#misplaced anger

“You’re thinking too much.” Ridoc drawls. I glance over. He’s standing with sweat coated skin and ruffled brown hair. He’s staring like I’ve gone batshit crazy. “I’m not. Something is wrong and I intend to figure out what.” Because Garrick hasn’t talked with me in days. I miss him. His touch. His voice. The teasing. The moments where it seems too much for both of us. The good and bad days. My eyes flick to the door as they open. Xaden walks in, eyes narrowing on Sorrengail. Garrick stands beside him, hands fisted at his side and jaw clenched. He looks annoyed. There’s deep bags beneath his eyes, and his hair is ruffled like he’s been clawing his fingers through it every few minutes. Concern flicks in my chest. I move. It doesn’t take long to stand in front of him, and it takes less time to grab his arm so he can’t pull away like he’s been doing. 

“Garrick, talk to me. I can’t help if you don’t tell me what it is.” I whisper, softly, coaxingly, trying to get him to simply talk. It’s like a switch. Air sweeps me back, slamming me into the damn wall. The breath is knocked out of me, momentarily, and my eyes blow wide. “You aren’t the biggest fucking problem right now.” He doesn’t yell, but somehow, this is worse than if he had. Because Garrick, despite years of training with each other, has never used his quirk or his fists out of anger. “I don’t need you asking every damn minute if something's wrong! If there was, I’d fucking tell you!” This time, his voice sharpens. And it’s not the voice he uses with me. Problem… He said I wasn’t the biggest problem. It’s clear that I pushed him over the edge. Tears gloss over my eyes, but I refuse to let them drop. Have I been too clingy? He’s acting like I’m nothing more than a burden. Some more weight on his shoulders. His hazel eyes switch from the dark stormy swirl of emotions to a softer, guilt ridden gaze. Perhaps I’ve been too much. Maybe he simply needs space. 

I nod slowly, embarrassment and shame heating my face. It makes the need to cry all the more visible but I swallow the pain. The wall of air moves away, and I slink to the back of the class, staring at the ground to avoid his eyes and everyone else's. He just needs time… Ridoc moves forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. He bends down, trying to look at my face. The first tear falls, and his jaw clenches. 

“You don’t have to be a fucking asshole.” He calls, dragging me toward his group to train. The rest of the day moved entirely too slow. His eyes were trained on mine the entire day. He needed space, and so I’m giving it. It’s the only thing I can do as I sit in my room, changing the damn runes so no one can come in and see me crying like a fucking child. So Garrick doesn’t come in and feel like there’s more weight on his shoulders. Each tear drops faster and faster. I sniffle, trying to wipe them away. The entire day, people have been whispering. The entire day, Ridoc has kept me firmly by his side. 

After the runes are set, I curl into the bed and let it all out. Silent sob after silent sob. Until finally exhaustion takes over, and sleep prevails. 

The next two days are hell. Not because anyone's been rude or anything, but because of the mental boundaries I’ve set in my own mind as to not push Garrick past his breaking point again. No talking first. No touching him. Give him space. Don’t even look his way unless he says something. It’s easy at first, because of the embarrassment and guilt of believing I’m just another weight on his shoulders. He’s talked to me. Hell, he sits beside me now, his eyes piercing my skin as I write down notes. He hasn’t been paying attention. At all. Not to the class, not to his friends, not to really anyone. Aside from Xaden but that’s because they have some freaky loyalty thing. 

“You’re quiet.” His statement almost sounds… hesitant. As though he’s testing something. I shrug, forcing a small smile. “I’m taking notes for a class both of us should be paying attention to.” It’s a soft reminder of what this school is, and a way to show that I’m not mad at him. Because I’m not. I’m hurt. Not upset, not angry, not frustrated. Just hurt. He waits, as though expecting something else. I don’t glance his way. I simply listen. 

Vito has been quiet. Not because he’s grumpy or upset but because he’s been waiting on his mate to wake up. We fly, both distracted by lovers in our life. Vito banks to the left a little too hard and quick. I haven’t been paying attention to his signals. We’re both mentally fucked right now. And I pay the price for a moment. The air rushes around me, and my stomach flies to my stomach. My dumbass fell off my dragon. 

Little Flame. Vito growls, annoyed before his claws wrap around my frame and he pulls us back up. My body jolts, pain radiating. My torso will be bruised, but it’s nothing bad. It could be worse. I could be dead, at the bottom of the valley. I glance down, a shiver rolling over me. 

