It was clearly a 'giving him a silence treatment' kind of thing the following day for Hawthorne. Like Railings would care, but Hawthorne didn't care about whether the other cared or not. He was very much determined on giving him the silence treatment. Pathetic Railings! Frustrating Railings! A piece of shit Railings! If onlyi could punch him in the guts!
Hawthorne huffed as he walked towards his dorm room.
"Hawthorne, where did you sleep last night?" That was the first question Railings asked as Hawthorne stepped inside the dorm room.
Despite the worry that lingered in Railings tone, Hawthorne didn't say anything as he walked up to the bathroom. Railings' question hung unanswered, a thread of concern hanging between them. But Hawthorne, seemingly indifferent, proceeded towards the bathroom without a word.
The sound of running water filled the room, a distraction from the unspoken conflict. Railings stood rooted to the spot, unsure of how to bridge the growing distance between them. Finally, the bathroom door creaked open, Hawthorne stepping out in a cloud of steam. Railings, still in the room, turned to face him, his expression softening.
"Hawthorne…."
Hawthorne's eyes flicked up, meeting Railings' gaze for a moment before darting away. He walked up towards his closet and changed to a clean set of clothes before he walked out to have breakfast at the cafeteria.
"What happened?" Jones asked as he carefully observed Hawthorne who wore a scowling expression.
"Nothing, just feeling under the weather." Hawthorne settled down with his friends and dragged an empty plate next to him before he grabbed his chopsticks and started filling his plate.
Sam leaned closer, "Went home alright this morning? What did Railings say?"
Hawthorne snorted, "Who cares what that ass-wipe say?"
Jones and Sam watched him with a mix of concern and confusion, their eyes darting between him and the vacant space where Railings usually sat.
"Hey, man, that's not like you," Jones ventured, a hint of apprehension in his voice. "Are you sure everything's okay?"
Hawthorne didn't look up from his plate. "I said I'm fine," he snapped, his jaw clenched tight.
"Easy there…" Sam chuckled, he knew how Hawthorne felt towards Railings. He was used to that kind of reaction and he knew about the events that took place last night, Hawthorne slept at Sam's dorm room after all.
Hawthorne's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as he took a deep breath, his grip on the chopsticks loosening a fraction.
"Sorry," he muttered, still not making eye contact. "Just not in the mood."
Jones nodded,"If there's something going on you should talk to us."
Hawthorne scoffed. "Nothing's going on, okay?"
Sam leaned towards Jones, "He's on his periods, let him be."
With a slight nod, Jones continued eating. Breakfast proceeded in silence, the clatter of chopsticks and the scrape of utensils against plates the only sounds to break through the tension. But even in the silence, the air crackled with unspoken questions and unaddressed issues.
When the meal was finally over, Hawthorne stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back. Without a word, he stalked out of the cafeteria, leaving Jones and Sam staring after him, their expressions a mix of frustration and worry. He's definitely punching something today, Sam chuckled regardless.
The classes went by very quickly and Hawthorne hated that, he hated that he had to share a room with Railings and that he had to see that pathetic face each and every day. He hissed punching the wall out of the sight of the teachers. With those thoughts, that didn't stop him from walking inside the dorm room in a bang.
Surprisingly, his bed was dry. Same goes with his blankets and there was only one possible conclusion: Railings dried them.
As he was digging through his thoughts, the door opened and Railings walked inside. Hawthorne huffed, walking over to throw himself on top of the bed.
It was when he felt hands on his arm then he was turned over. He looked at Railings with a scowl. "What are you doing?"
"You've hurt yourself." It was then that Hawthorne noticed that Railings took his hand. Fuck what's his problem? Mendling in my fucking business.
"I'll do it myself." Hawthorne tried to retrieve his hand with a silence scoff but he didn't get a chance when Railings pulled it to him. "Aw!"
"Serves you right, busy acting like a god here." Railings took out a first aid kit. "You want to get infected and get sick?"
Was he scolding him? That's how it sounded.
The two men were a study in contrast, Railings careful as he tended to Hawthorne's wound with a slight of worry in his eyes, while Hawthorne remained stubborn and resistant, his own struggles warring within him. He kept throwing daggers at the other male, but he didn't dare to say anything.
Railings continued to work, his movements deft and efficient as he cleaned and dressed Hawthorne's wound. "For a supposedly tough guy, you sure are a whiner." He shot Hawthorne a sideways glance, his tone a mix of teasing and concern.
Hawthorne's scowl deepened, but he said nothing, instead turning his head away, refusing to meet Railings' eyes.
Railings finished, securing the last piece of tape. "There. Good as new." His voice was soft, almost gentle.
Hawthorne turned back to face him, his expression still hard but his eyes a little softer. "Thanks," he muttered like he was not throwing curses at him the whole day.
Railings nodded, his expression neutral, yet there was a warmth in his eyes that belied his stoic exterior. "No problem." He began to pack away the first aid kit. "You should be more careful."
Hawthorne shifted uncomfortably on the bed, as if his skin was crawling at the idea of receiving concern from Railings. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
You should mind your own business. But his thoughts clearly went against the warmth in his heart.
Railings finished packing and turned to face him again, his expression inscrutable. "What's going on with you, Hawthorne? Are you mad at what happened last night?"
