𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬.

back, sender gives receiver a back hug.

beckon, sender beckons receiver closer with a finger.

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

book, sender helps receiver get a book from a higher part of the shelf.

care, sender takes care of receiver when they're sick.

catch, sender catches receiver by the waist after they bump into each other.

choke, sender saves receiver from choking by giving them the heimlich.

cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

cry, sender wipes tears off receiver's face with their thumbs.

dance, sender sticks a hand out to receiver and invites them to dance.

dip, sender skinny dips in front of receiver and invites them to join.

dog, sender's dog pulls them in receiver's direction.

drive, sender drives receiver somewhere in their car.

drag, sender drags receiver into a room and closes the door behind them.

draw, sender draws receiver like one of their french girls.

face, sender turns receiver's face towards them.

flower, sender gives receiver a flower.

footsie, sender initiates footsie with receiver under the table.

forehead, sender presses their forehead against receiver's.

grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving.

jump, sender jumps onto receiver's back.

kiss, sender kisses receiver.

link, sender links arms with receiver while walking.

massage, sender offers receiver a massage.

patch, sender patches up receiver's wounds.

piano, sender teaches receiver how to play the piano.

pin, sender pins receiver's hands behind their back.

pluck, sender plucks something out of receiver's hair.

press, sender presses receiver against a wall.

propose, sender proposes to receiver.

quiet, sender gestures for receiver to be quiet.

rest, sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder.

serenade, sender serenades receiver with a song.

sign, sender walks into a sign and receiver sees.

size, sender measures the size of their hand against receiver's.

shoes, sender removes receiver's shoes for them.

sun, sender rubs sunblock onto receiver's back.

tattoo, sender gives receiver a tattoo.

tie, sender helps tie receiver's tie.

tuck, sender tucks receiver's hair behind their ear.

umbrella, sender lets receiver under their umbrella.

warning, sender presses a knife against receiver's neck as a warning.

bold:      always   applies     •    italics:      sometimes   applies    or   partner   specific     •   bold   +   italics :     favorite     •     strike:      never   applies     •     no emphasis :  neutral   .

MEET WREN'S CATS .

waylon sits on the sidewalk outside the motel, a half-drank bottle of coke on the ground next to him and a cigarette held between his lips. it's funny — he never smoked before all of this. absolutely hated the idea of it. now, he's picked up the habit somewhere along the way ; it's just something to do, another of the many things he uses to try and cope with the constant running and the horrors that flash behind his eyes when he tries to sleep.

though his eyes are currently closed, he hears the footsteps approach. body tenses, eyes opening so he can glance over his shoulder at the figure lingering behind him.

oh.

he's seen her before — she looks vaguely familiar, and not just because they've passed each other on their way to their rooms before. there's something else there, even if he can't put his finger on it just yet.

not to mention that she has the look, too.

the one that he knows he wears as well.

             there  are  certainly  worse  places  wren  could  choose  to  lie  low  than  the  starlight  motel  .   she’d  initially  selected  it  due  to  being  the  only  pet  friendly  hotel  in  a  30  mile  radius   ,   but  in  the  three  weeks  since  she’d  checked  in   ,   it’s  proven  itself  to  be  not  too  shabby  .    the  rates  are  affordable   ,   the  rooms  are  clean  and  most  importantly   ,   it’s  remarkably  discreet     —     unsurprising  given  the  fact  that  the  majority  of  its  clientele  are  businessmen  engaging  in  extramarital  affairs  .    in  other  words   ,   it’s  an  ideal  place  for  wren  to  get  away  from  prying  eyes  and  collect  her  thoughts  .

             when  she’d  decided  to  stretch  her  legs  and  get  some  fresh  air  before  calling  it  a  night   ,   she  hadn’t  expected  to  run  into  anyone  else   (   not  at  this  time   )    —     but  if  she  was  going  to  run  into  someone   ,   she’s  not  surprised  it’s  him  .

