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nanaminokanojo · 3 years

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Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 3/8

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"Play the Game" Masterlist

"Do you remember the last time I was in your car?"

The hitch immediately started with that one question. It seemed innocent enough with the way you said it in nonchalance while you let your eyes roam the ivory interior of the Lexus. The two of you were only halfway out of the highway when you asked out of the blue, ultimately pissing Nanami off.

At the reminder, his knuckles immediately turned bone white on the steering wheel, his expressions turning dark as he glanced at you, mouth set in a thin line.

He couldn't remember a darker time in his life than watching you almost die from the rear view mirror of his car as you lay shivering on the backseat, unresponsive even if he struggled to both drive, not to crash and keep you conscious. The glassy look about your blue eyes and the way your pupils had blown up to more than twice their size making him shiver. It was safe to say it scarred him for life.

It was a day like any other. He had just gotten off work after a long day at the court, a mix of sadness and elation coursing through him after winning the case for a teenage girl who was brutally murdered. He finally put the man responsible for it in jail for good. It felt good to see the relief on the faces of the grieving parents; to finally put an end to the daily misery they have to go through, having to be reminded of what has become of their daughter.

But as he was resting in his study, a damp towel draped over his tired eyes and throbbing head, his phone suddenly rang. It wasn't yet 10 o'clock in the evening so he opted to answer it, surprised when he saw your name on the screen. You never really called, and the last time you did, it didn't bode well.

"Hello?"

"Suguru..." came your hoarse voice from the other end of the line, your shallow breaths and wheezes evident in each syllable followed by the sound of faintly splashing water.

"You've reached the wrong person, sweetheart," he muttered, reminding him just how Geto was your favorite among Gojo's friends. He did not resent that, but to say he wasn't the tiniest bit jealous was a lie.

Nanami called your name several times but there was no response, just loud rustling and what seemed to be the device falling on the floor with an echo.

"I fucked up big time," you managed to choke out when you spoke again, your tone slurred, and you seemed to be having a difficult time speaking.

"Where are you?"

"I n-need you... p-please..."

"What's going on?" Nanami was already on his feet, dashing out of the study and picking up his keys, still coaxing you to respond when he heard a ding on his phone. You managed to send your location but you weren't speaking anymore.

He was not religious, probably did not believe in a higher being, but as he drove towards your location, thankfully only half a mile away to the suburbs, he found himself fervently praying for your safety.

When he finally got to the address, he found a modernistic structure, a house, and there seemed to be a party going on. He saw some familiar faces, the gallery manager from the previous exhibit of your recent collection and some art connoisseurs he recognized from the same event.

He barged into the house, being handed a champagne flute the moment he entered, everyone welcoming him but he didn't see your face among the people. He refused, asking instead where you were, sprinting up the stairs in large strides when he was told you went upstairs with some people.

Nanami pretty much kicked every door open until he finally found you in one of the upstairs bathroom. He thought his knees would give out as his heart literally stopped at the sight before him.

There, on the half-filled bathtub was you, soaked to your chest. Your white hair was matted over your forehead while the tips floated on the water. You turned your head when you heard him enter, revealing bloodshot eyes, your lips blue and you looked like you didn't have any blood left with your almost greyish pallor.

Hurriedly, he took you out of the tub, carrying you downstairs much to the curiosity of the guests. "You will be okay. Stay with me," he kept telling you.

Despite your state, you managed to smile, tears springing from your eyes. "Nanamin..." you said weakly, making his heart swell that you were at least happy to see him.

He seriously thought you were going to die, but apparently, you did not necessarily overdose on the cocaine you had taken in as he would later find out from the doctors themselves. You had a bad trip and had to be weaned off the substance for the next twenty four hours.

"Are you drug dependent?" he asked when he picked you up from the hospital, opting not to tell Gojo about the matter until he got his answers.

"You won't tell Satoru, will you?" you asked.

"That depends on your answer and whether you're telling the truth," he told you gruffly, fighting hard not to be angry seeing as how fragile you looked. He hadn't slept and he felt as if his nerves were frayed.

