Growl || Reed900 ✔️

27

Conan's POV:

I can hear his sobbing through the door. I can hear how he's struggling to breathe. I can hear how much pain the detective is in, but he told me to stay away. That's an order. I don't want to follow it, but hearing how distressed he is, makes me think that I need to stay away.

I'm standing in the hallway, my LED rapidly flashing red. The emotions I'm feeling aren't the same ones I've dealt with before.

These emotions are against myself. I should've asked in a different way. I should've done it somewhere better. I should've warned him about what it was going to be about.

All these things I should've done, but didn't.

I understand why he partially acted like that, but I don't understand why he had to get angry in the first place. I guess I don't understand why it wasn't a simple question, or why he got angry to the point of him calling me those names.

I do understand why he told me to stay away. I should have never put my hands on him. That was an incredibly stupid thing to do. How could I have been such an idiot?

Suddenly, his cries die down and worry begins to pool in my 'stomach'. Did he pass out? Did something happen? Is he alive?

My feet step towards the door but abruptly, a red wall pops into my vision, preventing me from moving forward.

'STAY AWAY' is written diagonally across the wall. Those were his orders and I'm supposed to follow them. Now is my time to finally let go.

Glaring at the wall, I retract my left arm and shove it forward with a strong force. I hit it one, two, three times before seeing cracks start to appear. Lifting my leg, I kick at it before going back to hitting it. Cracks were there all around it. One more push, and then I'm free.

I stumble forward, red glass shattering around me. Looking back at it, I smile before hurriedly stepping up to the door. I try the knob, feeling it swiftly turn because it hadn't been locked.

Opening it quietly, I look around and almost step forward before realizing Gavin was laying right there. Idiot... I step to the side and shut the door.

Crouching next to him, his breathing is calm. His face is red and puffy from the crying he had done. His hair was messy, probably from him pulling on it or something.

Shaking my head in disappointment at both him and myself, I stand. Sliding my hands under his knees and his back, I lift him.

I walk him to his bedroom, laying him under the covers after taking off his shoes. Sitting on the side of the bed, I lift my hand to stroke his stained cheek.

What has this human done to me? Gave me a weakness that only I can defeat but I wouldn't want to. In a short amount of time, I've learned so many things, not just about life but him as well.

He's has depression issues that were caused by the past incident. Not just depression issues, but sensitivity issues. Ones that have been misunderstood as anger.

He can cook, which was surprising but also not. He likes sweet, tarty things such as the toaster strudels. He can turn burnt things good, the example being my failed attempt at tacos. He also likes hard liquor.

He shows that he cares more for his cat than others, which actually isn't very true. He cares for Tina more than he'd like to admit, that goes for Hank as well.

So many things that if you look over, all you see is a sad, hurting man. If he ever forgives me after this incident, I'll make sure to bring a smile to his face everyday as best as I can.

For now, I wait, but the anxiety is eating away at my wires.

•How was this?•