st1ngr4y-074

[st1ngr4y-074]

A series of AVM mental health headcanons and analyses

Decided to write down a few of my mental analyses from when I watched AVM. These are entirely headcanon and stem mostly from personal experience and canon material, where episodes relevant will be cited.

Brief summary from mild to most serious: Green, the extrovert, has social anxiety. Red, Yellow and Purple are the ADHD/Autism/AuDHD trio. TSC has PTSD.

Green has social anxiety.

This mostly stems from his overindulgence in performance, his overconfidence, and his tendency to one-up his friends, prove intelligence, and get distraught at losses or accidents (E35). While the Influencer Arc was a slippery slope from the beginning, Green felt particularly sensitive to the amount of praise, and I imagine that it is from an already-fragile self opinion. His confidence is mostly façade, with the idea that any failure, mistake, or otherwise "poor" action ends with others hating him. He attaches hard to kindness and praise as a result of this, causing his spiral in the Influencer Arc. The more attention he received, the more he felt a 'lack' of it meant hatred, and so on, so forth.

Red has mentioned ADHD. Who's the autism?

My favourite thing about AVM or AVA in general is the usage of body language to depict thoughts, emotions, or dialogue. It's with this body language that I identified Yellow as having particularly odd body language.

This started on my second watch of E30 when I noticed that everyone runs pretty similarly except Yellow. The others have their heads down, body leaning forward and arms thrashing harshly, similar to running in anime and other cartoon media. Yellow is an outlier in that he runs with his back completely straight, arms moving with an abnormally stable force. He takes running very literally.

Alongside this, Yellow is the most emotionally dysfunctional of the CG (Colour Gang). This starts all the way back in S1 with the 'death' of Green, and how Yellow is the one who seems to be struggling to process it. He tries to comfort the others, to no avail. In the start of E23, Blue laments about the separated group, and Yellow continues to appear as if he has not processed the panic yet, or that he believes that panic is unnecessary. He seems to process grief or loss differently to the others, in that he processes it either extremely slowly or not at all. He is logical and literal to a fault.

This, among a few smaller details, gave me the idea that - if anyone in the CG is autistic - it is Yellow. From this headcanon sprung other autistic traits: mostly his special interest in Minecraft logic and mechanics. Yellow is the second in the CG (with the first being TSC, hilariously) to use the computer world to his advantage (AVA8), and is the best with the Minecraft code (the staffs past AVMS3, redstone work, coding). He gets incredibly attached to new technical things, such as the staffs, command blocks and lucky blocks, and has a tendency to lose his common sense when indulging in these items (E19). His ability to take in the information quickly (AVE), alongside forming an obsessive fixation on code and mechanics and logic, gave me the idea of this being his core hyperfixation.

Red is ADHD, Yellow is ASD, Purple... is both.

One thing I noticed regarding body language is that, of the main six in the CG; Red, Yellow, and Purple are the most prone to performing repetitive movements, flapping their arms together and doing other odd wiggles.

Purple, like Red, shares an inconsistent drive - going from impatient and controlling (E9/E10) to hyperactive and overexcited (E21/E22) quickly. He is also very attached to particular objects, such as his elytra.

Purple, like Yellow, shares an inconsistent maturity - being a mix of both emotionally mature and immature. When surrounded by older figures such as King, he attaches quickly and hard, allowing himself to regress mentally (E22) and appear more childlike. This is to say that Purple contains both the ADHD traits in Red and the ASD traits in Yellow, suggesting that he may have both conditions, and have struggles regulating them.

Orange/The Second Coming has PTSD.

While this is a common HC from an angst perspective, I'm coming at this from an analytic point of view. TSC's core points of trauma that continue to affect him are the first half of AVA4, the entirety of AVA S2, and many events from AVM S1 - and these all share a common theme in death. TSC, at several points, has seen his friends almost and actually die - from AVA8, to AVM E8, when he's seen visibly dissociating after the accidental 'death' of Green.

This started with me simply identifying that TSC reacts badly to a lot of stressful situations. He is easily the most paranoid of the CG, being the one that directly rejects returning to the nether (E20), and also being prone to catastrophizing (E11). This paranoia also makes him prone to controlling the actions of others (E11, E20, E24) and getting angry when things don't go his way.

Speaking of anger, TSC has very poor anger management, but this mixes with his fear. The fight sequence in E24 has two main sections, separated by when TSC is holding back against Red, and when his anger takes over. Both at the start and end of the fight, TSC struggles to fight Red, mostly due to his own fear that he can go/has gone too far (AVAS2). When he does lose control, this is even proven as he tries to truly harm Red, and ends up frightening him (Red goes from instigating the fight to running away).

This is all to say that I feel TSC still struggles with the concept of death in the form of post-traumatic stress. Among all this, he also struggles with sleep (I identified him having hypersomniac traits rather than insomniac traits (AVM S2)), has issues trusting others (E20), and is incredibly attached to the people he has almost lost (namely Green but also the rest of the CG). These all come under both common and uncommon traits of childhood PTSD responses.

That was a lot.

The topic of my various analyses started in the Alan Becker server as I stuck my foot in there, but I also wanted to pass this onto Tumblr and Twitter. What do you think? I'd love to spark conversations with people, and also talk about more literal headcanons (I want to make a separate tumblr thread for that).

Either way, I hope this no-image, entirely-text post gave you some ideas or at least a look at how I feel about the CG and their responses to various situations. It's all part of how I write them and I would love to do more with these headcanons - but, for now, I merely talk.

Have a good one! - EMO

[st1ngr4y-074]

ooooh speak it sister

DID VICTIM AND DID TSC

Hear me out, no, fucking listen to me.

Victim has DID. Each past death + clones are an alter, the last one who survived is the host that split into two: one being the one left with memories of Mitsi and the other being the one we see front in the box.

Soon after AvA10, Victim realises that TSC is in the early stages of the same disorder with most of the alters not being very conscious.

Therefore, instead of trying to help or leaving it be, Victim Rocket (the host) purposefully worsens the situation and makes Orange split a shit ton of alters by various ways of torture and manipulation. Their alters try to stop them, but they can't. They're too weak to front.

They tell Shady Smith that it's to benefit from the kid's powers easier or some shit. But in reality, they see their "weak selves" (the rest of the alters) in TSC (+Yellow and TCO). They're trying to be "the superior one in the power dynamic". They are trying to control their surroundings.

Cowboy manages everything in The Second Coming system and puts Orange (the host) through many puzzles and challenges to keep them distracted and away from the front... away from whatever horrifying thing Victim is doing to them...

Victim knows the host is hidden deep in the mindspace. They try to lure the host out bc they deem the rest of the system useless. Orange tries to get out of there after realising what's been happening. Cowboy can only keep them* safe for so long...

*Every sentient being you see in AvE and more... (Yes, the Math symbols and the multi-dimentional creatures are alters.)

[st1ngr4y-074]

“Please Don't Remain A Memory”,

Hallowhead family time !1!1 featuring; Noogai, Victim, Chosen, Dark, and Second (?)

