#for yearning

"We're just keeping it casual, right?" Garcia asks from behind closing doors, hands crossed and brows wrinkled. Because why would they not be. Except for all those moments, all those gestures and words and rumbling groans of desire Garcia has given to Trinity. All those reasons for why the Omega's wolf is gnashing as it whimpers, folding into itself in its pain.

Trinity had been careful this time. Had agreed on casual distance the way a deer on a midnight road agrees with an incoming car, then just stares at the impending crash. Just like a deer, Trinity had been too distracted with the bright lights of Garcia's eyes as they would sweep through her skin, pointedly staring like headlights as their two bodies closed on each other. Fuck. It is always the same shit with Trinity. She should have learned by now. No one would ever love her if they could not fuck her. No one, in fact, would ever love her outside of fucking her. She knew this. She is supposed to know it. Why did she let herself forget? Once again, her heart is just roadkill perched on a highway median, heart emptying as she fades. 

"For sure," she weakly answers back. She hopes Garcia could not hear the hurt between the words. Trinity blinks away the cold numbness that returns deep in her bones as she begins moving back towards the bedlam that awaits her inside the ED. She is used to the feeling. The not-feeling rather, the detachment from her bodily experience as her surroundings fade to a restless fog. Her movement is automatic, words coming out of her mouth with a delay only she has to struggle through. Thankfully, no one seems to notice.