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YVETTE MARTIN:

there it is. it was there only briefly earlier, nothing more then a flicker of a screen, a slight stutter in a sinuous recording. this is neither subtle or concealed. with the smile dropping clean off his features, gone is that bright grin she’s seen plastered across television screens and bus stop posters and instead·an eerie blankness falls into it’s place. it’s a scene she’s more then familiar with.·she lays those eyes on him; eyes like pits of freshly watered soil, eyes dark enough that they almost seem to swallow up the glittering light, eyes that somehow just **see **through it all.· “the french have a saying; l’habit ne fait pas le moine. i suppose you could translate it to ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover.’” no one knows the validity of that statement more then she does. here she stands looking every bit the part of a real girl, of a girl with all of her conjoining pieces still perfectly intact. the scars decorating her skin - the incision that brackets her knee, the line that bisects her shin - have faded substantially through the years, like they’ve sunken further and further into her skin, almost concealing themselves from sight. they are what she makes of them, they are the crafted lies she spills to the souls who notice. no one suspects the truth; that she’s been reconstructed on a cold operating table. part titanium, part girl. “a girl’s gotta keep an air of mystery around her.” she nods, careful not to·press her fingers against the aching stiffness blooming in her leg.·“the glasses are next to the fridge.”·

· · · a tugged smile across his sharp features appear to emit a story of his own ,· an approval·at her words. there’s something seemingly tender ,· about her aura ,· one he hadn’t really noticed before until that night. it leaves him wondering whether he’ll remember it by morning··;· it’s something he wants the SAVOUR·,· like a cheat meal of ice cream though knowing the state he was in ,· the alcohol making it hard for him to walk straight ,· yet alone think· —· he surely would forget. eyes close for a few moments ,· his head back against the couch as he thinks about how long it’s been since he’s properly RESTED·,· how life seemed to be moving unreasonably fast all the damn time. lashes blink ,· her words pull him cruelly from the moments of peace that he’d allowed himself to have as he carefully peels himself off the couch ,··❛· ... are you sure you trust me in your kitchen alone· ?··❜· he chuckles vibrantly at his own words ,· carefully making his way as he fixes two glasses of water ,· bringing it back to the living room. he’s careful ,· gently placing the glass on the coffee table as the last thing he wanted to do was damage any furniture due to his state.··❛· you know ,· mystery is always fun for a chase ,· ❜· he’s barely thinking ,· allowing his lips to speak of their own accord ,··❛· ... but not much for anything else.· ❜

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ADRIANA HARTONO:

     her life has never been permanent.  she’s never had a  HOME  ,  or been to a school.  since she was little she understood that for her father to be committed to his family as well as work  ,  they had to travel with him.  jumping from country to  country.  week in week out  ,  their luxury suites never being enough to please her.  they never lived anywhere  ,  only in the hartono hotels.  she didn��t have time to make  friends.  in fact  ,  the only person saving her from her loneliness was her brother  ,  but when he was stripped away from her she lost a part of herself that she held onto so tightly  ;  her strength.  so she hid from it  ,  the grief.  acted as if it didn’t exist but she can feel it building in her stomach  ,  ready to explode.  she takes a step back  ,  respecting  his wishes for some space.  if he needs her warmth  ,  he’ll get it himself.  ❛  that’s where you’re wrong.  i’m not everyone.  ❜  she feels  EXPOSED  ,  like the satin gold nightgown she’s wearing is no longer there  &  he’s seeing what lies beneath all her scarred skin  &  imperfections.  ❛  i know what it’s like to be  left  ,  yves.  why do you think i’ve never—  ❜  she cuts herself off  ,  hands rubbing her arms for some form of comfort.  ❛  come on.  i’ll make us some hot chocolate to sober you up a bit  ,  then you can get some rest.  ❜  she  turns  on her heels  ,  wondering if he’ll follow or if he’ll leave like everyone else does.

