❂ = wiping blood off their face ( @ofpriderocks )
Nala had thought, after awhile, passing Simba on a daily basis would stop bothering her. She thought that since she had gotten so used to him being gone, maybe having him out of her life now would be easy. What she didn’t consider was that seeing him felt like he was dangling something in front of her like a cat, just slightly out of reach. It was never supposed to be like this - the energy between them - but it stopped being her place to meddle in his business once he left her behind. It seemed nearly impossible to fix.
When she saw him today, she was simply going to pretend he wasn’t there.
That was actively a plan in her head all day. Even if she were going to confront him, doing so in a crowded hallway wouldn’t be the time to do it. But when she saw him walking towards her, just as she was meant to look in the opposite direction, she saw a scratch on the side of his face - and a single drop of blood running along his cheek.
“Hey,” she said softly as she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into an empty hallway. Taking his chin between her index finger and her thumb, she tilted his head down ( he was always way too damn tall) so she could have a better look at his face.
There was once a time where Nala would see blood on Simba’s face and laugh. Back then, she knew his shenanigans often ended in bloodshed and never thought much of a scratch or bruise here and there. What did you do now, Simba? is what she would say. When will you learn to be careful?
But things were different now - and even if he didn’t want her in his life, something in the back of her mind seemed more protective of him than ever before. It was like - knowing he was alive made her want to make damn sure he stayed that way. Even if she had no control over the situation. Even if it wasn’t her place to try.
She lifted her hand and wiped away the drop of blood on his face with her thumb. No matter how mad she could have been at him in this moment, she spoke to him with a gentleness she felt maybe he didn’t quite deserve. But her concern for Simba’s safety always trumped any other emotion - that would never change.
“Are you okay?” she asked as her hand fell back to her side. “You’re hurt.”