You shook your head. "That's the first time. I promise you it won't happen again. I know it's stupid, but I was just curious."

"Your devil-may-care attitude will kill you."

"I know."

He didn't say anything more no matter how much he wanted to scold you and beat some sense into you. He never brought it up and neither did you. That was an unspoken agreement between the two of you. It was your secret which he will carry to his grave and for the last three years since then, nothing like it happened again. You voluntarily cut your ties with the people who were in that party and since then, you had been well.

"Don't remind me," he snapped at you, keeping his eyes on the road.

You’ve reached the shop that Utahime had instructed you to go to for your fitting, but before he could kill the engine, you spoke again.

"Come to think of it, I've never properly apologized for it, and I haven't said thank you enough for saving me that day."

Nanami shot you a sharp look. "I don't want to talk about it."

You sighed and held his hand as he was taking off his seatbelt. "I don't mean to make you angry, but I am sincerely apologizing for it. I am sorry because I put you through that."

Nanami held you by the wrist instead, meeting your gaze with a cold stare. "If you are, then I hope you also realized what a selfish person you are. You're right. You put me through hell. What could I have said to your brother if you died on me that night?"

You didn't say anything, appearing contrite for the first time.

"Gojo would have lost you. Your friends would have lost you." He sighed heavily, holding your hand properly, his expressions softening at how tiny yours looked in his. "I would have lost you."

At his last statement, you nodded and chuckled quietly. "I wouldn't refute that if it saves me. Still, I wanted you to know that it was a big deal for me." You smiled at him. "But that's not all. I could have lost you, but you're still here. So, thanks." And in a surprising turn of events which left him dumbstruck, you lifted both your hands and brushed your lips on his knuckles before disembarking from the car and skipping to the couturier's shop.

His mind wandered throughout the time he was being assisted into the suit that the bride- and groom-to-be had chosen for him to wear on their wedding. He had to give Gojo props for choosing well and suiting the ensemble’s piece to his preference. But he couldn’t quite concentrate on the task at hand when the scene in the car kept playing in his mind. The back of his hand still tingled where you kissed it.

All he wanted to do was see you, but you were a room away, also being pricked and pinned. He wanted nothing but for the fitting to be over so he can be with you again, regardless if it was just for the short drive going back to Gojo manor. Your course of action and words fueled something in him he thought never existed, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, hear you, smell you, touch you. He wanted you, wanted to have you for himself come Gojo or high water. He already knew that, but he never felt as strongly as he did for you than at present because he also knew, that for the first time, you were being yourself and not playing games with him.

Nanami vaguely heard the tailor say something to him, but he didn’t quite catch it, but his image on the mirror suddenly became clearer as he was interrupted from his daydream. His brows furrowed together as he assessed what the man said, but before it could drag on for too long, his cluelessness, he said, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Is the fit just right, Mr. Nanami?” the man asked again, expert eyes scanning over his figure.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Nanami stated hurriedly. He couldn’t care less about the suit, but it was already great. He didn’t see any reason to prolong the appointment. “Can I get changed now?”

“Certainly, sir,” the tailor said. “I will leave you to get dressed.”

He just nodded and carefully shed the suit off before changing back into his clothes, meticulously folding the sleeves of his shirt before he set out in search of you. He knocked on the door he was directed to, hearing music playing on the other side of the door along with some voices, one of which was yours.

The door opened and his eyes immediately met those cool blue ones through the mirror. You had your arms spread out to the sides as three women worked around you. “Done already?”

Nanami felt heat creeping up his neck as he averted his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were far from finished.”

“Oh, shush. I need your opinion.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Like I know anything about this.” At odds to his words, he sat down.

“Your boyfriend is handsome,” the couturier commented with a flirtatious giggle as he sized Nanami up.

“I –”

He was about to protest when you cut him short and said, “Isn’t he?”

“That coming from the person who said she didn’t feel like drawing my face,” he said, feigning annoyance.

