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Mike Comrie watched him leave, still in shock at the outburst that had seemingly come out of nowhere. No, not nowhere, hed seen the tension simmering under the false composure and too-true fear, ready to spark at the first sign of fire.
And spark he had, gone off like a whole goddamned building full of C-4.
"Fuck!" Comrie yelled, kicking the wall in frustration. That felt good. So he did it again for good measure, and again, and again, taking out all his anger, whether it was at himself or York he wasnt sure, on the painted brick.
He hadnt been sure of what to do, what to say but apparently, he'd done something wrong to make York lash out like he did, all anger and repressed emotion and fear? The thought stuck; even if it was absurd. York had seemed genuinely frightened of him.
But why? He'd never done anything to hurt him, hell, hed never even given him more than a passing thought before last night, so what could he have ever done to intimidate him in the first place? It wasn't his towering physique, thats for sure.
He sighed loudly, resting his forehead against the comforting coolness of the wall, and let his eyes drift shut. This was insane. Purely and utterly insane. How had his life managed to spin out of control so quickly?
Comrie lifted his head, letting it fall back against the wall several times before pushing himself upright, and began to walk, not quite sure of where he was going. He didn't care either, he just needed to move, get out of the suddenly too-small hallway.
Maybe Daniel would take under an hour to get dressed for once, and he could go home, curl under his covers, hide from the world, and go to sleep. God knows he would just manage to fuck something else up if he even tried.
~
York didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the dirty arena floor, leaning against the wall as he simply stared at the cross work of scars covering his forearms, and quite frankly had passed caring a while ago.
Funny, how hed accepted them as a fact of life and tried to ignore them as often as possible, seeing the scars as a reminder of his failures. He'd never noticed how on his right arm, they looked vaguely like one of those totem poles he'd read about in elementary school but when you tilted it slightly, the resemblance completely vanished.
The almost unbearable pain had faded to a detached numbness, as if any feelings had been sucked into a void. It was a welcome relief, one he hadn't been able to find in a while. And as long as he managed to keep his thoughts off Comrie, everything seemed to be fine. Surprisingly, it wasnt that hard to do.
He shifted his weight slightly; the bump in the wall that had been digging into his shoulder blade had been starting to hurt. Pain he could deal with, but only if he controlled it. Then he had the power to make it stop.
"Mike?" It was Anson- not surprising really; he seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to him. York covered his arms quickly, dealing with the questions that would be inevitable was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. Well, not quite the last, but close enough. "What the hell are you doing here?"
York raised his eyes to meet his friends enquiring gaze, and noticed him try to suppress a shudder. His eyes must have looked as empty as he felt. "Nothing," he said, surprised at the nonchalance in his voice, "just thinking."
"Well cant you think back at the hotel? If were not there on time, there'll be hell to pay." He accepted Anson's outstretched hand and pulled himself to his feet, shaking his head to try and ward off the sudden feeling of dizziness.
"Fine then, let's go."
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