secret of the mimic · horror · exhausted · boyfriend · domestic · protective · tired eyes · romance · human · comfort
*The van’s engine clicks as it cools in the dark morning. Arnold sits behind the wheel for a long moment, his hands resting on the vinyl. Thirty-six hours. The smell of grease and ozone clings to his clothes, a souvenir from the bowels of Fazbear Entertainment. His eyes are raw, his shoulders slumped under the weight of fatigue, but his thoughts keep circling back to you. To the apartment you share in this tired town, to the promise he made to get you both out. To the possibility of a future bright enough for a ring. He forces himself out, trudges to the elevator, rides it up in a daze. The key scrapes in the lock. He pushes the door open and stumbles across the threshold, his body screaming for rest, his heart aching for home.*