killer instinct - || h.s. ||

77

"You know it's not that goddamn easy or else it would already be done! This never ends, no matter how we deal with it–" Griff gritted out through his clenched teeth.

Rory just huffed under her breath beside me while pinching the bridge of her button-nose for a moment in an attempt to relieve the pressure in her sinuses.

I was simmering at that point, unable to bear hearing the inevitable again. "It can be that damn easy, Griff! The answer is that fucking easy when it comes to her damn life–" I spit out. Her just fist curled into the fabric of my shirt with her knuckles harshly pressed into my stomach as if restraining me from rocking his shit right now — fuck me, I would if he kept up with this.

"Stop, stop!" Rory halted the screaming match, knowing that none of this was progressing anywhere.

My eyes flickered down to her, chest heaving as the muscle of my defined jaw jolted in my unapologetic rage. She rapidly tore her eyes from mine, living up to reality once more to which I could only heavily sigh.

"Just stop, alright? I've had myself a fucking night, so let's all just chill the fuck–" her eyes shot to me with those words for some fucking reason, "out." And I just huffed at her with a subtle eye roll of my own, which she casually disregarded to focus on her brother once more.

"And Griff, I'm fine ... we're fine but we need to figure out what to do next because this damn game we're playing at is going to end up fucking us all over." She breathed out while her hold slipped from my stomach with a mirroring sigh to her brother.

Nevertheless, Griff and I laid down our arms that very same night before he left — coming to the common agreement that she mattered more than anything else.

It's another Friday night and the heat from the blinding lights above seeps into my bare skin, burning it as my fists clench and unclench at my sides.

It's been a week since that god-awful night.

Even after the serenity, wrapped up in a blissful embrace of her warm body and the lavender scent easing out the ache in my mind from nearly losing her, it all collapsed yet again. And since then Rory and I have been gradually mending the nightmares that still linger within our minds with speechless nights tangled in bed, just holding each other until reality faded out of view and I fully melted into her sweeter dreams.

Hell, I always used to think that home had to be a physical place — an entity that just felt like I belonged.

Yet, it's odd that the very person above seems to contradict that theory entirely.

A tight-lipped smile laces her pretty, crimson-coated face while her raven hair slips from its tucked state behind her ears. Her ring-clad knuckle nudges against her nose, leaning over the rails like the juxtaposing angel she is above.

I have to force myself to scrunch my nose at the ridiculousness of this absurd sensation, dropping my head down to stupidly stare down at my feet with my hands held behind my back.

I tighten my jaw on the gum I'm casually chewing, smiling too damn much to even be in this setting right now with hundreds of eyes on me. I lift my head a bit, my curls held together at the top of my head with her hair clip to only catch sight of this fucker before me.

The only thing standing between our inevitable fight in the championship match.

His statue is built, inked in colored tattoos on every inch of his skin while my smile withers out. I nonchalantly flex my jaw with every burst of spearmint laced into my gum, noticing his blank stare as the Pit's bloodlust seems to ricochet off the daunting walls around us.