“Oh, baby. I can’t draw your face if its saves me.” You flashed him a seductive smile. “You’re too perfect.” You winked at him through the mirror while he just sat down and shook his head in amusement, picking up a magazine but not really reading through it. He just watched as you were directed like a doll to pose whichever way the stylist wanted and he could have sworn he has seen nothing more beautiful.

“Just another pin right here,” the couturier said flamboyantly, fastening this and that around your sides, “…and we’re done!” He clapped his hands, standing back as he admired his handiwork. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s fine,” you said, tilting your head to the side.

“Hmm,” Nanami butted in, closing the distance between him and you. He came closer behind you, silently ordering everyone else out of the room with a succinct jerk of his head before he stood there, eyes on your bare back. He placed both hands on either of your shoulders, towering over you.

You quietly observed what he was doing from the mirror, your expressions unchanging even when he traced your spine with his finger. His lips curled at the corners ever so slightly when you slightly jerked forward when he reached the small of your back, relishing the smoothness of your skin against his calloused digit. He lingered there, drawing circles as he met your gaze on your reflection.

“Isn’t this too low?” he asked, his breath hitting the shell of your right ear. “You’re attending a wedding anyway.”

“Oh?” You twirled around so that your back was to the mirror, while you looked over your shoulder to check what he was saying. The plunging style of the dusty rose gown dipped all the way to your waist. “You think so?” You looked up at him, noticing how his face was just inches away from you. “I think it’s okay.”

“Okay for everyone to see?”

At that, you smiled smugly at him. “And you don’t like that, do you, Nanamin?” you asked sultrily.

“I am your boyfriend after all,” he teased. “While I’d like to brag about you, it wouldn’t sit right with me to know everyone’s seeing what’s supposedly only for my eyes, now would it?”

“I never took you for the jealous – whoa!”

Without preamble, he wrapped a strong arm around you, pulling you close so that you were flush against his chest, a devious smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t even concealing his enjoyment anymore. He liked having you close like that, your intoxicating scent dominating his senses.

“Why did you say that to the stylist?” he asked, leaning closer and reveling at the fact that you were caught off guard, eyes wide in surprise.

“It’s easier to just say so than explain, isn’t it?” You leveled your bearing with his. “You didn’t do anything to disagree either.”

“First, you kiss me in front of your brother, flirt with me like it’s normal and say things like that. What are you playing at?”

“Is this one of your games?” you asked, returning his question to you the previous day. You reached up and cupped the side of his face, eyes lingering on his mouth. “Cause I’ll play, Kento.”

He has never quite thought of his name before, whether he liked it or not. It was given to him and he couldn't imagine being called anything else. But he has never liked the sound of it as much as he did when it was rolling out of your tongue. It brought out a strange feeling, spurring him on to give in to his desires instead of holding them back like he usually does with you.

It was all the encouragement he needed. Fuck everything, he thought, dipping his head lower to close the distance between the two of you until he was touching your lips. A quiet gasp left your mouth when he pressed his lips onto yours in an experimental touch, gentle as a zephyr. Your ocean eyes stared at him, taken aback when he pulled away but the dazed look you had was the same one that drew him back to you, landing pecks several times, each one lingering longer than the last.

"Are you teasing me, Nanamin?" you breathed out softly, the laughter in your voice dying out when he captured your lips, this time shutting you up for a good while, coaxing you to respond to his ministrations. He knew he won over you when he felt your fingers grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest rising and falling against his in shallow breaths, making his heart thrum wildly.

His senses were already heightened whenever you were in the same breathing space as he was, but it was always a different story when you were touching him. Hyper aware. There wasn't a better word that would describe how he felt at that moment. He seemed to see everything he wouldn't usually notice; hear his heart thrumming over every other thought in his brain; almost touch the tension in the air and feel that intense heat blooming from his chest outwards.

But at the same time, nothing mattered but the person in front of him, kissing him and making him feel all sorts of ways. He was a gonner and he knew it but he didn't want to fight it either.