      she’s WRONG. he’s heard it all before ,  like it’s a somewhat iconic speech that everyone he’s met has memorised at some point  —  words so oversung ,  that he could even predict what she’s about to say next. they always say that they’ll never leave ,  but he’s a ticking time bomb ,  one that leaves destruction in his past. he thinks about noel ,  and the way he was the one person who truly was not like everyone else and how in a moment  ;  he became fleeting ,  not out of his own accord. even if she WAS different to those that hurt him ,  it’s a much safer option to simply push her away ,  to save the both of them from any potential pain. it’ll hurt at first ,  he knows  ;  just like the way the taste of alcohol burns down his throat ,  but he’ll get used to it (  he doesn’t have any other choice  ) and soon ,  she’ll find someone else. tired eyes glance down at her ,  she’s speaking some sort of dialogue that he’s zoned out by now taking every cell in his body to stand up and LOOK as though he were listening. blue pigments notice her fingers gazing against her skin and there’s something seemingly intoxicating about the sight  ;  an aura of vulnerability.  ❛  you look like you don’t trust me ,  ❜  the alcohol in his system speaking thoughts he’d ordinarily not speak ,  brows frowning at he looks at the floor space between them.

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NICOLÁS MORENO

the bags under his eyes indicate that he hasn’t been sleeping well as of late. not that he’s been trying at all. he’s been throwing himself into unnecessary work, keeping himself up for hours on end seemed more appealing than actually letting himself relax. his attention drags away from his laptop as he hears a knock at his door. typically, he would simply ignore it – but the oddly familiar voice causes him to get up from his seat. he hesitantly unlock his door, opening it only to find a familiar face. ❝what the fuck–❞ he mumbles under his breath. ❝what the hell do you want ?? this isn’t exactly an appropriate hour to be at my doorstep.❞

       it takes a moment for him to register everything ,  allowing the overtones of indigenisation and frustrations to truly marinate before speaking. he’s used to it ,  by now. ordinarily ,  guilt would begin to seep through his soul ,  pouring out in apologies as he walks away however  ;  he doesn’t. the liquor in his system brings an entirely new person into his body ,  one that finds humour in irritating the other. he chuckles ,  ❛  ... jesus ,  you’re such a grump.  ❜  he speaks mindlessly ,  unknown of the consequences of his words ,  ❛  ... should i book in for an appointment  ?  when IS an appropriate time  ?  ❜

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YVETTE MARTIN:

“ a little bit of devastation i’m sure. even after all those hives. “ the tip of her finger curls underneath his chin, tilting his face up enough to catch a sliver of the golden light; a single lamp the only thing keeping her apartment from becoming shrouded in complete darkness. she takes a moment to survey him, her eyes sweeping across the sharp features and mess of blonde hair, a face in such contrast to her own. the contact is only fleeting, quick enough to have happened in a dream and her hand is back in her own lap. “ you seem to be doing a decent enough job so far. “ the laugh that pushes past her lips is one she can’t possibly contain. it happens so fast; the bright sound dripping off her tongue like warm honey, her amusement morphing into something palpable. her head shakes slightly, a few wayward curls falling over her forehead with the motion, tickling the apples of her cheeks. resting her elbow on her knee she peers over at him through a rim of dark lashes. “ that’s an assumption. one i don’t think you’re qualified to make, yves. “

        limbs paralysed at her words ,  despite knowing very well that her words ,  that were almost butterlike in nature ,  were not intended for deep consideration. the smile that was stuck onto his lips as though it were as permanent as words etched in stone ,  suddenly loosened ,  turning into an entirely blank expression.  ❛  i suppose looks can be deceptive ,  because most days ,  i come home and eat instant noodles before knocking out on the couch and that most certainly ISN’T the epitome of sufficient self care ,  ❜  he responds swiftly ,  the remaining taste of liquor in his breath still fueling a form of adrenaline ,  ❛  ...  so is that a yes or no ,  yvette  ?  ❜  raising a brow upwards ,  the young gentleman pulls his body off the comfortable sofa ,  patting carefully on the denim of his jeans before asking ,  ❛  ... can i help myself to some water  ?  ❜

