One summer's day, when Rick's habitual anger seemed to have left him, he wore a sweater. That morning, she missed the tune of his rants. Quiet replaced their typical verbal spars. He didn't look at her, he didn't look at anything. His thoughts seemed to drift away, eyes unfocused in a daze. Curious, she shadowed him in the crowded halls.
When his sleeve caught on the corner of his locker, she saw marks on his pale skin. Blues, purples, and yellows painted an angry spot on his otherwise pasty arm. In the last days before the school year ended, temperatures rose. So too, apparently, did the tempers of working fathers.
He sent her a glare and yanked the fabric of his sleeve back down to his wrist. Later, she found him sitting at the curb as the buses rolled in. He faced the ground, refusing to look at anything but his feet. He didn't move as she sat down next to him. Her fingers wandered until they found his. She felt his muscles tense at her touch, but she was undeterred. She squeezed his hand. She could see he breathed a bit steadier then.
A/N I have other ideas n I might keep this going, idk. Anyway crit/reviews appreciated ! :))