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dramaticironyoflife · 2 years

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The Art of Ticking

RoxieLexy

Summary:

“If he has a problem with the noise, he can stuff his ears with tissues!” Logan hears these words and feels his muscles begin to tense, he suffers from high anxiety and his body translates that into physical responses. Noises happen to be his strongest trigger but not everyone is understanding of this, or even cares. Thankfully, he has a small cluster of people he considers family who will do almost anything to protect him.

Grocery Store AU!! WARNINGS FOR TICS, HIGH ANXIETY, INDIRECT BULLYING, VIRGIL WISHING TO MURDER SOMEONE, AND SOFT SIDES BEING SOFT.

Notes:

This is a vent fic where Logan has my tics that come with my high anxiety, but he also has friends who take care of him. This is a grocery store au because that is where I work. The customer service manager is based off mine and Logan is based off me. Sadly, I do not have soft cuddly friends like Logan does in this fic. WARNINGS FOR TICS, HIGH ANXIETY, INDIRECT BULLYING, VIRGIL WISHING TO MURDER SOMEONE, AND SOFT SIDES BEING SOFT.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Logan was trying very hard not to flinch. Any sign of weakness could be taken as a victory by his opponent. The person before him wasn’t even looking at him, too busy talking to Roman. Roman was glancing uncomfortably between Logan and the loudmouth. He looked increasingly more unsure as to what he was to do. The woman who was speaking was doing so with the confidence of one who is completely unaware that their gossip is being overheard by the person they are talking about. “If he has a problem with the noise, he can stuff his ears with tissues!” She declared hotly, placing her hands on her hips. She was a busty woman with wide hips and was tall and opposing. Her name was Nikki, as specified by the plastic nametag. She was the customer service manager and so felt she could say anything without consequence. Logan stared at the ground, trying to let his mind go numb. He was the shift supervisor that night! He had a floor to run and to make sure that operations ran smoothly! This was no time to become emotionally invested. He turned stiffly and slipped out of the room, his expression somehow blank and dark at the same time. Virgil looked up from where he was filling bags, watching as Logan moved quickly by him, heading for the safe office. Once inside, Logan breathed a deep sigh. The large metal case that held thousands of dollars stared back at him. He gritted his teeth as he felt something go tingling up the back of his neck. He would not. He would not! Despite his determination, it happened. It happened far too quickly for him to comprehend until it was over. His head jerked up and to the side, jostling his glasses slightly. Like an irrepressible itch, he did it again, trying to relieve the tension in his neck. He was soon stuck in what he called ‘the loop’ as he snapped his head back in tiny repetitive movements. The frustration of losing control over his body like this was unexplainable. He whined softly, trying to stop the movement. Becoming vocal obviously proved to be a mistake. His tongue began to click as he tried to redirect the tics. When that didn’t work, he tensed, trying to suppress the feeling. His head bobbed with unrelieved tension. He growled slightly, he would overcome this. Then the noise happened. The sound of cheap plastic clappers snapping back and forth was enough to set the tics off with new energy. Tears threatened to form as Logan finally gave in. His voice was the next to act without his permission. Chanting and clicking filled the small room. “Hi!” He snapped in a high voice, unsure whom he was speaking to, “Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! H-hi! H-h-h-hi!” He slammed a hand over his mouth, trying to silence the noise. His hand didn’t obey him and moved to slam into his temple. He stopped it, redirecting the blow to his chest. It wasn’t ideal but it was better than pounding his skull. His hands began to tremble, and he reached up to grab his hair. Again, recognizing the potential harm, he gripped his shirt vigorously, shaking the material. He moved away from the door and walls to keep himself from slamming his hands into them. The clapping outside had long stopped but Logan didn’t cease the twitching movements. He looked almost possessed as he tried to work himself out of his personal hell. This was why Nikki wanted him to stuff his ears. The tics had been a recent development of his anxiety, according to his therapist. There were sounds that triggered them, and Nikki’s latest addition to the store was one of the strongest triggers Logan had ever encountered. He had tried to keep it quiet but others had noticed and, concerned and loving, they had turned to Nikki for the basic human function of consideration. They hadn’t found it. She had brought the clappers in to promote her fundraisers and she could not find cause enough to stop them. Logan felt the tingly feeling that was now possessing his whole body begin to drain. He pulled himself together as best he could, smoothing his hair and shirt. He took a breath and pushed his way out into the bustle of the grocery store. Virgil was standing near Patton, one of the best cashiers that Logan