Open || iamthefirechild

wordlesswarlock:

iamthefirechild:

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Summer didn’t even bother pretending she had no idea what was going on. She just marched into Merlin’s room, hands on her hips, and pinned him with a glare. He was giving her a headache, and she couldn’t shut him out.

“You want to talk about it.”

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Merlin tried not to immediately bristle at the wording of the statement. It was just a phrase. “Talking about it” didn’t NEED to involve actual talking though it usually did.

Talk about what, exactly?

“What the fuck ever is making you sulk like a massive storm. It’s like having a continuous roll of thunder in my head.” She sat on his bed and folded her legs up, clearly with every intent of staying until something changed.

Open

wordlesswarlock:

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Everyone had bad days, days where their minds latched onto one idea or event and refused to let go. Merlin was having one such day, and he was reaching the end of his rope. Frustration had built up until he wanted to just scream, but he couldn’t.

And therein lay the problem. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t scream or whisper or do anything in between. And at that moment, he wished he could have traded something else.

Summer didn’t even bother pretending she had no idea what was going on. She just marched into Merlin’s room, hands on her hips, and pinned him with a glare. He was giving her a headache, and she couldn’t shut him out.

“You want to talk about it.”