SAINT BROCK

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

“Babe, hold my hand.” Colby whispered.

“I don’t want to.” She said. Colby couldn’t tell for sure in the dark, but he imagined her lips pouting in acrimony. The tension of the fight they had a few minutes before lingered in the air.

“This is not the place to throw a tantrum, we’ll get caught if we don’t hurry.” he growled, impatient to what he thought was immature. “There’s cops back there, you heard the sirens.”

“I can run by myself.” She spat. It was almost as if she wanted to get caught, she wasn’t even bothering to whisper.

“You could trip and fall down two stories and I wouldn’t even notice in this darknes until it’s too fucking late!” Colby was still whispering, but his tone was agitated, furious, anxious. “I’m not leaving you behind, don’t be stubborn and grab my hand!”

She could barely see the features on Colby’s face as she looked at him. He hadn’t looked so serious in a long time, his jaw clenched and his face expressionless. His hand was out in front of him, palm facing up.

“You can be mad at me all you want, but I’m not risking losing you here.” Colby told her. She pouted at him, brows furrowed together. She was too proud to forget so easily. Colby sighed. “Hey…” She felt the cool metal of Colby’s rings on her skin as his hand landed on the side of her neck. “Let’s just leave this place.”