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h0unds-of-h3ll · 4 years

Text

Listen to the cry

No one questioned Castiel’s trench coat, so why should they question yours?

Sam and Dean Winchester x reader but it’s heavy on Sammy.

Viewers beware you’re in for a scare: with the amount of fluff, heart wrenching angst, dark themes, explicit language, sexual remarks.

Trigger warning mentions of past abuse, and self mutilation.

This is loosely based around the episode; Season 15 episode 11 “The Gamblers”

Sorry for the let down I’m not dead. I want to dedicate this to my wonderful and fabulous friends who are my family, you know who you are ;).

Let's start this story off in the way that makes any possible sense, the day your mother birthed you. Your mom and father's relationship seemed normal to the naked eye but once you started to peer deep into the picture. It was the exact opposite, speaking of your mother's labor it wasn't exactly your fault what happened to her. Although your father thought otherwise, it had been exactly three to four minutes after she gave birth that she had gone. That day your father never forgave you. No one dared to question why you wore long shirts where the sleeves run past your small torn arms. They were your father's he didn't dare to give you clothes that he had to buy with his hard-earned government filled check.

That wouldn't do nor buy any food that was for two almost every night well every night for the past eleven years you had to eat after him. We also couldn't forget how a minor "b" on a report card resulted in you getting lashings from that horrendous leather belt with the buckle being the size of an ashtray. You were that too. Days had gone into months when you realized there is no hope for you, always dreading the walk home. Until one evening when your ratty untied boots kept kicking pebbles came across a scene. One of which involved a scrawny shaggy-haired boy being beaten to almost death by three what looked like cows. You never did like bullies so you shrugged on the one strap bag (the other had been eaten off many years ago from rats.) You kept your head hung low in a desperate measure to disappear from their sights. Yet your wishes were cast away when his ungodly eyes met your form from across the street. You knew you should've picked up the pace. The guilt insufferable when you heard the kids squelched cry for help, you couldn't help but glance over to peer at the kids' face. One that had blood smeared from eye to ear. That didn't help your soundless escape.

It was like watching a train crash into a car, it was as much excitement and fear you would ever get, and for some reason, you were paralyzed. You couldn't move. You stood there like a small tree, watching every slur, every kick to the gut, every punch to the face for what seemed like hours. Although the cows' brains seemed to turn when the kid's head no longer was against the ground but in turn lifted to where you were watching. "The fuck are you looking at freak?!" you heard one of them say when they kicked his gut making him curl into a fetal position. It seems they were done with the torture when the kid's shoulders stopped moving to signal that he was dead or at least playing it. That also appeared to strike fear in their layers of flesh as they took off, one of them just had to look back and saw you. A witness. His pig face porked into a smirk that drew attention to his intentions, and his small thin lips drawing into syllables that made your blood run cold. "Oh, you are so dead." and with that, you took out in a sprint.

You hadn't gone far just a few mere inches when you tripped over your laces, you will forever think of the day when you learn to tie them as the day you become a god. It was such a lost cause to get up, one boot had flown off your foot entirely, the bottom of your bag busted making every single thing fall out, and you just managed to bust your chin on the pavement. With everything else, the cherry on top was the pig still coming for you. You had a few feet of a headstart on him which was yards in his situation, you could have made it to your house if you would have gotten up right then and just made a run from it. But you were too clouded thinking about what your Dad was going to do about your bag, the last thing you remember that orange soft winded evening was the boy's fist coming in contact with your head and knocking you out cold.

Your dad stormed into the living room where you were sitting on the couch (your bed) and started ranting about how on some test you had got an A- on. You hated him you did, you wished that whatever happened to your mom had happened to him instead. But the world never did take kind into the matter. You could no longer hear his shouting and rampage. Your mind focused on the small T.V. in front of you displaying a rerun of some old cartoon. A blonde buff dude in a black shirt trying to pick up some girl but then getting slapped across the face, then you just had to go and ruin it by laughing. That was the end of the line for you, you remember that night so vividly because that was the night when Grandma came. This happened often, arguments laced with venom every time she came, which would leave him to slam the door in her face and scream at the top of his lungs ``IT'S MY KID NOT YOURS!" She was on your Father's side. You weren't even sure if your mom had any relatives you never heard him speak of them, nor even seen them. It was if they were a forbidden monster that the world would stop turning if you knew about them. The knock on the door was your prayer but the look on your dads' face told an entire another story, it was a brief yelling match of a so-called discussion before he came back in with something flowing from his hands. It was a coat.

