AmaryWho
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He likes to watch her as she fights. The way adrenaline makes her eyes gleam, how practice weaves its way into her taut muscles as she charges at whatever sorry sucker thinks they stand a chance. And when it’s over. When her breathing calms and her fists unclench, he watches the change. The slow, sad realization that what she’d been feeling was merely temporary and the real feelings, the ones she masks with quippy jokes and toothy grins, are here to stay.
It's then that he steps towards her, amongst the blood and wet pavement, pushing her against the wall. It can be seen as dominance, or arrogance, or even just as need. But it’s more than that. It’s support. It’s giving her something to hold her, to distract her. And maybe, most importantly, giving her something to forgive.
Bookmarked by AmaryWho
31 Dec 2024