[Completed] Y/N is a 17-year-old girl who has been isolated in a Mental Institution for 3 years now, every passing hour becoming a blur. Days are long, but nights are even longer. She's trapped in her small room, in her head. There is no escape.
The...
The silver moonlight hits his pale skin perfectly, brightening up the impervious look he carried. The scar on his cheek is as pink as the rings under his eyes. The anger in them showed the scared child buried within; the boy who was taught to fight and who was once starved of the love he so desperately craved.
Y/n could see the pain beneath it all and knew his soul was drowning in this persona he'd carved to fit a world of indifference. But she can't help someone like that, not unless the tears come and they realize what's really going on. And she can't fight it—she won't—it takes such a toll on her to do so. The best she can offer him is reassurance, to let him shadow himself until he craves to be in the sunlight. She can't help him if he doesn't want it.
Y/n glances at her black watch, squinting in the darkness to make out the numbers. It was almost midnight. The moon was high in the sky, gracing all below with its dim light. There are very few stars to be seen, as there are dark clouds shielding them from view. In front of her, sat Toby with his back to an oak tree.
Feeling a bit apprehensive, Y/n sits beside him in the tall grass. She catches his gaze for a split second, pensive eyes meeting her own. Then he's looking away and at the trees in the far distance. Somewhat disheartened, she grabs his hand and trails her fingers over his palm. Letting him know she was there, either to listen or to give him silent company.
Remaining hush, Toby lets his head fall onto her shoulder. A small sigh and a few hard blinks, the fidgeting of his hand in hers. They were all signs, suggesting his mood and inner dialog. She bites her bottom lip. She'd already known—since yesterday—that this would happen. Last year, he was quiet and distant this time of the year. She didn't why until she asked him about it.
She tilts her head to look at him, but his face is being hidden by his hair. He was being cautious. He's always had a hard time opening up to her.
"Hey, come here," her hand rises to touch his cheek and she leads his head onto her lap instead. He doesn't resist and allows himself to relax on her. In this position, he could not hide.
Y/n hums as her fingers fiddle with his messy hair, he stares up at her nonchalantly. She simply smiles in return, "Happy Birthday, love."
The longing and sadness surface from the deepest of depths, letting itself be shown. He closes his eyes against the moonlight to remain unbare, however, it's already too late. She wanted him to communicate with her instead of bottling it all up. Bottling emotions is never healthy and will lead to a downfall.
Y/n brushes the hair off his face, patiently waiting for him to say something. It doesn't take any longer than a minute for him to gather his thoughts.
"After the fire, I never celebrated my birthday again," The corner of his lips twitch up into a strained smile, "It felt meaningless to since I was alone and worked with people who didn't care about me. On my birthday, the memories would come—the good ones. Of when I was celebrating with my mother and sister. When we would leave the house for the entire day to escape my dreadful father." He discloses, absentmindedly playing with her fingers.
"The good memories are what get to me, remind me of what my life once was. Even if it wasn't perfect, those few happy days are what made it a bit brighter." Toby opens his eyes to look at her, somewhat surprising her. When this would happen, she noticed he would always close his eyes. She thinks it was a way to gather his thoughts, a way to avoid breaking down. Though he was now allowing himself to be open to her, to be completely bare.
He let the tears finally come. Y/n holds his face with her hands and turns him to look at her. Wordlessly letting him know he was allowed to cry and that he should never be ashamed.
She grazes her fingers over his skin affectionately, "In the time that I've known you, I have learned that it's not the good memories that should make you feel sad. It's okay to remember them, but you shouldn't feel sad because you miss them. You should smile because they happened," She tells him in a quiet voice.
Toby blinks up at her, processing her words seriously. Seeing this, Y/n takes her thumbs and turns his mouth up to make him smile.
His slight glare disperses when she starts to laugh. She releases her hold on him and instead dries his cheeks with her sleeve, "So don't feel upset. You don't have to miss them, because those good times didn't go anywhere. Those happy memories, of your sister and your mother—they will be with you forever."
Toby finally smiles sincerely, that once painful and nostalgic look in his eyes has faded away. "I'd be a complete mess without you, you know." He murmurs and sits up just a bit towards her.
Y/n smiles fondly at him and leans down to press her lips to his forehead. Her arms wrap themselves around him to pull him closer, his face buried in her neck. The warmth of the spring night could never compare to the warmth he made her feel.
"Yeah...me too."
———
April 27th is Touch's birthday. I first posted it in 2018, so it's two years old today! Hence the theme of this chapter, I felt really sentimental;')
It also just so happened to be Toby's birthday on April 28th. So I decided to write this to celebrate both.
Thank you for reading Touch :-) Stay healthy and safe♥
04-30-20 edit; I forgot to add this to the chapter, it's a sketch(really messy)thing I did. I was going to color it but I was too lazy. Hope you like it!
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