jeneru

He'll purposely avoid your gaze, albeit noting that small smile forming on your lips as he skims the hologram display - - the digits that mattered the most and that shade that is your   h u e. You continue to stare from your side, purposely distracting him, the tip of your forefinger alternatively drawing circles and tapping the back of his free hand until he's finally done. The wall of data flickers and eventually fades, his eyes meeting yours in its wake. "Still clear?" You rather teased, despite knowing how it doesn't amuse him. " All clear." And your then restless finger now finds itself stuck, along with the rest - helplessly inter

TW: slight language You wonder why this had suddenly been so difficult. You have been staring at the digits flashed on your screen for a while now, the cold damp cloth slipping steadily from the side of your forehead as your brows furrow, pondering on your excuse for not showing up for today's practice. You wait until the screen faded into your reflection and pressed the home button gingerly. The screen glowed to life, notifications stacked one after another, blocking the irked face that was your wallpaper. 5 missed calls 10 messages 3 social account notifications. You hold back a chuckle, noting how all of them came from just a single

S t a y  w i t h  m e . Amidst the somnolent haze he manages to take hold of your hand, wary fingers slowly curling around your own. You hold him tighter, confirming your presence, lest he might slip further. F u r t h e r   a  w  a  y    f r o m  y o u . A contented exhale. A sigh of relief. And you watch him finally retreat, finding comfort in his light snores cutting through the deafening silence of the room. He will do it again. And again. Until he can do it   n o  m o r e. And you will hold on to him. No matter what it takes. Even if he lets go. Y o u  w i l l  n o t . Still.

 TW: mentions of violence He wasn't always like this. It's not something that he would say, spoken words being too rare from his lips. Yet, whatever his gestures cannot convey, you feel it in his grip. He had always been protective Too protective, as sometimes Worick would point it out. But you couldn't blame  h i m. Because the last time you wandered off from his sight - - got you a broken rib and had him almost killed. And from then on, he had always been by your side (or make sure you had one, in his absence) each time you step out of the door. You didn't mind  i t. He became your  s h i e l d. And you became accustomed to it.

How dare you... walking into my thoughts... and starting conversations... . . . ...in my head. . . . Perhaps I should tell you that. . . . But  n o t   today.  

TW: unintended self harm  I never knew daylight could be so violent His head is throbbing, eyes struggling from the blur that resulted from an earlier concussion. He pushes some stray strands off, now clumped and sticky, from which, he no longer cares to know. Not far from his left, the door shakes in frustration, an anguished cry echoing from the other side, followed by a loud thud - - and another... and another. He bites his lip, eyes squeezing shut so hard his lids now hurt as shaky hands block the awful sound. In an attempt to save what was left of his nerves he t

"What was it like...?" You pause, the rim of the cup almost touching your lips, suddenly undecided of your response to such a sudden question. Slowly, you look at him, rimmed hues transfixed, still, at the screen, the monotonous whir of the ventilation effectively cancelling the implied panic of the reporter's voice. A hum accompanies your exhale, and he meets your gaze in return. A raised brow, a pursed lip. A sudden urge to laugh restrained behind your throat. Silence. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean", you finally surrender, lowering the warmed brew as you shift in your seat to face him. "Home.", he responds, gaze averted in

Perhaps it was just you. That version in my head, acquiescently immersed in fathomless waters, with me.

He'll be damned if he fails again. Not this time. Not with you. Where are you? That was two hours ago, when he was still at the gym, beating himself from his latest defeat, a defeat he would not admit, no - not to you. Another lapse, another promise he had forgotten Or maybe, you had been too forgiving. He weaves through the amused crowd, a hasty glance at each semblance, a hasty apology at each mistaken beckon. From afar, the sun retires in a rusty backdrop, soon followed by the glassy colored lights glowing to life. He climbs the nearby uphill in strained breaths, but he pays no mind, determined to achieve the vantage point he now