hold her. Instead I stay quiet as she says the same remark she always does, in the same monotone voice she always uses.

"You are such a hopeless romantic."

I laugh and we resume our conversation, peaceful in our own little world.

She is cold, I can tell. Small white clouds form before her with each breath she takes, betraying the winter tainting the late fall air. She shivers, pulling her large grey coat tighter around her as she walks. Her footsteps crunch on the brittle red and orange leaves littering the mossy cobblestone path. Above us a single blue jay sings in the naked branches. Her drink was discarded minutes ago, but I still cling to mine; I feel anxious and somehow I know that if I swallow anything it will not stay down for very long. When we emerge at the fountain I sit immediately, scared that if I stand much longer my legs will give out. She stands in front of me for a moment, waiting for my daily comment. It doesn't come and she sits next to me, a warm hand pressed against my thigh.

"Is everything alright?" She asks, her enchanting voice laced with concern.

Too afraid to speak, I simply nod. I try to swallow away the knot building in my throat, but it simply will not leave; neither will the churning in my stomach. She frowns and takes my hand in hers, squeezing gently.

"Roy," she whispers, her cerulean eyes fixed on me. I can't bear to look at her and instead stand up. As soon as her hand leaves mine I crave her touch and consider sitting back down onto the rough stone. But no; I must go through with this.

"Samus..." I say, pulling a something out of my pocket. Finally I turn around and look at her. There is a slight wind that blows her blonde locks in every direction and makes her cheeks pink. She blinks, momentarily hiding the azure pools from my view. She doesn't know what to expect, so she fears the worst. Roughly I drop one knee to the ground and extend my closed hand.

"Sam... Will you marry me?"

Shock. That is the first emotion I see on her beautiful face. My red hair is tossed around by the wind. The cold stings at my hand as I uncurl my fingers and reveal a silver ring embedded with a single diamond, the result of years of saving. Tears well up in her eyes and glide down her stinging cheeks as she covers her mouth with her delicate hands. A sob racks her lithe frame and a dagger goes through my heart.

"I-I... I..." I'm stuttering like a fool as I stand up, feeling extremely idiotic. She has every right to leave and never come back, I shouldn't have proposed! We were not together before, she would most likely find me creepy for asking her to marry me..

Suddenly her arms are wrapped around my neck and her face in buried in my shoulder. Instinctively I wrap my arms around her wait and pull her close, savoring her sweet scent.

"Yes," she breathes, tears soaking into my coat. "Yes, I'll marry you. I'll marry you."

"I love you." I whisper, my lips pressed against her forehead. She sobs once more and curls her fingers into the fabric of my jacket.

"No... no one has ever said that to me before."

At her words I hold her even closer. This girl, whom I have always believed was strong and determined, does have a weak spot. I have finally gotten the girl with no emotions to show herself.

"There's a first for everything." I say, feeling like an dunce for being so corny.

"I know," she whispers, "I know... I love you too."

She has blue eyes, and I love her.