Unsung [Closed]
He was fidgeting, conscious enough of every move he made to know he was fidgeting.
But even if he knew he was doing it, he couldn’t make himself stop. Just the simple fact that he was moving his fingers, and Iniss wasn’t commenting on it in the back of his head was enough to make the motion repetitive, a nervous habit.
It had been a long day. It had been a long…god…forever.
Somehow he didn’t see it ending any time soon.
And now he was getting other people involved. God, when had his life gotten this pathetic?
He felt empty, and every time he grew conscious of it, his stomach flip-flopped. It was his body. People kept telling him that, at least. So why was it so hard to remember that someone else wasn’t supposed to be the one directing it?
He swallowed roughly, staring at the door and trying to remind himself that Sam had said it was ok. And Sam wouldn’t have said it was ok if he didn’t mean it.
He still felt like a bother. He should be able to fix this by himself.
He finally managed to lift his hand, knocking softly at the Winchester’s door.
But even if he knew he was doing it, he couldn’t make himself stop. Just the simple fact that he was moving his fingers, and Iniss wasn’t commenting on it in the back of his head was enough to make the motion repetitive, a nervous habit.
It had been a long day. It had been a long…god…forever.
Somehow he didn’t see it ending any time soon.
And now he was getting other people involved. God, when had his life gotten this pathetic?
He felt empty, and every time he grew conscious of it, his stomach flip-flopped. It was his body. People kept telling him that, at least. So why was it so hard to remember that someone else wasn’t supposed to be the one directing it?
He swallowed roughly, staring at the door and trying to remind himself that Sam had said it was ok. And Sam wouldn’t have said it was ok if he didn’t mean it.
He still felt like a bother. He should be able to fix this by himself.
He finally managed to lift his hand, knocking softly at the Winchester’s door.