𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 -
Maeve Spade and Anthony Lockwood walk on a tightrope of hate and love.
𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 -
Mae and Ant find an unusual comfort in each other that they never thought existed w...
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟖 ——
【 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃 】
"STOP MOVING YOUR GODDAMN HEAD, MAE." Anthony gripped her chin even tighter than before, slowly starting to lose his patience, while Maeve rolled her eyes in return.
"Maybe if you weren't so rough, I wouldn't move that much. Did you ever think about tha— Ouch!", he pinched her thigh and quickly finished off the last suture, cutting off the threat after making a double nod.
"There. Now, was that so hard?", he asked rhetorically.
"You could try to be more gentle.", she mumbled as Anthony grasped her chin again and turned her head to the side, in order for him to place a small plaster over the newly sown wound.
Their eyes met when he dropped his hands into his lap, and neither one of them had the energy to look away. "Thank you.", Maeve whispered, her eyes softening as Lockwood's glazed over slightly, which made him stand up from the chair and begin to gather all the gauze and alcohol wipes that were stained with her blood, trying to ignore the guilt he felt deep in his chest.
If only he let her come with him.
But that was what he presumed his life was. No step forward, two steps back.
No step forward. Telling Maeve she'd be a liability if she came with him— which in his own depraved way, could be considered an act of kindness towards the girl. In telling her "No", he would ensure that Barnes wouldn't even possess the power to make her cry again. Be that as it may,— their relationship would remain strained, and quite frankly the same, for Anthony, couldn't admit the real reason as to why he didn't let her come.
Two steps back. She got hurt twice in the aftermath of his one futile action. Not only by making her feel weak and replaceable but by also letting her head get split open by a guy in a mask— which would've and could've been avoided if not for the domino effect of his one single action.
"I'm sorry.", he wanted to say. But he didn't. Instead, he said: "Be more careful next time.", and made his way out her room, but briskly halted at the doorway, slowly drumming his fingers on the wood, moving them up to lightly scratch the back of his neck.
"I'll go bring you something cold for those ribs."
"I always manage to somehow injure them.", she tried to lighten up the mood in the room, having noticed how Lockwood got lost in his thoughts for a while.
He let out a short laugh, which made Maeve smile a little as well. "Drink that whole glass of water until I get back", he nodded toward the untouched glass on her bedside table, receiving a two-fingered salute in response.
