#onlychilded

[wordgiven-blog]

       TRACES OF CONCERN come across handsome facial features. Gabe is a rather easy person to read; the young boy practically wears his heart on his sleeve.    “    You look troubled. Did something happen?   ”

@onlychilded    /   S.C.!

[hitline-a]

" i-i can't get the bleeding to stop. "

          there’s no way to him.  not without the high possibility of being caught by the police or causing a crash.  jacket’s doing the best he can to dodge cars and weave in and out of traffic ; taking back roads & paths lesser known to try and get to his apartment.  he remembers what he told gabriel before he left - ‘ if anything happens , you just hide ’.

          and now there’s trouble.  jacket’s got his phone pressed firmly to his ear , trying to walk the boy through the process of slowing the bleeding of a neighbor caught in the crossfire of an oncoming attack.  the regret of not being home is a silent pang in his heart but somewhere beneath that is the relief that the one shot wasn’t gabe.  focused breathing - concentration on the road.

          “ gabriel---- ” he pauses , a thousand ways to go about this flooding his mind.  he can hear the silent judgement of the demon of a man sitting in his back seat ; donning a chicken mask ; and it nearly seems deafening.  jacket says what comes to mind first to further avoid spacing out ,  “ keep holding.  whatever you do , don’t stop.  i’ll be there in three. ”

[hitline-a]

we're out of oreos again :^(

          Don’t worry.

          the text is sent while he’s stopped in traffic , eyes glancing to the screen as cars ahead of him putt along and barely make it a foot or two further than where they were previously.

          his apartment is usually stocked full of snacks and junk food and , unfortunately , now that he’s got a bit of a shadow ( referring to gabe , the teen who enjoys spending his time away from his own home ) , jacket’s main priority is to keep the kid happy and safe … no matter how hard that might be.  another second passes in which he’s left alone with his thoughts , the low volume causing the voices on the radio to sound like a bunch of muffled mumbles.  a hand raises his phone to rest it atop the steering wheel , peering at the screen as thumbs move a bit swiftly to send yet another reply.

          Traffic’s slow.

          Don’t starve until I get there.