𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗢𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 - 𝘄.𝗿.

xviii. 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲

RISING
IRIS JONES

*iris jones' point of view*

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I WALK down the hall and reach warren's cracked bedroom door. i'm staying here for the night (or for however long i decide), not by choice, by the way. i mean, i love the band don't get me wrong, i just somehow feel like a burden. i insisted on sleeping on the couch because i didn't want to take up any more of their space in their beds, but i can't sleep.

tonight was probably the worst night of my life. i left my apartment about four hours ago and it's currently eleven o'clock at night. eddie and warren drove me back to their place and warren helped me clean up the cuts and bruises on my face, somehow he knew exactly what to do and how to do it. we had about thirty minutes of alone time and we didn't even say two full sentences to each other. it was nice.

though, it was funny because two hours after that, i had to clean up warrens hand. him and eddie left the house while i stayed here with karen and graham; warren came back with his knuckles busted all to hell, i knew where he was. i didn't question it. i didn't ask him about it. i just gave him one big hug because that's really all i could do. i could hardly speak to karen and graham when him and eddie left and even when they came back.

warren left his door cracked just in case i needed him tonight. and i told him i'd be fine, but he said i know, but just to be safe. it was sweet. real fucking sweet, actually. it feels weird having someone, especially a man, care for me this much. someone who would lend me his favorite band shirt to sleep in, or even offer for me to sleep in his bed so i'll feel safe. someone to clean up my cuts and bruises, someone to hug me and tell me i'm okay. it's all i've ever wanted, and yet, it feels so surreal.

i quietly knock on the door just in case he's asleep, and i don't want to wake anyone else in the house, either. i hear the bed inside the room squeak a little like someone's moving, then i hear, "iris?" in warrens voice. i'm sure he knew it was me from the long-short-long knocking pattern i did. "you can come in." he says steadily, like it's just so normal that i'm in his house right now.

i open the door and step into his room, closing it behind me. i feel so awkward so i lean against the closed door and look down at my hands. i just broke it off with my boyfriend and i'm already in another guy's bedroom... why don't we just put that in the papers?

"iris...?" warren says. i take a deep breath and look up at him. his back is against his wooden headboard, comforter and sheet at his waist... no shirt. it's not really in my interest to look at his abs like i was earlier this evening. it's not even the fact it feels wrong, i just feel gross. warren's voice and face is plummeted with concern. "can you not sleep?"

"no. i fell asleep for about ten minutes but i had a nightmare-" my eyes begin to burn. "i had a nightmare and then woke up. i've been tossing and turning ever since." i look back down at my hands, picking and peeling the skin around my nails. i swallow a lump in my throat.

a coat of silence wavers over us as i switch from standing on one foot to the other. i don't know what to say and i'm sure he doesn't either. well, i thought until he says, "he can't touch you here. i won't let him." i feel a hot tear run down my cheek. i look back up to him. he adjusts his blankets and moves the comforter and sheet on the right side of the bed down a little and he sits his hand down. "come here,"