Blurry

- 16 -

(TW: Past drug addiction mention and withdrawal from said addiction.)

Norman hung the shirts up into different sections. One for shirts he was willing to wear, the other being ones he either didn't feel comfortable wearing or weren't fond of. He never thought trying on shirts would feel so tiring, even if it was a bit boring after a while. He liked seeing what Ethan thought he would look good wearing, wondering if he looked the same in the man's mind or in a daydream like state.

The thought made Norman frown. The man had just gone through a breakup and was, as far as the ex-agent knew, straight. Besides, he was simply a friend to the man, and he didn't have feelings for the man either. He paused, mid-changing to think over that. Did he have feelings for Ethan? The question was shocking, immediately being rejected. The architect was simply a friend, someone who was being helpful and kind.

The ex-agent continued to try shirts on, keeping himself only looking at his torso and how the shirt looked on his body. This continued until the familiar cold sweat hit like a bag of bricks. He felt blood trickle from his nose and running down his lip, the man quickly shielding the store's shirt from the drop of blood falling. He grit his teeth and gripped his shaking hand. Making his way to a place to sit, leaning his head back against the wall. He took deep breaths, digging his nails into his knuckles. He felt sick, trying to think. He didn't have a shower or even water to splash on his face, just a small room with a mirror to show the situation he put himself into.

He needed a distraction, fast. He couldn't take long, it'd concern Ethan. He grabbed a random shirt and tugged away the one he was wearing. He kept his eyes tracking his arm movements, never looking to his face or barely even at his body. Just his arms pulling the shirt off his body and then a new one onto. He lost track of how long it took before he could feel himself calm down. He continued the robotic movement until he was fully calm. Norman forced himself to remember which shirts he liked to grab, changing back into the comforting sweater. Pencil shavings, cologne, and coffee. The scent felt even more heavenly compared to the scent of blood and sweat.

Norman opened the door, trying his best not to appear panicked. For a moment, he was blessed with the familiar smile before it turned to concern. "Your nose is bleeding, are you okay?" The ex-agent wiped the blood away from his nose on the back of his hand, acting surprised at the sight. He cleared his throat, thinking a lie quickly.

"I get them often," he mumbled softly, shrugging. The concerned other man nodded and looked slightly relieved. The two walked to check out, Norman letting Ethan take the clothes off his arms and pay. It was getting harder to stand properly, wanting to grab onto the slightly shorter man for support. He held himself up for now, keeping himself to act like everything was perfectly fine. He prayed Ethan wouldn't be able to see past the mask he put on his face.