             ❝        i’m  good  .      ❞           gaze  lowers   ,   arms  folding  across  her  chest  as  she  scuffs  the  toe  of  her  shoe  against  the  concrete  .    she  figures  she  must  look  a  mess     —     her  face  is  bare   ,   save  for  the  heavy  dark  circles  she’s  been  modeling  as  of  late   ,   and  the  ponytail  she’d  scraped  her  hair  into  earlier  in  the  day  is  now  half-undone  in  a  mess  of  flyaways  .    her  ensemble  is  equally  scruffy     —     the  sweater  she’s  wearing   ,   one  of  andrew’s   ,   absolutely  drowns  her   ,   the  sleeves  covering  her  hands  almost  completely  and  the  hem  falling  to  her  mid-thigh  .   this   ,   paired  with  dark  sweatpants  and  her  beat-up   ,   no  longer  white  sneakers   ,   leaves  her  looking  about  as  put  together  as  she  feels  .      somehow  though   ,   she  doubts  he’s  going  to  pass  any  judgement  .

             though  this  is  the  first  time  they’ve  spoken   ,   wren’s  seen  him  around  a  lot  .   from  what  she’s  been  able  to  ascertain   ,   he’s  staying  in  the  room  four  doors  down  from  hers  .   she’s  also  observed  several  things  that  they  appear  to  have  in  common  .   for  one   ,   they  share  the  same  proclivity  for  late  night  visits  to  the  vending  machine  .   indisputably  more  interesting  though     .  .  .   the  haunted   ,   faraway  look  she  spots  in  his  eyes  ?   it’s  the  same  look  she  sees  in  the  mirror  each  day  .

WREN'S  RELATIONSHIP  WITH  ANDREW  .

             during  her  freshman  year  in  college  ,  wren  quickly  befriended  andrew  powell  .   they  met  in  the  campus  library  on  a  dreary  october  afternoon   ,   with  andrew  being  the  one  to  strike  up  a  conversation     —     wren  had  just  slipped  into  the  seat  across  from  him   ,   the  book  in  her  hand  just  so  happening  to  be  the  same  book  he  was  halfway  through  reading  .   what  began  with  an  offhand  remark   (   ❝   no  spoilers  if  you  beat  me  to  the  end   ,   okay  ?   ❞     )   led  to  almost  three  hours  of  talking   ,   the  backdrop  of  the  library  soon  traded  for  a  nearby  cafe  as  they  delved  into  every  topic  from  their  shared  interests  to  their  hopes  and  aspirations  for  college  .   already  very  much  a  people  person   ,   wren  found  andrew  especially  easy  to  connect  with   ,   their  friendship  as  effortless  as  it  was  instantaneous  .

             throughout  their  college  years   ,   they  were  consistently  there  for  one  another  through  thick  and  thin   ,   supporting  each  other  through  heartbreak   ,   exam  stress   ,   homesickness   and  anything  else  that  came  up  .   it  was  also  during  these  years  that  wren  began  blogging   ,   eventually  making  a  companion  podcast  to  her  blog  in  her  junior  year  .   while  not  yet  involved  with  her  projects   ,   andrew  was  always  happy  to  be  a  sounding  board   ,   listening  to  wren’s  brainstorms  and  providing  input  whenever  asked  .

             following  graduation   ,   their  bond  only  strengthened  when  they  decided  to  create  a  podcast  together  .   feeling  creatively  burned  out  with  her  blog   ,   wren  had  already  been  looking  for  something  new  to  do  when  andrew  pitched  what  would  become  scareality  to  her  in  the  booth  of  a  dingy  new  york  bar  .   of  course   ,   she  was  on  board  almost  immediately  .   in  fact   ,   they  started  brainstorming  names  right  then  and  there   ,   scribbling  ideas  down  on  the  back  of  a  coaster   ,   a  keepsake  wren  still  has  to  this  day  .

             when  wren  began  receiving  letters  from  her  stalker   (   and  ultimately  andrew’s  killer   )   ,   andrew  was  her  rock  .   he  supported  her  in  every  way  that  he  could  .   when  it  felt  like  nobody  else  would  listen   ,   he  was  always  there  to  reassure  and  console  her  .   he  was  also  the  person  who  would  bring  her  groceries  and  other  essentials  when  she  became  too  frightened  to  leave  her  apartment  .   she  trusted  him  more  than  anyone  else  in  her  life  .

