Sleep was supposed to be his chance for reprieve. Dominic knew well enough that he hadn’t gotten what he wholly deserved yet. Sure, the swelling and the bruising, violaceous and scabbed, worsened by the lack of treatment might’ve been punishment enough, but it wasn’t. Not really. And, truthfully, he wasn’t ready to forgive either. Anger always felt unnatural to him – a failure that should be smothered at first spark. His father would always tell him to breathe and ruffle his hair, even when Dominic stood five inches above him. Now, Dominic’s jaw remained clenched, fingers tugging through strands that didn’t give way easily. Instead of a warning, Dominic had written each offender up. This particular punishment didn’t fit the crime – a noise complaint far too early in the morning, but it had been a single instance. It felt ridiculous now as he stood before the files, papers held in one hand. Instead of following through, Dominic ripped the warnings up, letting the scraps fall into the trashcan. Kasey had been asleep when he left, and he didn’t want to disturb her, so he decided to walk. The empty halls would have to serve as his escape now.
The scent of tobacco reached him first, guiding his steps toward the back of the stairwell. It was the sight of black, clinging against pale skin that stopped him short. He was waiting to be disparaged, a tiny bit of something normal if nothing else. It didn’t come. Len’s features never looked so still, the corners of her mouth dipping ever-so-slightly. He was used to a twisted smirk, sea-glass hues lit with something mischievous and, well, headache-inducing. Long legs crossed the threshold and he pushed himself up beside her – a silent response to her plea. “You good?” The question was posed, soft and without judgement. It was followed shortly by the tug of his sweatshirt over his head. Dominic held it out toward Len, dimple at the corner of his mouth. “It’s clean. Grabbed it before I had to take care of, uh, a complaint. You’ll catch a cold – wet hair and open window.”
You good? Len nodded, absently, taking a final drag before she flicked the cigarette out the window still burning— the descent a wide arc until impact. She turned to the window and watched as if she could see the moment it winked out from this height, the light snuffed against aging cobblestone. She felt smaller than usual, as if being her usual self would require more energy than she could muster. When he began to pull his sweatshirt off, her brows drew together for a moment, surprised by the gesture. Someone else might’ve expected it, he had a reputation for being kind, but Len wasn’t exactly deserving of any of that from him. Taking the sweatshirt tentatively, she looked at Dom, taking brief inventory of the yellowed skin of his jaw, and the fresh injury under his eye, she decided that maybe she’d gotten out of it all a little easier than she could’ve. She supposed that was one thing she could be grateful for. “I think that’s an old wives tale,” Len let out, the smallest dose of stubborn petulance, though she followed it with a quieter thank you. A chill came in through the window, raising goosebumps along her exposed flesh as if it prove her wrong.
She tugged it over her head and shimmied it down her body. Her finger tips barely poked out of the ends of the long sleeves, and she turned in the sill so she was facing him, the extra length pooling around her hips where she sat. She’d seen it on the big screen, they all had, she’d caught the big show just as she was leaving, looking back once more to catch it all live in techni-colour. “They got you good, huh?” Len asked finally, in an exhale. “Me too, chief. Shitty night all ‘round. Would love a do-over, I think I would just stay home and learn how to crochet or something.” It was easier to prop herself once she gained the proper momentum, a steady stream of bullshit to make herself feel a little less vulnerable. Tucking a piece of dark, damp hair behind her ear, she frowned. “They shouldn’t have done it, you know. Like, whatever I deserved my bit. Kind of a slutty move, I can see that. Your thing was out of line.” It was the best she could do at an apology, and for whatever it was worth, she meant it.
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