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YVETTE MARTIN:

she dipped her chin in a nod and let out a hum of acceptance, taking his dismissive explanation without any further questions. she won’t press. “ good thing i don’t have a dog then. ” her brows rise slightly and for one horrific moment, she’s contemplating a fatal mistake. her dark eyes leave him to sweep across the open space; it’s done with the trained vigilance of a detective surveying a murder scene, hoping to identify any and every clue that might lead to something more, to something deeply personal. she’s always been so careful; shoving the evidence down deep, always hidden and locked out of sight, as if part of her was always preparing for this inevitability. she meets his gaze, though still slightly unfocused, her brows lift upwards in amusement. “ are you saying that to be polite or do you just relate to minimalistic neutral palettes? “ she moves almost lazily, swinging her legs over the opposite side of the couch, her toes now resting on the soft material instead of the cool floor. she gestures towards the open space that stretches on in front of her, in only to keep him from keeling over and taking out one of her potted plants. “ you can relax, you know. i won’t bite. ”

      her words make it IMPOSSIBLE to remove the broad grin across his features ,  though it could also be the warm aura around her that feels so  —  welcoming. somehow ,  she’d managed to warm his insides a lot quicker than the five shots of tequila that left him in such a balmy state.  ❛  have you ever had any pets  ?  ❜  he questions curiously ,  a pause between his words however not long enough for her to answer as he adds on ,  ❛  ... i had a dog when i was younger and well ,  that didn’t work out. broke out in hives every day ,  cried when we had to give him away. but no pets now ,  i barely have time to look after myself.  ❜  lips pressed firmly together ,  he’s not exactly sure whether he relates to something like colour  ;  he hasn’t related to anything for a LONG time.  ❛  you’re not into biting  ?  that’s a shame ,  ❜  dark humour emits from his lips.

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dvceptives:

     she’s not soft  ,  she’s not weak.  in fact  ,  she’s very rarely  kind.  adriana hartono is a hurricane.  she doesn’t fix  ,  she destroys everything in her wake in order to stay alive.  she could bring a  GROWN  man to his knees with a smile  &  then stab him in the back a minute later.  she’s not a good person by any standard  ,  but right now she’s showing a tenderness that she hasn’t shown in  years.  a weakness that she forgot existed.  but as her gaze brushes over his handsome features  ,  she sees something that perhaps she never saw  BEFORE.  he’s not cruel  ,  he’s not a bad person  —  not like he comes across as.  he’s just a boy.  sweet  ,  vulnerable  ,  &  expressing such a  rawness  that it’s like looking in a mirror.  perhaps that’s why she called him that night  ,  because even though the circumstances of their friendship were difficult  DIFFICULT  ,  he has the same hidden look in his eyes that she does.  she pushes herself up a little by her tip-toes  ,  so that they’re level.  his eyes are blue  ,  swimming.  &  she fights to keep them locked on hers.  ❛  you’re probably going to  forget  most of this come morning  ,  but if you’re going to remember anything  ,  remember this.  ❜  she brushes a thumb across his cheekbone  ,  gently  ,  before smiling.  ❛  you have me.  whenever it gets too much  ,  whenever it doesn’t.  you have me  &  i’m not going  anywhere.  ❜

        destructive. toxic and injurious behaviours seem to be the two things that mould into him so organically ,  like the instinct of a child learning to crawl to its mother. he hadn’t always been like this ,  and while losing NOEL played a huge part ,  the truth was that is was a combination of things that had shaped him  ;  always moving and never staying at one place ,  the loss of friendships ,  noel and the baby. consequently ,  like a mousetrap ,  he became a facade  —  a coating of wicked pernicious ,  alongside harsh words. in its own way ,  it’s a defence mechanism  —  after all ,  you can’t be heartbroken when you never put your heart out so willingly on the line ,  right  ?  he ISN’T thinking and perhaps that’s the most dangerous thing ,  after all ,  yves is a careful thinker  ;  each action and inaction has an equal or greater reaction and he simply cannot afford a second where every denominominator hadn’t been weighed up. he’s not thinking now and perhaps ,  that’s why he can be so honest.  ❛  you say that now ,  ❜  words submerged in a tired dissapointment ,  eyes flickering down at her before he pushes her hand off his face with a gentleness that’s unexpected ,  ❛  ... but that’s a lie. you’ll leave  ;   everyone leaves. that’s the curse i live with for eternity. it’s my punishment for having everything but still feeling unsatisfied.  ❜

