#c4in

sc. 

      𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄  sticking to bones through thin sweater thrown over shoulders.   his words sound like they hold hurt, disbelief even, yet could be blame her ? his appearance , what she knew ,  &&  the feeling she got from standing too close—it this moment unlike any of the others, it’s different  &&  riley can’t put her finger on it.   (   eyes glance at him, lungs breath his air,  &&  for a moment she gets   𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓼.    red, warm, liquid . . . a hunger she was unfamiliar with.   whoever it was is fine, but that doesn’t change what happened.   she’s the last person to pull ‘moral police’ but . .  )    brow furrows for a moment, arms still crossed over her chest. god, why are new york winters so brutal ?     ;      ❝  can you fuckin’ blame me ?!  ❞  spoken with a returned tone of audacity.   arm extends so hand can gesture toward his appearance,  ❝  you show up in the middle of the night to my apartment speckled, suspiciously, with blood.  ❞  cain has to admit she has some   𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃  !    ❝  I got this . . feeling from you. different from any other time, I don’t know why.  ❞   a pause to think,   ❝   listen, okay ?  I’m not accusing you of anything, but the blood is fuckin’ suspect, cain.  ❞   now woman moves to sit on her couch with legs tucked toward chest  &&  arms returning to wrap ‘round her.  ❝  now,  ❞   a much softer tone,   ❝  tell me what’s goin’ on. are you okay ?  ❞

sc.

                she’s been sat there for a long while, too long. sophie, who usually had an answer for something, even if it was that she’d look into it — sophie who usually had a little something silly to break the tension, had been dead silent for too long with a serious, thoughtful expression pressing lips together and drawing brows close. his voice beckons that familiar hazel gaze. it softens, smoothing the thin lines on her face, but only a little. posture loses the edge it had as she leans back. he was still him, wasn’t he ? she’d done worse, after all. brows tip up into something more like worry, though she wasn’t exactly sure what she was feeling. say something, she begs herself. no words come. lips part as if the motions of speaking would produce the right things to say, but she just brings them back together again, tongue too dry to spit anything out. that unbearable silence keeps stretching. she asks the only thing that’s really been weighing on her mind since he’d finished speaking.   ❛   are you okay ?   ❜

          𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘  used to being asked things like that.  people pick on her,  they don’t ask to willingly sit in her company && when they do, usually by a girl. it ends with something thrown into her lap or gum in her hair.  it was even more unusual to be asked by a   𝓫𝓸𝔂  !    (  mama says boys are sinful, that boys only want one thing !  vultures come to pick her apart && cast her into the ways of the devil.  )    none of the boys paid mind to her, none of them showed her an ounce of compassion nor genuine interest⸺it’s always calling her names, making her drop her books, or making fun of her mother.     ;      head turns, eyes upward despite the sun’s glare. carrie’s brow furrows, girl silently moving over on the bench to make room for him.  book, open, tucked close to her chest . . . it takes a moment for carrie to speak:     ❝  why me ?  ❞  asked quietly not being able to make direct contact.    ❝  di-did one of the girls put you up to this ?  ta-ta make fun of me ?  ❞  tone grows slightly more   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴   as young teenager expects something to be dumped on her or maybe thrown when she’s distracted.   ❝  i don’t ‘ppreciate that, y’know ?  people always bein’ mean-ta me. ❞

               not that she didn’t want to give it, of course she did. it was the strings attached, the ones that inevitably tangled individuals together with no escape, the implicit commitment of giving and taking and taking and giving. she was already dangerously close — enough that he was peering behind the curtain and drawing frighteningly accurate conclusions that she was finding were increasingly difficult to disprove. he was making his way awfully close to the truth.   ❛   really, c.  i’m good.   ❜

                 thick as thieves, they’d been, and according to the other scattered moviegoers, just as much of an inconvenience. fingers steal another bite of popcorn from the bag in his lap as she curls deeper into her seat. she didn’t care if they were kicked out — she didn’t care if they got banned. if it was because of cain, sophie didn’t think she minded at all.