had ever come across. Roman was emerging from the manager’s office with an expression that was split three way between horror, anger, and disgust. He moved over to Virgil and tapped his elbow gently. The two grocery associates were about to wander away when they caught Logan standing there. The four of them had become fast friends. Roman and Logan knew each other, Virgil and Patton were friends, Virgil and Roman had met through grocery and Logan and Patton had bonded while working the front of the store. Now, Logan could not imagine his life without any of them. He stood still while the three of them made their way over to what they knew to be a camera’s blind spot. Roman bundled Logan into a tight hug. There was no hesitation as Logan let himself grip the back of Roman’s uniform. The cheap material felt odd beneath his fingers and the smell of Roman’s cologne was almost suffocating. He found comfort within the hold to, however. Patton made a soft noise of concern and gripped Virgil’s sleeve to keep him from going to punch someone. “You’re bigger than she is, don’t think to much on it.” Roman whispered. Logan nodded, not trusting himself to speak. As the day went on, he managed to shove it aside, stopping his ears with his fingers every time a clapper went off. Patton didn’t use his once, still managing to bring in the most donations. The night was rough, full of angry customers and tills that didn’t add up. Logan left a note about the safe being off before he finally locked the safe and the office. He tiredly pushed the buttons on the time clock, thankful that Nikki had left some hours earlier. As he stepped out of the store, he cast his eyes around for Patton’s car. The blue vehicle was idling not far away. He made his way over tiredly, trying not to tic. The passenger window rolled down and Virgil peered at him quizzically, as if trying to decide something. He jerked his head towards the back seat and Logan sighed, pulling the door open. Roman was sitting on the opposite side, looking at his childhood friend with clear concern. Logan eased himself in and pulled the door closed. Patton said nothing, just began driving. Logan clicked his seatbelt on and clicked his tongue. The noise repeated itself several times. He let his head hang loosely forward, trying to relax his tingling muscles. Instead, his whole body twisted and jerked to the right, gasping at the effort, “Hi!” He crowed, blushing furiously. He cradled his head in his hands and muttered an apology. No one responded. Patton pulled into their rental’s driveway and put the car in park. Logan didn’t look up but he could feel the three having a silent conversation over his head. Finally, the car shook slightly as Patton and Virgil climbed out. Logan sighed and followed them, Roman trailing behind him. As he stepped inside, he dropped his bags on the ground and toed his shoes off. Such an act of disorganization was alien to Logan unless he was stressed beyond belief. This was the case tonight. Patton tugged Virgil down the hall into his room. Logan stared after them in confusion, “Alright, Brainiac, c’mere.” Logan turned in just enough time to get a face full of Roman’s chest. The taller man cradled Logan’s head as he hugged him close. Logan stiffened, not necessarily wanting to break, breaking meant ticking and ticking was what had started this mess. Roman massaged the tension in Logan’s sore neck, prodding it gently with his fingers. Despite his best efforts, Logan leaned into the touch and felt his shoulders loosen. Right on cue, he ticked, dislodging Roman’s fingers from his neck. The other man pressed Logan closer, holding his head firmly to prevent him from hurting himself. Logan broke. The frustration and hurt, the fear and the uncontrollable came crashing over him with new vengeance and tears poured from his eyes. Roman shushed him softly, leading him to the sofa with gentle control. Patton and Virgil reemerged with Logan’s favorite sweatshirt and a box of tissues. With some manhandling, they managed to pull Logan’s uniform shirt off and swaddle him in the soft security of the sweater. Roman gently pulled his friend’s glasses off and set them aside. “Sorry.” Logan whispered, still tucked against Roman. Patton shook his head, “Never apologize for something that isn’t your fault, Lo. You don’t have to apologize, especially not to us.” He smiled encouragingly. Virgil snorted, “Yeah, someone else should be apologizing but, because she’s not here, we’re just gonna pretend she fell off a cliff somewhere and can’t bother us anymore.” Logan huffed a laugh as Patton turned a horrified look on the youngest of their group. Roman hummed softly under his breath, continuing to hold Logan close. His body still acted without his consent, tics and jerks ripping through him violently at times but, for the first time that day, it didn’t matter. Roman held his hands when they turned violent (he had bruises on his thighs from the attack earlier) and Patton offered words of encouragement. Virgil was a steady constant, occasionally returning the greetings that Logan chirped, and making sure he didn’t feel alone. The three of them surrounded him with a circle where no one could touch him and no one could hurt him. As exhaustion settled and the spasm of energy faded, Logan allowed himself to sink to sleep, comfortable in the company of those he trusted most.

