Parings: Walker x Leah.
W/c: 3,549
Summary: Leah's hiding something, and Walker will stop at nothing to find out what.
TW: Domestic violence, Health issues, Emotional abuse.
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Don't get me wrong, I love a good fight scene. But by "love," I mean I also kind of hate them. They take everything out of you-like, actual soul-sucking exhaustion. This was my third time today stumbling into one of the set tents to flop onto the couch. The first two times? Power naps because call time was stupidly early. This time? Pure survival mode.
We'd been filming the big fight scene between Percy and Luke-you know, just a casual duel to the death with swords and betrayal and all that jazz. Charlie was insane out there. He's like freakishly fast, and the dude is ripped. Sparring with him felt less like acting and more like trying not to get demolished.
I leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what oxygen felt like. For a second, it was peaceful. Too peaceful. Then came the clatter-metal hitting the floor or something. My eyes snapped open, and there she was.
Her hair was this mix of tiny braids at the top that fell into loose, effortless waves, with highlights that caught the light just enough to make you notice. Her eyes were a deep, warm brown-sharp enough to catch everything around her but soft enough to make you feel like she cared.
"Hey, Leah," I said, turning my head. I couldn't help the goofy grin spreading across my face. It was like my mouth had a mind of its own, and it only activated when she walked in. Seriously, I need to start controlling that.
"Hey, Walker," she replied. Her voice was a little off, like she was trying to act normal but was clearly not doing a great job of it. She was moving way too fast for someone just walking into a tent, like she had somewhere important to be.
I raised an eyebrow. Something was up. Standing up, I watched her hurry to set her stuff down, like she was avoiding something. Before I could even ask what was going on, she started to walk out of the tent.
"Hey!" I called, grabbing her wrist before she could escape. "No hug?" I shot her a teasing look, trying to play it cool, but I was definitely getting the vibe that something was off.
She looked at me, her eyes studying me for a second, like I was some kind of mystery. It was weird. Then, just like that, she slipped out of my grip and went on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around my neck and burying her face in the crook of my neck.
I probably smiled way too big, but I couldn't help it. She had this way of making me feel like I was the only person in the room (which I was.) Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her as tight as I could before she pulled away.
"You okay?" I asked before I even realized the words were out of my mouth. It just slipped out, like I needed to know what was going on with her.
"Mhm," she muttered, but then she wrapped her arms around her stomach and started running her hands up and down her hoodie sleeves, like she was trying to calm herself down.
I noticed she'd done that at least four times in the two seconds since she'd walked in. Something was definitely off.
"Are you itchy?" I asked, completely confused.
Before she could answer, I grabbed her arm and rolled up her sleeve. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I didn't think I'd be this worried.
Her arm was covered in bruises, especially on her forearm. They were this dark, blackish color with a hint of blue, like someone had taken a baseball bat to her or something. I could feel Leah watching me, studying my reaction like she was trying to figure out how much I knew.
