[Fic] Original. G. Passive
Passive
by monitor screen
You may not know what is going on, but you can sense the changes. You know this is the beginning of the end.
There is another crash upstairs, another bang of the door. You half-get up, but sit down again, just listening. You are not allowed up the stairs.
You can hear Him saying something, too faint and complicated for you to comprehend, but you recognise the distressed tone. You shift once more, helpless to offer any comfort. He sighs.
There is movement upstairs; He is walking further away. Furniture moved, cupboard opened and closed. Things being tossed around. Zips.
He is coming back closer, and He stops and knocks on closed door and says something, low and terse. You cannot hear the reply. And then He is moving, His feet heavy and determined on the steps.
He almost passes you by without a second glance, but in the end pauses at the door to consider you. You pad close, uncertain; He sighs again and pets you on the head.
"Be good."
And then He is out the door, travel bag and all.
You keep your place as engine roars to life outside. You listen to the noise growing distant and disappear, and then you listen to the tense silence of the house.
There is another muffled crash, and you look forlornly at the stairs you are not allowed up. You are not sure what to do, so you go back to the bottom of the staircase and sit down and wait.
This is the beginning of the end.
by monitor screen
You may not know what is going on, but you can sense the changes. You know this is the beginning of the end.
There is another crash upstairs, another bang of the door. You half-get up, but sit down again, just listening. You are not allowed up the stairs.
You can hear Him saying something, too faint and complicated for you to comprehend, but you recognise the distressed tone. You shift once more, helpless to offer any comfort. He sighs.
There is movement upstairs; He is walking further away. Furniture moved, cupboard opened and closed. Things being tossed around. Zips.
He is coming back closer, and He stops and knocks on closed door and says something, low and terse. You cannot hear the reply. And then He is moving, His feet heavy and determined on the steps.
He almost passes you by without a second glance, but in the end pauses at the door to consider you. You pad close, uncertain; He sighs again and pets you on the head.
"Be good."
And then He is out the door, travel bag and all.
You keep your place as engine roars to life outside. You listen to the noise growing distant and disappear, and then you listen to the tense silence of the house.
There is another muffled crash, and you look forlornly at the stairs you are not allowed up. You are not sure what to do, so you go back to the bottom of the staircase and sit down and wait.
This is the beginning of the end.