𝕊𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 - { ᴅᴏᴜᴍᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ }

32 - { ᴘᴀʀᴀʟʟᴇʟ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇʟ ᴘᴀᴛʜᴡᴀʏꜱ }

Y/N POV:

So we were.

I listened to Douma's words, realizing the many parallels between us.

We were both people who experienced severe apathy, and both who somehow overcame the condition. When we had met each other, neither of us had an ounce of compassion or empathy in our hearts. 

For me, it was because I was not given a chance to express my emotions when I was a toddler, with my biological parents never giving me a chance to live. So when I was finally found by the outside world, sitting on the floor of my home with broken alcohol bottles surrounding me, every shard of emotion had in me been smashed along with the bottles. 

However, I was lucky enough to be brought into a home with a loving, available mother and a father who worked hard to bring food to the table. 

Douma, from what I believe, was not so lucky.

"Douma, you're a strong person." I say quietly, cupping his face with my hand. 

Douma, in turn, studies my expression with slight confusion in his eyes, looking like a lost child. "Eh? What do you mean, (Y/N)?" He asks. I glance down, fidgeting with my hands in my lap as I think of how to respond. 

"You...you've been through a lot." I eventually admit, peering at his pale face for a reaction - mainly his rainbow eyes, since his face usually took on a blank expression.

Douma's eyebrows crease together in a more obvious type of confusion. "What are you talking about?" He says, his voice wavering slightly. I studied his nervous eyes, and he definitely understood what part of his past I was referring to. However, neither of us wanted to be the one to say it out loud.

I simply look at him knowingly. Douma sighs. 

"Oh." He pauses, a silence filling the air. After a few seconds of painstaking silence, he speaks. 

"Thank you." He says, his eyes showing a sliver of happiness. I silently nod in return, standing up. 

"This is depressing." I sigh. Douma cracks an amused smile, which internally sends butterflies through my system. I offer him my hand, which he takes, and I pull him up to a standing position.

Soon enough, we had both maneuvered our way from the spot on the roof back to the top rungs of the metal ladder, then down to the floor of the dark alleyway. 

Douma covers his nose, clearly disliking the strong stink of rotting garbage. I sigh. "Is it that bad?" I ask, and he stares at me in disbelief.

"Are you noseblind? This smells like shit." He grumbles, holding his nose with his fingers. This causes his voice to sound much more nasally, which makes me  giggle.

"Maybe." I say mockingly, turning my head and flashing a quick smile, as if I were a supermodel. 

Douma, who clearly had enough of the stench, grabs me by the hand and practically drags me out of the alleyway. I stumble behind him, wondering what on Earth he was doing. It took me several seconds to realize that he had an extremely sensitive sense of smell, which was why the trash bothered him so deeply.

"Hey!" I laugh playfully, not quite minding what he was doing as he led me through the dissipating streams of people. "Where are we even going?" I ask, to which he ignores me, staying silent.