Sorry, got distracted. I apologize softly. We move down to the ground, and he’s careful not to crush me. As soon as my feet touch the earth, a warm hand cups my face while a strong arm wraps around my waist. “What the fuck were you doing?” Garrick breathes, panic evident in his eyes as he tilts my head, searching for any wounds. I blink, thrown off by how worried he seems. I didn’t even know he was watching us. 

“Um… flying.” I whisper, trying not to let the hurt well back up. I haven’t touched him in three days. Today is the first day he’s touched me, and it’s obvious he cares. Still, I do not touch him. I keep my hands firmly at my side, and offer a small, comforting smile. “It was an accident, Garrick.” It’s barely a whisper, because it’s obvious he’s seen. He blows out a breath, his jaw clenching as he searches my eyes. Nodding, he steps away and resumes his role as the section leader. 

By the end of the night, I’m dead tired on my feet. Rhiannon and Violet asked for some tips of training, and after that Ridoc asked for help with dinner duty. So I helped. My room is just around the corner and I can’t fucking wait to crawl into bed. My feet come to a slow stop at the sight before me. Garrick’s fists pound into the door, his frame leaning over the door. He looks like he’s two seconds away from either crumbling or tearing the damn thing down. But he can’t. Because of the runes… The runes that I changed. He used to have full access to my room. He could enter whenever he wanted… I guess I forgot to change it back. 

“Please.” He pleads, pounding on the door. His chest is rising and falling way too fast. “Garrick.” I call, tilting my head. His head whips around, his hazel eyes panicked and red-rimmed. In seconds, he’s crosses the distance to cup my face in his warm, calloused hands. “Where- Why… I couldn’t get in.” He states, his calm demeanor long gone. He looks like he’s panicking. Hardcore panicking. I offer a comforting smile, but don’t touch him. 

“I had to change them the other night. I just forgot to put them back to normal.” It’s a whispered response. He searches my eyes, seemingly trying to calm himself without being able to. “I thought-” His voice is rough, low. He blinks, clenching his jaw. His eyes flick down to my hands that twitch. Because I want to comfort him. I want to wrap my arms around him and tell him that I’d never leave him, especially in such a cruel way. But his words echo through my mind, and my shoulders drop. Not the biggest problem. If something is wrong, he’ll tell me. 

“Come on.” I whisper, stepping out of his arms to make it to the room. He comes in, and we settle into our usual. I sit on the bed, studying with what little energy I have left. He sits at the desk, running a hand through his hair. I don’t miss the way he glances at me. Several times. At some point, I slip into sleep. 

It’s been a week since Garrick has been allowed in my room again. And every night, he comes by, looking more worried and stressed each time. It’s always so late too. I pretend not to notice, trusting what he told me. Most nights, I’m asleep and the only reason I knew he was there in the morning was one of his daggers sitting at the desk. He keeps forgetting it. Usually, I’d bring it to him. Tell him where he left it. But I haven’t. 

The challenges have started back up. Imogen takes on a cadet to humble them. I watch, taking in the steps. The doors crash open. I turn, heart pounding. Whoever just walked in must have had a shit-... It’s Garrick. And he’s making his way to me. 

“Tell me how to fix it.” He orders, his jaw clenched hard while his eyes desperately search mine. I reel back, brows furrowing. “Wha-” 

“Tell me how to fix it. Do you want me to beg? Grovel? Do you want coffee every morning or for me to get my ass handed to me?” He asks, his voice bordering on frantic. I go to speak, but he isn’t done. “You haven’t touched me in almost two weeks. I haven’t-” His voice strains, and his hand rises to rub his chest. “You haven’t looked at me unless I’ve said something. Haven’t talked to me unless I start the conversations.” His breathing only grows faster, like he’s panicking. Genuinely panicking. “I was locked out of your room. You- Fuck, you were in the infirmary yesterday and you didn’t even tell me. Tell me how to fix it. Please.” Gods, he’s having an attack. 

“I’m losing you- and I-” His voice breaks, his face twisting in grief and agony like it’s genuinely tearing him apart. “I can’t-” Everything is thrown aside. All the thoughts of being a burden, all the thoughts of being too clingy, the hurt, all of it. Because a new hurt and guilt is rising. He’s shattering in front of a room full of people who look up to and respect him. My arms wrap around his shoulders, bringing his head down. Almost immediately, his arms lock so tight around my frame that it hurts. I swallow, blinking back tears while soothingly running my fingers through his hair. 