This was made for Alan Becker’s, the creator of Animation vs. Animator/Minecraft, birthday. This was supposed to be made and finished a few days ago but I was busy with my own birthday, which is also on May 18th, but erm actually it still is that 18th of May if you’ll check your calendar so. ha.

word count: 1337

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65748049

!! STORY UNDER CUT !!

A beeping. An incessant, annoying beeping disturbed Noogai’s slumber. But it wasn’t actually slumber–it was more of a lucid sleep. He was still aware of the cheap-leather couch latching itself to his skin, aware of how slightly cold and sweaty the skin will be after he gets up. He was still aware of the time, albeit going a lot faster than it usually would. Still aware of the fact that he wasn’t letting himself fall asleep. Couldn’t would be a better word.

Oh, and he was especially aware of the beeping.

Noogai groaned as he lifted his head slightly, accidentally-yet-also-sort-of-purposely pushed his phone off the couch as heard the rubber dunk it made when hitting the wood floors. He reached down and searched for it, found it, turned down the volume. He reached his free hand over to the side table and grasped for his blocky glasses that always drew Second’s attention away from his midday nap.

He put them on and suddenly the world wasn’t bleary and didn’t look like it was weaving itself together. He officially turned the alarm off after being unblinded. A forced cough from behind made him look around, making eye contact with the Dark Lord himself.

“Hi papa!” Dark sat with his legs handing over the topside of the couch, lightly swinging before sliding down to regular couch-sitting height.

“Dark. Hello. You didn’t sleep last night, did you?”

“No. The dollies were telling me a story about this girl who ran away from home and found a dead body. It was cool. Happy birthday!”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” We’ll escape this place one day. We’ll escape with Second and we’ll get you help, Dark. “It’s the eighteenth already?”

“Vicky reminded me. And Choo-Choo. I think he’s still sleeping. I think he slept in a box last night. I heard him crying. He interrupted my story. That wasn’t nice. The dollies weren’t happy.”

Noogai stood, ruffling Dark’s already messied hair, and started towards Dark and Chosen’s room. Dark jumped off the couch, following his father before running ahead. Noogai looked in the room, seeing Dark standing on tippy-toes, peering down into a stray cardboard box. He heard quiet and soft sobs escaping through the open top.

“Chosen?” Noogai walked closer to the box, leaning down and finding a child, blackened hair, curled in on himself on one side of the box. “Oh, Cho.” Noogai reached down and lifted the child into arms, Chosen’s head automatically hiding in the crook of Noogai’s neck.

Noogai rubbed at Chosen’s back for a few minutes, just until he stopped crying. He noticed Chosen’s bed was made, telling him that Chosen didn’t sleep in it last night. He hadn’t slept in his bed ever since Second had gone missing.

Chosen looked Noogai in the eye, scratching at his eyebags, making them more red. He pointed to the door and scrambled out of his fathers arms. Noogai let him down easily, but Chosen gripped onto his sleeve. He dragged Noogai with little effort back towards the door, Dark taking his other sleeve, leading Noogai in the same direction. “Kids, please.”

“We have a gift!” Dark’s smile seemed to brighten. It would’ve been more of a happy scene if it didn’t emphasize just how little sleep he seemed to be getting.

“Kids, I just woke up…”

“It’s already the afternoon.” Dark pouted, Chosen whined. “We have a present. Vicky made it! Come on, come on!” Dark pulled harder and Noogai went with it, willing himself to keep an open mind.

Dark and Chosen dragged Noogai through the living room, equipped with the couch and Noogai’s phone, to the kitchen, where Victim stood on a stool crying. Dark and Chosen let go as Noogai rushed over to Victim.

“Vic? Vic, what happened?”

Victim looked at his father, pouting and whining, seemingly crying harder at the sight of his dad.

“I just wanted you to have a nice birthday!” Victim started, crying harder as Noogai enveloped him in a hug.

“Vic…”

“No! B-because you’re always stressed and you don’t get a lot of sleep at night and now Second’s missing and I just wanted you to have one single day where you don’t have to be stressed and you–and we… we could eat cake a-and… be a family!”

Victim sobbed into Noogai’s chest. Only now does Noogai register how messy his kitchen is: a cake pan with a burnt cake (Noogai only assumed it was supposed to be a cake) sat on the counter, surrounded by black crumbs of burnt cake; silverware of different kinds were unorganized on the counter; there was dirty water in the sink from God-knows-where; and cleaning supplies was scattered all over the floor. It seemed like Victim knew what he was getting himself into.

“I couldn’t get the oven to work.” Victim wiped at his nose.

“Oh, Vicky… that’s alright. I don’t need anything for my birthday, I’m happy as is.” He knew that Victim knew that was a lie. Noogai let go of Victim, putting the cake pan in the sink, cowering away from the suspicious filthy water. Victim sat on the stool, hunching over himself. Noogai could tell he felt guilty. “Hey, Vicky, how about you help me clean up around here? Dark, Chosen, you two can help too. We can get this done much faster if we work together.”

“But–” Victim perked his head up, ready for an argument.

“No, no buts. We’re all gonna calm down and we’re all gonna clean.” Victim silently hopped down from his stool, quickly grabbing a dustpan and hand broom and starting with the crumbs that fell on the ground. Noogai picked a Lysol bottle from the supplies and handed it to Chosen. “You two can get the counters; you know where the stools are.”

Noogai began to sweep the extra burnt crumbs towards the sink, watching them plop in and viewing his reflection in the water. At least the reflection he could see; the water was really, really, dirty.

_______________________________________________

Cleaning didn’t take long. It didn’t take long because Noogai was doing most of the work. Not that he didn’t mind teaching his kids how to clean, but they were really toying with his patience today.

Now, everyone was sitting outside on the porch. Apparently, it had rained earlier, as the grass and wood of the deck was damp, moist. It took every ounce of the patience Noogai had left over from the day to convince Dark not to go running in the puddles and making a mess of himself and his clothes.

Victim leaned against Noogai’s arm, Chosen in his lap, Dark fidgeting with his sleeve. Chosen seemed to be zoning out, eyes locked yet unlocked on a button on Noogai’s jacket.

“Uhm, papa?” Victim piped up, disturbing the silence between the four. “What… What do you want for your birthday? I’ll get it for you next year, I promise I will, I’ll make up for this year! I’m sorry!” Victim looked like he was about to start crying again. Noogai stroked his hand from Victim’s head to his back, gently, soothing the child as he hugged his fathers arm. He took his hand away from Dark, much to the annoyance of the young child, and reached into his pants pocket, pulling out his wallet. He opened it and searched for a second or two for a picture. “Oh.”

The picture was the first picture ever taken of Second, after he was just made. He was crying, fussy, biting at Noogai every time he tried to help the small baby. Orange locks were covering his head, almost completely covering his eye sockets. Small tears spilling out as Noogai tried his best to comfort him. Somehow, Noogai had managed to swaddle the child in a soft blanket, which seemed to calm him down some–make him a little drowsy, even.

“Papa? Mm… I don’t think I can find him. I’m sorry.”

Noogai kissed Victim’s forehead. They would escape this place someday.