You woke up with a gasp. Air flowing through your lungs as the world whirred back and forth, your head having sharp pain as well as your chin. You were confused as to why you were laying on the sidewalk, asleep. But then you remembered. The farm animals, once you understood there were entirely too many emotions but the main ones were anger and sadness. Anger that this happened and sadness out of the outcome. You decided that can't wallow in your pity, (although you did consider it for a long duration of time.) Once you sat up you didn't realize you had an audience, the meat they were practicing on sat before you criss crossed and head tilted shaggy hair hiding his eyes. You mimicked his presence, your black coat falling behind your form drowning you in its wake. After a few minutes of soaking in each other's battle scars, he jutted a handout an introduced himself in a lopsided smile; "I'm Sam Winchester." That was the last time you had ever seen Sam.

~Time jump~

Working at a diner was stressful, sure, but never as stressful as trying to find a job that allowed you to wear a trench coat that went to mid-leg. It was a simple job taking orders and giving them to the back and serving the food to the customer. No, but it was your boss. Every single time he could slip a comment or a remark in, he would. Even in the worst of times like right now, you were waiting for the food order. It had been a slow off day not many on a Monday night came through on a roadside restaurant. Your boss was a middle-aged man who happened to look like your father and just had gotten all of his wonderful traits. Right now he was bickering at you because you weren't doing anything, there was nothing to do! you cleaned every possible thing there is to clean. Twice over might, I add and even polished the seats, you do not know how hard it was until you encountered the unforsaken bridge.

You were fixing to give him a jab by saying that when has he ever done anything around here but collect his money and go. But instead, you bit your tongue and closed your eyes and counted to ten because that would cost you the job and your life. You peeled your eyes open at the sound of the doors' literal bell ringing signaling someone had come in. A pair of tall stocky men made their way through, one of them had to bend down a little to get through the door because of how obnoxiously tall he was. "Great, now do your fucking job." He sneered in your ear as he went to the back. The other one struck you hard in your stomach for some apparent unknown reason, his bright green eyes falling onto yours which didn't help the circumstance as he rummaged through his pocket. While he was doing so you took in the other, long shaggy hair and bright but dark eyes like the other. He gave off a certain aroma which you didn't understand but he seemed familiar but you couldn't put your finger on. His eyes felt like they were burning away your coat making you defenseless, showing who you truly are. His eyes to say the least were the most intimidating out of the two. You pulled down on the sleeves, getting uncomfortable. You put on the most genuine grin you could and asked the routine question "What can I get you for today?" A hint of sincerity lurking within your question.

The green-eyed man grinned a bashful smile, his head twitching to the side every now and then "Uh, yeah what can we get for $4.60?" you oh so desperately wanted to laugh but stopped yourself by making yourself smile a true one. He seemed despondent by the look on his face and the nervous tics he was having. Your hand ran to the back of your neck scratching "Maybe a slice of pie and at the most a small drink?" Your response was more of a question than anything of what it was supposed to be. The taller one smiled knowing that it was dumb trying in the first place, yet you wanted to get to know him better so you decided fuck it and it was a better way to hit into your boss then your first idea. "You know what it's on the house." You shrugged while pushing the change back to the smaller one, he was happy with your response as he looked like a referee saying someone was out by enthusiastically saying "Score, maybe our luck is finally turning around!" and patted the taller one on the back while finding somewhere to sit. He rolled his eyes to the remark and grinned. Maybe their luck was turning around because he mistakenly found you again.

You were back shortly with drinks in hand. It looked like they were discussing travel routes. That explains why the look so rough, makes sense. You placed the drinks down and began to go to grab napkins before you had gotten caught by his gravely 'thank you' You were so done for. Although you were a few feet away the green-eyed one decided to get some intel, you chose that it was just his way of small talk. The conversation was going along smoothly until he asked where you were from. You thought he had figured it out, your true identity, and was going to tell your dad where you managed to escape to, so you tugged on your sleeves once again. Trying to hide the few burn marks that cascaded along your wrists, the dark-eyed one seemed to take notice. Shit. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed; he stopped his colleague from his tangent and took notice of you. "Are you okay?" he asked, of course, you weren't okay with the millions of problems you had but you didn't want to freak the guy out so you found an escape. You smiled and nodded your head "Yeah just poison ivy."

