Re: Elevator
Fuck. He hid his disappointment. "Surprising," he said, looking at one of the mirrored elevator walls. "You's think it would be easy, considering how deathly you look."
He tried not to think about it, tried not to worry. Who knew? Maybe the rescuers would be here in the next ten minutes and they would be out of here before he knew it. He could get away from Tristan, get his stupid fucking phone, and go back down the ball. If that boy wasn't waiting for him still, he could just as easily find someone else.
The itching at the back of his neck had gotten worse, developing into something like a tingling sensation. He scratched at it again, ran a hand through his hair, and then stopped.
It was a good inch longer than it should have been.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Why now? He had hours yet before he hit his usual threshold, hours of safe time so why was it kicking in so fast? He looked toward the door. Unless the rescuers got here in the next five minutes he was officially fucked.
He avoided Tristan's gaze, trying to stay calm. And it had to be with him, of all fucking people. "Look. I - ah." Talk about the last person in the world he wanted to explain this to. "I have a bit of an...issue. It revolves being around people one on one for long periods, and it seems to be kicking in." He swallowed, continued speaking, and found that his voice had dropped slightly deeper. Fuck. "Just...don't watch."
Under normal circumstances he would never have exposed so deep a weakness to Tristan, or only have done it for dramatic effect - to use the results of it on him in some way. But right now all he felt was another surge of anger, mingled with panic. He could try to take charge of this ability as much as he liked, but it didn't change the fact that it still made him feel angry, vulnerable, and worthless. It was a punch to the gut. He knew Tristan didn't want him, he knew that, but now he had undeniable proof.