𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 || ᵈᵃᵇⁱ

6 ; information unwanted

          You know, you should probably learn how to shut yourself up after this.

          "I don't know what the fuck you're claiming my uncle did, but I know damn well that at least half of that is false. He was Yagi's friend, his brother in arms, his fucking. . .business partner!" His head was still left to the side as you rambled on, face going red from lack of breath as you showed no signs of stopping, "He was the one who stayed at home with me when Yagi went to go do his work. He was the one who took care of me in places my own relative couldn't!

          "He taught me how to ride a bike, celebrated my birthdays, fetched me from school. He was a damn good uncle and hearing you, a complete fucking stranger, say that he was some devil-spawn that made your life hell is enough of a reason for me to get pissed. So yeah, you might be telling the truth for all I fucking know, but you don't have the right to call me selfish just because I saw him in a different light!"

          . . .

          . . .

          . . .

          Your chest heaved up and down as you forced yourself to glare at him, eyes not meeting your own but enough to know that you were only done because you wanted it to be. You didn't know what prompted to you to get so defensive, didn't even know you had it in you to slap a literal, walking flamethrower just because he offended you.

          . . .

          Another beat of silence passed before he seems to contemplate a response, fingers tapping idly on the wall he had you pressed up against. It was a weird situation, really, one that you didn't expect to happen to you and one you didn't know how to feel about now that it did.

          "So. . ." He starts, voice soft and eyes still refusing to meet your own, "So selfish."

          The noises that was from the kitchen seemed to have grown louder, your head snapping to look at the metal door that slowly creaked open.

          A head of black hair pops out, Simon's glasses halfway down his face as he panted to look. You could see the green that colored the underside of his hair, signaling that he was pretty disheveled for the most part. "Oh my God you're alive!" He sidesteps out of the door and almost bumps into the large trash-bin, quickly making his way over to you and grabbing your wrist.

          You go to complain, to warn him of the stranger with blue eyes and fire in his hands—but it was pretty obvious that he had already left.

          You weren't sure how he managed to get out as quickly as he did without your friend noticing, or he did see him and chose not to comment on it.

          . . .

          That last one you doubted, because Simon's the type of person to point out anything no matter how little.

          "—s honesty expecting to see you dead by Bob's, but I'm glad you made it this far." The moment you decided to zone back in he was already halfway through insulting you, your face scrunching as you let him lead you to the backdoor. "Gee thanks, Sims, loving the amount of trust you're putting on me."

          "You're welcome."

          The day continued on as normal, working your ass through the afternoon with some schoolwork on your breaks. It was tiring but it was routine, the only difference being the panic that kept going off in your mind every time you saw someone even remotely resembling specific someone's. That blonde businesswoman just getting a coffee, that shaky intern who had spiked black hair—anyone and everyone that had overlapping features had your guard rising.