You moaned into the kiss when he gently darted his tongue into your mouth, seducing yours in a fiery dance that united your breaths. His hands made their way up your shoulders, the feel of your soft skin awakening carnal thoughts, making him think of nothing but ways to own you, mark you until he was satisfied. He cupped your face in his large hands, holding you in place, unable to get enough of your taste and the sensations you gave him. They made him crave like a man starved and deprived and he wants to take, take, take.

By the time he pulled away, he was a panting mess, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against yours, willing himself to calm down. He couldn't help the smile that graced his lips the moment he opened his eyes to find you flushed, lips swollen from his kisses. But that was short-lived when he heard a clinking sound on the side of his head and a wicked grin stretched over your mouth. When he followed the sound, he saw the keys to his car dangling on your fingers.

"What –"

You took a step back when he tried to reach for it, effectively holding it away from him. "Prestidigitation," you declared, sounding victorious. "I'm driving. No arguments."

Nanami sighed, his senses still fuzzy from your kiss and the sight of you whirling around in chiffon and taffeta. He just gave in to his affections for you in hopes of coming out the victor, but you still played him in his own game. "Fine. You win."

You stood on your toes and pecked him on the cheek, stepping off to the side to ring the bell for the shop staff. "I promise not to crash your car."

Nanami sat on the passenger side of the car, glancing at the fair-haired villain who stole his car keys, currently driving him to some surprise place of your choosing. He had protested when he noticed how you were going to the opposite way from the manor, taking the highway that led well away from the town. Thrice, he told you to turn back and for every reason he cited, you had a counterattack, not necessarily valid but enough grounds for you to get your way.

"I need to read through the case file and take down notes to make up for the time I'm missing at the firm," came his first excuse but you effectively shot that down by pointing at his briefcase neatly tucked at the backseat.

"Yeah, cause as anal as you are about your job, you don't keep spare copies in your car in cases of emergency."

He jerked on his seat at your comment. "Hey, I'm not anal about my job! I'm just being prudent."

You laughed at the way his voice was raised than usual. "No need to get defensive. Besides, Your initial hearing isn't going to be in two months and by the looks of it, you have everything almost done."

"How did you –"

"I saw them the first day you arrived." Shrugging, it was your turn to shoot him with an annoyed gaze. "You keep forgetting that I have photographic memory. I'm cursed to remember everything."

Truth was, he seemed to be forgetting whose sister you were, letting his guard down and kissing you the way he did. He knew he could have done more if he completely let go of his reins. You were just too tempting, too beautiful and brimming life and infinite galaxies in your eyes which devoured him and made him lose of all sense of time, space and just sense in general.

"Satoru will be looking for you," Nanami attempted for the second time which only earned him an imperious look from you. You said everything in that single action: one, that you didn't care and two, that he was behaving ludicrously.

For the final time, he tried to appeal with something which you would actually give a damn about. "Don't you want to spend time with your friends?"

"Seriously, Nanamin, they're the least of your problems. We're going camping tonight. Besides, they know –" You deliberately stopped talking, your ears turning red, evidently flustered.

"They know what?" he prompted, leaning forward to have a better look at your face to assess your mood.

But then you said, "You're distracting me."

"And you're being evasive."

"If you don't want to spend time with me, just say so." In an abrupt swerve which made his life flash before his eyes, you pulled over to the side of the road, letting go of the steering wheel after you killed the engine. "Drive us home then."

You motioned to remove your seat belt, but Nanami stopped you, shaking his head. Why anything never went right when he was dealing with you was beyond him. "That's not it at all."

"Then what?" you snapped.

Damn, he thought. If the two of you were already fighting the way you are at present, he couldn't imagine how things would be once you were in an actual relationship. Then again, maybe it was the confusion as to what was happening that was causing the unwarranted tension between you two.

He sighed. "You're just too erratic. I can't keep up."

"And you're too fucking vanilla!" you growled.

