bambi eyes || tradley

1. the ceiling is crying

em português by trsdley
en français by laplumeverte
v češtině by Tradley-Newtmas-cz

Tristan was being watched.

The feeling followed him every second of the day; two, deep holes burning into his back wherever he turned. It seemed as if no movement by the twenty-one-year-old was left unnoticed, or maybe his suspicions were all in his head, and the discomfort in his back was nonexistent, a figment of Tristan's imagination. The latter was what he convinced himself whenever he walked through dark, empty streets, alone, and he felt like each step he took was witnessed. He could never make sense of the thought of someone watching him. There was no reasonable answer Tristan could come up with to the question why anyone would find the blond interesting enough to watch constantly. He was far too bland, like a saltine cracker. One would never waste time in their day to watch over someone as uninteresting as Tristan.

But of course, there were a lot of things Tristan Evans didn't know about himself.

The morning began like every other: rain hammering down over the roof of his flat, drops of water periodically slipping from the ceiling into the bucket the light-haired man carelessly placed underneath the leak a month ago. He was exhausted that day due to his late night of finishing up an essay assigned months ago. Tristan liked to think of himself as a professional procrastinator, although there wasn't really anything in his life to distract himself with. Life for the twenty-one-year-old was as bland as his personality itself. Though, Tristan wasn't sure he minded it. If there were too many things for the man to occupy his days with, he wouldn't be able to keep up.

After throwing his head back and finishing the last drop of the raspberry tea in his favourite mug, he dropped it in the sink, slipping his black umbrella under his arm, and heading towards the door to begin his day. Wednesday and Thursday mornings were always occupied by his boring job at a bookstore not far from his house. You could walk to it from his apartment if you wanted to. But it was rare Tristan ever did, especially on such a drowsy day; though, everyday is drowsy for him.

Stepping out into the cloudly world, he extended his umbrella, shielding himself from the raindrops falling from the sky. Tristan trudged towards his vehicle, rubbing a fist over his heavy eyelids. Discomfort suddenly washed all over his body and sunk into his pale skin as he felt the same burning in his back. Paranoid, Tristan glanced around his blurred surroundings, cautiously taking in everything encircling him. He could never make sense of this stupid feeling. There was probably nothing wrong, and the blond told himself this as he continued the journey to his vehicle, his footsteps quicker than initially.

"Whoa, look who made it to work on time," his annoying co-worker (and best mate,) Connor teased as the twenty-one-year-old burst into the doors of the small bookstore. Being by himself only made his paranoia worse, and he was more than eager to not be by himself any longer hence his obnoxious entrance.

"Shut up," Tristan mumbled, playfully rolling his blue eyes at the younger boy. He carelessly swung his long legs over the counter and jumped to the other side. "Manager threatened to fire me yesterday."

"I'm not surprised," Connor voiced.

"Yeah, well, nobody asked you," Tristan said earning a playful glare from his best mate.

The rest of the morning was slow - consisting of silent customers and quiet banter between the two boys (nothing unusual.) Tristan was ecstatic when his shift was over, but he wasn't ready to slip back into his isolated world where anything could happen to him when no one else is around. The blond was becoming too cautious for his own good, even though there was nothing to fear of. Nothing bad had ever happened to Tristan, at least as far as Tristan knew. He assumed being an orphan when he was little was considered quite bad, but he'd never saw it as one, like other people would. To be honest, he liked that he was an orphan, because it led him to a small family that loved him unconditionally, and he'd have that over anything. Hands down.