Lost in your eyes

How long is it going to last?
May 2

I was still in a state of drowsiness. But already felt the unmistakable headache hangover. I knew myself too well. I tried to remember something from the night before, but it was useless. My head was reigned by complete darkness.

But when I began to regain my faculties, I realized that I wasn’t alone in that bed. And to cover my body there was nothing but a thin sheet.

I could feel the smooth sound of someone breathing on my own neck, and the warmth that enveloped me. And then I panicked. I had no desire to open my eyes. Maybe it was all a dream. Or rather a nightmare.

What had I done? I had never been a too quiet girl. No, not at all. But I never got to this point either. How could I have gone to bed with a stranger? What happened that night? Why can’t I remember anything? Where was Arianna?

Too many questions that I didn’t know the answer on.
The only thing I could do was get some courage and open my eyes.
In the end, what had been done was done. I couldn’t go back.

After taking a deep breath, I finally decided to squint my eyes, throwing a quick glance at his arm wrapped around my body.

I blinked over and over again. I couldn’t believe the image that was before me. I could recognized that arm anywhere. Those tattoos everywhere.

I blurted out a laugh hysterically.
I was so worried for nothing. That was certainly a dream.

I halted waiting as long as necessary, until the moment of the illusion would be gone and I would again found myself in the real world. At the same time, however, I wished that the dream may not end and I blamed myself for having it enjoyed so little.

I don’t know how long it was: I remained motionless, waiting for the inevitable and in the meantime inhaling his scent, trying to give myself that feeling inside, in hopes of bringing a bit of that spell with me to the real world.

Maybe I should turn around, touch his face at least once before the magic vanishes, but if I did anything I was sure he would have slipped away from my fingers.

Yet there was something strange. I couldn’t understand, but it was all so ... real.
And then there was that annoying headache ...

I closed my eyes lulled by his sweet breath.

For as long as it takes until the spell breaks.

His voice broke the silence of the room. An exclamation of surprise, that I didn’t know the meaning of.
My heartbeats sped up beyond belief. While his grip left my body, I instinctively opened my eyes and turned in his direction.

I found two green eyes looking at me full of uncertainty and surprise, they moved quickly from my face to my body.

Immediately, I lowered my eyes, feeling my cheeks on fire, trying to gather as much as possible of stupid sheet that was resisting me.
Almost without realizing it I started to back off until ...

"Shit!" I blurted out in spite of myself, rubbing my back.
Of course, I fell out of bed.
Sure. How could I save a figure like that?

Then he leaned so he can see, this time being careful to put his piercing eyes only on my face as I tried desperately to cover myself with the blanket I had brought with me in my disastrous fall.
"Is everything okay?" He asked, wisely taking the English language, having understood that I and the Finn didn’t have much in common.

That voice! How many times have I longed for listening to it through a stupid machine.
And his face? Those eyes! I ...

I feared that it was long, too long to fix it with dazed expression on my face, while my brain was trying to remember how to put together a meaningful sentence in the language of which many times I had boasted about being an expert connoisseur.

Eventually I managed to stammer little: "You ... you ... are you real?"

Not holding back a laugh he said: "Yes, I would say that I am."

I repeatedly rubbed my temples: some headaches that made me not very bright.
"So," I pointed out as if repeating a geometry problem, "you are really here. It is not a dream. You ..." then my voice struggled to come out, "you really are Ville Valo." I wanted it to be a statement, but it sounded much more like a question.

"Yeah. Just me. I'm afraid I do not remember your name."

"Elisa," I pronounced in English, as I used to do on several occasions. "Of course, I'm not a famous singer," I ventured.

He smiled: "Wow. I must be really famous. You certainly aren’t one of my fellow locals, right?"

"Definitely not," I returned the smile effortlessly, pushing back a lock of black hair behind my right ear. "I'm Italian."

"Italian? Italy is a beautiful country. Certainly it’s warmer than here. "

"Yeah."

Then silence came back to fall on the room.
And what was I doing?
I looked down towards the floor. I was having a quiet conversation with one of the sexiest singers in history, our clothes scattered everywhere except the room where they were supposed to be, after a night when...

The situation was one of borderline madness.

When I dared to raise my face once again I found his magnetic eyes on me. I thought I read a fair concern now.

"Do you remember anything from the last night?" he asked.

"No, nothing," I confessed, biting my lower lip. "And you?"

"Only confusing memories. I was very drunk." Eh, I guess not like me. "I think I met you at the Midnight Wish." It was possible: I remembered that name. It was a place where Luke had brought us a couple of times, very nice and as we were told attended by a more exclusive audience. I never thought it could be that exclusive.

"And then," he continued, "I let myself go without giving too much thought to the consequences of what I was doing and some not-so-very minor details, such as your age. How old are you? Twenty-two, twenty-three?"

"Ahm," I coughed, "seventeen, actually."

He said something that I had no doubt it was a curse.
"I didn’t think you’re so ... young. Not legal. You look much older."

"Well ... I’m only two month away from turning 18," I stammered.
He seemed really concerned about the situation. I was so sorry.
"Hey," I tried to reassure him, "don’t worry. Certainly, I won’t make a scandal. I won’t tell anyone what happened. When I leave this room it will be as if it never happened."

This for sure wasn’t enough to calm him. He couldn’t immediately trust a stranger. As far as he knew I could go to blurt out everything that happened to the first tabloid. Which didn’t even get in the hall of my brain.
Yet he had no choice. He had to trust me.

I sighed. "I'd better go and take a shower."
Ville nodded.
We were watching each other for long. Actually I was expecting something, but he didn’t seem to notice. He seemed terribly deep in thought, but hadn’t yet broken the silent dialogue between our eyes. He seemed to be trying to explore my soul.

A shiver went through my back.
Letting my hair fall over my eyes I muttered: "Sorry ... can you look away for a moment... while I collect my clothes."

"Oh. Sure. Sorry," he muttered turning. Perhaps I began to hallucinate, but it looked like he was blushing. Of course, he could never beat the color I had since I had woken up and which hadn’t abandoned my cheeks yet.

I got up, still shaky, wrapping myself better in the beautiful sheet, and began the desperate search of my clothes, checking every now and then with the corner of my eye that I wasn’t observed.

It was really a desperate search and not even entirely successful: despite my efforts I couldn’t find my stupid bra.
What a disaster that was.
Still I couldn’t stay there all my life to look.
I decided to give up and walk towards the bathroom door.
Crossing the threshold I turned as to greet him.

I was about to close the door when Ville said: "Your eyes are the most special I've ever seen, you know? Don’t hide them," I blushed violently again, smiling, and wishing not to lose control at that time.