Understandably, the silence between the two of you was deathly. You succumbed to the soft embrace of the blanket, trying to hold back the fresh tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. The man sat halfway down the bed, clutching the broken pieces of his hair ornaments. He didn't know what had happened to him a moment ago, but now all he could think about was how to fix this thing, which you thought was a complete mess.
You weren't sure how things had turned out. February 14th had just arrived, and, busy with the Hunters' mission, you hadn't had the chance to properly celebrate. When the performance at the Penacony finally ended and you returned to base, you decided to make up for the mistake. You weren't planning on a grand Valentine's Day celebration, so for the evening, you decided to choose a simple, romantic movie and order some pizza.
But Blade was unusually quiet.
Yes, he was usually a rather distant man, but this was different. He didn't rest his head on your shoulder as you rode back to base. He didn't hold your ear to listen to music to pass the time. He didn't keep any bags handy in case you suddenly felt nauseous.
So, when you found yourself in your room, so cozy and familiar, yet suddenly tense, you bombarded him with questions. It didn't take more than a couple of minutes before the swordsman zoned out. He roughly threw off his faction and tossed it to the floor like a useless rag. He grabbed a towel, ready to take a shower to relieve the remaining stress.
But your quiet, hesitant voice completely threw you off.
Before you could even register it, you were pressed against the wall. Blade loomed over you like a bottomless pit. His eyes were blazing, as if they were about to burst into flames. His hand slammed against the wall next to your head, making you flinch. No, he'd never become so aggressive in your company.
"You were making eyes at him, weren't you?" the man snapped, pressing you harder against the wall. You stared at him silently for a moment, like a fawn caught in a car's headlights. But memories of men you'd been pressed for information quickly returned to your mind.
Gallagher, of the Hound clan. A seemingly ordinary, tired man, acting as a bartender, who hadn't heard of your reputation. He smirked at you as he served you a cocktail during your intel gathering, but it seemed enough to make Blade burn with jealousy.
You wanted to hear that mouth so you could respond, when Blade suddenly took the hair accessory you'd given him and threw it with all his might against the wall, as if it meant nothing. You didn't have time to stop him, only watched helplessly as the flower attached to him shattered into pieces. By the time the swordsman realized what he'd done, it was too late.
He continued to breathe heavily, trying to calm himself from the onslaught of anger, but his entire body froze as tears streamed down your cheeks and your lips trembled treacherously. Blade ran a couple of strokes through the hair that had slipped across your forehead before laying you down on the bed. He knew an apology wouldn't help the situation right now, so the best option was to send you to bed.
"Damn it," your lover muttered, trying to glue the broken pieces together. He didn't know you were awake, watching him work, as he sat with his back to the bed, revealing his back, where his hair had fallen like a step.