[K] I had seen you on tv a few times. You were so captivating. I didn’t care much for politics, hell, I didn’t even vote in the election because I knew it was a bust. But your words, the way you spoke, had me believing in everything you said. That’s how I found myself at one of your rallies, standing as close to the stage as possible, enraptured by your passionate speech. I wondered if you could/would ever notice me the way I noticed you.

fragilerpsociety0106:

My rallies had been increasing in attendance the more known I was becoming, the more my message was being spread and reaching the public of Brookfield Heights. I’d even gained a few dedicated fans, a group of young women who turned up at every event I hosted and even went so far as to dye their hair a blue similar to my own in a sign of solidarity and their loyalty to my campaign.

As I was speaking, feeding on the public’s fear and making the promises to assuage them, my eyes traveled to you as I was scanning the crowd, letting my eyes make the connection with everyone. You were new – I hadn’t ever seen you before, and I could note almost everyone who had turned up at one of my rallies, separate the newcomers from the old friends.

Plus it was the expression on your face and look in your eyes that gave it away. Your eyes held the skepticism of someone who was relatively new to the platform, yet glimmered with the interest and fascination that kept them with me.

My eyes locked with yours as I continued. I let the contact linger for a moment before continuing to deliver my speech, finally flicking my gaze out to the rest of the crowd once more.

@fragilerpsociety0106

It was a breezy fall day. I shivered, regretting not wearing a coat—instead, all I had on was a plaid flannel button down over a plain back T-shirt, accompanied by jeans and soft brown moccasin boots. My long brown hair swirled around me as I picked my way through the crowd.

I smirked disdainfully as I shoved my way through the gaggle of blue-haired girls to get closer to the front. Desperate whores, I thought to myself. I smiled as I saw you make your way onto the stage to a round of cheers and applause. They probably only care about your beautiful face instead of what you have to say. My heart swelled as the crowd died down and you began to speak. I, at least, care about both, I admitted sheepishly.

I continued to watch you, enthralled. Your faded blue hair pulled back in a neat bun. Your voice, charismatic and warm. Your face, handsome, yet fierce. Your hands, large and strong. You were everything most politicians weren’t, and that’s why I loved you.

I snapped back to my senses when I noticed your intense dark eyes bore into mine. A flicker of a smile ghosted your lips. Despite the chill in the air, I felt a heat from the pit of my stomach creep all the way up to my face. You had noticed me.

But as quickly as it had come, your gaze had left mine. Disappointment gripped my heart. I wanted more of you. Impatiently, I waited for your speech to end. Did I dare try to approach you after the rally?

I did. As the final applause faded away and you began to exit the stage, I hurried forward and called after you, “Mr. Anderson!”