@wclfclaws
when they first moved from the quiet familiarity of swampland suburbs to the bustling streets of new york city, ben spent several long days in skull-splitting pain. all of the scents and sights and sounds...it was too much. sensory overload, caroline informed him in a nearly inaudible whisper because any louder and he would’ve screamed. now, ben is more control than he’s ever been, but that girl. the one in a few of his classes, who wore a big smug sneer as she told him to try a cold shower the next time he found himself thinking about her.
she saw him out by the football fields when he thought nobody was around.
he should be fucked and seriously thought that he was until this afternoon. even hours later he’s still reeling from their brief encounter, his mind stuck so stubbornly in place that he can pick her scent out of the millions lining every busy city street and follow it all the way to an old building anyone else might mistake for being empty, but ben’s nose isn’t so easily fooled. he’s much too skilled of a tracker now.
he climbed in through a second floor window without a sound, hands lifted in a placating gesture before he even caught her attention. “don’t freak out.” at school he has this bravado. captain of the football team, beloved by his popular friends and constantly trailed by a faithful entourage of giggling cheerleaders. “please.” here, in front of her he’s suddenly so nervous that he stumbles over his words.
“i’m benjamin calanoc. some people call me ben, but most people go with benji.” friends, especially. that’s why he’s here. “i wanna talk,” he explained, remembering a moment later that oh yeah, there was one other thing, “and i want my fuckin’ wallet back.”