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YVETTE MARTIN:

he’s truly a sight to behold. and yet even intoxicated, stumbling and with words spilling freely from his rose lips, she can still very much catch a fleeting glimpse of that spark; that intangible thing that speaks to thousands of people despite the distance of hours and miles and coloured flat screens and forces them to stop, to look. “ i guess you could call it that. i like to think of it as authenticity. “ his eyes flicker left and right, bouncing around the interior as if they can’t quiet decide what to focus on first; the collection of succulents against a seemingly neutral palette, the mess of books and a discarded knee brace scattered along the cozy window seat or the still somewhat cluttered kitchen space. her home serves as bare bones, as a skeleton to hold the bits and pieces of herself she cannot drag with her. she pushes forward, settling onto the curved arm of her plush couch, her bare toes pushing into the wooden floors. “ yeah? why’s that? ” the children’s fable was foreign to her for longer then most, the concepts lost on the little girl struggling to grasp a new language. 

        her words ,  despite the few extended moments needed to truly COMPREHEND them cause for a domino of thoughts to fall through his brain like never ending steps to an unknown destination. ❛  don’t know ,  ❜  he lies naturally against tense muscles as the image of his mother reading to him suddenly flashes across his brain ,  a memory he’d almost forgotten ,  ❛  ... perhaps it’s because i’ve always wanted a pet pig. i’m allergic to dogs.  ❜  legs moving on their own accord ,  following her onto the couch ,  a careful distance between the two. on routine ,  he’d wait for some form of non verbal or verbal approval to join her though he’s feeling a little TOO weightless to even attempt to coherently comprehend her actions and inactions.  ❛  you have a lovely home ,  yvette.  ❜

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yvcttes:

her name rolls from his tongue in a slow languid roll, like he’s taking his sweet time with each and every syllable. it only pronounces his current state of inebriation. his eyelids drop slightly, fighting valiantly against whatever alcoholic cocktail surges through his veins. it’s a stark contrast to the blossoming smile that encompasses his features. his words of flattery have her lips quirking upwards with the hint of a smile. the breath of a laugh lingers on the tip of her tongue, waiting for the moment to slip free. “while my taste in cheese is superb, let’s not start off the day with lies.” in one short stumbling step he’s passed through the wooden door frame and into her apartment, bursting clean through whatever intangible barrier she always imaged resided there. she’s forced to retreat a few paces to accommodate his added size and the door released from her fingertips, swings to a soft close. it’s incredible how such a simple action, how an everyday occurrence for most can be an entirely foreign sensation to another. “of course he did. he was a wolf until the end. he did exactly what he wanted to do.”

       he’s a lot different to how the media imagines him to be ,  though the current state he’s in could surely be a new hit story. yves venero never drinks  —  not particularly seeing the APPEAL in it ,  but when everything felt like too much ,  seeing beside some old friends at the bar of a club for a strangers birthday with unrelenting thoughts of noel consuming him ,  he had no chance of winning. her laugh is a melody of its own  ;  a carefully curated art that poised as a perfect balance of notes and pitches. there’s a softness to her expression that causes GLEAM to paste across his lips ,  she’s truly different. curious hues scanning the room ,  as though he were intentionally looking for something ,  though that’s far from the truth  —  more or less ,  he’s savouring the moment ,  after all ,  come morning  ,  it’ll be another fragment of his imagination.  ❛  gotta love a little bit of consistency ,  hey  ?  ❜  a chuckle reverberating through the back of his throat ,  ❛  ... i used to love that story as a kid.  ❜