Notes:

Remember that what people say about you doesn't define you and never apologize for what isn't your fault! Stay strong, peeps and keep being the amazing peeps you are, no matter what he Karens and Nikkis say. I love you!

#sanders sides fic #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #tourettes #tic disorder #vent fic

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dramaticironyoflife · 4 years

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Exam Escape

Ignis adjusted his glasses and shifted his weight slightly. So slightly that it didn’t appear that he had moved at all. He was surveying the mess that was the prince’s apartment. Bags of trash lay absolutely everywhere. He wasn’t sure whether to be appealed or astounded by the amount of litter that had accumulated over the course of a few short days. However, it was exam week for his young charge and it was natural that chaos would dramatically increase in such a time of stress and panic.

But that didn’t mean Ignis had to like it.

He sighed and set about trying to straighten the mess. He wasn’t quite sure where to start though. The advisor was decidedly off this Friday. Perhaps it was the daunting reality that, after today, Noct would be home for the whole of the Summer. As long as he had not managed to fail any exams, that was. The long hours of chasing the prince down and running through practice exams had worn Ignis down over the last few weeks. Even last night Noct has called him up in a frenzy and wouldn’t settle until Ignis had drilled him on at least half a dozen practice questions. Not the oddest activity he’d done at 3:27 in the morning but the prince’s excited state had left him unable to drift back off. He thought of this as he took a gulp of Ebony. His fifth can of the afternoon. Gladio had absolutely refused to let him train for their full session. He instead led Ignis through a series of stretches to attempt to get him to relax. He probably would’ve let the advisor sleep through a portion of the session as well if Ignis had not so stubbornly refused. Gladio had a small victory in the end though. He’d made Ignis promise not to drive himself home that night as his sleep deprived state was hardly considered safe. This was a point that Ignis not only couldn’t argue but flat out didn’t want to. Gladio brought a certain amount of peace into Iggy’s life, taking on a good portion of the responsibilities that came with watching over the future heir.

Ignis finished piling the trash together and began to sort through the rest of the mess. Magazines and comic books had been mixed in with the important reports and briefings that Noct had, most probably, neglected to read. Future king or no, the prince procrastinated better than anyone Ignis had ever met. He sorted through the papers, making different piles before sitting back on his heels. The time was ticking by far too fast for Ignis’ liking. He wasn’t needed to make Noct’s dinner tonight, thank heaven, and would rather like to leave before he and Prompto began their celebrations that came at the end of each exam period. There would most likely be shouting and cheering and all sorts of merry making that sounded absolutely dreadful to Ignis’ blossoming headache. Still, he couldn’t help but come by the rooms and see exactly how bad it had gotten over the past three days. Once he’d witnessed the pigs dye, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He cursed his instincts to help the prince and resisted the urge to sweep everything left on the floor under whatever available spaces lay before him. Honestly, he was almost sure that Noct would never realize the difference. He swept the floor carefully, picking up odds and ends he’d missed as he went. He shifted the sofa out of the way and grunted as he bent to retrieve a few magazines and marbles that had taken up residence there when the door slammed open.

“FREEDOM!!!” The shout was so loud that Ignis jumped. He lost his footing and landed none too gracefully on his behind. It seemed though that neither of the boys had heard him.

“YEAH!!” Noct joined in the blond’s excited squealing and tore off his jacket, tossing it in the direction of the kitchen. Ignis peered over the edge of the sofa, unwilling to get dragged into the celebration. Prompto slipped of his satchel and grinned definitely at Noct,

“We did it! We’re done and you wanna know what I think about school?!” Noct applauded, waving his hands like an impromptu rapper,

“What’d you thing about school?!”

“You wanna know what I think about books?!!”

“What about ‘em, Prom?!”

“YOU WANNA KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS SATCHEL?!”

“WHAT?!”

“I’LL SHOW YA WHAT I THINK!!!!” With this and a somewhat pathetic war cry, Prompto slammed the bag down on the ground and began jumping on it repeatedly. Noct cheered and began some odd dancing ritual around the excited teen. Ignis blinked.

He was definitely not coming out now. He sunk lower behind the sofa and tugged out his phone. He scrolled quickly to his contacts and located Gladio’s name. He pressed call before he could over think anything.

Gladio was lounging on the sofa in his dad’s office. Clarus was sifting through some papers, allowing Gladio to scroll through his phone undisturbed. Gladio grunted as Iggy’s contact lit up the device and pulled himself upright. Clarus glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“Hey, Iggy,” Gladio announced the greeting and his dad nodded before resuming his work. “You ready for me?”

