~~𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕧𝕖𝕣 ℙ𝕆𝕍~~

A father, perhaps? Could that be what I see in him. I mean, it would explain how he looks at me, with a strange, distant protectiveness. He's still incredibly cautious, has been for the past few days. You would be cautious when the first meeting you have with the person who lives in your house is them holding a blade to you and admitting to taking the ammo out of the shotgun on the wall. I didn't take the bullets out – I didn't even know how, to be honest, the only gun I've ever held is a rifle, but confidence can convince people of even the wildest things.

The wariness he displays when around me, even if it hides a layer of care, may be linked to the deep red outfit he found in the box in the office two days ago. He knows who I am now. Even if he's just a random civilian who's basically my dad, he knows that I'm Sagitta, the vigilante known for being ruthless with a bow and arrow. Even if he's been locked up for the past half a decade, he knows, because I'm pretty sure they still have gossip.

He'd crouched over the box in the office, probably found it while he was snooping, and had opened it. It was stupid of me to leave it open after I'd joined forces with Isra, but I wasn't expecting my house to be home to the original owner again. "What is this?" He'd asked, holding the bow in a mildly shaking hand.

I'd looked down at him, confusion flooding through my body, pushing against the floodgates of anxiety I'd held back the entire time I'd known him (three days at that point). He'd found me out, and surely any normal person would turn me in, but he isn't a normal person. Sure, he may be cold and dangerous and honestly terrifying, but he's also a gentle giant. Tears welled in my eyes as a knot that always rested in my heart rose up to my throat.

"Nothing." I said, but my voice was barely steady, invisible claws ripping from my chest, longing for me to admit and to let loose how truly scared I was, how terrified I felt knowing he was onto me, how the beast inside, pushing against the gates, pushing against the cage was about to break free. "A drama costume." Lies. All lies. I've dealt in them for years, so why was it so hard to deal in them now.

Hunter raised an eyebrow, smirking. Cockiness, his own disbelief, painted his face, waving in front of him like a flag. "A compound bow is part of a drama costume?"

My head almost felt light, chest tight. He already knew, but how could I make him not know? How could I dissolve the idea that had formed in his head, even if it was made of rock and not sugar. "Mhm..." I nodded, sinking into a chair. Panic attacks aren't my favourite feeling in this unfair world. The suffocating loneliness, like I am isolated in this world, regardless of the bodies pushing around me.

Hunter took the seat opposite me, hands on his knees while mine were wrung together in my lap, thumbs pressing patterns into the palms of the opposite hands. Distractions, even if they did cause black painted nails to push past the skin and spark the tips of them red with my own blood, were my way of calming down.

"I'm fine if you are that vigilante. It would explain a lot, to be honest. The skill you have with weapons, the confidence, the coldness in your eyes. But, promise me one thing."

I nodded, the pain in my palms almost numb to the pain I felt in my chest. No oxygen met my lungs, yet they still burned with the effort of breathing. I shouldn't really be panicking, but, looking back on it, I suppose it was because of the fact I'd just found a father, someone who cares, and I don't want him to hate me for being... me.

He put a cracked hand on my own, stopping me from further causing damage to the scarred palms. "You won't hurt a civilian."

I don't hurt civilians. I didn't already, but now I have even more of a reason not to. He said he was fine with me being a vigilante, but ever since then, he's been distant and cautious. Treading a tightrope when I'm around.

My phone buzzed, bringing me out of my thoughts. I picked it up and was jump scared by Indigo messaging me.

Individual Digital
I'm gonna be over in about 5 minutes.
Sent 16:28

16:28? That was...

5 minutes ago-

I jumped up, running down the stairs but not before the doorbell rang. Hunter, who was in the utility hanging the washing up to dry, reached the door before me. He opened it, staring down at Indigo.

"Can I help yo-"

Indigo jabbed an accusing finger in his face. "Who are you and what have you done with Squish?" He didn't wait for an answer, sending a punch right at Hunter's face.

Hunter didn't even flinch, simply walking backwards and raising his hands in innocence. "I don't want to hurt you kid, just please tell me what you want."

Despite the fact my best friend was now throwing punches at Hunter, him returning some of them but it was obvious he was holding back, it was entertaining... well it was until Indigo started pulling at the t-shirt in Hunter's hand. The black cotton and red lettering sent a slight chill down my spine. That's my t-shirt.

I raced down my stairs, feet flying faster than they ever had. "STOP!" I shouted, jumping down three steps and landing roughly on my floor. I felt my ankle fold beneath me, twisting in a way that it certainly shouldn't. "STOP! Please."

I threw myself between them, catching Hunter's fist. He's strong. Like, I get he looks incredibly strong but he's basically the same strength as a bear. It's mildly worrying. "Indigo's a friend of mine." I almost scowled, but the expression was terrifying enough to cause amusement to flood through me as I watched Hunter's terrified reaction.

He lowered his fist, and I turned to Indigo. "Hunter's a friend of mine. He's the real owner of the house-"

"Oh my god he came back." Indigo gasped, looking between me and Hunter, who was looking mildly terrified and mildly guilty. "Anyways, do you want to run these lines or not? Because I have the script and I am not afraid to bully you into learning this character."

I rolled my eyes. Playing Romeo had been my dream ever since I had first been introduced to the play in the later years of secondary school. I'd read in for Romeo, but I hadn't been Romeo. Now, the stage lights were calling my name and so was the beautiful words of William Shakespeare.

"Which scene we working on today?" He asked, pulling out the script I had given him, "Act 1, scene 5?"

I nodded, smiling sadly. My ankle was throbbing, making it hard to put weight on it. "Yeah, yeah."

Hunter glanced at me as he walked back to the kitchen. "Need some ice for that ankle?" He asked. I didn't even realise it was that obvious. I didn't even have the chance to reply and ask for one before he tossed an ice pack over from the freezer.

"I didn't even know we had them." I said, catching it and examining it. It seemed new, but when did he have time to go out and get an ice pack?

"You two go upstairs, I'll get you some drinks." He said, turning away to make drinks. It was unnerving, to be honest. He still glanced over his shoulder hesitantly whenever he thought I wasn't watching. He still seemed so tense whenever I was around. He's a good actor, but he's still not as good as I can be.

Indigo looked at me, mingling concern and confusion on his face. He raised an eyebrow, wondering what was happening. I didn't even know myself, simply responding in a shrug as we went upstairs. The last few days had been chaotic.

A new team, even if I hadn't met one of them yet. 

A new father, even if he didn't truly trust me yet. 

A new life, even if I didn't deserve it.