Over a week had passed since Hunter’s last encounter with Scarlet. The time had gone slowly, painfully even, and although he should have expected it he never thought she would actually leave and stay away like he told her to. The past was repeating itself; he had pushed Scarlet away the same way he did with Snow, all because he had no idea how to handle the fact that she made him feel things that he didn’t understand. The Huntsman was a revered fighter, but he lacked the courage to accept his vulnerabilities and the fact that he was capable of emotions, and deep ones at that.
He was not going to make the same mistake twice; letting her go was no longer an option. With no clue what he was going to say and ignoring the fact that Scarlet would disapprove, Hunter made his way to The Woodlands. He stood outside the building for some time, pacing back and forth as he kept convincing himself to leave them arguing that he ought to follow through with his intentions if he was any kind of man. In a moment of brazenness, Hunter held his breath as he entered the building and headed straight for her apartment with no time or care to acknowledge anyone else.
As he reached the door the adrenaline kicked in - or were they nerves? - and he knocked heavily on the door. No answer. He tried again, harder this time, and a sigh fell from his lips at the silence. He figured she was probably watching him through the keyhole, laughing at his pathetic attempt to come crawling back with his tail between his legs, and just the thought of it irritated him. “Open the fucking door before I kick it in.” He threatened, with every intention of following through. He thudded his fist against the wood in anger at her lack of response, and took a step back. “You better fucking move.” The warning came mere seconds before he exerted most of his strength in a powerful kick that knocked the door in. He hadn’t used enough force to knock it off the hinges, just enough to let her know he meant business.
But there she was.
In a heap on the floor with limp limbs and barely any life to her, Scarlet somehow found a way to draw yet another emotion from the Huntsman - fear for her life. It was difficult to tell exactly what had happened or how long she had been there but it was clear she was out cold and had been left here by someone else. Pushing his worry aside, Hunter used his wits to quickly check the apartment for the culprit, but after finding nothing he simply returned to her and scooped up her unresponsive body. He couldn’t just leave her there.
He carried her into her bedroom and placed her on the bed, taking a few steps back and simply looking at her. How could someone comatose make him feel so many things? He hated her for it all the more, but he couldn’t leave now. He glanced about the room for somewhere to sit and, upon finding nothing, ventured into the living room where he lifted one of the chairs from its clearly well-thought-out spot and carried it into the bedroom with ease where he dropped it near the door and sat himself down. He would wait, he decided, until she woke up. No matter how long it took.
@queencfheart
