little bird // r.keene

xxxiii. turning a page.

3:09 am
The clock read.
Wren sat slumped in her chair, a book propped on her lap, her feet up and a blanket over her legs. She had put one over Sam and Robby too, both slept softly only two meters away from her. Wren turned over her page with a crisp flick of her finger.

"Don't worry, Wendy. Gran. I won't leave you."

She fixed him with a fierce gaze, her eyes sharp and knowing.

"Ah, Peter, but you always did. You don't remember, do you? Every year you left me. And when you came back, you remembered nothing. And finally you forgot to come back at all."

Robby's eyes cracked open and he delicately tried not to move as he watched Wren from afar. He watched as her brows furrowed down at her worn pages and he watched as she promptly slammed the cover shut and took a deep breath before dropping the book to the floor, letting it fall to the floor beneath her chair. She pressed her elbow to the arm of her chair and pressed her hand to her mouth, gently running her lips against her nails in thought.

People left and came back expecting open arms, thinking they had done no wrong... It was something Wren knew all too well... And something she was sick of-

Robby rolled his head towards her, and Wren saw his flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and couldn't help but look to her left and see him gazing over at her.

"I didn't take you for one to throw books..." He whispered with a pause, "What did it ever do to you?"

"It pissed me off..." Wren said flatly, her hands moving to tuck themselves neatly in her lap.

"Does that mean you're going to try and throw me?" He tried his best to joke but Wren just shook her head, letting her eyes drift from him to out the, now closed, window.

"Go back to sleep, leave it alone for a little while." Wren found herself telling him but Robby knew what she actually meant to say.

Leave me alone for a little while.

Robby's throat felt like sandpaper at her hostility. He deserved it, of course he did, he knew that. It's just, he couldn't shake how forgettable her dismissal was making him feel. Because, though Robby would never admit it: he had never craved affection of any kind until he tasted Wren's, and he wasn't sure if he was willing to let that go. "No, Wren, I want to explain myself..." He said boldly.

Silence and the almost inaudible sound of Sam's breaths filled the space between them.

"Fine." Wren finally whispered, looking back over to him and Robby, still tucked under a blanket from toe to chest, took a sigh, as if trying to compose himself.

"I was angry..." He began but Robby felt his chest tighten. He knew it was a bad place to start because he knew for a fact, Wren had grown up in a home where anger was lined on the walls and the floors, poisoning the mind of her father to-

He stopped thinking about it. But he kept talking.

Wren saw his hesitation, she couldn't tear her eyes away, it wasn't physically possible. She swallowed and licked her lips, as if about to speak but decided against it... She was giving Robby a chance to explain, she could at least let him finish.