RMH
trying on a metaphor
Andulka
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
★
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bliss lane
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
oozey mess
ojovivo
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Not today Justin
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
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Origami Around
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@royalsalem-blog
Is something wrong?
Stop. You’re fine, okay?
Dakota, look at me. Calm down and breathe.
If this was your blood, you’d be dead. Right now, that’s all that matters. Everything else, we’ll figure out. But right now, you’re alive and that is all I care about.
That’s even worse.
I don’t remember what happened.
What do you mean you don’t remember?
Is something wrong?
Okay. It’s okay. It’s fine.
Listen, I’ve got you. Nothing will happen to you, okay?
Let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up.
No, something’s wrong.
There’s too much blood. And I don’t know where it’s from.
Stop. You’re fine, okay?
Dakota, look at me. Calm down and breathe.
If this was your blood, you’d be dead. Right now, that’s all that matters. Everything else, we’ll figure out. But right now, you’re alive and that is all I care about.
Is something wrong?
Shh, shh. It’s okay.
Is this - is this your blood?
I don’t know.
I don’t think so.
Okay. It’s okay. It’s fine.
Listen, I’ve got you. Nothing will happen to you, okay?
Let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up.
Is something wrong?
Hunter? As in your dead brother Hunter?
As in the man who - fuck, come here, sit down.
But he isn’t dead.
He said he wasn’t dead. But he’s gone. And there’s blood.
Shh, shh. It’s okay.
Is this - is this your blood?
Is something wrong?
Dakota?
What’s happened? Wh-why are you covered in blood?
Dakota?
Something’s wrong. I don’t know – Hunter came back. And now he’s gone. And I woke up like this, everywhere–
Hunter? As in your dead brother Hunter?
As in the man who - fuck, come here, sit down.
Is something wrong?
I think so.
Dakota?
What’s happened? Wh-why are you covered in blood?
Dakota?
Is something wrong?
“Don’t be sorry.” Ainsley let her smile take up her face as she laid her good hand on his shoulder in comfort. “It’s totally cool.” She brushed off his obvious concern of overstepping boundaries with a shrug and her typical laid back demeanor.
It’s nice to be taken care of. It had been so long since she hadn’t had to play the role of protector and caregiver, it was hard, surely, but for Ainsley it was her normal and to know anything else was weird to her and beyond her fundamental understanding. It took her out of her element.
But he was a sweet boy, and she couldn’t fault him for it; besides, there was something about him that just rang out to her like sonar.
“That long, huh?” It was surprising to be honest, that he had lived next door to this big old house for his whole life and had yet to actually be inside it. Surely other house members before her would have let him in to take a peak? But then again…not all of the house’s inhabitants were as welcoming as Ainsley.
Something inside of her broke at his confession of his family life, being an only child with a single parent was something she was all too familiar with, she knew the heartache and the underlying current of what was it she had done to cause the other parent to leave. As she grew older though, she realized that she had done nothing wrong; her mother was just a selfish woman.
But he seemed to love his mother very much, the way he spoke of her and the way his eyes lit up were all obvious indicators, and the sour disposition of her own mother was washed away in the boy’s bright eyes.
“Your mother seems a lovely woman.” At first, she refused to ask him about his father- it was none of her business, and she knew that talking about it, to a stranger no less, was an uncomfortable experience for everyone involved.
But curiosity was in her nature it appeared, “Has it always been you and your mother?”
The boy smiled at her over the brim of his cup. If she was just being polite, she feigned interest well; it wasn’t often he encountered someone so keen to speak to him. It was his age, he knew. It was a trend to disregard anyone who hadn’t even left their teens yet. But Ainsley was sweet, and made Connor feel like his youth wasn’t a hindrance to conversation.
“She is,” he agreed, nodding as he swallowed a sip. “She puts up with me.”
Speaking of his mother, he was always raised not to make a conversation about himself, it was rude. But Ainsley seemed to be as curious a person as he was, and her questions didn’t seem probing.
