So I'm kinda supposed to be studying for my finals tomorrow...oops. But you know what? I just really don't care anymore.
Enjoy this little piece.
Why am I feeling so guilty?
Why am I holding my breath?
Worry 'bout everyone but me
I just keep losing myself
-Falling, The Civil Wars
"Ward," she whispers, her upper torso coming into his vision as she kneels down beside him, her hands soft and warm against the bare skin of his back. She runs her nails along the length of his spine and it's strangely comforting in a way that he's never known before, never even wished for.
Her eyes, normally innocent and carrying hidden laughter, are now littered with concern — concern for him. He hates it. He hates how she can feel sympathy for a man such as him; he's a man with a thousand different monsters stashed underneath his bed, with haunts and spooks that rival many others. His eyes slam shut as her gaze pins on his eyes, turning away from her.
He doesn't deserve her — any of her. She is a bright soul of passion and everything that embodies good in this world; he, however, is the opposite.
"Ward," she murmurs again, one of her fingers moving to touch his cheek. He flinches away at her touch, keeping his fingers clenched. His breathing is barely controlled — one, he breathes deeply. Two. Three. Four.
At the fifth count he isn't any less calm and she isn't anymore gone. So reluctantly he opens his eyes, meeting her concerned gaze. His eyes are tinted red, he knows, and his face is pale and god, he probably looks like a mess. A broken mess. But for some reason, she doesn't flinch away; she rubs her thumb across a rather nasty scar on his cheek, watching him carefully as he flinches.
"Grant." The sound of his first name echoing from her lips brings him the slights bit back to focus and when she leans closer his senses are filled with everything Skye; it's a little more than perfect at the moment and he carefully leans into her touch, biting his tongue at everything he wants to say.
I love you, he repeats like a mantra, burying the thought deep into his mind. I'm in love you, Skye, and I'm sorry — I'm so, so, sorry.
"Are you alright?" she whispers, her knees touching his. He's suddenly feeling a rather startling loss of heat when she removes her hands from his body, but then she's cupping his face lightly, keeping her gaze steady. Careful.
When he faintly gathers the urge to speak, he takes the chance: "I'll be fine," he asks, forcing himself to take deep breaths. He starts over on his counting. One. "It happens every so often — it'll be over in a minute." Two.
Even at that very second, his pulse quickens. He's had panic attacks ever since he was a little kid, but never had they been as bad as after he had been released from his time serving in prison. His latest one had hit in the middle of a training session with Skye; he had nearly managed to stop it — almost, he swears to himself, I almost had it — but then his senses had warped and he was on the verge of a rather bad one.
"What'll be over?" she asks. "What's going on?"
Three. His breath is shaky at best, but he can almost pull air straight into his lungs. The lump in his throat is nearly gone and he no longer has the urge to cry. To break down. Four.
"Panic attack," he tells her slowly, forming every word with a lightness he did not feel. "I'm — I'm alright." Five.
"No," she tells him, her expression holding back worry — but her eyes revealed it all. "You're not."
He leans back against the wall then, forcing himself to pull out of her touch. His head bumps against the metal as he tilts his head back, closing his eyes briefly. He almost prays that she'll go away. That she'll get away from him — he hadn't wanted her to see him like this. Six.
But he feels her hands on him again, running her thumb along his knee. "Hey," she speaks firmly. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving."
He forces himself to swallow. Skye, he whispers her name in his mind.
He doesn't deserve her. He never has. Wanting her was selfish; she had woken up a weakness inside of him that he hadn't felt for years, not since his brother and sister were alive. But she should be kept away from the likes of him. He was a monster. Seven.
And he forces himself to breath, to push his feeling for her out of his mind.
It doesn't work.
(Because for all that he has done, she still remains.
She's a part of him that he can never forget.)
And...finish.