He mouthed the word "Oh" he was still suspicious but he thought it was rude to pester. He took another sip of his drink as his friend continued. Toward the end, he gestured to the map "Do you by any chance know what's around here?" As he asked you sucked in a breath. This day has been the worst in a while, you hoped he wouldn't know that you played your chances and it resulted in this. Scraping the bottom of the barrel to living in a shitty apartment that you could barely afford. You rolled your eyes going to get the slice of pie "It's just some old wise tale, about pool." You answered shrugging your shoulders. They looked at each other if they won a million dollars "What about pool?" the green-eyed one spoke faster then you could reply You thought this was such a dumb conversation like talking about Santa Claus. "If you win you gain luck, you lose luck." You stuck two forks into the pie and slid it in between them. "Just by playing pool?" He said as he lowered his drink from his lips for the first time since he had it. "Yup," you said, popping the "p" as you turned to get napkins once again, only for him to stop you in your tracks "Do you want to come with us, I mean since you know the place better than us?" As soon as the last word left his mouth you felt like you could faint. You kept weighing all the possibilities and it only came out in one, you go with them.

It wasn't a long drive but it was because his thigh pressed up against yours as you sat between the two giants. The radio played softly in the background as another Metallica song played, the trees and forest going past as you kept going further into the brush of pavement. The only Metallica song you knew played you smiled hopefully to make some conversation out of this entire carr ride of silence. (The man you now know as Dean shushing Sam, his younger brother, when he was trying to do introductions.) "Master of the Puppets is probably one of the most iconic Metallica songs, hands down," Dean snorted in disgust and made you laugh as he turned the radio down. "Really? It's so overplayed! Ride the lightning is way better. Did you not hear the badass guitar solo in it?!" He looked like he saw something that had three heads as he rolled his eyes and scoffed. For a man who looked so tough, he was childish as ever. You tell that Sam was more of the quiet and laid back while Dean was more rambunctious and loud. "Shouldn't we have a plan?"

Sam spoke as he saw the small building appear Dean scoffed again "When do we ever?" As he parked the car and turned the engine off. He noticed as he tried to take the tape out it was destroyed. The tape that was once secured in the small plastic rectangle was now wrapped and strangled around itself. There was a pained expression when he came to realize and then came the anger. Once he got out he had thrown the tape down so hard that it spread into thousands of tiny pieces. "Son of a bitch!" he grumbled hands shoved deep into his pockets as he sulked into the bar, "He's not always like this, it's just an off day."

Sam's voice startled you as you came out of one of the memories that reminded you of your dad. His face still in thought as he tried to wrap his head around why you were so what seemed to be; fragile. Could it be? No, it couldn't that's dumb of him to think of something so tragic. He opened his door and held out his hand in offering to help you out, his hand was rough and scratchy against yours. It was hard to make out since your skin wasn't in the best of condition either, you stopped halfway and told him to go on ahead and go in. You figured that you could try and fix Dean's tape even though it was beyond repair. But you'd probably be here without anything to do so you grabbed it, along with an old coin.

~Sam's point of view~

She just kept sitting there with the tiniest screwdriver known to man. I don't even know where she got it, but I would be lying if she wasn't trying her hardest to fix it. Her hair kept touching her face; which would agitate and distract her from her work. Her hands were occupied so she would blow a gust of wind to make it fall someplace else, she was way too concentrated on the music box. Her eyes were beautiful with the way the curtain blocked sun fell onto them, her lips were pursed as she concentrated and her small hands twisted and turned the bolts as she screwed them in. She was beautiful, no that's too vague to describe such beauty. I suppose a goddess should do it. Her name kept twisting and turning with her hands, the name was so simple yet elegant and familiar. One that I wouldn't forget fitted perfectly on my tongue. The number of times my tongue formed around the syllables sounded as if I was chanting it, and if she would ask me too. She'd never have to say it twice. I smirked at that. Not too big or toothy being cautious of Dean beside me chatting up some woman waiting for the bar. Knowing that if he saw me stalking her.

(I would say admiring, his words not mine.) I would never hear the end of it. Speaking of the devil he sadly interrupted my appreciation towards her. He grabbed the joint between my shoulder and neck and told me he found a game. He did that ever since I was a kid, I guess it was just showing his way of knowing he could grab me if something went sideways. Which did happen a lot, "Sammy!" he shouted out. That was all too familiar as well and I groaned not knowing when I'd be back to take her in again and sulked my way to where they were setting up for the game.