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YVES VENERO:

     she can count the amount of times she’s felt so  exposed  on one hand.  the times where she felt guilt eating away at her stomach  ,  like a worm rotting away at her core.  he always seemed so  hardened  ,  like nothing can touch him so her immediate reaction is to flinch at the words that leave his lips  ,  at the amount of conviction she hears.  he’s just drunk  ,  she tells herself.  as if it’ll make it easier to  LISTEN.  ❛  yves  ,  you’re drunk.  you think you need me but you’ll wake up in the morning regretting it  ,  ❜  the words sting as they leave her lips  ,  but they’re the truth.  or what she perceives them to be  ,  anyway.  he needs more than what she can offer  ;  she won’t let him be pulled into the tragedy that is her life.  but the sight of him backing away has her moving  closer  ,  legs shifting beyond her control.  she frowns up at him  ,  dainty hands reaching to hold his face.  ❛  i’m sorry  ,  ❜  she says  ,  voice quiet despite her loud thoughts.  she doesn’t want him to go  ,  not  really.  but she also doesn’t want him saying anything he’ll regret.  ❛  you don’t have to leave  ;  not if you don’t want to.  i’ll grab you some water  &  you can stay the  NIGHT.  ❜  it saddens her  ,  hearing what he says.  she comes to the realisation that she doesn’t know much about him  ,  but she’s never asked.  ❛  you can stay for as long as you like.  ❜

     he knows better than to lash out at her ,  though he barely has enough control in his body to stand straight ,  yet alone to restrict himself from vocalising the agonising pain that DRENCHED his soul. it’s why the concept of alcohol is so powerfully poisonous to him ,  because despite the twenty three years of holding in his emotions  —  less than a cups worth of tequila later ,  his facade is completely gone. he’s cussing at her ,  at her lack of affection though he knows better (  at least when sober ) that he’s more or less simply angry at himself and simply unable to communicate it. he has a long list of apologies owed  ;  for yelling at his driver and threatening to fire him if he didn’t take him to adriana’s residence ,  the bouncer who tried to keep his fists off another guy ,  his PR team ,  his security team but more importantly ,  the innocent brunette who for a moment ,  had been his emotional punching bag. frustration was mistaken for anger ,  and had he been anywhere near SOBER ,  he’d hit himself for such behaviour. he’s not really listening to her ,  if he’s honest. yves is barely capable of articulating a well reasoned sentence ,  yet alone the capacity to listen to her change in mood and the tender tones he hadn’t yet known.  ❛  i’m just ,  ❜  a heavy breath ,  works spilling of their own accord ,  ❛  ... i have no one and NOTHING. and i’m just ,  so unhappy.  ❜

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YVETTE MARTIN:

the sun had long since sunk beneath the horizon and was steadily working towards it’s reappearance at dawn. while the majority of the sane population was sound asleep, yvette was wide awake when the intrusive knock came at her door. with far too much ease, she pulled the apartment door open, taking a moment to let her vision adjust to the rather harsh yellow glare of the overhead light. there is no telling what she expected to find lingering on the other side of her door, though her neutral expression betrayed neither shock or confusion. one might think it was an every day occurrence. she simply tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes drink in the image before her like twin black holes, swallowing every fragment of light and bit of particle matter that wanders into their pull. it’s yves. his broad silhouette encompassing the majority of her door frame; his shoulders resting haphazardly against one side and his shoes nearly hitting the other. “coming to huff and puff my house down? is that how the story goes?”

      he can see the end in slow motion  —  a crashing BURN in the corner ,  like a child running around hit everything in their track. perhaps ,  he’s inhabiting the same adrenaline and ignorance ,  ignoring the red flags and warnings from authoritative figures before it hits him and the expensive vase that was passed onto by generations pulverises into small pieces in an unsalvageable mess. her words ,  fuelling fire to his flame only allows the euphoria of bliss to only transpire deeper into his flesh ,  spreading like the flames of a bushfire in the summer.  ❛  yvette  ,  ❜  his words are heavy ,  lids just as tired despite the growing smile across his lips ,  ❛  ... you were always my favourite ,  and not only because you snuck in a few cheese platters outside of the catering budget. a true gift to the world.  ❜  his expression is sheepish ,  a step further in to welcome himself into the residence he’s VERY foreign to ,  ❛  ... not sure how it goes ,  i was always rooting for the wolf to be honest. he seemed to have had more fun ,  from the start.  ❜