Not today, though.

Second’s still missing.

[st1ngr4y-074]

hhhhhhheh im literally so good at mind feading.

men agian. forget tosay hop yu hasve a good day I am a nize persun. plz dont blokk me .

oh hey i’ve read your stuff! thank you. btw i saw your other ask but i’m not responding publicly because your guesses are preeeeetty good ;)

[st1ngr4y-074]

"Mendacious",

Purple/Green Smut Fic; prasie, degrade, secret

Mendacious: (adj.) having a lying, false character

Purple doesn’t want to be a secret anymore.

(tech) f/m, (act) m/m

word count: 8238

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65483293

(((if theres any spaces between parenthesis or italicized text and punctuation then sorry !!! i lost the motivation to fix it rn, just point it out if u see any and ill change it l8r thx <333)))

!! EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER CUT !!

Purple stared at his phone screen. There was nothing to do and he was bored.

He was sitting on the stage in the auditorium of the high school, Blue and Orange are the only other people he knew in the auditorium, not like there were many other people in the room anyways. Both looked just as bored:  Orange seeming like he was about to fall asleep and Blue ranting mindlessly about something Purple couldn’t hear, but he could accurately estimate it was about him leaving Blue and Green in the End. Blue was throwing Purple dirty looks the whole time, Purple would just smile back devilishly if they made eye contact.

It wasn’t too long after Purple had abandoned Green and Blue to fall into the void in favor of that dragon egg. Purple touched his hair clip, shaped like a crown with a rose-gold shimmer. He smirked to himself, in his mind he tried to remember how Green and Blue managed to survive but no recollection surfaced. Sometimes ADHD isn’t so silly to have.

The difference between Green and Blue was that while Blue was being secret (well, not really) about gossiping about Purple, Green was being secret about having sex with Purple.

No, Purple has no idea how they started sleeping together, but they’ve been doing it since roughly two months ago, which was about one month after Purple had nearly gotten Green and Blue killed.

God, when could he go home? Whenever he wanted, really, but he didn’t want to go home and have to speak to his father just to get into another fight or something. Though it wasn’t like anything really needed to be done, showtime wasn't for another two months and stage/tech crew was ahead of schedule. He should just leave right now, go somewhere other than “home”.

A notification dragged him away from his thoughts. He shouldn’t have felt so bubbly when he saw Green’s name pop up.

“heyyyy” Green started.

“Hi. Do you need something?” Purple typed out a bit too quickly to be Green's friend-with-benefits.

“oh, hi, I didnt think you would text back so quickly” Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen before Purple could reply “was stage crew canceled today?”

“No, we ran out of things to do. Everything is already done.”

“Oh poo” Green continued, “Princey must be soooo bored” and again, three dots, “you’re not busy after stage crew right?”

God, why can't Green just type it all in one message? “No. Are you inviting me somewhere?”

“yeah, my house” Three dots, “my dick, preferably”

Ah.

Purple began to get a little giddy at that. “Oh, you’re not even going to take me out to dinner first? Your so forward.”

“you’re*”

Damn it.

“but i will, if you’re hungry” Green extended.

“Yes, please. I'm starved.”

“awe, drama king” Purple’s smile faltered, “alr, what do you want?”

“I don’t know, just anything.”

“there’s a bakery close to my place that i dont think many people know about, so we dont have to worry about being seen. Are you in the mood for pastries?”

Purple gripped his phone just a teeny-tiny bit harder after reading that. Worry? About someone seeing them? He wasn’t worried. Why would Green think he’s worried about being ‘exposed’? He knows why. He’s just too stubborn (and maybe a little irrational) to admit that fact.

“That’s fine. I’ll meet you there at eighteen.”

“that’s six pm, right?”

“Search it up.”

“i don't feel like it’

“Awe, music conductor must be soooo lazy.”  Ugh… That was a bad pun.

Purple shoved his phone in the back pocket of his pants, grabbed his plain-grey backpack, and left the auditorium. He honestly didn’t know where he was going, just letting his mind wander while he made his way around the school. He still had a few hallways before nearing the main entrance/exit of the school. 

Purple decided to leave at the last second, and no one was stopping him. Damn, he didn’t bring his skateboard today. Walking it is. He didn’t know where, and it was still maybe an hour before he should start heading over to the bakery.

Maybe a gas station? But he didn’t want to ruin his appetite. The arcade that’s only about a twenty minute walk from the school? But he hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch, playing DDR would probably make him pass out, plus he doesn't have too much money to spend so frivolously.

He pulled out his phone, which had been buzzing at him, and saw that Green had texted him multiple times, asking where Purple had gone.

“Sorry, I just left the school.” He walk-and-typed.

“…but stage crew end at 5:30?”

“So what? Everyone was just talking. Nothing has to get done and barely anyone even showed up. I have better things to do than sit around and wait another hour doing nothing.” Wait. “Oh, and you meant ‘ends’.”

“better things like talking to me?”

“No, I just hate to leave someone without an answer.”

Why do you waste your answering me? Yet at the same time they would think yes, you should answer to me. You don't deserve to have your attention on anyone else but me.

“:p” Three dots, “wyd then, if you’re not at stage crew?”

“Just skipping. I might go home or see if I can pick up an early shift for tomorrow.”

“buhhh” Those damned dots again. Why can’t Green just get everything he wants to say in one message? “so ill meet you at the bakery?”

“I can’t have sex on an empty stomach. What’s the bakery called?”

“you don’t care if anyone sees us?”

…Fucking. Bitch.

No, of course he didn’t care. He wanted people to see them together. To acknowledge that Purple wasn’t just a pretty face and could be someone just like they all were.

“Just tell me what it’s called!”

It only took Purple twenty minutes to reach the bakery if he walked from his house; sixteen if he ran, but he didn’t want to push it. Thank God Navy wasn't home today. Green greeted him at the entrance, waiting on a bench so he didn’t have to awkwardly wait inside. Though for Green it probably wouldn’t be awkward, he was something of an extrovert.

Purple won’t lie, even if that seems like the only thing he's capable of, he got more giddy than should be reasonable upon seeing Green. Upon seeing his loose-fitted sage flannel, Mötley Crüe band-T, baggy cargos with a black-leather green-studded belt, Doc Martens with beaded laces, and an orange star-barrette that he matched with Orange, who had a green clip.

Purple had never been to the bakery before–Hell, he can't even remember the last time he had gluten! Not that he never wanted any sweets containing it or anything, he just didn't eat much and usually stuck to his list when shopping for groceries. His list did not contain any cookies or cakes or any delicacies at all, for that matter.

The bakery was a cozy place, he will admit. It seemed like a good, quiet place for students to study. The pastries were… interesting. Purple had no idea what an ‘almond horn’ or a ‘dutch letter’ was; hell, he had never even heard of an ‘angel food cake,’ which was apparently more common than Purple thought, according to Green. Purple ended up choosing a cream-filled chocolate long john with a blueberry doughnut. Green got two sugar-coated raspberry bismarcks and a diet Pepsi.