~Back to normsies~

If only the damn thing would go back into the socket, you managed to makeshift a few pieces together. Although the pie was still broken with many pieces left to bake, this was an absolute nightmare. But on the other side, you kept thinking if I could get away from H.I.M. you could do anything. It had to be about fifteen to twenty minutes later when they had started to gamble their lives. You knew they were getting a good high from every cocky remark Dean would give to his less unfortunate opponent. Dean was a complicated man.

That is the best way you could explain it, anger issues, and maybe family issues as well. Yes, they were old enough to travel without supervision but usually, you couldn't get out of town without someone calling for help just for you to come back. Hell, you couldn't speak. And Sam, you thought long and hard why his name was so off-putting but in a good way like an old friend. But you never did have any friends so that just made it even harder to understand why. Every time you thought about it, it made your heart flutter. Maybe because he was attractive with his tall structure or chiseled face, or his gorgeous dark eyes that seemed to have taken a liking to stop at you. The way he crossed his arms made him appear bigger, the muscles in his arms popping out like a sore thumb. You wondered yourself into a daydream of what he would look like under that black dress shirt, those few unbuttons gave you a small peek of what's behind. You shouldn't think of such things because why would someone attractive ever want to mingle with you. Under the cape, you looked like Freddy Kruger with the scars, burns, and your added self-mutilation.

God, how can you be so dim-witted to fall for a guy who doesn't even like you. It was so stupid, no one liked or will so why would he? Being so distraught and in your head, you forgot where you angled the screwdriver which in your situation was now a weapon as you shoved it straight into your finger. "Bitch!" You let out as you cupped your hand with the other, a few turned heads just to see what was going on. She took notice and you thought your dad had a bitch face, holy shit you were wrong. You thought the trench helped you fade into the dark, apparently not. As she pursued your way as if she was the hunter and you were the prey and you were so proud of the amount of restraint from not plunging the screwdriver into her nonexistent brain. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder as she grabbed a napkin and threw it your way. You thought it was a cool magic trick when you watched it float down and her face was shoved into yours. You thought you went cross-eyed from how close she was, her breath being fanned across your face "You're not allowed in here." She snarled. Your face scrunched into an exasperated one, you were already done with her, you cleared your throat as you began to at least try to get her delusional ass to see through her load of bullshit.

"I was never informed that I couldn't visit and root for my fellow gamblers." You spat and you swore her ears billowed out steam, "Yeah, but you won so you have no business here." you could feel the spit flying through her clenched teeth. You breathed out a puff of air as you gathered your things and hopped down from the bar stool and out the door, you never one to argue with cows. Yet a towering dashing bull, just couldn't keep away. You had a pout on your face, sure, and your thick dr martens (You considered it an upgrade from your father's work boots.) kicked at the rotting patio. In your head, you've smitten her dead but as you took a seat on the porch swing and glanced into the window you saw the man of your wonders chatting her up. Her hand rubbing up and down on the bicep you wanted to touch and suddenly you felt your luck was gone. You gripped your hard work tight in your hand, the edges you fixed were slightly cracking, you wanted to cry. Mommy didn't raise no bitch, she didn't even raise you. But you blinked away tears and then it spawned on you. You had a coin. Maybe your luck is turning around.

It was turning dark when you made up your mind, the coins' rugged edges dug into your thumb and index as you glared at it. You held your head in your hands when he walked out, curiously you lifted your head to find the suspect at hand you had won against him before. The first time you betted, he was good but not as great. He was a kind older fellow, but the world struck him down as it did you and you supposed that's how you became companions. The swing shifted as he sat down beside you, (you quickly grabbed the side of your tench to make sure he didn't sit on it.) "Rough night?" he asked, trying to make small conversation, you guessed it was to try and ease the devastation of the lost. "Erm, I guess." you were taken off guard as your brain was swimming through the sea of thoughts it suddenly turned into a dessert when he spoke again. "You want one?" he offered a cigarette but you politely declined as you shook your head. He grinned and raised an eyebrow "That's new," he laughed softly as he dug in his pockets searching for something but to come up empty. "You gotta light, sweetheart?"