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ADRIANA HARTONO:

     the euphoric feeling of  intoxication.  it’s one she knows well  ,  one that’s seen her through years of torment  &  agony.  limitless  ,  it’s a feeling she  CRAVES  in order to hide from the pain that’s been trying to swallow her alive.  but not for one second does she like seeing it on him.  someone so composed  ,  so  sure  of himself.  alcohol is a red flag for disaster.  she recalls countless nights landed in her bed  ,  the sleeping form of another next to her.  adventures  that she can’t recall  ,  or doesn’t want to.  seeing him like this has dark brows pulling together  ,  studying him with evident worry.  ❛  yves  …  ❜  she takes a step  BACK  as he takes a step forward  ,  deciding keeping some distance between them would be the wisest idea.  especially now that he’s mentioned  that night.  she can feel her heart starting to pound  ,  like bongo drums playing in her chest.  so many conversations to be had  ,  but not when he’s like this.  ❛  you need to go  home.  ❜  although she has a feeling her words will reach deaf ears.

      ivory skin suddenly shivers at the feeling of the warm air gushing from inside ,  ironically too considering how comfortable he felt in the COLD. for a second ,  everything elapses in slow motion ,  his mind screaming at him to reach over and touch the tanned melanin he’d been thinking about all night. but he doesn’t ,  shutting off the devil on his right side for the first time in the last eight hours because yves venero is stupid while drunk  —  though he knows his limits when there’s signs that he’s not welcomed. and perhaps ,  that’s WHY he feels so bruised by her words and the caution in her tone. he’s been there all along ,  and for a moment  ;  he needed her ,  though she didn’t want to throw the lifevest. he understands though ,  knowing that by sunrise  —  he’ll be less angry about it. but while the devilish voice in his head has power than his usual esteem ,  alongside the liquor coursing through his system  ;  he’s ready to lash out.  ❛  you know what  ?  FUCK YOU. i’ve been here for you all along ,  you know  ?  and now ,  when i need you for one fucking moment you’re going to push me away ,  again  ?  fine. have your way ,  ❜  he spits cruel remarks ,  knowing very well that it’s more frustration than actual anger ,  taking a step away from her ,  away from the luxury of her penthouse ,  ❛  ... but just so you know ,  i WON'T be going home. haven’t had one in twenty three years and i don’t see that changing.  ❜

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ADRIANA HARTONO:

     up at  SIX AM.  don’t be late.  a line she’s recited in her head  ,  to get out of the habit of staying awake until god knows what time in the morning.  adriana hartono is  never  one for last minute.  she’s a careful planner  ,  thinking things through like a checklist.  is the penthouse clean  ?  yes.  does she have her  clothes  ready  ?  yes.  will her parents be here on time  ?  she hopes so.  it’s this that helped fall into a deep slumber  ,  wrapped in silken sheets with her dark hair  framing  her face.  or that’s until an obnoxious banging vibrates her bedroom floor  ,  so loud she’s afraid it might wake cindy or khair.  frowning  ,  she stands  CLUMSILY  &  tugs at her satin nightgown to straighten it out.  she’s in two minds about calling security until she hears the voice  ;  muffled  &  maybe a little too jolly  ,  but undistinuishable.  who let  him  up  ?  she opens the door with tired eyes  ,  the acrid smell biting her nose  &  how he looks  ?  she’s not even going to start on that.  ❛  what the  hell  ,  yves  ?  ❜