They found a table in the back corner, right next to a window. The scenery outside was nice. It showcased a few trees getting their leaves back after a brutal winter. It was clean; that’s the part Purple really noticed. No cigarette butts, no litter, nothing dirty or unorganized in sight. Perfect.

Purple didn’t hesitate in devouring all he got, starting with the doughnut, which was covered in glaze that he hadn’t seen. It only took him about four bites. The long john was more of a hassle, the cream inside overstimulated his taste buds and made this odd tingling happen whenever it touched the roof of his mouth. It felt like he was orgasming in his mouth. It still tasted good, just filled him up fast.

Purple was one bite away from finishing the long john when Green piped up. “Do… you want any more?”

“What?” Purple took a few seconds to process that Green had been talking about something that Purple wasn’t listening to. “Oh. Sorry. I haven’t eaten in a hot minute.”

“Ah… do you want the rest of my bismarck? I can’t finish it.” Purple didn’t haste in taking the bismarck from Green’s tray and shoving the half Green hadn’t eaten down his own throat. He barely even spared a ‘thank you’. Green sipped on his diet Pepsi, “Did you wanna do it at my house or your house? I know your dad usually isn't there or something, but if your house isn’t available then mine is. We can sneak you in through a window with your elytra–”

“Yor houze, fromt foor,” Purple choked out through a throatful of bismarck. Maybe he should slow down, it was getting a little hard to breathe.

“What?”

Purple took a minute to swallow, lightly tapping his chest to help it down (no, it didn’t help).

“You swallow so well,” Green smirked at Purple as the latter coughed up and re-swallowed the pastry, which he very quickly found out was too big to get down in one piece.

“Shut up. Bitch. I said ‘your house, front door.’”

“Won’t the others see you?”

That’s the whole fucking point, you dense idiot. “Maybe. Maybe not. You won’t know until you're there.”

Green watched him for a hot minute, licking the cream off the parchment paper like a cartoon bear would to a pot of overly-shiney honey.

“Uh, I didn’t know you were so hungry.” Green propped his head up on one hand. “Do you want to get something else?”

Purple wiped his mouth with a napkin, quickly taking out a compact mirror from his pocket and checking his face to ensure there was nothing but perfect skin. “No. I’m full now. Are we splitting the check?”

Green shook his head. “Let me treat you today.”

“What? …For almost killing you and Blue, like, three months ago? I can pay for myself.” Another lie. Purple was struggling financially.

“I know, I know. But isn’t that romantic? Me, paying for your lunch, hand on your waist as we walk to my house… Then, when we get there, I could slowly undress you and you would lay down on my bed and watch me as I slowly undressed myself, then I could gently hook into you, buck and shift upward–”

“WOW.” Purple interrupted, “Okay. So, that was a lot. Where on Earth did that even come from, anyways?”

“Sorry. I snuck into Orange’s secret stack of books recently. I did not know he was into borderline-Wattpad stories.”

You’re sure you’re not into that, too? The thought crossed in Purple’s mind as he rolled his eyes.

“So anyways,” Purple pulled out his wallet and took a ten and a five. “This place is so damn expensive…” He mumbled to himself so Green couldn't hear. He plopped the money in the middle of the table, waiting for Green to add his portion so they could pay at the counter.

“I just wanna have sex with you already.” Green was leaning on his hands pretty intensely; he looked pathetic. And alone. And extremely horny. And like he wanted to kiss Purple or something. Ha. That would be insane.

“You know the rules…” Purple spoke, barely a whisper. Mentioning the rules they set in place to not get caught made him irrationally angry, the rules that Purple set, the rules Purple agreed to. The fact that he, himself had made the suggestion and now was pissed over it made him even angrier. He was a hypocrite.

Green took out his own wallet and added his own ten and five, “I’ll pay real quick. Can you take the trays up?”

“Mhm.” Purple stood and started collecting the trash: trays, parchment paper, used napkins, and Green’s diet Pepsi. He quickly ripped the tab off and stowed it away in his pant-pocket, the same pocket with the compact mirror.

Green was talking to the cashier while Purple threw out the garbage, placed the trays on the designated table where dirty trays go, and waited for Green by the entrance. Jesus, did it always take him this long to pay? He was probably sparking up a conversation or something, being the alluring asshole he is.

Finally he was done with paying (it took way longer than necessary, in Purple’s opinion), and they finally began to walk towards Green’s apartment. He shared it with Red, Yellow, Blue, and occasionally Orange, when he wasn’t staying with his biological family.

It was fine, this was fine. Orange would probably be at his other house, Blue would be out gardening, Red was cleaning cat kennels at the local animal shelter, and Yellow wasn’t much of a problem: he was a notorious shut-in. They wouldn’t be caught by anyone. You don’t have to worry, Green.

But Purple had to be honest with himself: Green didn’t care if they were going to be seen. Green thought Purple cared (which he did, but not in the way Green thought he did. He was such a hypocrite, such a stupid fucking hypocrite).

Green snaked an arm around Purple’s waist, pulling him closer to his chest and decided it was a great idea to grope Purple’s ass. Purple swatted Green’s hand away almost immediately, turning to face the slightly taller one with a flustered expression.

“What? Your ass is fat and you wear tight princey-expensive pants.”

“They aren’t expensive! I sewed them myself.” Purple clarified, rolling his eyes again. He noticed that Green’s antics and sensual quips made him do that a lot more frequently than he usually would.

It took a little bit longer to reach Green’s apartment building because someone wearing a Mötley Crüe T-Shirt (that Purple was only slightly envious of), who will go unnamed, decided it would be more mood-setting to take the scenic route. The excessive walking just made Purple more antsy, greedier, esurient. More hungry, but not in the physical-metabolism triggering sense; in a frustrated, empty sense. Was it weird to say that he wanted to be, like, inside Green’s skin? He can’t be that horny, right?

Jesus, could this walk take any longer?!

“ Goddd … are we almost at your house?” Purple cut Green off in whatever he was info-dumping about, Purple wasn’t listening. Why would he, anyways? They were just there to have sex, not to get to know each other, Purple begrudgingly reminded himself.

“Impatient much?” Green loosened his arm from Purple’s waist, grabbing his keys from one of the many pockets in his cargos. “It’s not much farther, only a few blocks. Wanna race?”

“Not really. You’d win anyways. You run track.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you aren’t in any sports.”

“I’m busy enough with jobs and schooling. And… violin.” Purple glimmered ever so slightly.

“Awe, you’re so cute when you brag.”

“Shut up. I don’t brag about myself. You’re more of a narcissist than anyone I know.” Shut up shut up shut up he doesn’t brag he’s not an ass shut up shut up and at the same time in a voice that wasn't his own, narcissist. Big fat narcissist.  Liar, liar and a pathetic failure. You can do better than first-chair. So much better. Though the only coherent thought he could actually accurately hear was how was that bragging?!

Green stuck out his tongue at Purple before leaving a small peck on the top of his head. Purple pushed him off jokingly, silently hoping he would persist in Purple’s torment. He didn’t. Navy’s voice in his head slowly faded to null. Key word: slowly.