Nanami was appalled that you would say that same comment in such a way. Leveling his ire with yours, he spat, "That's rich coming from you. Didn't you date that Kamo kid?"

You were stunned at his citation of your former relationship, even more so at his childish attempt at spiting you. It was so atypical of him. "You..." You jabbed a finger at him, about to spit fire when you realized that he cared enough to notice. Your brows knit together. "How did you know about that?"

"You think I wouldn't notice that he's been following you around like a lovestruck puppy during last year's autumn festival?" Nanami scoffed, sneering. "A person like you with someone more boring than the vanilla you claim that I am?"

He was being petty, he knew it, too. The look on your face as you just ogled him in stunned silence says it all. It was as if you never expected him to ever retort the way he did. It was really unusual if he would say so himself since he never really indulged you enough to actually argue with you the way the two of you were doing at the moment.

Out of the blue, you burst out in a fit of giggles, the corners of your eyes watering. "Come to think of it, he acts more like an old man than you do..."

"You dare call me an old man?" He knew your argument was over, but he couldn't help but say it. There was an out of place sense of satisfaction that engaging you in a word joust gave him no matter how unintelligent and shallow it was about.

When you finally calmed down, you said, "I want you to have fun and have a sense of adventure for once. I swear I won't throw your dead body to the ocean."

His left eye twitched at your sentiment. "Well, if you put it that way..."

"Just say yes to me for once."

"I always say yes to you if you haven't noticed by now."

You snickered, starting the engine. "I want you to say yes to me now."

Nanami felt something tug at his chest. "Yes."

"Good." You leaned over and poked him on the cheek.

Nanami sat there, rolling down the window as you drove, letting lose and enjoying the scenery the car passed by on the way to the sea. For the first time in a long time, his face ached from smiling too much, unable to help it.

He knew it and he didn't care if he was doomed. He was in love with you, always have been and always will.

-end of part 3-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

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binkysteebnpewter · 4 years

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Of Paper Planes & Teddy Bears

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Words: 2100+

Summary: Wanda has loved you since you trained her when she joined the avengers. However she’s too afraid to confess all because she’s sure you’re dating the Diner guy.

I used a divider a few times, they’re by: @writeyourmindaway 💗

Warnings: TW:Dissociation, TW: Anxiety Implications, explicit (?) detailing, conspiracy thoughts (just to add flavor 🤷🏻‍♀️).

Taglist: @softpeachbarnes @thejournalman

There was so much that I could say about her. So much good, so much praise, so many compliments that'd sound like Shakespeare had possessed my body to write an entire play solely about how her eyes stared into my soul with just a simple fleeting glance she'd give as we passed each other in the hall. There was so much I could say about her to show someone how much I love her and what I love about her, but that would take too long— even though I knew I could talk about her until my lungs failed to take in air and my heart failed to beat.

What I would utter out was that her attitude was what got me up in the morning, other than the fact she always made breakfast for everyone even though she didn't have to— and her cooking is absolutely blissful if I'm honest. However her coffee is downright dreadful. She liked her coffee way too strong for me or anyone other than Tony and Bruce, who refused to drink theirs any other way now. I didn't see how she could drink it, especially not black with just ONE spoon of honey.

There were those days where sometimes she didn't want to cook and everyone would sometimes go to the nearby diner, and today was one of those days. She had dressed down pretty casual and comfy, but oh— she looked otherworldly in her comfort clothes, dressed to no ones expectations as she held her favorite teddy bear

Sam drove while everyone else talked, but her? She sat playing with a few small paper airplanes, making them fly with psychokinesis. Making one fly out of her course, she stops them all and looks to me. She smiles and one of them unfolds suddenly, refolding quickly. Smiling at the blossom flower, my eyes widen when I moved over and rested in my lap. She smiles to me once more and focuses on her airplanes again, leaving me a storm of emotions.

The time passes like it's racing as we all ordered, waited, receivers, and ate. Some of us were still eating, some were just talking and relaxing. It was peaceful and the diner was never busy enough to draw a crowd to us, thankfully.