It had been a long, long time since Connor thought about his father. When he was young, he asked, from time to time; it wasn’t until he saw classmates and playmates with a full set of parents that it occurred to him he was lacking anything. His mother was patient with him, but vague, and after a while, Connor grew out of seeking for a father figure.
“Mhm. Always.”
It wasn’t an uncomfortable subject, but for some reason, he found it difficult to speak about. Maybe it was the complete lack of information that left him struggling for words.
“I don’t even really know the full story, y’know, of my parents, ‘nd me. Never even met my dad.”
“Mullen’s m’mom’s name, and all that. So. He’s not really in the picture.”
Ainsley recognized a kindred soul when she saw it, and this boy, whose name she had not a clue of, was definitely one of few that she felt she could actually relate to – even as much of a stranger he was.
But she could not fault him for that, perhaps it was her fault, she always saw him working on the yard and had always meant to speak to him, she offered him food and beverages whenever she was around when he was working, but she never got to know him and that was definitely her fault. Her inherit shy demeanor had her closing off doors and barring anyone from getting in, afraid of being rejected.
“I’m sorry.” She apologized, knowing it was a nothing short of a misguided attempt to show her true remorse at his loss of his father, even if it was a father he never even knew.
“But at least you have your mom.” She smiled, hoping to ease whatever tension laid in his chest about his absent father.
In her eyes, he was lucky; she would have rather never known her mother, she imagined because the pain of her leaving was worse than the pain of her just never being there. But all tragedies carried the same weight, and her mother’s sudden departure was the same as this boy’s always absent father.
After he told her such a personal thing, she decided it was best to even the table; not wanting him to feel uncomfortable or out of sorts.
“It used to be just me and my dad for the longest time.” She smiled at the fond memory of her father, happy and alive and outside fishing with her instead of weeping in his recliner at home with a bottle of jack in his hand.
“He would take me to football games, even though I don’t know a thing about the sport.” She laughed, taking a careful sip from her hot tea, remembering the way he would throw his arm around her scrawny shoulders and call her his girl.
“He was a good man.” Despite it all.
The thought of gentle giant sprang to the forefront of Ainsley’s mind, this kid was too big and kind for his own good and the way he cradled her injured hand in his own almost had her weeping.
No one had held her hand that way in so long, no one had fussed over her injuries with care and concern – it made her heart want to break and mend itself again.
She nodded dumbly, unsure how to speak through the shock of it all. She was always inept, always careless; always thinking things over at the last minute or after it was too late. The pain was still there, radiating through her hand up to her wrist and held there like a drought. She guessed she would have to do a little healing later on, when the sweet, neighbor boy that she had yet to learn the name of was long gone.
He apparently took her nod as a yes and turned the tap on and ran her burned hand under the cold water. He gently rubbed his thumbs along the top of her hand and kept the main pressure of the water off of her palm in case the pain became too much, and she had appreciated the thought more than she could bare.
“Thank you.” She muttered; her mouth promptly arid.
“Sorry, this happens more often than I’d like to think it does.” A chuckle, and her face and neck immediately marked red. Either from the humiliation of the moment or the entirety of admitting that her total life was one mistake after another.
Ainsley pulled her hand from his softly after the tap was turned off; she reached for a nearby dish towel and wrapped her poor hand in it. It would surely blister later, but that wasn’t something to worry about now. It would be fine later tonight and she could go on with her life like this wasn’t another burn she would add to her collection.
She seized the teapot, carefully this time, and poured the scorching water into both of their cups; grabbing the tea packets, she placed them into the mugs and turned back to the boy.
“What about you? How long have you lived next door?” She smirked over her cup, taking a cautious sip.
The woman seemed frazzled, the burn a shock, even though she revealed she had clumsy moments like this one quite often. Connor smiled as she did. The already nasty looking red mark across her hand wasn’t exactly funny, but Ainsley’s knack for accidents made her more real, more relatable.
