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defectivehero · 1 year

Text

cw: scarring, eye injury

The hero stares at the nondescript wooden door in front of them, a million thoughts running through their mind. After a moment’s deliberation, they decide to knock. No one answers. They knock again, but still receive no answer. The hero tests the doorknob in a bout of frustration, only for the door to swing open. A figure sits with their back turned to the entrance.

“You were a bit slow today,” the hero blurts out from the doorway. To the thief’s credit, they don’t so much as flinch. The hero takes this as a sign to continue speaking. “I mean, you're always fast. Obviously. I just mean... you were less fast today.” The hero takes a moment to survey the space around them. It looks to be the thief’s apartment. It’s sparsely decorated, almost hollow in feeling. The thief sits on an ottoman, positioned so that they’re unseen from the door. Something about the scene before them sets off an uneasy feeling in the hero’s gut.

“Surprised you noticed,” the thief replies. Their voice is eerily absent of any emotion. They still don’t move to turn their head or, hell, even acknowledge the hero’s presence.

“Of course I noticed,” the hero responds, crossing their arms over their chest. They glare at the thief’s shoulders, willing them to turn around. They don’t do so, however. This only increases their trepidation. “What is up with you?”

“Not much, how about you?” The thief’s quip falls flat in the tense silence. The hero sighs and takes a step closer, shutting the door behind them. The thief’s shoulders tighten- perhaps the only physical sign that they’re aware of the conversation.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” the hero remarks. They cross their arms over their chest and try to think. What could be affecting the thief like this? The hero hasn’t seen any sudden opposition that would threaten them. Furthermore, the hero themselves hasn’t interacted with them in weeks. The thief is practically living uninhibited right now.

In one fluid motion, the thief turns around. The hero’s startled inhale is far too noticeable in the quietude of the room around them. They bite the inside of their cheek, a tight feeling rising in their chest as they look at the gruesome scar cutting through the thief’s left eye.

“Ugly, right?” The thief laughs wryly.

“No, no,” the hero shakes their head in disbelief. Their thoughts are falling from their lips before they can stop them. “You could never be ugly. I’m just... Can you see anymore?”

“Not out of this eye,” the thief huffs, covering their injured eye with a hand as if protecting them from the sight. The hero pushes their hand away and the thief looks to the ground. Their eye doesn't look too different, but the thief seems uncomfortable with the prospect of letting them see it. The hero bites their lip.

“Who?” the hero asks, their heart pounding in their ears. “Who was it? Who aimed to blind you, rather than just injure?” Who got so close to your face? The thief seems reluctant to answer any of their questions.

“You won't believe me.” That sets off an alarm in the hero’s mind. The assailant must be someone they know, if the thief is so hesitant to reveal the answer. The hero shakes their head in disbelief.

“Of course I will,” the hero argues. The thief levels them with an unreadable look. There’s a whole flood of emotions swirling in their eyes. “The evidence is right here; how could I not believe you?” That seems to convince the thief, as their expression turns resolved.

“Your sidekick,” the thief whispers some time later. The remark is hardly loud enough to hear, but the silence in the space allows the hero to comprehend it. When they do, they feel their whole body grow cold. A shiver runs down their spine as they think about their sidekick brutally assaulting the thief in such a manner.

“Well, then,” the hero remarks with a sudden surge of clarity. They’re brutally aware of the anticipation coiling in the thief’s posture, as if they’re waiting for them to argue. The hero takes a deep breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go kick some sense into them.” The hero turns on their heel and takes a step forward to the door, only to feel a sudden resistance. They look down to find the thief's hand on their wrist.

The thief doesn’t speak, but their expression says it all. Their eyes are wide and their grip is unrelenting, as if they’re afraid of the hero departing. The hero draws on the knowledge they’ve gathered about the thief, in all their time fighting each other. The thief is stubborn to a fault. Furthermore, they despise being vulnerable. Those two facts lead to the hero to a realization: they want support.

“Right, sorry,” the hero remarks to no one in particular. They take a big step forwards and back into the apartment, which seems to calm the thief down more. Even so, there’s an uncharacteristic emptiness to their enemy’s countenance. They look... scared.

Out of a burst of spontaneity, the hero reaches out and clasps their hand. For the briefest of moments, the thief freezes. Just as the hero moves to withdraw their hand, the thief hesitantly clasps theirs in response. The pair sits in silence for an immeasurable amount of time, until the sunlight streaming in from the windows dies and the hero’s back begins to grow stiff.

Eventually, the hero has to get up to stretch their legs. The thief stares at them warily, evidently expecting them to leave. The hero instead levels them with a questioning glance. “Do you like Chinese food?” The thief nods after a moment and the hero grins, grabbing their phone from their pocket and ordering food for the both of them. Once the call is over, the hero collapses back into the couch. For an awkward moment, they’re unfortunately aware of the space in between of them. The thief breaches the gap soon enough, leaning to rest their head on their shoulder. The hero smiles.

thanks for reading!

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