The rest of the walk was silent. Not uncomfortable, but also not completely slug-your-shoulders, pass-out-in-my-arms-and-dream-about-me comfortable. Just an understanding silence until they reached the apartment building.

Purple kind of only sort of hated going to Green’s place. There were so many stairs. He hated that Green and his roommates lived on one of the highest floors, hated even more that there weren’t any elevators in the damn building. But whatever, they trudged onwards. Up and up until they were standing in front of Green’s door.

Of course, Green wasn’t hurt from the stairs. He was a star athlete who trained his legs nearly every day by walking up and down those stairs. Purple, on the other hand, would never admit to feeling winded or tired after going up those stairs. Those small rants about stairs could turn into small back and forth bickers about why Purple didn’t participate in sports, and those smaller arguments could turn into much longer confessions about Purple’s distrust in hunger, which would turn to food, which could turn to worry about Purple and eating disorders, which would lead to confession galore. The anorexia, the blatant child neglect and physical abuse… Purple was not ready for that. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready for those chats. Best to steer clear of any chance of that happening, no matter how small.

Purple slipped his shoes off, kicking them neatly by the door in the respectable way his mother taught him growing up. No one was in the living room nor the kitchen, just as Purple had expected it to be.

Purple inhaled sharply yet silently, pushing down his rocky breathing from those dreaded stairs that he hated so very much. “Which one is your room again?”

Green strided past the striped couch (that Purple always assumed was rat-infested) and stopped in front of a door with a ton of green music notes drawn with paint-markers scattered around haphazardly. “This one.”

“Ah.”

Green turned the knob revealing a very messy room, one that made his date irrationally angry. If Purple could clean the room himself he would. There were clothes scattered in random locations; bobby pins and expensive-looking musical records ( ‘musical records’? ) strewn on the ground ( ‘strewn on the ground’?! ); a bunch of band instrument cases shoved in little crevices. If he was lucky enough, sometimes Purple would find a clear path from the door to the bed. He hadn’t seen anyone else’s room but he wouldn’t be surprised if they were all just as messy.

“I hate… this,” Purple voiced his opinion for once.

“What?”

“Your room is barely livable. It’s like you don’t take care of yourself. Jesus, my mother kept a better organized house when she was paralyzed with a lack of energy.” Purple grimaced, picking up a pretty jacket and folding it neatly in his arms. He went to place it on the desk before backtracking and realizing there was a big paint spill. He placed it on the backside of a chair.

“Okay, ignoring the quip about your mother that I did not know about.” Green pulled the door shut and tossed his flannel on the ground, much to Purple’s contempt. He stepped over and grabbed Purple with one hand on his waist and one hand on his arm, sliding his backpack off and tossing it next to his bedside table. “How’s being a prince?”

“Fine. What's with the small talk? We’ve done this song-and-dance plenty of times, no need to act like there's anything to hide.” Purple put one hand on Green’s chest, the other cupping around his neck.

“Hmpf. I'm trying to be romantic here! Play along? For me?” Green whispered, taking the hand on Purple’s arm and moved it to his face, cupping a check and bringing his lips to match with Purple’s. Green guided both of them to his bed, with Purple clambering onto his lap as Green scooted them both more toward the middle of the bed.

“I don't want to play your games, Green.” Purple whispered, smiling a little, standing on his knees over Green before lowering himself to a straddle.

Green moved his hands to the back of Purple’s hair, undoing the hair tie and combing out his braid. He brought Purple’s head closer to his, catching his lips in perfect concord. Green played with his hair as Purple let his hands wander around Green’s back and sides. Purple slowly began pushing Green’s shirt more upward as Green broke the seal of his and Purple’s lips, gently rubbing the sides of Purple’s tongue with his own.

Green pulled back from the kiss, Purple catching the hint and letting Green go. Green cupped his shirt from the sides and lifted it off and over his head. Green reached over to Purple and started to unbutton his dark purple vest, sliding it off his arms and beginning to unbutton his cream colored blouse. He unhooked each brown button slowly, eventually letting temptation take over and caressing the perfectly symmetrical scars under his areolas.

“Bitch…” Purple whispered as he felt the touch, letting the sleeves of his blouse be guided off his body as the rest of his blouse pooled at his waist, still tucked into his ‘tight, princey-expensive looking pants,’ as Green had called them.

“You liked it before,” Green rubbed one cheek against Purple’s, kissing at his jawline as his hands returned to Purple’s waist and undid his plain black belt. He threw it aside on the ground, Purple figured on purpose to piss him off even more, and unzipped the fly of Purple’s pants. Purple began to do the same, although with more difficulty since the bed blocked Purple from slipping Green’s pants off unless he lifted himself up for a moment.

Green slipped his hands in the backside of Purple’s pants, cupping his ass before sliding his pants down to collect at his knees, leaving Purple in nothing but a pair of white-and-black polka dot panties and his striped socks. Green lifted himself up for a second and slipped his own cargos down and pulled them the rest of the way off, exposing his black Calvin Klein boxers (Green had to move Purple off his lap for a moment and immediately Purple became jealous that Green’s pants were getting more attention than him. Oh, Lord, he was jealous of pants ). Purple pulled his own pants and blouse away from his knees, folding them quickly and laying them neatly next to the bed and taking his socks off to lay them on top of his small pile of clothes. Green tossed pants on top of Purple’s messily.

Purple returned to a straddle, this time clenching his thighs a little bit tighter around Green’s hips, “I’m cleaning this room before I leave.” He declared.

“I’m obligated to listen to the prince?” Green questioned, though it was more of a teasing statement. “Who said you're leaving anyways? Not to sound like a kidnapper, but can’t you stay and we can watch a movie or something? Do you have to go anywhere?”

“Well, no,” Purple leaned into Green’s face, forehead touching forehead, “I just think you and your posse of vigilanties are annoying, and have no taste in fashion.”

“Okay, well, you can’t read. So,” Green purred in Purple’s face, taking a long and slow once-over of Purple’s body; pale skin with long, royal, rich hair reaching half-way down his back; healed scars from previous accidents along with a few fresh brushes here and there (Green would never find out how bad they could get. Not if Purple could help it); a few freckles on his arms and chest, giving his skin that extra flair of beauty that Purple couldn’t see in himself; and Green’s favorite detail: a full back tattoo traveling down his entire spine and expanding to the muscles on the backside of his arms. “Turn around real quick?”

“Uh, why?”

“I wanna see my favorite part of you.” Purple grunted, loosened his thighs around Green’s, and rotated his body. He decided to take Green’s shoes and socks off for him since it was obvious he wasn’t going to do it himself.

The tattoo started as a simple black spine (‘simple’ is a complete lie; it was a very detailed spine with very detailed details), but along the ridges it began to grow heads of orchids that grew larger in size as they maneuvered upward. Coiled at the top of the spine, directly in line with where Purple’s heart would sit, was a dragon, with its eyes big and piercing. The wings were spread and curling down toward the lower part of his back, not blocking any of the orchids. Tendrils of unknown identity curled toward the back part of his arms and around the dragons. The entire tattoo was black, with skin showcasing the highlights.

