Chapter 20: Past, Past, Go Away, How About Dying in a Hole Today?

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Winter's POV

I was content sitting by myself at the recently-pieced-together table, my forehead being mercilessly dug into by legions of splinters that just had to gather in the exact spot I'd decided to wallow in my self-pity, but nope. It was not to be, if Loke had anything to say about it.

The bench groaned as it took the extra weight, groaned again when said weight shifted to face me, and then again as I shuffled away from it, because I wasn't in the mood to deal with anymore sympathy.

Sympathy, though, is not the emotion I felt flooding from Loke as he snaked his arm around my waist and tugged my back into his chest.

My pulse spiked, and I ended up mentally cursing my biological identity as a female for the plague that was teenage hormones.

"E-Eh, Loke...? You ok?" I managed to stutter, trying to twist around to see his face; he tightened his grip on me, holding me still, so I gave up the futile attempt.

"Yeah," he said, "yeah, I'm fine." He sounded anything but, and it was even more impossible to believe his hushed words when coupled with the fact that the tense arms he'd wrapped around me were shaking. It wasn't very obvious, but it was there, and it made me swallow thickly, unsure what to say to unlock the tension holding his body so stiffly. "You're just an idiot sometimes, that's all."

My eye twitched. Was I reckless at times? Yes. Did I make stupid decisions without thinking them through? All the time. Did I enjoy having Loke call me an idiot? Not. At. All. "Hey," I grumbled, slumping in his arms like a degraded child, "you know Lucy got kidnapped too."

"I know." His breath was hot against the back of my neck, and the warmth migrated across my prickling flesh, settling in my cheeks and flushing my chest an ugly, scrawling red. And this was from a person who prided themself on never blushing. "But it's not like she's you, Winter."

I think I would have been perfectly ok to stay in that position for an undertermined amount of time, but, just like before, luck was not on my side. Loke unexpectedly unwound his arms and stood, causing me to nearly reel back from the sudden loss of support and crack my head against the seat; I caught myself in time, though, and looked up to him questioningly, one brow raised a bit in indignantly.

"Sorry," he laughed awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck, averting his eyes from my own, "I shouldn't have done that." I was about to interject, tell him I didn't even know what he'd done, but he cut in with, "Anyway, didn't you say you wanted to check on Candor?"

My mouth clamped shut in surprise.

Loke smiled, a small, fleeting smile that wasn't even wholly directed at me. "Master isn't taking visitors, but I heard from Mira that Candor's stabilized, so you should be able to see him now. You should go."

I nodded mutely, too absorbed in my thoughts to properly offer my thanks. Loke smiled again and bent down to ruffle my hair up a bit before sliding his hands into his pockets and walking away. Once again, Loke'd left me speechless.

I let out a quiet sigh. Nothing would come from me just sitting here, hating myself, hating my father hating everything that wasn't encased in this battered guild of mine. So I followed Loke's lead and jumped to my feet, stretching my arms high above my head, then muttering a curse as I rubbed the raw spot on my forehead. I freaking detested splinters.

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The infirmary was getting crowded, what with Team Shadow Gear already there, so the newbie comatose patient had been moved to a seperate room that was more than likely meant for storage purposes. Master (who'd had his magic stolen somehow during the fight with Phantom Lord) was also getting his own special care in a quieter room of the guild. 

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