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@jozthen​ said:  it’s nothing. it’s just a bruise.

Inquisitive gaze lingers,  scolding and relentless.   One that wordlessly whispers  ‘should’ve known better’  every chance it gets.   Words are not needed,  her expression says it all and,  really,  is there something left to say but at all?   Sometimes a bruise is just a bruise,  god knows she had her fair share of those marking every inch of pale skin;  like a map of violence,  only there was never any treasure to find. 

“Listen,  kid,  you might have charm,  but your right hook is abysmal.”     She holds nothing back,  rarely does.   Not that bite that drips form her words,  not that grin that tugs at the corners of her mouth.   Learning how to defend oneself is vital,  at least in her books,  and that will be the topic she settles on.   Not the bruise,  pale and blue,  not the implication that it carries.

Water drips down her wrist from the bag of ice she’s holding.   They ran out of ice-packs long long time ago,  so a couple of cubes wrapped in a towel will have to do.   It’s a gesture that counts,  is it not?     “Maybe we should work on that next time.”

                        miscellaneous angst starters.  || not accepting

    he  is  not  built  to  stand  his  ground   —— his  mother  made  sure  of  that.    better  to  outrun  the  nightmares  than  getting  caught  back  up  in  them.    so    natha - -    neil  learns  to  bite  back  complaints ,   or   ‘ whining ’   as  mary  would’ve  placed  it  if  she  were  still  alive ,   from  the  other  person  who  at  least  gave  a  shit  in  giving  him  a  fighting  chance.    literally.

                                    ‟     What about the left ?   Fared better ?     ❜          the  brunet  reaches  for  the  damp  compress;   iciness  begin  to  numb  fingers  that  clenched  tighter  and  hurt  less  than  the  pain  they  have  to  endure  against  the  californian  sand.    carefully  situating  the  wet  bag  against  his  left  cheek ,   liking  how  the  cold  dissipates  heat  and  relieves  him ...   before  placing  it  on  his  right  side  to  hold  it  there.    the  boy  shifts  slowly  and  checks  which  is  movable  and  which  is  tolerable ,   assessing  damage.

    looking  up  from  the  floor  he  sits  on ,   observing  the  other  of  unknown  origins.    how  she  didn’t  mince  anything  with  neil ,   like  his  mother  did ,   and  how  he  tries  to  hold  back  the  fear  slowly  creeping  in  his  chest.    as  much  as  he  has  respect  in  females ,   he  thinks  how  terrifying  it  would  be  if  they  met  before  within  his  father’s  business  circles  and  that  neil  couldn’t  remember;   how  this  woman  could’ve  had  a  hand  in  teaching  him ,    just  like  his  father  instructed  lola  to  teach  him.    he  frowns  and  ignores  the  awful  turning  of  his  guts  inside.

                                  ‟     I don’t know why ...   you’re doing this.     ❜          neil  begins  with  a  cautious  tone ,   choosing  wise  words  that  won’t  offend  the  lady.    why  now ,   of  all  times ,   did  a  beacon  appear  when  he’s  almost  tipped  to  the  edge ,   ready  to  give  up ?          ‟     What do you get out of it ?     ❜