❛ You are in a lot of trouble, you know that right? ❜
an old meme i don’t want to search for -- @stealthbuilt
The breeze feels nice. He can even close his eyes for a few seconds and feel some semblance of peace. Of course, it doesn’t last long. More and more thoughts flood his mind, mercilessly keeping him from any sort of calm and quiet. Perhaps that’s for the best. Better to stay in the thick of it than trick himself into a sense of security. He’ll more than likely find himself in the middle of a screaming match later anyway. He might as well prepare himself for it.
Jacob sits at the edge of a roof, his lower legs dangling over the side as he swings them lightly. His hands wring together and he stares blankly down at this fingers. He turns his gaze up to look out over the countryside, looking at the setting sun for a moment before he moves back from the edge and lays back against the roof.
Her voice hardly surprises him ( he heard her coming, at least ) and, in response, he merely sighs and says, “ How did you find me? ”
Of course, it wasn’t a true question. More of an expression, as if to say, ‘ I want to be left alone. ’ Really he knew exactly how Evie found him. As children they weren’t strangers to playing all about this house. No one had lived here as long as Jacob could remember and so it became a place of adventure for the twins. At the moment, he’d hoped it would be a place of refuge.
He takes off his flat cap and runs fingers through his hair, tousling his already messy dark locks. Jacob’s rather lazy in putting the cap back on, leaving it to cover his eyes a bit as he closes them and takes in a deep breath. ( Another moment of calm he should avoid. ) A second like that is too good to last forever, however. So his brow furrows when he hears Evie’s remark and he takes the cap off once more, squeezing it in a fist as he sits up again, twisting to look at her.
“ -- Believe me, Evie, I know.
Father doesn’t forgive and forget easily. ”
He no longer looks at her; he’d turned away at some point, staring down at the roof he sat upon. His fingers run over the uneven shingles and he’s sure he can feel a splinter or two in his fingertips at this point. Then he scoffs and tosses a sour glance over his shoulder at his sister, “ Not that you’d know that. When was the last time Father yelled at you for anything? ”