        the air around him felt gentle and quixotic ,  as though GRAVITY weren’t a thing in existence. he thinks that surely ,  this is the exact feeling stoners get when they’re on high  —  as though he were completely weightless and the pensive thoughts that had consistently invaded him were suddenly no longer present. he’s finally made a deal with the devil ,  after turning his head towards the left side of his shoulder and becoming consistently apprised by the angel on his left  ;  he’d turn his right cheek ,  exchanging soft words behind closed doors for cancer sticks and booze. her aura ,  is as warm as he remembers  —  a thrilling combination of reds and golden pigments and her lips ,  are the same flush of red as the roses belinda used to pick from the garden growing up. seeing her is truly different ,  only causing for the smile to spread further across his features. he knows he shouldn't be here ,  hell ,  even his security personnel asked him not to.   ❛  hi peanut ,  ❜  a softness in his tone and as smile bright as day ,  splashing against the sudden gesture of him taking a step in before she can protest ,  ❛  ...  you know ,  i can’t stop thinking about everything that happened that night. which is pretty fucked up considering even five shots of vodka COULDN’T make me forget.  ❜

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      he can feel the pulsating vibrations ,  echoing against his skin so DEAFENINGLY that he swears the music had somehow found its own way to the blood coursing through his system. the reverberating bass of the nightclub only seemed to fuel the smirk spreading across his expression  ;  the energy ,  the childlike excitement and vibe of the dark yet expansive venue only dadlingly in his body ,  remaining like the smell of sweat lingering after a marathon. he’s not thinking at all ,  and perhaps that’s why he finds closed knuckles knocking instructively against the door ,  surrounded by the scent of expensive liquor and cheap cigarettes.  ❛  little pig ,  little pig ,  let me come IN  !  ❜  he calls out loud ,  knowing very well that come morning he’ll surely forget about everything that he was saying at that exact moment ,  resting his body against the door before hearing the sound of it opening.

[bittvrness-blog]

ADRIANA HARTONO:

     there’s an unusual aura to him  ,  something  ENTICING  that she’s yet to figure out.  she’s so used to knowing how to act around people that it’s frustrating more than anything that she doesn’t know how to act around  him.  she doesn’t want him seeing her as vulnerable  ,  but since he’s already seen that vulnerability exists  ,  there’s no way of going back from that.  his words provoke a small smile  ,  hidden by he  clearing  her throat.  ❛  everybody has their secrets  ;  it’s just a matter of who can keep them.  the only thing  ?  don’t go hurting my  feelings  ,  now.  ❜  a playful pout bounces onto her lips  ,  tucking her hair behind her ear.  she knows that there’s more to him  ,  more than he lets anyone know  &  the same goes for her  ;  it’s easy to see another pretender when you’ve spent  years  being one yourself.  his words warm her  ,  her hands resting limply in her lap as she looks ahead  ,  nodding her head.  ❛  i might just  HOLD  you to that.  ❜  she turns her head towards him  ,  feeling slightly at ease compared to a few seconds ago.  ❛  but let’s get some food first  ,  i’m starving.  ❜

      the emptiness is something he’s become well acquainted with ,  like an invisible disease he’d been BORN with. to have the world but to feel like you’re missing something so pivotal ,  to him ,  feels like an eternity of torture. it’s nice to see such a graceful image  ;  lithe features singing a song of delight. though more importantly ,  it looked and felt real and perhaps ,  for a moment  ,  he’d indulge in the fact that it was a genuine moment that was reserved just for him.  ❛  didn’t know you had feelings ,  ❜  he joked lightly ,  a vibrating chuckle barely escaping thin lips ,  eyes remaining focused onto hers. he doesn’t realise how long his gaze had been fixed on her ,  until she turns to him ,  causing for a slight flush to splash across his cheeks. a nodded head ,  a heavy breath as he looks out the window ,  noticing that somehow a crowd of papparazi were already waiting outside. he’s waiting to open the door ,  for her ,  but only if she’s ready ,  ❛  ... sounds like a plan ,  are you ready  ?  ❜

[bittvrness-blog]

ASPEN PIERCE:

        “yeah, the papers i have read said it depends on the beverage and the alcohol percentage in every drink but that they all still have a terrible effect on your body and health,” aspen informed the blond as she tilted her head to the side in thought as she tried to remember everything she has read on the subject in her past. aspen swallowed thickly at his words, her eyes stuck to the floor beneath her, feeling as if that is where her heart was currently at as well. she came here hoping to get her friend back– especially once yves said he missed her too but the actress failed– she wasn’t used to failure and she did not like to fail, she wanted to be his friend again not just a co star. “i– i suppose it’s enough,” she whispered, not looking up to meet yves’ eyes as she squeezed her hands together. “i am sorry for bothering and pushing you, yves, that’s not what i meant to do. sorry again,” she added as she walked towards the trailer’s door.

      his features  ;  a thrilling combination of straight lines and small curves tell a story of their own. it’s a sweet smile across flushed lips ,  watching the exaggeration expressions as the other appears to recount everything she knew about the topic. perhaps ,  it feels familiar  —  like the days volunteering as she’d start speaking to him about things she’d known much about ,  where he’d listen.  ❛  that’ll certainly make sense ,  ❜  yves assures ,  eyes following as her feet move accordingly towards the door. it’ll be easy ,  for him to let her go in that moment ,  to watch her in a motion that’ll be equivalent to her dissipating in thin air. it’ll surely make everything feel a lot less PAINFUL if she’d left ,  though his lips move without his brain’s permission ,  ❛  ... you don’t have to go ,  i’m sure you have a lot you’d like to tell me about from our time apart.  ❜

[bittvrness-blog]

☆°｡  imessage to ↠ aspen pierce

aspen: but google keeps sending me to ... sex sites and videos.

aspen: you're right, i'm sorry, i don't mean to push it on you.

aspen: i just don't notice how you may take what i say, please forgive me.

yves: you should ask one of your pals it'll be a much less awkward conversation

yves: i know, aspen.

[bittvrness-blog]

ADRIANA HARTONO:

     it’s a hard life  ,  but one that she’s grown accustomed to.  running from photoshoot to photoshoot  ,  dragged from interview to  interview.  hundreds of faces she didn’t recognise  ,  or was too young to remember.  her parents told her that people loved her  ,  that it was surprise with her brazen attitude  &  her ability to talk to  ANYONE.  she never liked social media  ,  but was pushed into it  &  it was where she grew.  but she still smiled  ,  throughout it all  ,  she smiled until it  hurt  her cheeks  &  it became less real  ,  more of a show that she was constantly playing a part in.  his words arouse something like confusion  ,  although they warm her heart  &  have her sucking in a  BREATH  ;  though quietly  ,  so he doesn’t see the affect.  ❛  careful.  if you keep saying things like that  ,  people might think you have a heart  ,  ❜  she says with a small smile  ,  a joking tone in her voice.  she knows he’s a  good  person  ,  one she’s undeserving of despite his mask.  adriana allows herself to relax a little  ,  letting her hair fall back to it’s usual place as she  deliberates  his words.  she knows she can trust him  ,  there’s no doubt about that but she’s so used to living this facade that slipping through the cracks has never been an option.  ❛  i wouldn’t want to lay that  burden  on you  ,  yves.  it’s not fair.  ❜

      he doesn’t know WHY there’s such an ubiquitous pull towards her ,  especially considering the circumstances of their relationship. a part of him thinks it’s because of how much of his mother he sees in her ,  and the pain and vulnerability that she’d kept behind closed doors at home seemed to be the same ones that transpired in silence through adriana’s pores. a playful smile grows at her words ,   ❛  ... guess we both have secrets then. that’ll be the one thing that keeps us connected.  ❜  there’s a somber truth to his words ,  the fact that the pair were linked through the common denominator of false impressions. he doesn’t mind though ,  because as much as he’d never say it out loud  —  he knows she won’t drag him down ,  she won’t take advantage of the side to him that he didn’t mean to show her.  ❛  life isn’t fair ,  adriana ,  ❜  he breaks through the silence ,  head turning to look at her with a tired smile ,  ❛  ... but it’s a burden i’d be honoured to hold.  ❜