dark side. || r.s.l.

➵

part five.
_________________

Ross woke me up just in time — I had an hour left to get ready and travel to work.

When I sat down in the back of the train, I regretted being grumpy with him after he woke me. After all, I had fallen asleep on him, and he had let me. He even stayed up to make sure I wouldn't be late to work.

Maybe he's not that dangerous.

When I arrived home that evening, he was still there.

"Ross, you can't stay here forever," I sighed, dropping my backpack on the floor. Deep in my heart, I hoped he'd stay, though.

     "Ross? Hello?" I asked, but he didn't respond. He was sitting on the couch, staring out of the window. "Ross, ignoring me won't let you stay longer-" I began, but he cut me off with a whimper. I hadn't even noticed he was crying.

     Crying people always make me uncomfortable, so I just stood there, feeling very awkward.

     "You, erm," I said, trying to sound as comforting as possible. "You need some space? Tea?" I gulped. "A hug?"

     "It's her birthday today," he said, and his voice cracked. I would've giggled at it if he wasn't crying.

     "My mum's," he said. I sat down next to him, and rubbed his back. I didn't really know what else to do.

     "I'm sorry," I said, but it came out more as a whisper. Maybe it didn't come out at all. But I meant it.

     He suddenly turned to me, wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled his head in the crease of my neck. In the split second that he was facing me, I saw his face. I had never seen someone look sadder than him.

     I hugged him, and rubbed his back. I felt tears stain my shirt but didn't really mind. I just let him cry quietly.

     I don't know for how long we sat there in silence, but I began to feel more and more sorry for him. After all, he didn't ask for this. His mother was killed and he's a revenge taker. And him showing his sensitive side also did something with my heart. I wanted to hug him and protect him, make sure he's safe from whatever awaits him when they find out what he did.

      "Tell me about her," I said softly, brushing my fingers through his blond hair. I don't know when or how it happened, but we were laying on the couch, him snuggled up against me, our legs intertwined.

      "She's supportive," he spoke, his voice hoarse from crying. He spoke in present tense, as if she was still alive.

     "Strong, also stubborn. I guess I got her stubbornness. And she's daring. Adventurous."

     "She sounds like a lovely person," I whispered, resting my head against his.

     I felt him nod. "She is," he said, before falling asleep.