Disclaimer - I do not own Naruto.

If looks could kill, than you'd be charged for murder.

I wake up each morning, living the same ol' life.

I'm sick and tired of everybody, why can't you get it right?

I try so hard to become, something I know I'm not.

So why do I come home, to see your frowning face?

He was devastatingly gorgeous. Devilishly attractive. The best of the best. With the way his gorgeously soft hair flowed perfectly in the wind, ebony hair covering his eyes. His onyx deep, coal black eyes that you could get lost in. Unless he was angry, then they were blood red. Or how about the way his pale as white skin, rippled with muscles; not a blemish in sight. Sharp, aristocratic features. Too perfect, of course. But then again, most demons were.

The stories had been told for generations now. About how demons dwelled among us, and we'd never know it. They could be our fucking best friend, for all we knew.

You could know them your entire life, but not know who they truly were. Because demons were born as demons. Cursed to serve Satan in Hell for eternity. No one knows why Satan chose them, probably not even Satan himself. The damn evil bastard probably picked an innocent family's pregnant daughter.

The demons looked and smelled and acted just as humans would. The only difference is that when alone, they spread their black wings; black as their shriveled up heart, and fly down to the underworld. Demons can't roam the Earth indefinitely. They must return to Hell where they were doomed to be. The pain of being away from their…home…would be unendurable. Not even the most insane person would try to deny himself the indulgence that Hell brought to them.

Their reasons for preying on the unsuspecting innocent are valid. For if one demon was to seduce that of the opposite sex, they can be free. If a demon male were to make an innocent girl fall in love with him, then he may choose to switch bodies with her or souls rather, and be free to live on Earth once more.

Despite their attractive demeanor, this task is easier said than done. Humans have this natural defense mechanism that repels demons – in a way. When their eyes lock, something inside the human will trigger. Some subconscious part of the brain will recognize the danger, and they will run. Usually. However, there are those rare cases of people who never follow their gut instinct, or that simply don't care.

By the time the human were to actually have the proper knowledge of their 'lover'; it will have been too late. As soon as a demon unites with a human, the soul switching takes place. Unless, however, that human isn't truly in love. Demons mustn't take chances for if the human doesn't truly love him, than he could lose his body forever. It doesn't always happen, but the risk is great. That's why they normally don't take the chance.

Not many demons have been successful in this endeavor, so they usually stick with their own kind.

But he had a plan. He would make sure she would fall in love with him; he had nothing to lose anyway. He had already died – gone to hell for murder- and roamed the Earth for decades.

Two weeks three days eighteen hours five minutes and thirty three seconds ago he spotted his victim. She was inside a book store reading The Catcher in the Rye. Interesting choice. After she purchased the book, she walked downtown to a small apartment building, about thirteen stories high. She had four keys on her chain; one for the mailbox, one for her front door, one for her car, and one unknown to him. He had never spoken to a human since he was alive over forty years ago. He counted the time it took for her to walk upstairs and into her apartment number; apartment 13. How ironic, because today is when her luck had run out. He snickered to himself in a malicious tone. Regaining his composure, he calculated which window would be hers. Ah, there it was. Three down and two over. Without uttering a noise, he flew into the window sill and hid in the closet. Stealthy.

He waited for the woman to fall asleep before he exited. Walking to where he presumed her room to be, he found her sleeping awkwardly on queen size bed. She looked so fragile in the middle of that huge bed. He almost was tempted to take her right then and there. But he would need to have patience, he reminded himself with a silent sigh. He heard her murmur something and froze; alas she was only mumbling in her sleep. His tense muscles relaxed. She looked almost beautiful, compared to his perfection. She had pale features, a pointy small nose. Unusual eyes, green as a forest. Hair bubblegum pink. Strange…

He casually took a seat in a chair next to her computer desk. His eyes briefly scanned the desk and found a small slip of paper with scribbles and ex.'s and cross outs. It was scrawled on torn notebook paper in blue pen. Whoever said that girl's handwriting was neat was far off. He smoothed out the note with his hands in order to read it more properly. On the top it read, "If looks could kill, than you'd be charged for murder." Underneath was a series of stanzas some that rhymed, others that didn't. However not one word wasn't filled with passion. Not one word was fake. Sincerity.

She began to writher in her sleep. Nightmare… He carefully stood, pulling the chair out quietly, and strode over to her side of the room once more. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep and her slender eyebrows creased in either frustration or fear. He wished he could know, that he could travel into her innocent dreams with her; untainted. Her movements became aggressive. His cool pale hand came to rest on her forehead, and she stilled. He made sure she was not awake before moving his nimble fingers to glide across the slim contour of her cheekbone. A pattern soon arose, him tracing circles – doodling – all over her face.

He came to kneel half on her bed, half off, curled around her petite body almost protectively, never stopping his soothing ministrations.

Quiet, ever so quiet, time passed by. Eventually, her eyes opened briefly. He panicked for a short moment before bringing his soft lips to the shell of her ear and whispering 'shhh.' A small smile graced her features and those pale eyelids drooped closed once more.

Once he decided that enough was enough, he swiftly rose and darted out the bedroom window, off to do research. He had already decided, she would be the one. He was positive. He wanted her and only her. And once he wanted something, he was sure as hell that he would obtain it.

I dunno anymore, I'm tired of all the change.

It's no better than before, so why do I have to change?

A/N- The words in the beginning and the end of the song (I wake up each morning…I dunno anymore…) are actually words to a song that I made up, evidently dubbed "if looks could kill, than you'd be charged for murder." In the story, of course, ahem, SHE wrote it. Most of you most likely know who SHE is but still…