"What's what?" Aspen echoed back.
"What's..this?" Hadrian moved his hand, pulling at his shirt, before gingerly placing his thumb against the left side of his collarbone where a large, grisly, spiteful-looking bruise bloomed a deep red with a frightful tinge of purple-an ugly sort of lilac-skirting around it's edges.
It looked mean. It looked like it wanted to lacerate him from the inside out.
"How did this happen?" His voice flooded with worry.
Aspen blinked, a bit stunned.
Suddenly, he felt self-conscious and pulled his collar back up, hiding the bruise out of sight. "I don't know.." He mumbled. "I must've bumped into something."
That only made Hadrian's frown deepen further.
"It looks like it hurts." He reached out to touch it again. Without meaning to, Aspen jerked away from his hand. "It doesn't." He assured him. Though it didn't seem to do all that much to reassure him. Hadrian picked at his nails absentmindedly before his face turned serious.
"Did someone do this to you?" He asked gravely. "Who?" His brows were furrowed so tightly together Aspen feared that the pursed wrinkle between them would peel off completely.
"Who was it? Was it that Whittshit guy again? Fucking Gary whatever the hell his name is—"
"Garrett Whitmoore." He corrected. "And no, it wasn't him, I-"
"Then who the hell did it?"
"Nobody! Nobody did it. I'm just clumsy." Aspen asserted. "I must've knocked into something earlier yesterday and didn't notice."
Hadrian huffed incredulously.
"Nobody my ass. It's damn near up to your neck. You can tell me if—"
"There is nothing to tell."
"But—"
"Hadrian, please." His voice clipped and tight. "We have about twenty minutes before they stop serving breakfast, it's the morning, I still want to sleep, and I haven't even gotten to take a shower yet so just—" He took a breath trying to calm himself "I-I'm sorry I don't mean to be like this-just-can you please let this go. It's nothing. It's no one. I swear. Like I said, I probably just fucking rammed into something like always do."
"You promise?" Hadrian asked. His face softening.
"I promise." Aspen said, seriously. Full of conviction.
Slowly, very slowly, but surely (and gently) Hadrian let go of his arm.
"I'm sorry." He got quiet. "I-I just thought that—"
Aspen cut him off, not willing to hear Hadrian dwell on it. Their whisper-shouting, the ashamed stares, the fractured mood.
"It's fine, Hads. We're good. It's good. Let's just try to head down soon."
The two of them got dressed in silence.
002: crickets
Start from the beginning
