'If you want to talk to me, then talk to me.'  

That's all she has been thinking since she noticed a pair of brown eyes looking at her very own.
 Although blurry, she knew they were definitely brown. Deep, dark brown eyes. They were his eyes.

    
    ...     

She doesn't like listening to people talk. It was bothersome. 
    She liked silence better. No. She prefered it. 

Silence got her somewhere.
Words just repeats. 

Silence made her want to listen... 
No, not to his or her words. 

Silence reminded her 
Of the little, but important details she tended to forget and ignore.

It made her aware.

                                                      
 Silence was her only friend in times of chaos. 
 But nevertheless her cold-blooded killer.

As they always say, "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

And right now his silence was killing her.
His eyes never leaving hers.

12:15 AM 3/25/2016

I like silence, but I always wonder what's in that pretty little head of yours; I'm sure it's everything but silence.

 It kills me everytime when I see people taking side glances and secret stares at me and at each other, then they just stop at that. I don't hate it, but I certainly don't like it. I always try to avoid staring or glancing up to someone because it just gives them so many different message.

BUT when I do, I always wonder what would happen if we did more than just "accidentally meet each others eyes".