a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
“Het-t-tie.” He corrects, though keeps his gaze away from her to focus on the table. A lot had slipped his mind since his family had begun to shelter him, and most of all the friends he’d had before everything had happened. He wonders if she’s being polite in not mentioning the large scar that gapes from the corner of his lip halfway along his face. If she is, he decides that’s pretty nice of her, decides that perhaps her company is a balm of what he needed while he tried to avoid everything and everyone else.
But he’s glancing up at her again, that unsaid question in his gaze as he focuses on her the best he can, avoiding her eyes. And before he knows it she’s crouching beside him, and he can take a moment to even out the table while he figures out the leg he’d previously thought was the problem seemed relatively fine in comparison – but that the table off to the side had a few loose screws. “We… Have to t-t-tighten the screws.” He manages after a moment of pause, of gathering himself.
“Here.” He moves to stand to flip the table over, then to hand her another screwdriver while he points to the problem table leg and he focuses on the others. “How… Have y-you been?”
But he’s glancing up at her again, that unsaid question in his gaze as he focuses on her the best he can, avoiding her eyes. And before he knows it she’s crouching beside him, and he can take a moment to even out the table while he figures out the leg he’d previously thought was the problem seemed relatively fine in comparison – but that the table off to the side had a few loose screws. “We… Have to t-t-tighten the screws.” He manages after a moment of pause, of gathering himself.
“Here.” He moves to stand to flip the table over, then to hand her another screwdriver while he points to the problem table leg and he focuses on the others. “How… Have y-you been?”
a thousand voices dead at my feet
GLAS
