Timere

during • tension

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, one foot on Lana's back and the other on the floor.

She eyes me with fond exasperation. "Ariel, you're the one who suggested this."

Okay, point. Lana gets this pain in her back like every other day, and it's reminded me of my father after a long day of dealing with rowdy high schoolers. Mother used to gently step on his back in some sort of massage, because for some reason pain counters pain.

I'd mentioned it offhandedly this morning at breakfast since she'd seemed off, but now that she's taken me up on it...

"What if I hurt you?"

Lana snorts, and I feel it sort of vibrate from her body to mine. "You couldn't hurt me if you tried, shortie."

I press down on her spine with a pointed glare. "What was that?"

She doesn't so much as twitch, biting back a smile. "Sorry, did you just do something?"

I throw my hands up, turning to stalk off. "If I'm that small and weak, then you wouldn't even feel the massage anyway now would you?"

There's a lot of old hurt to unpack here, from abusive exes to high school bullies and this is not how I wanted this morning to go.

Standing by the kitchen counter and washing my hands is... calming. It's a thing I picked up in uni. If I focused enough, it could feel like I was washing the pain and anger away.

Then Lana's behind me, chin resting on my head. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I didn't- Do you-?"

She's not very good at talking about feelings, and it's oddly endearing. I, on the other hand, can talk about emotions and all for hours on end. I didn't do a joint major in Psychology and Sociology for nothing.

"No... not today."

I watch as she reaches forward to turn off the tap, then picks up a napkin to dry my hands and just... holds them.

"Do you want to learn to fight?"

The question catches me off guard and I nearly whirl around to look at her, but she has me trapped between her body and the counter.

Did she plan that?

So I think on it, biting my lower lip which is a bad habit, I know, but. It's really... not a bad idea.

"Yeah... I think I'd like that."

Lana hugs me then, but I can feel the tenseness in her frame, hear her shuddering breaths. I want to ask, I want to analyse.

But I can't. Because that's not how we work. I can't withhold information and expect her to tell all. And it burns. It does. I know she'll tell me if I just fucking ask but I don't want to.

So I don't say anything, just leaning into her until she pulls away.

"Track pants and a tank top should be fine, but it's getting chilly out and we're taking my bike so get a hoodie, okay?" She says this while going to clean up the living room and I feel like I've... missed something.

I nod anyway, heading to our bedroom to change.

I don't miss the way her eyes darken in clear lust when I'm done, or the way she refuses to let go of my hand until we get to her motorcycle.

I don't expect her to drive me somewhere outside the city limits, or for there to be a conveniently placed 'abandoned' warehouse right there.

I definitely don't expect the gun to Lana's temple and the knife to my neck the second we step inside.

Shit is getting real, homies. Don't forget to vote, comment and possibly share