“Six, yes, come get me.” Gladio tensed. The words were whispered in an almost desperate voice.

“Iggy? Where are you?” His dad noticed the change in his son’s voice and dropped his paper. Gladio was tense, ready for action.

“At Noct’s...” Ignis peered quickly at the boys to see they were now throwing assignments into the air like makeshift confetti, still shouting in jubilation.

“What? Why are you at Noct’s? I thought you said...”

“That I wouldn’t go over to his chambers today, I know! I tried, Gladio, believe me. I just knew that his apartment was a mess and I thought it would be nice for him to come back to a clean apartment-”

“Just so he could mess it all up again?” Gladio chuckled and Clarus relaxed. Gladio rose from the sofa and grabbed his jacket. He raised a hand in farewell to his father before slipping out into the hallway. “Hang tight, Iggy, I’m on my way.”

Ignis heard the call disconnect and sighed, hunching further in on himself. Being tall and lean was a disadvantage in this moment. He felt dread sink into him when he heard the boys approaching the sofa.

“You wanna order pizza while I set up the game?” Noct’s voice was followed by the sound of someone throwing themselves onto the sofa. Ignis flinched as it shifted slightly with the force of the prince’s body. Prompto’s giddy response was followed by some tapping.

“Whoever made apps for ordering pizza is a genius.” Prompto commented, his voice now also sounding dangerously close to Ignis’ situation. “They eliminated one of the most awkward conversations in human history.”

Noct hummed in agreement as the noises of the TV hit the room. Prompto cheered and then the sounds of the two gamers settled on the apartment.

When the noises coming from the boys were grunts, shouts, and explanations that would’ve made any well spoken individual cringe and no longer intelligible words, Ignis deemed them invested enough in their game for him to start his escape. On top of this, Galdio had texted that he was less than five minutes in his estimated time of arrival. Ignis huffed silently and set his eyes on the bedroom, mere feet away.

The journey to the bedroom wasn’t a long one but it wasn’t one that Ignis would ever want anyone to see him perform and not one he wanted to perform again himself. Although it was almost comical to see that he could slip past the boys without their knowledge due to their distraction. He lay on his belly and slid himself neatly across the wooden floor a good portion of the journey. The remainder of his mission was merely going the rest of the way without being seen. He crouched at first, creeping along like some common criminal. Once he was near the door however, he was forced to reassess his situation. The door was open but only just enough for him to slip through if he stood. Eyes never leaving the boys, Ignis slowly inched himself to his full height. Noct stood at the same time, shouting at the TV and tossing his remote off to one side. Unfortunately, the side that was closer to Ignis. Prompto was laughing at the prince’s tantrum and teasing him relentlessly. Noct, vowing revenge turned to pluck his remote off the floor.

Ignis had never prayed harder in his life that he would remain unseen. Or turn invisible. Or that the floor would swallow him up. Instead, it was the well timed delivery of the pizza that saved him. The doorbell was the diversion Ignis needed to slip to safety. Once in the bedroom, he forced himself to ignore the mess that was taking over the prince’s personal space. He pulled out his phone.

In Noct’s bedroom, near the window. Gladio texted back a few minutes later.

Here. What’s the plan? Ignis sighed before sliding the window open and peering out. Gladio was standing below him, looking up with an amused expression. Noct’s window wasn’t very high off the ground, Ignis had no doubt that he could make the jump and role the landing to prevent injury. Assessing the height once more, he nodded.

I’m going to jump, stand back. Gladio’s eyebrows rose and he looked up at Ignis then pocketed his phone. Ignis nodded and pulled his long limbs through the window. He took a deep breath and then pushed himself off the edge; only to land in Gladio’s arms.

“What in the Astals?!” He gasped. Gladio grunted and deposited his catch onto his feet.

“What? You’re wearing nice clothes. Didn’t want you to ruin them.” He shrugged and began to wander back towards the street and their get away car. Ignis followed, grumbling and straightening out his outfit.

----

“Gladio!” Noct and Prompto looked up from the campsite at the squeak they hardly recognized as Ignis’ voice. The Shield was holding the Advisor in his arms while the thinner man struggled.

“Nope! You’re going to rest or I’m going to tell Noct and Prompto about the ‘Exam Escape’.” The two boys blinked, whatever the ‘Exam Escape’ was, it made Ignis freeze in his attempts to free himself. He stared at Gladio with wide eyes,

“You wouldn’t.” Gladio cocked an eyebrow,

“Not if you rest.” Ignis groaned and resumed struggling,

“I can walk myself to the tent, thank you!” Prompto and Noct exchanged expressions and shrugs.

