writing prompts

Waiting for you

Sierra P.O.V

I've never felt so pathetic in my life than this very moment.

Tears trailed down my face and they were faster than I could catch so I decided to leave the salty stains on my face. The one thing I did manage to catch was my snot that would every so often make its way to my upper lip.

The past month and a half have been a hurricane with me standing in the middle: too scared to leave and too scared to stay. Moving from such a big city, not because I wanted to, but because I felt like I had to. I felt my heart sink lower when I realized what I promised myself not to do. Running.

Being sheltered my whole life, I promised I would face my fears, my traumas, and the unknown and I have yet to do that.
On autopilot the entirety of September, the one time I took a moment to let go of what I'd bottled up, I just had to do it in front of him.

Altair.

As he left his friend's place, just a door away from mine, I thought I was playing it cool. Flashing a toothy grin, cracking jokes that fell flat, and mustering up a soft chuckle. But no matter how many walls of bravado I built, he saw right through them as if they were made of glass. Those piercing forget-me-not blue eyes didn't just look at me; they saw me, straight through to my core. In that moment, I realized he wasn't just a passerby – he was someone who truly saw the person behind the mask.

So now here I am. Sitting on the creaky stairs in the hallway just outside my apartment door, with my face as red as a plum and a large firm hand on my back creating small circles.

In that moment, words were unnecessary, for he spoke volumes through his mere presence. We sat there together for what felt like an eternity, nearly 10 minutes of tranquil silence punctuated only by the rhythmic cadence of his hand, never wavering in its gentle motion. Silence enveloped us like a comforting blanket, broken only by the occasional hitch in my breath and the faint flicker of the light bulb overhead. It was in those hushed moments that his silent support spoke louder than any words ever could.

As a few more tears trickled down my cheeks, we lingered in our serene bubble of understanding. Eventually, I mustered the courage to break the silence, inviting him inside with a shaky voice, offering at least a drink as a token of gratitude for his silent companionship. It felt like the least I could do for someone who had shared such a profound moment of empathy with me.

Despite not being best friends, there's a level of comfort between us that makes inviting him inside feel natural. It's almost as if he's become attuned to my work schedule since I moved here, always coincidentally appearing whenever I enter my building. The memory of our first encounter is etched vividly in my mind.

He was helping Cassie, my elderly neighbor, carry the stroller that she just bought for her newborn grandchild and also helped move some furniture around. When I saw her leaning against the wall with a hand on her back with an exhausted expression on her face, my mind only went to help her. She quickly calmed my anxiety by waving her hand insisting to not worry because the Hulk was helping her.

My initial thought was that she was being overdramatic until I saw the man for myself.

I couldn't help but notice the way his head grazed the top of the door frame, a clear indicator of his towering height, easily surpassing six feet. His shirt hugged his chest and biceps snugly, as if it were on the brink of surrendering to his muscular frame. Strands of onyx hair framed his face, with a few rebellious strands cascading over his forehead, adding to his rugged charm.

Cassie didn't need to tell me that she'd known him for a while, the way he moved through the house with her standing in the hallway without a second thought about the man inside told me everything.