* ❪ ⛓️ ❫ : 𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗮𝗳𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱. not through the door, necessarily, but greer aatkani's life. roaming eyes that watched them for months, years on end now, had seen the way the pair hovered around one another. greer had lost count of how many times he'd submitted to the rumble of a honey dipped voice. emitted from the cavern of such a small chest. the ribcage of a bird that long healed from a perilous wing injury, remaining grounded for the fear of what could happen again. but raf had purposely made the trek here, and who was greer not to make it worthwhile ? even if this is stupid. even if it was idiotic. even if it was all a giant fucking mess. greer never claimed to be a smart man, but there were moments where he could be sensible. sensible in the way he provided little to no information on his true identity, his whereabouts, his daughter, the mother of his daughter. those he surrounded himself with, even if he so desperately wanted to spill. blabber on about the man that stands in front of him as if he had spoken him to life. except in his thoughts, his dreams, there wasn't a frown permanently etched on his face. there wasn't the shakey tone of a person he'd try his hardest to keep away from all this. greer had prayed to any god listening that they wouldn't find out. that he wouldn't, if everyone else had to. greer had prayed the fear wouldn't settle deep in rafael's gut, like this. was rafael afraid of him? was he afraid of what he was capable of? was this the killshot?
' checking - in's worth the risk. '
worth the risk. an answer to the question that tumbles in his head with a plethora of droning worries. a tornado of reprimands for allowing this in the first place. this is stupid. this is fucking stupid. you need to make him go. he cant be here. he shouldn't be here. sensible. a word that had been used to describe him in the past. by his mother, his father when he wasn't going at him for not showing up for weeks at a time. when life was as right as rain. koolpops in the summer heat he had shared with his wife, six months into her pregnancy and a shrieky belly laugh for two as greer left sticky kisses against the sweaty slope of her throat. air charged with a rainstorm that comes in the same haze that shrouds his memories. a fog of dread clouds his vision and he almost misses the way raf explains his movements. he was careful. smooth. methodical like he'd done this before. which brought greer back to earth. leaves him momentarily curious, analyzing the tell signs that could betray leaking features. betray leveled calmness. the moment doesn't call for anything but a quick thank you and nod, but there's a feeling bubbling in his gut that he can't quite pinpoint. the same feeling when nour repeats the mantra he tells her every night without having to be fed her lines. when darla finally recognizes what's being told and solidifying a new trick learned. when aisha had told him she still carries around the mace, the switchblade that he had gifted her five christmases ago while sternly explaining how she shouldn't be walking out so late by yourself. when rafael told him all the ways he had avoided bringing trouble to greer's doorstep despite creating it for himself.
a sense of pride, of admiration, a knuckle deep sensation that nearly makes him smile if he didn't think it'd make him look crazy. unconscious movements help him deter from the twitch in his lip, settling on the dishes that are moved off from marble countertops and into the sink, head shaking with the thoughts that continue to breed soot in the caverns of a sullen mind. greer, the man who enjoyed a simple touch, like a fish swirling perfectly in clear waters. born for it, bred to live and crave it like a lifeline, flinches suddenly as his hand is taken. though the shock isn't enough to make him snatch it back. the flinch is mild, stemming from the root of his spine and upward in a crackle of firewood that sits at his belly. the urge to lean in is almost too much, yet not enough as he refuses eye contact. suddenly a teenager in the presence of someone he'd been pining after for months. expect, this is raf, and he knows him. he knows him down to the wear and tear of fingerbones that are blotched red. soft gaze casts over each knuckle, imagining the abuse of every day nerves that'd probably grown tenfold because of him. usually brave about these sort of things, his own skin pulsates warily underneath the older mans palm, yet again without the desire to move away. he stays. quietly. then interjects, ❝ i wouldn't ask you to do that. ❞ rafael hadn't asked, nor was he answering a question greer had asked. a favor at this moment felt like a burden. although he knew even if it were, it'd meant more than a simple favor. felt like a lingering possibility. a breath out as he stares down at the faucet, before making his decision. greer spins on his heels, facing one of deerborne, michigan's most unreachable desires. there was no need to fight anymore these days, adrenaline resorted to a small vial spilled in his veins, burning with the acidity of a looming impulse streak. easy, man. the pair stand tall, reflecting one another's timid disnature.
slowly, but not hesitant, inked digits intertwine with rafael's, pulling him in until they're mere centimeters apart. eyes soften, chin tilted downward so he no longer has to speak up. ❝ i can't, ❞ he begins, voice faltering with uncertainty. ❝ you shouldn't be here, ❞ he adds, still not ushering the older man out. nothing in his body urges either of them to part ways. greer's grip tightens slightly. ❝ i can't help you anymore, ❞ is what he settles with. a scare tactic riddled with lies — he would help rafael until his lungs gave out, until rafael finally had enough and set him loose. i can't protect you once you leave, is what he'd meant. realism meddles its way into the conversation despite the surreality of everything that'd happened this week alone. if he could follow rafael's every footstep, day and night, twenty four seven, he'd do it in a heartbeat. but rafael, for all his kind sentiments, was as stubborn as a mule when it came down to it. he would never agree to it, greer knew that. especially with nour out there, aisha out there. they had other friends out there. a target on their backs the minute they'd exchanged hello's with greer. the click of metal reverberates in his teeth when he takes a small step back, hip hitting the counter and jostling the gun that sits at his waistband. forgotten as quickly as it happened, glass eyes settle on rafael's expression. watching, waiting for anything to tell him off. remind him that this is a terrible fucking idea. ❝ i'm exhausted, ❞ he answers finally, sighing out a breath he'd been holding for years, lashes fluttering with weariness, lids drooping in a confirmation of just how much the body kept score. spine curving as he hunches in, curls unruly on his head brush lightly across rafael's forehead. breathes intertwine with such proximity. ❝ i'm exhausted and i can't stay up to watch. ❞ over you is what stays on the tip of his tongue, though he knows the thought would be dismissed entirely. raf's hand is held as leverage at this point, keeping greer up when he so desperately wanted to let go. fall. down in a heap of nothingness.
