❛There he laid looking at me in a way no one had ever looked at me.
My hands were shaking as I explained my knotted past. I will not always be easy to hold onto, for my heart is scattered with thorns.
Some nights I will be quiet and he won't know how to pull me out of my weeded mind. Some nights I will forget what he sees in my and lose my balance.
Some nights I will trip over my own feet and apologize for the mess I made.
On those nights the one thing that will drag me out of my own labyrinth is that look. No one has ever looked at me quite like that.❜
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I'm feeling timid and anxious. || I'm speaking to strangers. || I'm wearing quirky casual || I have $200 on me and $800 stashed in the bank. || I have feelings for no one.
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The skin of his neck was red, causing long streaks of bruises to circle his skin. It was painful, but Hope knew there was little chances of facing broken bones with how he was now built. Perhaps he’d have cowered in the past, hide in a corner and only coming out after the storm has passed. Perhaps he’d be like the two security, turning a blind eye when instead, help was needed. No, Hope was sure he would act the exact same way. It was a given, noting how much of a coward he was. But this time, if it meant he could help, even if it’s only a little, he would try, no matter how terrified he would be. He had been in a dark place, and his life had only seemed to spiral downwards from there until recently. He understood what it was like, to feel helpless, to be helpless, and he would be damned if he let another around him stoop to where he once was. Perhaps it was foolish of him to think so, perhaps pretentious, but saving another soul, was akin to saving his own.
And the ghostly images ceased, as though they had never existed to begin with.
Her hair was what surprised him, not only by the length, but also the way it hardened when she had swung it against their heads, colliding against the skull with an audible ‘thud’. Crimson red stared in awe, amazed that despite so, her hair was smooth, without the slightest tear or split ends. Quick drawing of breaths could be heard, and he’d turn around at the gentle tap of her finger against his shoulder, crimson red meeting sapphire blues. It was warm, albeit the brief contact, like a gentle droplet of hot water against the cold. "Excuse me. We...need to go soon." she murmured, though he was quick to protest at how unwell she seemed just moments earlier.
”But you’re sick- you should see the doctor-- I’m sure they’ll understand if we just-” albeit the mild tremble in his voice, his tone was laced with worry as reddened irises slowly calmed into baby blues once more. But she wasn’t wrong, though the young man hesitated between keeping her here, or escaping the area like suspicious thugs. ”B--But-” he attempted to reason once more, pale lips parting only to be met with silence, to which eventually, he lowered his head and simply nodded at her request, allowing her to make decisions should she see fit. He’s had enough questioning from the therapist, and to add officers to the list was simple biting off more than he can chew. But in this moment, he grew weary more so over her well-being rather than his own. The sirens rang on the outside, ringing in his head like the sound of nails screeching against tiled walls, and the discomfort has begun to show upon his features, both from the bruises, and the noises.
”Where are we going to go? A-Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, quiet footfalls carrying him towards the corner to collect his umbrella that was still damp from the rain, gentle, like water droplets on the surface of still water. It was a stark contrast, that someone as heavy as he possessed footsteps that made little to no sound, save the occasiomal squeak of his soles against the tiled floor.
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Out.Of.Crocodiles:
Wind Hime Princess