“You’re not losing me.” It’s a strong statement stated in a low, soft tone. “Do you hear me, Garrick Tavis? You are not losing me.” That’s the first order of business. His breathing is still shallow, rugged, barely helping him. He buries his head between my neck and shoulder, his breath shaking and too fast. His arms tighten. 

“Baby.” I breathe softer, trying to pull back to grab his face. He doesn't give me the option. “I’m not leaving.” I whisper, rubbing his back with my other hand. “I’ll let Xaden kick my ass-” He manages, voice too strained. “I’ll take on twenty riders, I-I’ll play with your hair and-” Sushing him softly, I move back. He makes a sound, half panic, half growl. Both of my hands find his face, placing a soft, tender kiss to his lips before he pulls me back again. A kiss can stop panic attacks. I know from experience. Is this is anxiety? Well, I don’t know if it’ll work then but if this is panic, and I think it is, it should work. He leans in, his hand moving to cup the back of my head and pull me closer. He only pulls back to draw in a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. 

“Hi. Welcome back to reality.” I whisper softly, teasingly, a concerned but loving smile forming. “I’m not leaving. You hear me? I was hurt by what you said. I thought I was being too much so I wanted to give you space. That’s all. Okay?” There’s guilt in his eyes, but the panick has slowly died down. Without another word, he throws me over his shoulder. I gasp. 

“Garrick!” I call, gently smacking his back. He doesn’t answer. “Where are you going!?” Rhiannon calls, throwing her arms out. I was supposed to help her and Violet. I brace myself on his back, pushing up to make eye contact. I shake my head, an I-don’t-know-but-I-don’t-care look across my face. Laughing softly, I poke his back. We’re in the hall now, making our way through. He tenses when I laugh, and in seconds he moves me so I’m pinned between the wall and him, my legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Do it again.” He breathes, his eyes falling down to my lips. My face scrunches in confusion, a slow smile forming. “Do what?” 

“Laugh. I haven’t heard that beautiful laugh in weeks.” He swallows, and I can tell he’s still hurting, still panicking, even if it isn’t full blown now. My smile softens, a blush rising. “Garrick, I can’t just laugh on command.” It’s a soft whisper. His eyes narrow, as though offended but he shakes his head. “Later then. When we’re alone, I’m drawing that gorgeous sound out again. Even if I have to hang myself by my toes to get it.” He growls, before moving the both of us away from the wall to continue walking. My brows lift and a small, quiet laugh escapes me. His eyes immediately dart down, narrowing playfully. 

“I love you.” I hum, and it’s like I shoved a full breeze of fresh air down his chest. He groans, dropping his head against mine. “Say it again.” He orders, still walking, with a quicker pace. My smile only grows. “I. Love. You.”

Sheryl took a deep breath as she clasped her suitcase shut. She had just finished pulling together all her worldly possessions, not that there was much, and was ready to head out on the road. After all she had a job to do.

She didn’t care if it was a pipe dream. She didn’t care if it was a drunken hallucination. That thing told her it would bring John back to her, if she could gather all 5 dimensional keys, whatever those were… She had been destroying herself for far too long. Now that she had hope again, and a goal, she wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass her by!

She was getting the love of her life back, and god help anyone who stood in her way.

Pulling on her trench coat and a pair of glasses, she took a quick glance around the room.

John’s room.

Never her room.

It was a bit of a wreck. She had spent so long moping and raging here that she practically destroyed everything she could get her hands on, but hey, what else is new? It was hard to believe John was dead, for now, but hearing he died a hero wasn’t a surprise. It was just who he was after all. What was really hard was the fact that she hadn’t seen him, not since that fight all those years ago.

That was the past now though, she needed to focus. Plucking her suitcase off the bed she made sure nothing was left behind, when she spotted the picture of John on the wall.

John and Gary.

Living, happily, without her.

Sheryl stiffened. Because of course they would, because John had always loved their son more than he had her. Because John kicked her out for yelling at Gary, when he couldn’t even fuckin’ understand what she was saying. Kicked her out when he realized she was using him to get information about the Infinity Guard.

