You look at him.
You run his features over in your mind, as he stands rigidly in front of you.
Short. Adorably short. He has to strain look up at your face, for he's just shy of half your height. In his wide, innocuous, bright baby blue eyes, there is a constant sense of heroism, purity, and adoration. Soft, light brown bangs hang loosely from the edge of his simplistic hat.
They catch in the wind and float freely, portraying an image like the summer birds in the careless wind.
You keep seeing his eyes.
His eyes, those oceanic eyes, are the only things keeping you anchored, the only thing keeping you from falling back into the desolate v