Why do I keep doing this to myself?
Character: Hakka Chasseur (Nightingale City timeline) Pairing: implied Svenkka, implied Hakkaron Word count: 216
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He’d sometimes catch himself thinking, usually late at night when laying awake in bed, tracing faint remnants of presence on his lips with his fingers. The thoughts were always in a disarray, hazy and uncomfortable, yet persistent – sticking to his brain and seeping from there into his heart.
That it was wrong, that something about it wasn't right, that it was not what he was looking for.
Weird, these small gestures of affection weren't romantic, and neither did he have someone he could betray even if they were.
He was never able to pinpoint just what was it that bothered him, that kept him awake those extra long minutes yet kept slipping his mind all the same.
And it wasn’t until sleep would finally start clouding his consciousness that the wisps of white would be replaced with those of yellow tinting red, hungry red turn bright green. And the faint scent of strawberries would vanish and instead, there would be machine oil and steel, or hay and milk with spices, or the fabric softener they used in the dorms and dust from the plane hangars.
He’d fall asleep with a sigh of a different name and wake up with his head light and heart heavy until the next kiss would come to wipe the anxiety away.
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