August 6.

He had his book again. He held it tightly in his hands as if someone was going to rip it form his grasp at any minute. He strode into the room with only that book. Usually he was here before I was. Not today. Today he was late.

His jaw was locked as he grinded his teeth together. His eyes where locked on the ground as he walked to his table on his side of the room. He had his jacket in his hand unlike the many times before. Before he always had his jacket on. It was like a security blanket for him in my eyes.

It seemed like when he wore it the world couldn't get to him. That nothing could harm him.

I wish I had that. I wish I could get away from the world I lived in. The only way to get away is to come here and write. To write about him. To put all my focus on him.

I watched as he stuffed his arms into the sleeves of his jackets. As the warm, fluffily, and soft material lied across his skin you could see the tension leaving his body. You could see his jaw unclenching as he relaxed into the chair. You could see the way his eyes softened into nothing instead of holding anger like it had when he entered.

 I've never seen him mad.

I've never seen him mad, sad, or happy. 

Only Content.

That's all I've seen in him when he was here.

I stared at him just like always. Taking in every feature. 

That is until he looked up...

August 7.

I was now the one running late. My idiot of a brother decided it would be fun to shove me... I fell down a flight of stairs.

I think I broke a rib and sprained my hand.

He didn't mean for me to get hurt...

He didn't know I was so fragile. Nobody knows...

Anyways I was 20 minutes late.

20 freaking minutes!

I rushed into the room hoping I haven't missed my eye candy.  I glanced at where he usually sat and saw that he was getting up.

At least I didn't miss him completely...

I quickly walked to my table. I needed to give my sore body a break. As I sat down my ribs screamed in pain. I held my breath hoping to ease some of the pain. 

As a distraction I glanced up to see if he had left while my struggle to sit or if he was just leaving the room.

He was staring at me still half way standing. Like always I looked away.  I looked down at the  journal I have written in since I saw him. Well more like enchanted by him...

I glanced up under my eyelashes to see him resting in the chair with the book in his hands. Something was off though...

He wasn't content. His eyes weren't blank... They were filled with something. 

Something like concern? Maybe.

I can't tell. 

August 8.

Well I went to the doctors and it turns out I broke a rib,  bruised a rib, sprained my hand, and broke a finger.

Great right. 

Well since I'm so banged up and everything hurts I decided to go early this time. 

I was maybe 30 min early.  Of course he wasn't here yet.

It was 12:30 and he is always here by 1:30. That could always change but I doubt it. 

I waited at my table rereading everything I have written about the man.

The man I know nothing about, but I want to. Finally after a good 40 minutes his tall muscular form made an entrance.
When the door closed behind him I looked up.

He have his book in his hand along with his journal. This time he wasn't holding his jacket he was wearing it unlike before when he had put it on maybe that's how he was the other times when he was here before me. Maybe it wasn't such a safety blanket as I thought it was, just a jacket.

Maybe I just read too much into it. I mean who knows I don't even know the guy. I just know that I want to know about him, but I can't.

He is living but I am dying...

Maybe someday he'll get to know me through these journals I have been writing. I wish I would be able to know him but I won't get get  the chance to know him.