→ ฬђєгє เร ๓ץ ๓เภ๔? → norman x reader

08. to hold a gun; to my heart

♗ ♔ ♕ ♘

ᴛᴏ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴀ ɢᴜɴ ᴀ ᴅɪꜰꜰɪᴄᴜʟᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴡᴏʀᴅ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴇᴀꜱɪᴇʀ. But for you, all you had to do was use your words, words sharp enough to pierce the most protected, silky enough to fool even the most doubtful minds.

To hold a gun and to pull a trigger involves drawback.

To handle a sword and to charge forward involves fearlessness.

But you had your words, smooth and soft, harsh and twisted. Worming and snaking into the brains of others, like a parasite.

You never had a gun, nor a sword, so your words have always been your only weapon. Have always been your most effective method.

Never, did you think you'd have to use your weapon, your methods against the ones you love.

Norman knew that words were what you had always used to protect yourself and others. What you used to help yourself breathe again after nightmares you would never tell him about. Nightmares he would watch you wake up from, shaky, teary and so scared. Rocking back and forth, back and forth, using your words to comfort yourself.

Norman would never have guessed that tonight his worst fear would become one of many, and the one to come true when the sun set, when her monsters would come out from under her bed.

That he would cross upon a nightmare-ish moment, where you would use your weapon, your beautifully harsh words to protect yourself against his offers of help, his pleads for answers.

♗ ♔ ♕ ♘

You walk through the hallways, the day has begun to end. The sky is dark and all of the other children are gathered in the front living space of the house to bid Conny farewell. You walk and pause for a moment, you didn't think that you'd run into Isabella.

You watch as she takes the picture that Conny drew for her off the wall. A doodle of her and her lovely momma who could do no wrong holding hands in a lovely field of flowers, and of course, Little Bunny in her other hand.

'You're going to hide again? Seriously Y/N, I thought that you would've gotten over your childish fear by now. You're going to be fifteen soon, after all, not much time left to diddle-daddle.'

You cringe at her use of "motherly" words, and you walk past her, opting not to retort.

You climb up the stairs and go to the highest point of the house, carefully climbing out of the window and going over to sit in the usual spot that you and Norman sit at together.

You pull your legs into yourself, hugging them, looking at the dark forest beyond the field of grass that surrounds the house.

While the children all wave goodbye to Conny as Isabella takes her outside, Norman looks around.

'Where is Y/N?'

You hear his thought and sigh, you close your eyes and whisper, 'Roof.' Then you look up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle.

The thought,' Roof', crosses Norman's mind and he notes to himself that he'll check up there.