#hope.starter

          an approaching winter in alaska meant that the days were notoriously short, sky turning a crisp magenta-orange by three-thirty, almost pitch-dark by five. creaking the iron gates shut, she grabs the rusted padlock and chain to lock up for the night when she hears someone behind her and turns around. “we’re closed for the night,” she says. duck would have let them in, something in the back of her mind whispers, but she continues to wrap the chain around the bars. “you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

          milo never took to injuries well, if only because he saw wounds as a sign of weakness, a representation of something to be pushed through and obliterated in any way he could. and yet here he was at the clinic, nursing his rapidly swelling finger after he’d accidentally slammed it into a door on his way out to go to work. he was annoyed with himself, moreso than usual, at how stupid he could be when he was in a rush. “i know, i know, it looks fuckin’ gnarly,” he starts, “but it’ll be fine, right?” he grimaced. 

❝   I DON’T KNOW ,   ❞   alex let out a sigh , equal parts frustration and concern. it seemed his job got more difficult every day , answers to questions that much harder to find.   ❝   i know he’s a good kid. something’s obviously going on , i just can’t figure out what.   ❞   he pressed his lips together as he leaned his weight into the table , his eyes focused on the pattern in the grain. he shook his head and lifted his gaze to the other , suddenly ashamed to admit he couldn’t figure out the problem on his own.   ❝   fuck , sorry for unloading on you.   ❞