TWH: Word Prompt Challenges

So much was said in the silence.

Neither of you have spoken in the half an hour after the fight that had been a knock-down, haul-it-all-out, say-everything-that-had-been-lurking-under-the-surface fight.

You couldn't stand to be in the room with him, afterwards, and he let you escape to the library. His library, but he allows you space. Just like it is his home, his life, but he has made room to include you in it.

You hear the shuffle of feet and sense, rather than see, the change in the room as he momentarily blocks the light spilling in from the hallway beyond. Your refusal to look up at him keeps you from tracking his progress.

You were calmer, not two seconds before, but his presence brings a stirring of emotions again. Still wounded and bristling from the exchange, you refuse to acknowledge him. If you shift to attempt to focus on him and speak, you'll probably launch back into the argument you'd stormed out of before.

He continues to move through the room, determined to bring himself out of your peripheral vision and into focus.He'll wait you out, or tough it out.

Stubborn man, incredibly stubborn.

You're not even reading the book in your lap anymore. The words don't even process. You might have even read the same page several times over at this point.

Edging your eyes off the page to focus on his knees allows you to keep your head down and pretend that you're fully ignoring him still. He sways a bit, but maintains his ground a few steps away from you.He's got his hands stuffed down into his pockets as he waits you out. Clever manipulation to zero your focus on pleasurable bits? Or just a comfortable stance.

Irritation spikes again, and you huff, dropping pretense and forcing your chin up so that you can glare at him full on. Maybe a withering look will make him retreat again. But no. Instead of withdrawing from your more-than-obvious displeasure at his disruption of your Stewing, he tweaks his lips, and then his eyebrows.

You can read him clear as though he spoke aloud. He's still fuming too, but is of the mind that allowing it to go on any further isn't productive.

You jut our your jaw, giving your head a hard shake in the negative and continuing your glare.

To your shake, he nods, giving just as much emphasis to the motion as you had. He won't be dissuaded.

You move to stand, to fling the book to the side-table and push past him. He allows you room to stand, but rather than allow you to escape him again, he reaches out - not to snare your arm, which would have brought on Many Bad Words, but simply to touch you.

A hand softly pressed against your shoulder blade.

So much was said in the silence. A plea, beckoning to wait, stop.

You shake off his hand and turn back to face him, severing the established contact.

He twitches his eyebrow, challenging, waiting to see your response. You can either retain your anger or you can give in, give in and try to reestablish a connection with the only person who can make you feel better.

You inhale a deep, long breath, arcing an eyebrow at him as you try to roll the tension from your neck. It will only work if both of you can push past the things that were said.

Your shoulder roll is mirrored, along with a ducking on his head. Concession.