violence. / accepting. / @eternahop
Her teeth grit — more at the nickname than the mockery in his tone. ( her first proper nickname and it’s from them. ruined the whole thing for her. pricks. ) Her eyes lower instinctively — she’s getting better at reading them, at knowing the rules. ( rules —— like it’s a game. her teeth grind. ) Being alone is dangerous; they can hurt her when she’s by herself. But in public, they both have masks to maintain. Masks that keep her safe.
Lillian may not be popular, but she knows that few in Postwick would be willing to look the other way to either of THE HEROES hurting her, if only for how confusing and WRONG it would seem.
It’s why she’s here, sitting outside the pokémart. Mum insisted she get outside — it’s gorgeous out, Lillian, and you barely leave the house these days! — and so Lillian had wandered through town, careful not to let herself go anywhere where, if she happened upon one of them, they could abuse her without witnesses.
He found her, it seems, and her eyes raise to meet his — his smile is wrong but, at least, attempting normality, and rules demand she plays along. She offers him back an exhausted simper of her eyes, eyes dark. She nods at the greeting as he sits beside her and she doesn’t wince when wraps an arm around her like they’re good friends. Her smile goes stiff for a moment too long. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t ——
His grip on her arm is tight, his fingers pressing into her bicep, and he leans nearer, studying the skin as though intrigued by what’s beneath his fingers. “Where’d ya get that, Lil?” She looks down at her arm, unsure of what he’s talking about, and suddenly — for just a moment — his grip tightens far more than it should. It’s all she can do not to cry out. And when his hand pulls away, there’s a dark, clear bruise on her arm.
It hurts. Her hand instinctively rises to cover it, but he grabs her palm as it rises, and her hand goes slack within his own. She won’t fight back and risk another wound.
“Did somebody hurt you?” He asks, voice all honey - sweet concern, and a passerby stops, peering at the pair curiously. Lillian’s eyes widen. Oh. She sees the game.
She’s not safe, even surrounded by people. And if he hurts her here, it just helps his mask, doesn’t it? Because he can break her and then PRETEND HE’S WORRIED ABOUT THE BREAKING, and he looks ———
Kind. He hurts her and he looks kind. She’s not safe, surrounded by people, and she’s not safe alone. She’s not safe anywhere.
For a moment, her eyes squeeze shut, because if she doesn’t take a moment she will CRY. She’s not safe anywhere. They’ll find her, and they’ll hurt her, and SHE CAN’T MAKE IT STOP.
Then her eyes raise, and she offers him a smile as warm and sweet and false as his own, and shakes her head. His concern melts into faked relief, and his smile is sharp and cruel while his hand tightens around her own, and she is not safe anywhere.