"No." He pouted.
"Do you think I didn't realize that you're giving me a silent treatment?" The taller male raised his eyebrow, clearly he saw through Hawthorne's mask. It was obvious.
"Why does it matter to you?" Hawthorne scowled, his eyes running around the room. He was feeling a bit nervous.
Railings smirked, "Who said it mattered?"
"Th—then leave me alone. Do not ask me if I was upset or not, do not ask me anything." He hissed turning to the face other side as he pulled the blankets to cover his face.
Railings' smirk remained, his eyes glinting like shards of glass. "You may not want my 'fake concern', but you sure do need it," he retorted, a mocking edge to his voice. "Without me here, you'd be lost."
Hawthorne's body tensed, seething under the sheets. "I'd rather be lost than have you around," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "Just leave."
"You know, I used to think your stubbornness was amusing," Railings drawled, his voice low and smug. "But now I see it for what it is—a weakness."
Hawthorne bit back a retort, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He wouldn't give Railings the satisfaction of seeing his anger. Was Eiluned Railings suffering from multiple personality disorder? A few minutes ago he was worriedly caring for his wounds and suddenly he had turned into Lucifer.
Railings leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper, barely audible above the quiet of the room.
"You can hide all you want, Hawthorne. But you can't hide forever." He paused, his lips curving into a cruel smile. "And when you finally break, I'll be there to pick up the pieces."
Hawthorne felt a chill run down his spine, his heart racing as Railings' words hung in the air. He had to get out of this room, away from Railings and his toxic presence.
Without a word, Hawthorne flung off the blankets, jumping out of bed and storming towards the door. Railings' mocking laughter followed him like a dark cloud as he fled from the room, a bitter taste in his mouth.
Hawthorne's feet hit the floor with a thud, his heart pounding in his chest as he made his way down the hallway. He needed air, space, anything to get away from Railings and the suffocating tension that seemed to cling to him like a shadow.
He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. Railings gave him that much anger, he gave him that much of emotions. Kent Hawthorne never cried for a mere thing like arguing with someone. He had argued with his father, he had argued with his step siblings and had felt a whole different emotions when his father brought in a new lover a few weeks after his mother died.
He never cried then, he had to be strong.
But with Railings… God! With Railings, he wanted to cry so bad Hawthorne though he has been driven to the point of insanity.
The feeling of utter helplessness coursed through Hawthorne's veins as he paced the hallway, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. The last thing he wanted was to give Railings the satisfaction of seeing him this way, of seeing him break. But the cracks in his armor were already starting to show.
He turned a corner, barely aware of where he was going. His mind replayed the scene in his room, Railings' cruel smile, his mocking words. No one had ever gotten under his skin like that before. It was infuriating, and it was painful.
After taking a little walk around the hallway, he walked back to his dorm room. He was not aware that he had been gone for more than an hour but when he stepped inside the room, he found Railings busy with his phone.
"I thought you ran away." Railings spoke without looking away from the phone. "That's your speciality after all."
He ignored the taller, walking straight to his bed. Once his head hit the pillow, Hawthorne closed his eyes. He wanted to sleep.
Silence filled the room and Hawthorne was grateful that the other man didn't say another word. I just want to sleep. Darkness took over him as he was swept towards the dreamland.
Hawthorne woke up a bit better. A bit better. He got up very early and got ready for the day without taking a single glance at Railings.
Once settled on a chair at the cafeteria, Sam and Jones walked over a few minutes after.
"Morning," Sam said. "Hope we're not having a bad day today right?"
Hawthorne shrugged. "I don't know,it might depend if I see that Lucifer or not. Pray I don't see him."
"He did something?" Jones was the one who asked.
Hawthorne sighed,"How can someone be so stupid with multiple personality disorder? I mean,no disrespect to the people who are suffering from MPD but God! What's Railings problem?"
"What did he does?" Sam knew they have entered the morning bible study and the theme was Railings as per usual. Nothing had changed.
"I went to my dorm room yesterday evening and I found him so concerned about me. He cleaned up my wounds while asking if I was alright and what happened? He sounded very worried I tell you and all of a sudden he's being an ass once again. Insulting me and calling me names." Hawthorne scoffed.
"Calling you names? What did he say?" Jones asked with a frown. He hoped it was not a bad name.
"No that's not the point. The point is that he's an asshole!" Hawthorne cursed. Yes, curse that asshole!
Sam chuckled, leaning against his chair in amusement as he tilted his head. "To me, it looks like you don't just hate Railings. You hate that you want Railings to care. You hate that you crave Railings' attention, even if it is toxic and destructive. You hate that Railings see right through you,exposing your vulnerabilities like an open wound."
Hawthorne's heart nearly stopped. The weight of his feelings felt like a thousand bricks crushing down on him, the suffocating pressure pushing him closer and closer to the brink. He quickly masked that look with a laugh as he looked at Sam. "No ways, I just hate him. It has nothing to do with what you've said."
Sam smirked,"If you say so, Kent Hawthorne."
What Sam said started to mess up his mind but Hawthorne was very sure, it had nothing to do with care or craving for attention or whatsoever. Hawthorne was sure that he hated Railings,he hated him.