October 12th

389 15 3
                                    

Love Is A Bitch - Two Feet

I wake up from some rumblings coming from the kitchen. Haven't slept very well, not because of the light, but cause of my arms and lungs.

The first thing I feel is my head pounding.
"Morning" I hear an energetic voice say, literally shattering my ears.
I grunt as I take a deep breath.

"morning" I say in a low and tired tone as I rearrange myself. He's packing some things and cleaning. Or at least it sounds like that.

"Where are you going?" I ask in a raspy voice.

"Work" He says as he comes nearer.

"In that mask?" I mock as I look back and see him walk past me. I turn on the side to lay more comfortably.

"Yeah. It'll look great" He says with a sassy tone. I snort low as I rub my eyes.
He is wearing a blue shirt, a tie, a blazer and black pants. Also some fancy shoes.

"You're a cashier?" I joke, wondering what his job is.

"No. But probably better pay then my current job" He smirks and head over to the bathroom.

"And that is what exactly?" I say as I put my hand under my head and lean against the pillow, and just gaze at him with soft eyes.

"Nothing you need to worry about" He yells as he starts brushing his teeth.

"I've told you all about me... now it's your turn" I say with a calm and tired voice as my head sinks in the pillow.

"You told me, I never forced you too" He says and points at me.
I roll my eyes at his comment.

"Don't you trust me... is that it?" I ask in a casual tone, just wanting answers.

"I do trust you... and I know you can keep a secret... but I don't want you to form a relationship with me" He says and comes out of the bathroom.

"Are you scared I'm not going to be able to sleep, knowing you're out there, might dying in a dumpster" I mock him, thinking he's ridiculous.

"Yeah" He says, actually serious.

"Are you serious?" I ask and my eyes open a little wider.

"I don't like that people worry about me. It causes them unnecessary stress" He says, trying to blame me

I sit up, feeling a little better than yesterday and says:
"My mom was murdered because of me. My dad left. My sister was tortured everyday for 16 years. My colleagues died in front of me. And my nearest friends are the fucking Avengers. I know how to deal with the death and hero things" I say, a little offended he thinks I'm that vulnerable.

He looks at me with empathy, I can tell he is.
"Oh quit it..." I say as I hate when people gives me sympathy.

"I'm sorry th-"

"I said quit it" I snap back.
He comes over, very calmly and sights.

"I'll be back at 6... there are painkillers in the kit and water in those bottles. What do you want anything to eat?" He asks in a caring way.

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