"How you gonna be like 'she gotta blonde, she gotta be thick, she gotta be tan'?" She asks, standing up to a guy sitting near us as he dissed his own girlfriend.

"You ain't got the right to be picky. All you packing is a tic-tac.. what you gonna do breath mint?" She asks and he flusters.

"What you gon' do Listerine?" She asks, giving him a look full of utter sass and confidence.

Smiling as the guy flustered and began ignoring her, I nodded and gave her a thumbs up as she turned back around. She smiles to me and laughs a bit.

"Yo! You're here today!" I hear and she turns.

"Mattie! What's up?" She smiles, standing and giving the guy a hug.

Him.

The one I wish I was. The guy who gets to call her baby girl, the guy who gets to stay up and talk on the phone with her for hours, the guy who gets to hear her sleepy voice say those three words I so desperately want to hear and say back.

I love you.

Wanda had left my origami flower in the diner, right on the table with her plate. Did she not like it? Was it the wrong color? I purposefully kept my airplanes folded neatly in the colors black and red, the colors I knew she liked. Was I overthinking all the subtle things? Was I imagining them? It was possible, maybe I'm reading too far into things.

I walked silently across the street from the cemetery, a hat placed on my head and tipped low as I faced the ground. My fingers played with the fidget in my hand, the puzzle fidget I had solved too many times to count now. I was long overdue for a new one, there was no combination of moves someone could do to mess up the colors on my rainbow ball fidget toy to make sure I couldn't return each colored ball to its respective hole too quickly. Wind whipped around me and chilled my skin, my thin jacket doing nothing to keep me warm.

The pigeons, I swear, are staring at me as I walk. Following me, I know it, as I took turns and they stayed right nearby with me from the start of my journey. I was a long way from the compound, that I knew for sure. I'm convinced one day they'll begin recognizing individuals, or that maybe they're not even real— robots maybe. Do we ever see them sleep? Do the power lines charge them when they rest upon them? Do they video people and record conversations? Is this how the government truly finds wanted people?

A bus loops around and around, passing through the old streets. The neighborhoods of old tenement houses, public schools, coffee shops, and candy stores. Sidewalks lined with cart shops, their goods ranging from street food to newspapers and tourist spots. I haven't seen the bus stop once as it's passed by one time after another, yet there are always less and less people aboard it with each pass. Has it even stopped? Why come down this road so many times? Is it forever stuck in this route? Is it in limbo— wait, can objects be stuck in limbo?

dO UnITs hAVe a SoUL??

I pass a hot dog stand, the grilled hot dogs looked oddly like fingers to my eyes and I suppress a gag. Do they bleed when you bite into them? Is the juice metallic tasting? Is the texture— Let's stop there, yeah let's stop there.

I head to subway station to realize I had been in the Brooklyn-Queens area, my numb fingers aching as I swiped my subway card. I stand as far from people as I could, the suffocating feeling of the subway closing in. The scent of the train car was musty and pungent, like old sneakers in a gym locker and rotten food found in the home of a hoarder who'd dropped their food and never found it to pick up and throw away. My fingers pause in the motion of scrambling my fidget as I realize the conductor was making an announcement, I caught on too late. Asking the man nearby if he'd heard the announcement, I shuddered when he gave me a simple rat-like smile and said nothing with a shrug.

I guess I'll never know.

I feel as though someone is watching me and Natasha's words play through my head. 'If you feel like someone's watching you, it's because someone is.' Do I look for them? Do I make eye contact and sass them? No, don't. Really don't, never trust a man or even a women on the train this late at night— I have no clue why they're up, or why I'm up even. I had woke with a feeling of dread and left without a single thought about it, the compound had felt too stuffy and small— despite its size.

The compound was... a mystery to me. It was large and spacious yet at times it felt like it closed in on me, suffocating like a 5x5 room. It made me feel like SCP 096 in his airtight steel cube room, watched yet not seen.