Green remembers vaguely that he saw the tattoo through Purple’s elytra one day, when they were fighting and Purple had to take his shirt off because it was too hot. The place where the dragon's wings branched off from its body was directly in between where the wings of the elytra would branch off from Purple’s body, with the eyes of the dragon sitting right above the strap that held the elytra together. It was the most sexually arousing parallel Green had ever witnessed, he still doesn’t know how they ended the fight without fucking.

Green let his left hand trance down the trend line, then up again, caressing the dragons’ eye and reaching past Purple’s neck. Green’s hand wrapped around him as he pushed Purple down onto the bed, planting kisses and licks all over the right side of his neck. “There’s no way in hell your dad let you get that.”

“I told you; he doesn’t care. He just signed the paper so long as I paid for the thing.” Purple turned himself over, wrapping his arms around Green’s head, as Green enveloped his upper chest, his lips returning to the crook of Purple’s neck. “It cost less than top surgery.” Probably because he wasn’t the one who paid for that.

“Blah, blah…” Green lifted himself into a push-up position before sitting on his knees, hands sliding down to Purple’s hip joints, cupping the rim of his panties.

Pointer and middle fingers gently clawed down Purple’s skin, sensually dragging the cloth downward as a small string of discharge connected Purple’s vaginal entrance to a tiny puddle in his undergarment. It broke off before Green could pull Purple’s panties any more down.

Green swiftly unhooked the panties from his ankles and dropped it next to the bed: Purple gave him a face that Green seemed to ignore. Green admired his naked figure once more; legs locked between his own and his bed, shiny clear-white mucus collecting at the slit in between Purple’s legs. Green reached over and pushed a finger against the opening, sliding the two flaps of skin apart and Purple immediately felt more tension at the very start of the vaginal entrance. Must be a trauma response.

Purple let out a sigh and hitched his hips up slightly as Green slowly went deeper, feeling the tightness loosen as Green’s finger worked his way inside. Green was about two phalanges in before he gently pushed in a second digit, beginning to spread his fingers apart, scissoring open the labia, fingernails grazing softly against Purple's canal sides.

Green added a third finger, itching upward and shoving his hand in deeper as Purple softly humped. Purple groaned in annoyance as Green retracted his hand, the feeling was soothing. Purple liked it.

Green took his other hand and inserted both thumbs into Purple’s entrance, finding smooth slickness not too far into the ingrain. Green began to swirl his thumbs in a circular motion, stimulating Purple in the nicest of ways. Purple let out a few breaths, both steady and shaky. Green quickly sped up his swirling and Purple found himself letting out longer and longer groans.

Green removed his thumbs, admiring the slick and bringing his hands to his mouth; lapping up all of Purple’s juices.

“Ugh,” Purple inhaled and exhaled, over and over again, staring straight into Green’s smug gaze. “Yuck, yuck, and more yuck.” He muttered.

“You’ve sucked me off before and swallowed so hush it, Highness .”

Purple flipped Green off. Green reached over, bringing their lips together as he slipped his boxers down. Purple won't lie for once: that nickname did something to him mentally.

Purple fell back onto the bed, head against cloth as Green’s tongue teased over his lips. Green kept his boxers joint at his ankles, dick edging closer to Purple’s entrance. Purple would try to yip a quip, but Green would press their lips back together before he was able to finish his sentence. He could only get out the typical terms; “bitch,” “fucking slut,” “whore,” nothing that Green hadn’t heard before.

And then Green began to get his quips in.

“Pretty boy… Oh, Purple, my perfect secret… My amazing cumslut… God…” And then some stuff in Spanish Purple didn’t understand.

Green’s tip hooked inside and slipped out, so he pushed it back in, and then in some more. Purple shut his eyes harder, focusing on the feeling. He bucked, bringing Green’s dick further in, up until Green brought it out again. Purple moaned as it went deeper; if he focused hard enough it almost felt like he could feel precum squelching around in him. If he listened hard enough, there would be the moist slosh of white noise of Green’s penis pulling slightly back and pushing slightly in.

 Green went deeper, slightly faster, as Purple broke the kiss. Green latched onto his neck, starting out by kissing in faux-hesitance. Green lightly drifted his teeth against the skin of the right side of Purple's neck, nibbling and kissing and licking and lapping and all that romantic crap.

Purple shivered at the wetness of Green’s saliva on his previously dry neck, trembled at the hand stroking from the top of head down to the base of his nape, flexed at the hands running along his stomach and nipples, moaned at the erection hardened inside of him.

Purple hadn’t even realized he switched to French until he caught a snippet of the world around him, every accented syllable meaning nothing to Green’s ears but meaning some odd, fragmented solace of love to Purple’s.

Green reached Purple’s cervix and finally began to thrust , causing accidental jolts in Purple’s movements, clawing at Green’s back.

“Green! Green, shit, oh! Mmehuva…” Purple moaned, losing his words as Green brought his mouth higher on Purple’s neck, sucking with his tongue, tongue swaddling against the skin it could reach, tasting. The sensation was addicting at best and humiliating at worst. But, shit, it was Green doing it, and anyone else at school wouldn’t even consider for a second that ‘humiliating’ would be on the list of emotions if it was the Green, Clave de Sol Guerreiro.

Green dug his canines into Purple’s flesh as he rocked his hips. He hammered into Purple’s cervix, tip rubbing against the barrier. Purple felt trapped, but in a good way. He didn’t want this feeling to stop any time soon. It felt like a massage that wrecked his entire nervous system. Fucking hormones.

Green sucked on a different spot, using the time when his lips weren’t on Purple’s neck to say something in Spanish. Purple didn’t understand most of what he was saying but caught words like “amor,” “bien,” “si.” Purple didn’t catch what came before and after, but he likely knew it was something majorly sexual.

Green reached one of his hands down and started messing with the exposed skin usually protected by his folds, scratching and pulling and playing with the sensitive skin. Purple gripping his head harder, pulling on Green’s hair and he shot back French curses, insults, a few praises here and there. Green pushed his pointer and middle finger inside, giving Purple’s G-spot the attention that his dick lacked to give.

God, this was amazing.

Green moved to the other side of Purple’s neck. He didn't stay long, though, pulling his head back up to meet Purple’s lips in a melodramatic, intense kiss. As if they were having sex in the middle of the apocalypse and this was the last time Green would ever get his hands on Purple’s naked form.

“Oh, my perfect secret. My favorite, flawless little secret. God, Purple, I love you. I love you so much, fuck.” Green bit Purple’s bottom lip, speeding his pace up ever slightly.

“Ugh… Green, Green!” Purple sobbed as his lips landed on Green’s forehead and Green’s lips returned to Purple's neck, licking and biting. Green’s lips began to move lower, as much as his hunched spine could let him get without leaving Purple empty. Kissing at the muscle in between his neck and his chest, following the lines of his skin, eventually ending up around his nipples and lapping them up, too.

Green’s fingers rubbed at Purple’s interior. Green’s dick intruded his gut. Green’s tongue left no part of Purple’s skin untainted, any part it could reach would be infected with Green . Green’s hand was stroking his skin in places his other appendages couldn't reach: back, sides, biceps, anywhere his tongue couldn't get to right then.