             it’s  worth  mentioning  that  their  dynamic  did  border  into  flirtatious  at  times  .   over  the  years  there  were  in  fact  several  instances  where  they  found  themselves  both  single  and  ventured  into  friends-with-benefits  territory  .   they  never  really  talked  about  it  or  what  it  meant   ,   fearful  that  acknowledging  it  would  somehow  affect  their  friendship  .   because  of  this  fear   ,   wren  never  really  allowed  herself  to  consider  whether  there  could  be  anything  romantic  between  them  until  after  his  death  when  she’s  left  with  numerous  ‘  what  ifs  ’  .   it’s  also  worth  noting  that  at  times  this  did  have  a  negative  impact  on  their  relationships  with  others   ,   with  potential  partners  occasionally  feeling  jealous  or  threatened  .

it's a true and raw sentiment, a vulnerability dick doesn't see much of these days. he can empathize with it. fear— a natural bone in the human body. it takes a lot to push down and not allow to bubble to the surface; most people can't. he hasn't had a choice. afraid isn't a word in his vocabulary— neither is giving up. (an afraid vigilante doesn't make much of a change in the world.) dick can't say he isn't familiar with wren francis, nor her story. it took over the media like a typhoon. he knows the story, recognizes how she's a survivor— just like him. (just like everyone else he knows in this world.) dick doesn't know whether to be sad the number grows, or to be grateful it does. surviving versus dying > a question he never thought he'd find himself pondering, and yet does in the bustling coffee shop. his head cocks to the side, a sip of his black coffee taken before he exhales a breath. one he'd been holding in far longer than he'd realized. “fear doesn't do anyone any good. it'll eat away at you— you can't think like that.” easier said than done. he chooses to try a different approach, both hands resting on the table before fixing his posture. he levels with her. “you're a survivor. you're wren francis! you shouldn't be afraid, because you're a badass!”

             while  she  certainly  doesn’t  feel  like  a  badass   ,   wren  cannot  suppress  the  faint   ,   appreciative  smile  that  blossoms  from  his  efforts  to  lift  her  spirits  .           ❝        it’s  funny  you  should  say  that     —     i  actually  started  taking  some  self-defence  classes  .      ❞           though  it’s  still  early   ,   she’s  hopeful  that  with  time   ,   the  classes  will  do  wonders  in  granting  her  some  peace  of  mind  .     already   ,   only  four  sessions  in   ,   she  feels  so  much  better  equipped  to  protect  herself  .         still     .  .  .   it's  bittersweet  .   as  optimistic  as  she  is  that  the  classes  will  help  her   ,   she  cannot  help  but  lament  the  things  the  classes  can’t  aid  her  with  .   the  things  that  keep  her  up  a  night   ,   tossing   &   turning  until  she  simply  cannot  bear  being  awake  any  longer   ,   relief  found  only  in  the  form  of  a  prescription  .

             ❝      it’s  just   .  .  .      ❞           smile  falters   ,   a  sigh  leaving  her  as  she  tears  off  a  piece  of  her  blueberry  muffin  to  pop  in  her  mouth  .      how  can  she  put  it  without  sounding     .  .  .   silly  ?      chewing  slowly     (   she’s  stalling  )   ,   she  casts  her  eyes  over  the  surrounding  tables  .        whilst  the  coffee  shop  is  hardly  bustling  with  activity  today   ,   wren  remains  on  guard   ,   a  gnawing  sense  of  unease  stirring  in  her  stomach  when  she  briefly  locks  eyes  with  a  gentleman  seated  in  the  far  corner  .    it  only  lasts  for  a  fleeting  second   ,   the  stranger  clearly  more  interested  in  returning  to  his  newspaper  than  in  wren   ,   but  it’s  enough  to  make  her  chest  squeeze  .