I step off the train at a random stop, heading out back into the chilly night air to continue an aimless walk through a concrete jungle shaped like a maze of looming buildings that wait— wait for the perfect moment to swallow me whole like a fly in the air, gone like I had never even buzzed in someone's ear.

Walking off the sidewalk and into a parking lot, I glance around. The parking lot may seem empty but I don't trust it, there are cars here— I know there are. They just don't want me to see them yet. They like to hide, spook me when I'm not paying attention once more. The building seems to expend as I enter with my membership card in hand, I'm sure I'll never understand how everything fits inside this place— just like I'll never understand where all the shoppers in here come from, even so late.

Are they even people?

I don't know how long I've been in here before I begin to become hungry, taking notice of the samples being handed out. Don't trust it, never trust it— you don't know if that person is sick or has done something to the food. Buy something and make it yourself, or buy a packaged snack— some fruit even. I cannot find check out, and the lady I had passed only gave me an eerie smile when I asked how to get to check out.

What is up with people and not knowing the answers to questions tonight?

I sit motionless, vaguely aware i was on the floor in the kitchen. I was also vaguely aware it was some time past 4am, when I returned from my late name wander. However something is wrong, something is staring. I do not know what nor do I think I want to know, yeah... I don’t want to know— I never will want to know.

It feels as if I’m staring at the back of my own head, watching as blurs vibrate and buzz off me and disappear into the air. I was staring, but staring where? At what? What color is it? What shape does it take? Is it smooth or textured? Is it decorative or a utensil?

I want to reach and touch myself, reassure myself that I am, in fact, here— that I am tangible and existing. So I reach up to touch my forehead, but everything blues— freezes. It was like something had stopped me from proving I was tangible, but I didn’t know what stopped me. I can’t figure it out, I’m sure at this point I don’t want to figure it out.

Do not touch my own face, that is asking for trouble. Something has warned me not to do it, and blindly I will take the unseen things advice.

My mind feels cloudy? No, it feels foggy. Not quite... It feels as if someone has steamed it, the moisture leaking out my eyes— I am crying with a dull expression as I sit on the kitchen floor, barely aware I even exist. This skin isn’t even my own, who’s is it? Did I steal it? Did I win it? Did we swap? How do I give it back? It is uncomfortable and suffocating, irritating like a sunburn.

Who am I? Am I a spectator? Am I a player? Am I winning? What am I playing? What am I spectating? Are others here? Is this a competition? Where are the controls?

I’d like to take the controls now.

It was a very faint and ghostly feeling of a hand touching mine that made me obscurely aware my hand had never dropped from moving to touch my own face. How long ago was that? The world was a blur, scratchy and set in black and white like a very old VHS tape. I didn’t know how long it was of those ghostly hands rubbing my upper arms and occasionally wiping my face and eyes, but the feeling of those motions became more prominent— heavier and more tangible.

Eventually, my world came into color and the first thing I could see was red. Brown hair that was lazily held in a messy ponytail, skin adorned with a pair of red pajamas, green eyes that seemed so soft and worried as they met mine.

“You’re with me, miere?” She asks softly and I touch her hand that was cupping my cheek.

She is real.

She’s here, tangible, existing.

So I am real, tangling, existing— because she is talking to ME.

“Miere?”

“Please don’t leave me alone...”

“I am not going to leave, Miere. I am right here, don’t worry.. I am always right here.”

“I love you..”

“Miere?”

Meeting her green eyes, they seemed so bright but so cautious. Why? Squeezing her hand that had been holding mine, the corners of my lips tugged up a bit.

“I love you Wanda..”

“I... I love you too, Miere. I, I thought you were dating... Mattie?”

“Mattie..?” I mumble, confused.

Who is Mattie? Do I know a Mattie? Surely I do, she wouldn’t have mentioned a Mattie if I didn’t and— Oh, the diner Mattie.

“No, I’m not dating Mattie.. He was my friend from school.” I admit, his face now fresh in my head.

“Besides, I don’t like guys.”

“Are you... are you gay?”

“Of course I’m gay.”

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