God, it was heaven. An escape: this was Purple’s escape to heaven. His Elysium. Nothing else mattered when it came to Green, all his worries and responsibilities left behind for a transience of respite.

Green didn't falter in his speed nor his touches, didn't let his teeth leave Purple’s body alone. Not even when he felt the sensation of something being left behind after Green pulled out and rapidly pushed back in.

“Green, shit, Green–did you–?!”

“Ah, fuck, it's–its you, I can't–it’s hard not to come when I'm with you…!”

Green’s body finally hesitated and Purple couldn't help but whine. He hadn't come yet, how dare Green stop until Purple reached his own peak!

Green stopped his movement all together, stationary inside Purple, and rested his head on Purple’s shoulder and let out a few shaky breaths.

“You can–you can ride–”

Green lifted himself up on muscular arms. He rested on his knees and waited for Purple to assume control. Purple desperately locked both of them back together, hopping up and dropping down into Green lap.

Green groaned as Purple arched his back, feeling the undeniable cataclysm of his own orgasm wash over about thirty long seconds after Green’s.

Purple sank down onto Green cock for the final time that night, giving in to his post-coital clarity and shoving Green down onto his bed, back-side first, laying on top of him in a tight hug.

“We… we should start wearing protection more often,” Purple sighed.

“Mm. It's funner this way, more dangerous.”

“Yek. Mmm.” They laid in silence for several moments, Purple could've sworn he felt Green falling asleep. Purple strenuously lifted himself up, stirring Green ever so. “Get up. Clean up.” Purple whined. It wasn't said in a demanding way, more of a ‘if you don't help me clean then I'm not doing it’ kind of way.

“Mmm… Nah. Later. I like laying here with you.” Green whispered, still reeling from Purple using him as a tossable Sybian. Green reached over to his bedside table and picked up the remote, turning on the TV hanging on the wall parallel to his bed.

Purple flopped back down, this time next to Green, and snuggled close, bringing the covers with him. “What do you wanna watch?”

“Grey’s Anatomy.” Purple replied without even thinking, like he hadn't seen every episode of every season at least five times (he had. He undoubtedly had. Suck his cock, he’d watch it again and again).

Green clicked the buttons on the remote until they arrived at Netflix, then at Grey’s Anatomy, starting up the first episode of season one. “I've seen snippets of this show from Blue watching it on the TV in the living room, but I've never actually sat down to watch it. Why are you and Blue so mad at each other? You two would get along great. I mean, you both watch Grey’s Anatomy and really, really enjoy it; you both are good at cooking; you both garden; both get a little jealous when attention isn't on you…”

Green rambled on, only stopped after Purple nudged him to pay attention, Imogen’s song was over and Meredith’s disembodied voice blurred through the speakers (of course, at a low volume. They wouldn't want to get caught now, would they?).

The fourth episode was almost over. Purple should go. They had snuck into the kitchen and stolen some leftover spaghetti. He should really go. The spaghetti was delicious . He should really, really go. But some type of covetous need kept him in place, attached to Green hip like a flat sticker to a water bottle.

“Green, I should go.” Please don’t let me leave please I’m sorry you don’t deserve me I don’t deserve you I don’t want to go I don’t want to do this anymore I don’t want to go I don’t want to see him right now I’m sorry please don’t let me go

“Purple, you should stay.”

“I… have to go,” He should tell him. He should tell him. He should tell him.

“But I love you.”

“Your friends will find us.”

“They can't do anything.” Green shifted Purple closer. Purple forgot to make eye contact again, it would seem.

Purple looked up, “I…” He couldn’t think of an excuse. There was no excuse. He should stay. He didn't have anything to do anyways, he should stay.

“Purple…” Green put his hand on Purple chin, bringing their faces closer. “I love you.” He pressed his lips to Purple’s. It was gentle, zephyr-like. Like Green was a maven at romance. He probably was–no, he undoubtedly was. Green pulled back, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Purple let his eyes fall into slits, staying silent. Green pushed his cheek to Purple’s cheek, the side of his forehead to Purple’s, staring him in the eyes. Purple stared back, the thoughts behind in his mind seemingly dissipating, hiding. “I don’t want us to be secret anymore.”

“Oh. Us?”

“Our relationship –our thing. What we have. I… I want to be open. Not like–poly, or whatever… Fuck, I'm not good at this, sorry… Just, whatever… this is,” Purple gestured with his hands, “…Sorry. I don't know what we have, sorry.”

Please don't leave me?

“Hm.” Green didn't say anything else.

“I know–it’s been like, two months, but still. I want to kiss you during school hours and hold your hands on walks in the park. For you to sit next to me and kiss my forehead and call me ‘your baby,’ or something cute that couples do just so people stop fanning over you, ugh.” Purple avoided Green eyes. “I… tend to get– jealous… and I know I was the one who came up with the rules and stuff, and I'm a hypocrite and stuff. Uhm. Sorry…”

A soft chuckle came from Green's direction and Purple immediately brought his eyes back to the scene: Green watching him in his overly emotional (and embarrassing ) love confession.

“Stop laughing at me! I demand it!” Purple swatted at Green lightly with a pillow.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry–!” Green cracked out, “Stop, stop!” He playfully protected himself from Purple’s assault. “It's just–have I ever told you that you look like Bette Davis?”

Purple paused, “What?” What does that have to do with anything?

“Yeah, you have the sweetest down-turned eye shape I've ever seen with the sparkliest eyes ever. Your pretty light blues, always watching and waiting. You could be a model.”

Purple looked at him, confusedly. “Why… what? What does this have to do with… anything?”

“I'm just saying–you could be a model.” Green concluded. “How many people would want you then?” Green spoke barely a whisper, smile faltering lightly. Maybe Purple wasn't the only jealous one in the relationship.

Purple stayed silent; where was any of this going?

“It's just–we’re both really popular at school. Like, everyone wants to be with me–I’m not trying to be narcissistic, stop smiling–and everyone wants to be with you. It's just kind of ironic: two of the most popular guys, that everyone wants, want each other.”

Silence enveloped the room as the two looked at each, eyes sharing a tacit moment.

“You should stay out of Orange’s Wattpad collection.”

Giggles encircled the room, the before awkwardness forgotten for an instant between the two. Purple didn't know why they were laughing so hard, the joke wasn't that funny–wasn’t even a joke, just a small jest.

“Okay… okay,” Purple breathed in and out, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Moving on,”

“Moving on.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…”

Oh, okay. So it wasn't supposed to get uncomfortable that quickly. So this was bad. And Purple should probably leave. “I fail to see the irony.”

“What?”

“In what you said before, abou–about us being popular and everyone wanting us or something…” Purple wouldn't go so far as to say he’s ‘popular,’ just ‘infamous’. Infamous for giving anything and everything he has so people will like him. Infamous for being a traitor to those around him. Infamous for constantly being in the presence of people yet living a perpetually lonely life.

He was a walking oxymoron.

