𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 | 𝙷.𝚂.

seventeen - the hold ordeal

Gwen came to know over the last week or so while hanging out with Switch that the bar they frequented, the one she'd been kept in, was called Cherry's.

The blonde said something about it the day that she went to work on that bridal bouquet, and when she realized that she had no idea what he was talking about, she made him elaborate.

It felt odd to her to know that the entire time she'd been hidden in there for days, she didn't even know the name of where she'd ended up.

While she was being observant of tattoos and accents that fateful day, she should've looked at where she'd arrived as well.

It wasn't like the bright red sign of cursive letters was hiding from her.

No, it was always on.

Even now, at eleven in the morning, as she arrived with a very aggravating Nine in his Cadillac, the sign was glowing as much as it could in the grey clouds of a rainy day.

How fitting that it would be so gloomy.

"Get out," his commanding voice spoke before he even finished unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door.

He didn't seem to want to put up with her bullshit today, but she felt the same towards him.

After their encounter last night, Gwen forced herself to not hide away in her room all morning. She was embarrassed, but for more reasons than she could explain.

It wasn't like she was showering with the door open to tease him or something.

But his insinuations made her red in the face, out of anger and, regrettably, shyness.

The last thing she ever thought she'd feel around him was shy, but somehow, he made her uncomfortable in her own skin. She was never somebody to feel insecure, and not because she didn't have anxiety.

It was because she usually didn't really care about how someone saw her. She was too stubborn about what she wore and how she looked to try and care about presentation as well.

At least, until now. She kept trying to tell herself that she didn't care in the end all night, tossing and turning even after taking a melatonin to put and keep her to sleep.

But her flushing cheeks said otherwise, and that angered her.

Besides the fact that he's deeply traumatised her likely for the rest of her life and forced her into a life she never wanted, she wouldn't sleep with him anyways.

He's done unspeakable things, often seemed like a vile person, and made a point to show that if he needed to kill someone, he would. No questions asked.

He carried a darkness over his head that seemed to dampen her calm moods, and clearly had a lot of baggage that was far too heavy for any reasonable or normal person to even grasp.

He was, simply put, a disaster waiting to happen. And she could never allow herself to see him any other way.

It was how she's kept her sanity while living with him, along with the idea that he may have a shrivel of a heart left inside from the small things he's done.

His cat, for starters. He tries to hide his admiration and deep love for the sweet thing, knowing it made him seem softer.

She's even caught him scratching Jagger's head while giving a quick kiss on his nose when he didn't know she'd entered the living room once.

And then there were the empty threats he threw her way. Paired with the preservation of her life the night that started all of this.

His quiet and discreet care for specific things, like that turquoise ring he'd made a point to be gentle with on several occasions, was what was confusing her.