#ffxv #ignis scientia #gladiolus amiticia #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #fanfiction #My writing

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dramaticironyoflife · 4 years

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Logan Does a Different Kind of Reading 🔥 (Audio: She-Ra)

•••

Promise I’m not gonna just do a bunch of Sides lip syncing content, but this one was too good not to do, and I needed the fun activity with everything else going on!

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dramaticironyoflife · 4 years

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It’s Memorial Day, Peeps!

Here’s to the soldiers who have their lives so we could go to Church, regardless of religion, the soldiers who died for our right to bear arms, to speak our minds (even the words agains them), those who gave everything for us to be free. We owe them so much.

In addition, here’s to those who are preparing to sign over their lives. Here’s to the families who sacrificed a brother, a son, a father for the rights of the people. Here’s to all those who lost a best friend, a brother in law, an uncle, a cousin, a grandfather. To those who lost a mother, a sister, a wife, an aunt, a grandmother. To those families who have that hole in their hearts because brave men and women recognized the importance of freedom and gave everything for that, we thank you. And we hope that our thanks is enough to ease some of the pain you must endure.

#soldiers #memorial day #remember #military #usa #freedom #america

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dramaticironyoflife · 4 years

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Flock Without a Shepherd

The church is all quiet

And the steeple silent stands,

The pulpit is now empty,

But he was never a quiet man.

The walls are now still

And the stain glass seems quite dull

But he was never still at all.

The lights have gone dark

And they’ve extinguished every flame.

But he was fire and passion

He called the truth by name.

The steps have been forsaken

And the doors are locked up tight

But he was never one to dally

He was light on the darkest night.

Dust has settled on every pew,

On every edge, and ledge and nook

But you could’ve found him hereabouts,

Buried in a book

The flock has been scattered

For it heard not its shepherd’s voice

Would he have remained with us still,

Had he been given the choice?

Would he have stayed to guide us?

We who stumble and who stray,

Has he truly left us?

To wander on our way?

The one who had thus fathered us,

Has hurried his tomorrow

He left us for some greater joy

And we can’t help but feel true sorrow.

He was a humble man,

He was a heart of fire,

He was a man of truth

Burning with desire

But burning most of all with love.

The type that isn’t always kind.

The type we needed most,

But cannot always find.

He told us we were wrong

And then told us what was right

He was aware of the battle

He prepared us for the fight.

And while I cannot see him

I know he fights on too

I know he has not abandoned

The flock he holds so true.

His duty is not finished,

We each belong to him.

For God’s mercy is endless

And I pray for his salvation.

I know he prays for mine,

My thoughts forever with him.

So I shall not say goodbye,

For I hope to see you someday

But send us another strong shepherd, please,

To guide us on our way.

Excuse these tears, dear father,

You were precious to us all

I wait to again meet you

When my time comes to answer His call.

———-

This is a tribute to the priest of our parish who we lost not too long ago. He lives in my heart and my mind is constantly turned towards him. May he Rest In Peace.

#catholic #priest #father #death #rest in peace

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dramaticironyoflife · 4 years

Photo

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dramaticironyoflife · 4 years

Photo

Absolutely stunning

MAK TUMANG Blue Morpho dress if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways

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dramaticironyoflife · 4 years

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The Skater

This is something I wrote for a story I am developing. A glimpse into the past of two of the main characters and how they became inseparable.

The chilly wind brushed through the thin strands of dark hair. The occasional muffled “thump” of trees relieving themselves of the load of snow that had gathered on their branches was the only sound to be heard, save the scrap of metal against ice. In the moment, the skater was in a world of music. The grey blue eyes were closed and the mouth was parted in gentle concentration. The long brown hair was slowly but surely working itself free of the elastic band that had captured it in a tight ponytail. Even now, an array of loose locks whipped wildly as the skater twisted and turned. His body angled towards the ice and he let his blades glide. The ice was rough and choppy due to past skaters but, tonight, it was his. The stars stared down as he let himself come to a halt and he began to spin. His arms stretched out wide, begging for some comforting hold or some strength to be bestowed upon him. Finding none, he pulled them into himself, hugging his arms tightly and tucking his chin against his chest. The world blurred around him and everything became one big thing. To an outsider, the twirling mass on the ice was insignificant and the spin was mundane but not to him. To him it was beautiful and terrifying.