The cigarette dangled from his lip but never dared to fall from how many years of practice he's had. You jolted up and dug in your pockets your fingers getting poked and scratched at from all the things you had in them. Shortly, you found it you flipped it open and cupped it from the chilly wind that blew softly against the flame. He laughed again but it became a coughing fit. You were confused as to why he was laughing since you hadn't said anything amusing. Yet, you quickly shut the lighter and put it back into one of your pockets. And placed a hand on his back to comfort him. You never knew why he didn't stop smoking, he knew it would come to this. After a minute or two of his heaving, he sat back up with a red hand coming to his lip to wipe away the substance but carried on the conversation. He stared at the stars as they glistened against the black drop of night, you were staring at him

(yes it's rude but not in the context of the way you were doing it.) You took in all his scars and indentations of his face from the years that showed through them. His eyes crinkled but they were beautiful from the stars glaring against them. You didn't like this ending. Not one bit. "This isn't all bad, sweetheart." His voice croaked out as his head rested against the back of the swing looking at you his neck craned his life running from him. How is this not bad, he was dying before your eyes. The only friend you ever had. You sniffled, your eyes glossy from before but now they looked like rain. "I wished I could've met my Granddaughter. I hope she was as beautiful as you, darlin',''

Bewildered as to why he was telling you this, maybe it was because he didn't want to think about leaving this world and going onto the next, but you didn't dare try to change the subject. "I wish I could've seen her being born, I wish my son wasn't as big of a bastard as he was to not let me." His became almost as glossy as yours as his story continued, his hat that was on his lap was now on yours as he looked up at the stars again. "I wished she knew how much I fought for her." His voice became softer as his face started to slim and the scars began to protrude from his face more. "I hope she knows I lov-" He stopped halfway and let out a sigh his body slumped back into the wooded seat. His eyes were no longer lively but dull and bland as they held no life into them, you started to freak out, you grabbed onto his shoulders and started to shake him. This couldn't be happening, he was just asleep, right? this was all too much too process.

Your cheeks began to dampen as the waterfall began to burst from too much compression, once your brain took everything in you sat back and pushed your hair away from your face. Your face between your knees as your breath began to fasten, you closed your eyes hoping it would all go away when you opened them. You should've stayed at the diner, you should have never left home. It then spawned on you once you started to connect the dots slowly, one by one, that he was the grandfather you never got to meet. You opened your eyes to only find that the hat was where he previously once was, and from that, you decided that this was the last straw. And no one else was going to have to suffer this curse.

It was an understatement when you stormed back in with a cowboy hat on your head and walked into the swarm of an audience watching the current match. Sam was on the outskirts since he towered everyone and it would be unfair if he was in the front, he turned his head hearing the wooden doors clatter open. He was confused but happy to know about your entrance; because now he can watch something enjoyable rather than worry about his brother. When he locked eyes with you, your stomach did a flip and knees became weak, but you didn't dare let him see it. You not so gracefully walked over to him and tugged on down on his sleeve as a kid would asking their mom for money. He laughed and crinkled his nose at how ridiculous your action was, he relented and leaned down to your level to hear what you wear trying to say. (You nearly forgot what you were saying when you smelled how good his cologne was, a mixture between pine and coffee.) "WHO'S IS AGAINST WHO?!" you blared into his ear which made him reach and stand into his normal posture.

He laughed when he saw your face it looked as if you saw a ghost. He shook his head with a smile etched across his face "It's Dean against the mean lady," his sonorous voice rumbled through your tiny form. You tugged on his shirt once more which he then rolled his eyes and bent down. When he got close enough you grabbed the hat and placed it on his head, which he wrinkled his nose at again at how odd it was. You placed the sternest face you could and poked him in the chest with a finger "You better not have lice in that mane of yours!" You boomed at home which made his mouth hang open "Excuse me?!" is the last thing you heard before you made your way into the action. Although you whirled your head behind your shoulder and yelled "Wish me luck!"

All you could hear was the back and forth comebacks between the two, it reminded you of the fights. The constant battle in your life, "Lady I'm Tolstoy." He gave a slight nod thinking that was the end and he won, he was too cocky for his own good but that was just adding to the texture of Dean being Dean. She snickered at that "Oh, that's funny. hilarious even!" she gestured and flicked his nose then went to grab the wooden stick of your inevitable doom. You pushed through the last of the sheep before you stepped up for your presence to be known, "No." your voice even scared you from how it growled out the two letters. she looked at you like your dad did in the past from the night when you arrived with a black eye and scabbed chin. "No?" she gave you a look a mother would give her child when they would say a bad word. "No, little girl?"