“It’s fine,” he assured her. As he turned the tap off, the moment finally caught up with him, leaving him rather embarrassed at his over eager jump to help. He wasn’t exactly in any position to be touching anyone in the house, even Ainsley, as gracious as she was. His move was certainly a little intrusive into personal space. Clearing his throat again, he let her hand go, letting her tend to the injury herself. For a minute, he felt much too big for the kitchen, towering over the woman next to him, so he nestled himself into the corner against the counter, leaning as much as he could.
“Sorry. Habit.” Connor nodded to her hand. “My mom’s a nurse.”
The tea she offered him was a warm welcome gift, and he gripped the cup with both hands, not even bothering to drink yet.
“Eighteen years,” he answered her. “My whole life.”
“It’s just me and her. My mom, I mean.”
His tone was soft, but not sad. Connor hoped to convey he adored his mother, or that it was obvious, since it seemed everyone in the neighborhood, having caught a glimpse of the two together, knew that was the case. The absence of a larger family unit was never something he missed. It seemed right, the way it was.
“Don’t be sorry.” Ainsley let her smile take up her face as she laid her good hand on his shoulder in comfort. “It’s totally cool.” She brushed off his obvious concern of overstepping boundaries with a shrug and her typical laid back demeanor.
It’s nice to be taken care of. It had been so long since she hadn’t had to play the role of protector and caregiver, it was hard, surely, but for Ainsley it was her normal and to know anything else was weird to her and beyond her fundamental understanding. It took her out of her element.
But he was a sweet boy, and she couldn’t fault him for it; besides, there was something about him that just rang out to her like sonar.
“That long, huh?” It was surprising to be honest, that he had lived next door to this big old house for his whole life and had yet to actually be inside it. Surely other house members before her would have let him in to take a peak? But then again...not all of the house’s inhabitants were as welcoming as Ainsley.
Something inside of her broke at his confession of his family life, being an only child with a single parent was something she was all too familiar with, she knew the heartache and the underlying current of what was it she had done to cause the other parent to leave. As she grew older though, she realized that she had done nothing wrong; her mother was just a selfish woman.
But he seemed to love his mother very much, the way he spoke of her and the way his eyes lit up were all obvious indicators, and the sour disposition of her own mother was washed away in the boy’s bright eyes.
“Your mother seems a lovely woman.” At first, she refused to ask him about his father- it was none of her business, and she knew that talking about it, to a stranger no less, was an uncomfortable experience for everyone involved.
But curiosity was in her nature it appeared, “Has it always been you and your mother?”
Watching him take in everything was like watching a puppy explore the backyard for the first time. Bewildered and completely engrossed, Ainsley beamed and giggled at his apparent persistence of respect.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.” She held, pulling out a couple of mugs and placing them on the table before snatching the tea packets. “What kind of tea do you prefer? I only have green and black, we have a resident here who apparently uses tea as a replacement for blood.”
At the thought of her roommates, she pondered if any of them were conscious or even in the house at all – assuming most of them snoozed during the day anyhow, since she continuously hears the front door open and lock shut around midnight.
With a look of deep thought, she hummed her response, “Mmm, I’d say maybe a year this month? Yeah…I’m sure that’s right.” No she wasn’t.
The teakettle broke her absorption, however, when it began to steam and shriek, she hastily pulled it off the stove - but in her state of contemplation, she forgot to grab the rag and ended up scorching the palm of her hand.
“Ah! Balls!”
connormullen:
He wasn’t so engrossed as to not catch the odd remark as it came, and he turned his gaze quickly to her in an instant.
“For blood?” he repeated, brows perked. He wracked his brain. Realizing after a beat she meant nothing unusual with the comment, he blushed, nodded, and looked down again. “Oh. Yeah. I’m kind of a tea junkie too. I’m probably mostly tea, as well. Uh - black’s fine.”
