Bitten Fingernails

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[photo not mine, taken from Pinterest]

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[photo not mine, taken from Pinterest]

WARNINGS:
Mentions blood (not in too much detail)

Bitten Fingernails

I look over at him, his fingernails are bitten down, almost bleeding, something I know he only does out of anxiety. His lips are ruby red - I was once taken by them, drawn in and marked by them - now I sit here, trying to remember that night...

I keep my gaze on him, wishing, no, wanting him to glance back. That's all I'm asking for, one glance.

I study him, his head is bent and his shoulders are hunched. His muscular arms rest on his knees, hands touching and fingers entwining.

What did we do that night? I think, desperately trying to remember. Anything. Just something. But no memories come.

Finally, he straightens up and sighs as he leans back in his chair, bringing his hands up to bite his nails again.

Still, he does not look at me.

Still, I gaze at him.

There is blood beneath his chin, a blood stain on his shirt, blood, blood.

Still, I look at him.

I know I must not look much better but I want him to look at me. Why won't he look at me? What did we do?

Just as I can't take it anymore, his brow creases and his eyes meet mine. I feel that familiar but also haunting flutter in my stomach.

I remain collected, not showing how I really feel. He wipes his chin with his hand, his fingertips shiny with saliva. He takes a breath and I watch his hazel eyes slide over my face, to my lips, and then back to meet my eyes.

I wait for him to speak, to move, to do something.

Instead, he just sits there.

This is not the boy I once knew.

Something happened that night.

Something that changed him.

Something that changed me.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

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