The world had moved too fast for him. His parents were cruelly stripped of their lives and he was left behind. The world moved on without him and he was left behind. The people around him knew how to smiled and he was left behind. Everything whirled around him in a blur and he was left behind. Left to unscramble the mess of colors and indistinguishable shapes, to find his own way out of the mass of whys and what ifs, to learn to be happy once more. His foot slipped.

The whirling world came crashing to a halt around him and his hands shot out to prevent his face from smashing into the ice.

It hurt. The friction of the cold, jagged pond against his hands caused the skin to tear and deep red smeared out onto the immaculate surface. The moon, wide and full, kissed the scene with her presence, outlining the accident in a soft silver glow.

His breath came out in heavy puffs, clouding the air in the dim light. Tears sparkled in his eyes as he curled his hands close to his chest and his shoulders shook. Sobs bubbled up in his chest and broke between his lips. There was nothing but the cold and the dark and the moon. He shivered and tried to curl closer on himself. The world just moved too fast and he was left behind. Alone.

A warm hand descended onto his head. He was jolted out of his turmoil and his eyes shot open.

In the pale light, he could see his reflection in the ice. His face was streamed with tears and his nose was red from the cold. The ice also revealed the reflection of a tall dark figure swathed in a heavy coat and thick scarf. He couldn’t make out the newcomer’s expressions. The eyes were shadowed by the cap that was pulled down so low it was almost touching the scarf. With calm and controlling movements, the hand from his hair traveled down his cheek and to his chin. The heavy coat draped against the ice as the tall man squared down. His free hand came up and tugged his scarf away, revealing a grim expression. The beginnings of a beard were evident on the sculpted face.

“Casseam...” the skater tried to speak but was stopped by a look that pierced him to his soul. He didn’t have to speak, to explain, to reason, to argue, or to fight. Caseam knew already. With a grunt, he pulled the skater to his feet. His knees felt unsteady and he found he was still trembling. He felt heavy and sick to his stomach. Caseam wrapped a sure arm around his shoulder and began to lead him off the frozen water. He let him.

“Let’s get you home, Micha.” The words were spoken with a puff of white mist that dissipated a second later. The phrase hung unanswered. Caseam’s voice was soft but commanding, providing stability where there was none to be found. There were no answers to his grief. But Caseam was willing to be that thing that he could hold onto.

He slumped onto the bank and began to meddle with his skates. The laces, after hours of skating, were tight and the ice chips that had landed on them had melted and refrozen. His fingers shook as he tugged at the laces, frustration flooded him when he couldn’t get the joints to cooperate. Silently, a larger hand descended upon his, shifting it out of the way. Micha watched through steady tears as the laces came undone and he was fitted back into his own boots.

The walk home would’ve been beautiful any other night. The stars shone on the frozen land and the moon lit their way. Tonight, however, the stars looked dead and the moon was like an unblinking eye, casting a spotlight on his frailty. He gripped Caseam’s jacket and stepped in the large boot tracks to keep his balance. Caseam said nothing, he stared ahead, seemingly oblivious to his slighter companion.

The lights from the houses was both a welcome and dreaded sight. The door flew open and he was immediately confronted with several pairs of hands, tugging him in towards the warmth of the indoors. The four walls of security that seemed to suffocate him and keep him cooped up away from the numbness he found outside. So many hands were touching him, so many voices asking for an explanation but he felt most distinctly when the strong grip of Caseam left his shoulder. He whipped around, searching for the shadowy figure. Caseam has turned and was already pacing away, head bowed against the falling snow. Micha tore free, not heeding the high pitched squeals of his many sisters. He ran through the snow somewhat clumsily. It stuck to his jeans and crunched under his boots. Caseam heard him coming and turned just in time to catch the smaller boy. Micha hid his face against the broad chest and shook silently. His arms care up and around, gripping the back of the thick jacket like it was a lifeline. His numb fingers tightened as those large arms descended upon his back and pulled him in tight. Warmth flooded him and, deep inside, something snapped. He sagged against the hold and let himself be held up. He was so tired of grief and feeling helpless. Without protest, his lanky limbs were scooped up and he hid his face against the thick neck. His long hair tumbled about his ears in a tangled mess. No more tears fell, he was finally ready to return to the warmth and to whisper a soft goodbye to the ice and snow, the wind and cold, the dead stars and the unforgiving moon. A soft hand combed through his hair, reminding he he was not alone.

#original work #original character #my writing #author #current wip

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