Her hips swayed as she taunted you, but you didn't dare coward down to her. She was taller than you in her pristine heels, she looked down from the bridge of her nose, your dad did the same and you knew what happened next. You got a face full of fists. Except she didn't do that. She stared into our eyes and you did the same, you knew what she was searching for. You tried not to think about the similarities but you couldn't stop them, she smiled a toothy red-lipped smile and sauntered back to the table, she angled and knocked the glaring white ball into the triangle. Breaking the game into the start. She looked over to you with half-lidded eyes and her words were sultry and she purred them "Let's begin."

It was a rough start with a breathing Dean on your neck, you didn't need the constant reminder of his and everyone else's lives were on the line. Including Sam's. You forgot about his prying eyes as well, now and then you'd catch him and he'd smirk as if he was a soccer mom saying you're doing great, sweetie. But knowing her child was the worst player there. You also saw his eyes dart down in the window to your ass, whenever you bent down in front of the crowd to get a better angle. You had a measly three, while she was picking up on four. You were fucked. You tried. Every time you would miss she would smirk, a cat, and a mouse. "I know about your father, Y/n." she teased, you stopped and blinked a couple of times, flabbergasted. She knew.

Your hands came clammy as you accidentally hit the white ball. It had been the last few remaining and if you fucked up anymore, you endangered everything. You groaned in annoyance because she had to come over on your side for her exhausting turn. She missed. She actually missed it. Maybe the couple coins in your pocket weren't completely drained! You thought it was suspicious when she stood by you when you leaned down to take your shot and then you knew why. "I know why you wear this disgusting cloak," she spat in your ear, you knew she was playing mind games with your head to mess with you. But you couldn't help the fear if someone could hear.

To know that you were just a little girl trying to run from her dad. You didn't notice how your sleeve began to come up from your hip dragging against the wood, nor how close her hand was to said sleeve. She tore it up to your shoulder and you froze. You jolted and hit the ball when you jumped out of fright. "Is to hide his filthy secrets." You are a deer in headlights. You couldn't move, she's trapped you. You can't breathe. Blink. Hearing was out of the question as well, everything was a dull buzz in the background. When someone's heart monitor falls flat that is how it felt. Your scars, long fat skinny, and deep running everywhere across your arm. You had no skin that wasn't covered. "You are always going to be nothing." You watched his lips move in slow motion as she spoke. The word nothing made the world come into motion and allowed you to have power over your body. The first thing you had done was look to find Sam's eyes on the exposed skin with pursed lips. FUCK! Panicking you ran through the hoard pushing and shoving your way through to the exit. You needed air, you needed to be alone, you needed to run.

You don't get far you got to the gravel in the middle of the road and curled into a ball and tried to slow down your breathing because right now you were full-blown hyperventilating. Every breath felt like a struggle for your lungs, your lungs felt they were being kicked in like the night you met Sam. Oh. Was all you could think when you finally knew why this was all too deja vu fever dream. Great, that's just fucking great. That's your first impression on the boy you liked for ages? Fan-fucking-tastic. You pulled your head the slightest bit from the leather and looked at the skin that caused all of this. God, you hated all the veins that were stitched over and the ones that dug so deep that even the doctor said that couldn't get too. Rage took over and you dug your nails into your wrist and started to scratch, maybe that will make them go away. Your eyes blurred and you pushed your head back and looked at the stars. It made a soft thud as it hit the ground, your self-hatred becoming stronger. You'd be better off dead, then have to be a more mutilated Frankenstein.

~Sam's point of view~

I couldn't find her. And that. That was what scared me the most. I was giving up hope until I saw a small form sprawled out onto the ground near the Impala watching the stars, as I grew closer I found out that it was what I was looking for; Her. She was gorgeous as ever as her hair fell behind her shaping around her head. I crouched to where she was. I wanted to touch her, caress her reddened cheek; just something for her to know that I was here for her but I went against it deciding that it was the best option. Instead, Her eyes took me in captivity as they glowed and shimmered with the stars above. "Mind if I join?" I asked with a tilt of my head in question. She didn't respond but I sat down beside her anyway, the rocks dug into my thighs but I didn't mind it, not one bit. This is going to be harder than I originally had planned. Not that I minded that either. My brain turned and my eyes darted to and fro as I tried to think of how I could get to see her smile again. Maybe I should leave her alone, was that a good idea? No, try to make her feel better, let her know that I care; "Don't be like that partner," Fuck. I hit the heel of my palm into my head how can I possibly be so dumb?! Oh, wait! it made her turn her head. Success! although it wasn't the typical success you would think of. No. What she did was she stuck out her scarred hand and introduced herself with a lopsided grin,

"I'm Y/N L/N."

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