The Thing about Falling ✓

Fifty • Stories in the Dark

Athena

I am usually a sure person.

I know what I want, and I know what I need. I tell people about it, address the situation, then boom, I'm as satisfied as a pug given an apple for a snack.

It's just him that makes me question everything.

We have been working on my paper for the past four hours now, and still, no one has come to our rescue with the whole locked door situation. Our work was entirely civil. I talked, he typed, and yet, I can't help but watch him.

Owen.

His focus was unwavering, and not once did he check his phone or even turn to look at me and actually have a decent conversation. 

And so I watched him.

I watched how his fingers danced on my keyboard, as if they're twin blades in sync with every word I spoke. His eyes were shooting directly at my screen, with his face illuminated slightly by the light emitted from my laptop. His posture was a bit hunched from typing, and his wavy locks kept going in the way of his vision, to which he always combed back with a hand but a strand always kept coming back in front.

He was a busy little bee, and exhaustion was obviously surrounding his whole aura.

It had already been hours since we started, and night had finally dawned upon us. 

I was starting to get tired from this whole talking thing and Owen was too, although he won't admit it or even ask for a short break.

I experimented. I stopped talking, and almost immediately, Owen turned his head toward me, that one wavy strand over his forehead bouncing a bit as he moved.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

I stared at him for a while, and I had a feeling it lingered a little longer than usual, since he seemed a bit flustered, causing him to look away.

I chuckled a bit. 

He's still adorable, I see.

"No. Nothing's wrong. I just thought we might need a break, that's all. We're almost done with the entire paper and I could finish it up for the rest of the week. A break sounds really tempting." I told him.

Owen had a hesitant look on his face, his dark brows scrunched and his lips were almost to a pout. 

He wants to finish it.

"If you're almost done, we could still try to finish. So you could do other things and all." he mumbled, avoiding my eye.

Yep, he does want to finish it.

I gave him a small smile and at that, Owen's cheeks reddened a bit and he looked bashful all over again. I tried not to mind it.

"Owen, I can do this. I'll finish it up over the next few days and you, stop forcing yourself to finish it. It's not your paper. It's mine. And we could both need some rest after this." I said, fixing my posture against the hard, cold walls I was leaning on.

Owen had an uncertain look on his face as he saved the document we had been working on for hours, and unwillingly, shut down my laptop.

"Of course. Rest." he muttered, as he carefully handed me back my laptop.

I gratefully took it from him, and with a hand, I cautiously shoved it back in my bag.

After I fixed my stuff, Owen and I have nothing left to talk about.