Annie never understood how tying knots helped him, but she never bothered on asking. He had lived the same nightmare as her, the games. She let the demons fill her head and he lets the knots tire his hands.
“Are you okay?” she said in a whisper tone, she knew he didn’t do this unless everything caught up on him. The redhead kept her gaze on his hands, he seemed so focused, maybe that was the relief; worrying so much about the perfect knot that problems seemed to go away, at least for a little while.
It was the familiarity of it. Tying knots was something he’s done as a little kid and it stuck with him. It reminded him of times when things were okay. It reminded him of his father, of the place he was taken from after his name was drawn from a simple basket. It was a reminder of home.
But — he would not allow his stress to float over to her, not her. He would deal with his own ghosts and problems on his lonesome. For now, the rope was tucked away, a nod being given toward her direction.
“ —- you know me, Annie. I’m the king of the world.” A soft smile followed, hands reaching out to grab a hold of hers. He needed no ropes when she was around. Only her and nothing else.