Look at it, so happy with our John. Sheryl grit her teeth. So smiley and content. Well that was over now. The boy just moped around the house, hanging off her like a baby koala. He wanted comfort from her? After what he had taken? God it made her angry.

A small amount of guilt pooled in her gut. She remembers the day he was born, likely the second most painful day she had felt in her life. Yet when she was given him to hold he was so small. John had cried, saying the kid looked just like her, like it was the highest compliment one could give.

She didn’t think he thought that anymore.

John loved him but not you. Not enough.

Why should she love him, when he had already gotten so much from John. Love he taken from her?

She should continue with her plan and leave, and let Gary rot here. It wouldn’t be so bad anyway… When she was a girl her dad left her for dead plenty of times in the outback, and everytime she crawled her way home, bloodied and tired. It made her stronger until she finally didn’t have to go back ‘home’ anymore and just started a new life for herself. The experience had made her stronger and into the person she is today. It would surely do the same for Gary.

‘What kind of monster has a child with someone, just to steal some plans?!’

Right cause she turned out to be so super…

Well, all the more reason to leave Gary behind. What the hell could she do for him? She was on a dangerous mission and she hadn’t seen him since he was a baby. She didn’t know how to be a mother. She was never trained for it and frankly, she wasn’t a good fit for motherhood. What was she supposed to do? Teach Gary to lie, and steal and kill?

Was all she was good for.

Still, those skills would be enough to save John.Then, once she had him back, they could work everything out and be together again! Who knew, maybe this titan could bring John back before they even had their fight, be like she never left.

Ok, kinda manipulative, but it would be far easier in the long run.

Glancing back at the picture on the wall she huffed. Another reason, childish though it maybe, was perhaps she didn’t want to share John this time around. Have a good ten years just the two of them, see how kiddo liked it.

Yet as she stared at the picture, something crumpled. The way John was smiling up at Gary, the tiny crinkle of his eyes and his big smile… He clearly loved Gary very much. Her own father never looked at her like that. Only John had looked at her in a similar way before their fight. Course he saw who she really was and turned on her as well…

She paused, pondering what it be like had her own father had loved her like John did Gary. It was such a surreal thought. That the old poacher that brought her into this world, could have bounced her on his knee. Or at least given a shit.

Mmm, give a shit.

The mirror across the room met her when she turned and as usual Sheryl hated who she saw. However this time she saw more of her father in her than she liked.

He won’t have a good life with you Sheryl. He’ll constantly be on the run, caught in the cross hairs, and dodging bullets. Likely have to steal and fight everyday of his life, while your both out searching the entire universe for five needles in a cosmic haystack.

Then again, if she really did hate him like she told herself she did, won’t bringing him along a little cathartic? Then when she finally had John back, he’ll see Gary with her and realize she had been taking care of him. That be some brownie points…

Who cares if Gary turned into a criminal, John would understand and love him no matter what… He was John son. Then she has an argument for herself. After all if John could see past those faults, why not her own?

…. That was a shitty excuse. She should leave him.

Her mind drifted back to a tiny newborn, so small she could hold him in one arm…

Sheryl left the room and headed down the stairs, bags in hand. Gary was standing in the kitchen doorway, clutching that stupid bug jar to his chest, just watching her. She stared at him when she reached the bottom, then turned toward the door. Only when she was piling her things on her bike and climbing on, did she hear the door open.

Stupidly she glanced over.

Gary looked scared, handed slightly up, as if he wanted to reach for her.

….

If her own father had loved her like John did Gary, how much would it hurt to lose him and be left alone?

She didn’t really have to guess. She knew what it felt like to lose John.

Sheryl looked away and took a deep breath.

“Get your shit together and put it on the back.” She said icly. “You have five minutes.”

The boy was frozen.

“NOW!” She shouted.

The boy took off to pack his bag.

Sheryl groaned, leaning back on her bike. She pushed her bag farther back on her seat before lighting up one of her ciggys. Her gut never lied to her before, and right now it was saying this was a big mistake. She should leave him.

Taking a big drag she sighed out a spell of smoke.

What's one more mistake with her record?

The door banged as tiny feet ran over gravel to her side. He had a Junior Infinity Guard duffle bag over his shoulder, and that damn bug still.

“That everything? We won’t be coming back.” She warned him.

When he nodded Sheryl took his things and tied them down with hers. Once the boy was clung to her back, seated between her and the bags, she started off down the road at breakneck speed.