Clearing his throat quietly, he folded his hands against the table, watching Ainsley work and think; he wasn’t so good with keeping track of time, so maybe it had just been a year since she moved in. Connor’d lived in his home his entire life. The residents of House Vem seemed to replace themselves like clockwork, a revolving door of unusual characters, and the boy never much interacted with any of them. No meaningful connections, at least, before they moved on like the others. He wondered if Ainsley’s year this month marked her own deadline, if she’d be moving on, too.
With a clatter, there was a break in the quiet of the kitchen, and Connor jumped as Ainsley reacted. She clutched her hand, making it clear it was a burn, and without missing a beat, Connor was up and over to the stove.
“You alright?”
Her hand was between his, much smaller than his own; he observed the mark, just red for the moment, but he hoped it wouldn’t become blistered and the severity was avoided. Leaning over to the sink, he flicked on the tap, fiddling until it went as cold as it could, and gently pulled Ainsley and her hand over to it, sticking it under the stream.
The thought of gentle giant sprang to the forefront of Ainsley’s mind, this kid was too big and kind for his own good and the way he cradled her injured hand in his own almost had her weeping.
No one had held her hand that way in so long, no one had fussed over her injuries with care and concern – it made her heart want to break and mend itself again.
She nodded dumbly, unsure how to speak through the shock of it all. She was always inept, always careless; always thinking things over at the last minute or after it was too late. The pain was still there, radiating through her hand up to her wrist and held there like a drought. She guessed she would have to do a little healing later on, when the sweet, neighbor boy that she had yet to learn the name of was long gone.
He apparently took her nod as a yes and turned the tap on and ran her burned hand under the cold water. He gently rubbed his thumbs along the top of her hand and kept the main pressure of the water off of her palm in case the pain became too much, and she had appreciated the thought more than she could bare.
“Thank you.” She muttered; her mouth promptly arid.
“Sorry, this happens more often than I’d like to think it does.” A chuckle, and her face and neck immediately marked red. Either from the humiliation of the moment or the entirety of admitting that her total life was one mistake after another.
Ainsley pulled her hand from his softly after the tap was turned off; she reached for a nearby dish towel and wrapped her poor hand in it. It would surely blister later, but that wasn’t something to worry about now. It would be fine later tonight and she could go on with her life like this wasn’t another burn she would add to her collection.
She seized the teapot, carefully this time, and poured the scorching water into both of their cups; grabbing the tea packets, she placed them into the mugs and turned back to the boy.
“What about you? How long have you lived next door?” She smirked over her cup, taking a cautious sip.
What’s this?
Yeah, big dogs can do that to ya.
Yeah.
It’s healing, at least? It couldn’t have been that bad.
It’s healing up real nice. Soon, you’ll be able to limp out of here.
What’s this?
It’s - it’s fine, it’s probably just my magic doing what it’s good for.
Right, a dog…was it a big dog?
You’re getting pretty good.
..Yeah, pretty big.
Yeah, big dogs can do that to ya.
What’s this?
But, there’s hardly a scar.
Unless someone came in other than me and gave you a stronger dose of what you know as “Ainsley lovin”, this isn’t -
I wasn’t going to ask, but - what happened? What do you remember?
Wait - what?
I, uh - I don’t know, it was what they say it was – it was a dog. And it was late, and dark, and it just happened.
It’s - it’s fine, it’s probably just my magic doing what it’s good for.
Right, a dog...was it a big dog?
What’s this?
Kotie -
It’s healed.
Okay, don’t be funny. I said better, not better-better.
I just don’t like you fussing.
But, there’s hardly a scar.
Unless someone came in other than me and gave you a stronger dose of what you know as “Ainsley lovin”, this isn’t -
I wasn’t going to ask, but - what happened? What do you remember?
What’s this?
Turn your head. Let me see.
I told you, it’s better.
Kotie -
It’s healed.
What’s this?
I think we’re the most sane people in this town.
Sadly, that’s probably true.
Turn your head. Let me see.
What’s this?
Shh, don’t let the doctors hear. They’ll think we’re crazy.
Aren’t we?
I think we’re the most sane people in this town.
