Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
now playing..
"Baby Blue" -Badfinger
April 5th, 2012 8:24am
Your head rested against your duffel bag of clothes, having fallen asleep only mere hours before.
His eyes were trained onto the large bandage wrapped around his chest before everything set in, including his patched up hoodie and shirt.
He realized that he sat on the mattress, before looking around the room to find you laying on the floor, still attached to the pipe—the cuff uncomfortably wrapped around your ankle.
He connected the dots of what had happened after he got back the day prior, his eyes making their way to the beads on his wrist.
A feeling that had been buried deep inside of him for years made a good attempt to resurge, though he pushed it back down.
He hissed as he sat up further, attempting to get on his feet. All of his clothes were neatly folded in a stack near his satchel.
He knelt down next to you, shaking your shoulder slightly.
You awoke rather quickly, your eyes immediately making their way to his.
"You shouldn't sleep on the concrete."
You were appalled.
"And you shouldn't be up from that mattress. Go lay back down, you were literally stabbed." You scoffed, sitting up quickly as you ushered him back to the piece of furniture.
"I'll be fine." Slight irritation laced his voice as his stern expression pierced you.
"No you won't, go lay down before.." your words came to a halt as he looked back to you, eyes trained on you in a similar fashion to a vulture eyeing roadkill.
"Or what?"
You certainly felt like roadkill.
"Y'know what, pause that, fuck you for leaving me here for like two weeks." You crossed your arms as he looked down at you.
"I blacked out and woke up with this, it wasn't my fault." He said simply, his words rather monotone, his defending simply making you scoff.
"Well, I almost starved out here. All I had to do to keep myself from fucking losing it was play your guitar and sleep." Your words were laced with rightful irritation as he eyed you.
He sighed in frustration. "Why did you even help me?" He ignored my initial banter and asked his own question.
"Because whether or not you're the same person I knew those years ago, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I left you there like that." Your expression is stern, yet a portion of it is almost gentle as you let out how you felt.
He simply just watched as you leaned against the concrete wall, letting out a long breath before your eyes met his.
"And your corpse would have smelled horrid."
The corners of his mouth almost turned upwards slightly. Almost.
Though he didn't respond—his eyes simply staring into your sitting body. The birds fleeted across the morning sky to feed their young, trees shaking ever-so-slightly in the wind.