“Oh. Well,” Green stretched his arms above his head, yawning as he spoke, “Sorry, I don't read dictionaries in my free time.”

“Oh. It's like you can't converse.” Purple taunted. Purple eyed Green. Green did not eye Purple. “Green?”

“Hm?”

“Back to the confession,” Green sat up finally. “You… say what you’re feeling now, and we come to a conclusion.” That’s how this stuff works, right? “Uhm. Sorry. I know it hasn’t been that long. I get… attached quickly… I just felt that be addressed. Uhm. Sorry.”

“Oh, yeah.” Green put his arms down, “No, that’s okay. I also get attached, uh. I'm okay with that. What you want, I mean. Being public. We never really discussed if we were just sexual or, like, something more.” Green rubbed the back of his neck. Wow. Green never got embarrassed or awkward or uncomfortable or anything like that. Just… wow.

“Oh.” That didn't sound genuine. “Uhm, are you sure? That didn't, uh, really sound like you wanted it… Sorry, sorry, I just–it’s a lot to think about. Uhm. Yeah. Sorry.”

A pause, again. Wow, they really weren't good at this. Both of them. Wow. Okay, too many ‘wow’s, but also, wow .

After a while, Green leaned over to Purple and brought him crashing down onto Green again, kissing at his forehead and hair and face. “Nah, I like this.”

Purple didn't resist the wallop, placing arm around Green’s, he giggled softly, not to a frequency Green could hear (well, he hoped).

“ I like this. That's what you're asking. I like this . Do you?” Green pecked him on the lips.

Yes yes yes yes I love this I love you I live for your touch and for your skin I crave your smells and your grin I want you everyday I want you everynight how can I say I love you when I can't get the words right

“Yeah. I like this.”

“Mm. Good.”

That dreaded silence corrupted the room once more as their wrestle subsided. For some odd reason this reminded Purple of something:

“I wrote a poem.”

“Huh?”

“I wrote a poem about this . What I wanted to tell you but couldn't. So I wrote a poem.”

“Oh. Uh, can I…?”

“I'll send it to you. I typed it, not actually wrote it.”

“Ah.” Green kissed Purple’s forehead. “My little poet .” Not secret not secret not secret not secret not secret

“I should really be going, though.”

“Oh. So soon?”

“It's been three hours.”

“Yeah, since we got here. Just stay over for the night.”

“I can't. I have to go.”

“Aww…” Green snuggled closer to Purple, “Well, in that case, I'll walk you out. Orange and Blue are here and we're probably gonna eat dinner soon, so I can introduce the relationship to them on the way.”

That quickly? And he just… knows? When people are here? Yeah, he wanted it to be public, but dang–not even twenty minutes later and they were going public. Public.

Purple slid off the couch and started re-dressing himself: panties, blouse, pants, vest, socks, neck piece, hair. Green just threw on some boxers, a T-shirt, and sweats. Lazy bastard.

Purple gathered his things, too, as Green waited by the door. His backpack slung over his shoulders as he collected his phone and phone charger (thank God Green let him charge his phone; it was almost dead and he needed it for the weekend. Don't even talk about charging it at ‘home’).

“Ready?”

“I hope so…”

“Purple.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Let's go,”

Green cupped Purple’s arm in his, clasping hands for a second before letting go and walking out of his room with Purple in toe. Orange lounged on the rat-infested couch, not really paying attention to anything–oh God Purple was actually walking out of the same apartment where four people wanted him dead and one wanted him naked what the hell was he doing .

Blue was cooking, no shocker there. Yellow was sneakily munching on strawberries from the designated ‘clean’ pile Blue had made. Red wasn't anywhere to be seen. Purple knew he was in the apartment, just not in the kitchen–slash–living room.

Yellow noticed them first, eyes going wide, but he didn't say anything. Orange looked up to greet his friend but stopped as soon as his eyes (or, sockets more so,) fell on Purple, face forming the most accurate depiction of whatever confusion and horror would look like on a guy with a hollowed-out skull.

Yellow tapped Blue, “What?” Blue groaned, turning to him before turning more to the living room. He spotted Purple immediately. “YOU!… YOU?”

“Oh, yeah. Me.” Purple sped up ever slightly and reached the door before anything got physical, luckily.

“Uh, Green? What? What the fuck?” Orange slumped over the backside of the couch.

“Uhm. Bye, Green.” Purple went to leave but Blue managed to verbally intercept him before he could free himself from the hellish apartment.

“No, no, no. What are you doing here? Green, what is he doing here? ”

“Oh!” Green piped up, “Yeah,” Green leaned over and kissed Purple lightly on his lips. “That's why. Bye, Purple.”

“Heyyy! I heard yelling,” Red popped his head out from behind a door, probably his room given the disgustingly preventant animal smell. “Oh, my God! I'm gonna go back to my room now.” And Red was gone, vanished as soon as he arrived.

“So. Anyways,” Purple twisted the doorknob, internally blocking out the rest of the noise coming from behind him: Blue borderline assaulting whoever was in his way; Yellow quietly watching and storing everything in his memory, probably for a later argument; Orange trying to mediate but doing a terrible job at it since no one was listening to him; and Green blocking the door that wasn't yet closed so Purple didn't get hurt. Thanks, Green.

“heyy” Green texted, “umm sorry if that was awkward at the end”

“Oh, no. It’s okay, I kinda expected it anyway.”

“im still srry, that prolly wasnt the most comfortable exprience”

“It’s fine, Green. Really.” Holy shit, he forgot the next subject in the text. He was gonna fucking kill himself out of embarrassment and hypocrisy. “Here’s the poem by the way, I never sent it to you.”

“I love you so much

It's hard to understand you

I had betrayed you

Yet you still came back

Yet you still sat and listened

Yet you wanted me

Gosh, oh, in the dark

I saw you there, not too far

That smile, oh, oh...

It fixed all my cracks

It healed my soul so fast, oh

But that's all a lie.

I could be romance

I could be no more than sex

But you don't feel that

Cuddling in public and kissing in the car,

It makes me want to hurl so hard--my guts won't forgive me so easily

That's all just for dominance, that's all just for show

Just telling others to 'back off, he's mine.'

Do people really believe their hearts can attach to someone else's and they can be 'soulmates'?

That's stupid

Soulmates are stupid

I think I'm stupid for believing that you could be my soulmate...

And I hate saying that because it's cheesy and I want to hurl just reading it. It's gross, it's weird. It's not true, but it's all the truths wrapped into one.

Oxymorons and stuff. I hate them.”

“It was… a quick poem. I hate it, it sucks and stuff. Don't think anything of it, really, I can write so much better.” Purple regretted that as soon as he sent it. He wasn't trying to gain any pity-points. The poem was genuinely ass. It didn't take more than two hours to write, therefore, ass .

“oh, its cute :)” Three dots… “i like it so tell the dumb part of ur brain to shut up”

“Ah…”

“oh man, ughhhh” Another string of floating, jumping dots that totally weren't making Purple feel any type of unnecessary anger, “ugh color gangs called a group meeting wish me luck 🤙”

“Good luck…”

Purple should be getting back to studying now.