"No matter how prepared you are, there is still someone that will drive you to stutter, moreover spill a coffee to yourself"
🌊Blue🌊
TW: SA, SH, and other materials that may not be appropriate for younger audiences and/or may trigger uneasiness for some audiences.
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Sage's eyes wrinkled more deeply when he studied the picture. The more time he spent staring, the more the photo appeared to return his gaze, leaving a suspicious mood hanging heavy in the air. One more minute to spend and I'll believe he knows something about it.
When he tended at me with his eyes, I saw threat and instability in him. It placed my feelings somewhere vulnerable. Horrified and worried about the atmosphere. The air prickled my skin as the burning sensation continued in my eyes. I haven't seen this expression of Sage...or so that's what I know, but what I feel is something more different - as if I saw this situation before.
His gaze darted onto me, a potent cocktail of threat and instability pouring within. It lanced through my constructed defenses, leaving my feelings exposed and raw. A prickling unease wormed its way beneath my skin, intensifying the burning ache in my eyes. This wasn't the Sage I knew. Or at least, that's what my mind insisted. But an initial shiver danced down my spine, whispering of a deeper recognition, a chilling sense of déjà vu as if this scene played out in some forgotten nightmare.
My heart skipped no less than two beats after his hands wore blood as he tore the photo to half and half, without hesitations.
A choked breath from my lips as my breath caught in my throat. His palm tore the photo in two with such aggressive speed that time appeared to slow down. Half of the jagged edge flew to the ground like a dying butterfly, while the other half dangled from his hands.
"What are you doing!?" I swiftly threw the pillow off me and crawled to where the pieces fell.
"No!" I shouted even if it was too late. I slid the shreds toward a commonplace and tried to fix it like a puzzle missing in pieces. The way Sage hid the missing pieces in his hands made me aggrieved. But anger seemed to be suppressed by the sadness and loneliness I felt again.
I managed to put the half together, showing only his ginger hair hiding in a graduation cap. Then Sage swept it off with his foot. "Sage! What are you doing!?" I nearly let a tear escape my eyes. I grabbed his foot which he used to dust the pieces. "I said what are you doing!? Why did you do that...? Do you know something?"
He leaned and squatted to reach my eyes. His face became inches closer. I backed a little while my brows met.
He placed his hand on my head and began caressing my hair. "You don't need that photo anyway," he said calmly and assuringly. "He's no use. He's gone. He's a bad person."
My brows slowly came back to its place as I let out heavy breathing. I asked, "H-how? What do you know?"
"I know everything." His head went down to hold my cheek. Then his thumb wiped off the tears that were able to escape, easily as if I didn't have my glasses on. "I guess you didn't know that...he was the reason you don't remember anything."
Assured, I started going back for the heart ease. Then his words grew on me, and on every leaf there was a reason to believe it. Mom didn't want me to dig deeper into him, the ginger-haired guy, so much that it made sense with the story of Sage.
"How?" I whispered.
"I...I can't tell you. With your state, I don't want to tell you. I don't want you to remember or try to remember, it could hurt you..."
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