#Suffice it to say - sometimes ignorance really is bliss

[patchwork-crow-writes]

Transcendental Teatime Taste Test

(in which Kris has a new flavour tea for Ralsei to try)

You knock on the door a third time, parcel stowed inexpertly behind your shoulder cape. Could he have actually gone out somewhere? But he never went anywhere without you or Susie to accompany him... well, certainly not without You, at any rate.

But you needn't have worried, because a few moments later you hear the latch click and the door creaks open to reveal Ralsei. He is somewhat surprised to see you, but he is also unable to hide the joy in his expression.

'Oh, Kris!' he chirps. 'What... an unexpected surprise! To what do I, um, owe the pleasure of this visit...?'

You say nothing, taking a moment for the prince to stew in the awkward silence. Waiting for him to notice the strange way you're holding one arm behind your back.

It doesn't take him long to put two-and-two together, and his snow-white face darkens a deep red. His smile is shy as he asks you, 'D-do you have s-something back there for... for me, Kris...?'

You consider saying "no", just to see him sqirum a bit more... but you have something you want verifying, something a little more important than pulling petty pranks like that. And so with a flourish of your cape you reveal the neatly-wrapped box, presenting it to Ralsei as though it were a ceremonial weapon. Your theatrics do not go unnoticed... or unappreciated

'Ooh, Kris!' he exclaims, puffing himself up in an attempt to look as princely as possible. 'What gift is this you have brought? Surely a mysterious trinket from far-flung lands, the likes of which no darkner has ever laid eyes upon!'

The caprine boy giggles, somewhat mortified by his own earnestness. He takes the package from you, taking care not to crease the delicate multicoloured paper it's wrapped in. Almost at once his eyes widen, the aroma emanating from the box unmistakable to his quivering nostrils.

'Y-you brought me a... a new tea to try!' Ralsei's eyes sparkle like diamonds beneath his cola-bottle glasses, and he is visibly torn between shredding the packaging into ribbons right there and then, and throwing his arms around you to articulate his joy. 'Th-this is so... I've never... th-thank you so much, Kris!'

His unbridled excitement spooks you a bit, despite the fact that you had actually anticipated this reaction. You calm yourself, remembering that this is just the way that Ralsei is built. It would have been no different had Susie been the one to give it to him.

...well, mostly, you reason.

Perhaps sensing your slight discomfort, the prince composes himself a bit, though his face remains flushed with happiness. 'Ah, sorry about that... it's just I, um... don't really get gifts from anyone, so it... it really means...'

He looks like he's on the verge of tears, but a moment later he realises his error. 'O-oh, I'm sorry! W-we should give this tea a try, shouldn't we, Kris? I can't wait to try it out!'

Neither can you... but not, you suspect, for the same reason as him.

Ralsei ushers you into his room, urging you to sit at a small table laden with the most ornate crockery you have ever seen - even more ostentatious than your mom's Good China. You note the three places set around the table, and that two of the three chairs are already occupied by plush effigies of you and Susie. The stitching on them is well-worn, white stuffing poking through the loose lining. Ralsei gathers them up with one hand, mumbling an embarrassed apology, gesturing for you to sit where the Kris doll had once been.

'I'll j-just prepare the tea, so please, um... be patient a moment. Ok, Kris?' And with that, he zooms away, leaving you to your racing thoughts. The chair is a little small and digs into your back, despite the armour you always wear in the dark world.

Could there be any chance he'd figure it out before you had an opportunity to see his reaction? It didn't seem likely, considering how difficult it was to acquire this particular blend, but... well, Ralsei was pretty good at knowing about things he shouldn't.

Like your name, for instance.

Of course, there was that whole "prophecy" thing, wasn't there? It wasn't entirely unreasonable to suppose that both your and Susie's names were etched upon it somewhere - that was a pretty common thing to happen in prophecies, right? If the stories were anything to go by, anyway.

But you can't completely shake the crawling suspicion that somehow, he just Knows. That all this is a big game and he's just... playing along. Your heart - your actual heart and not the You that wasn't you - thumps an anxious beat against your ribcage. Your palms run clammy with sweat. But surely, there was nothing to worry about, was there? Ralsei was your friend, after all. He liked you.

Well, you'd find out in a moment, wouldn't you?

And then, almost as if on cue, the prince returns, carrying a large tray groaning with every type of cake you could possibly think of - rich red velvet cake, dense and moist carrot cake, fluffy and colourful angel food cake. In its centre sat a large and colourful teapot, its spout blowing a gentle tail of steam through the air behind him. You swallow, force a small smile, do your utmost to present as, and indeed to be, Normal.

'S-sorry that took so long!' he says, setting the tray down between the two of you. 'I, um, might have gotten a little carried away with the cakes, haha. But I figured you wouldn't mind! ...Err, hopefully.'

You shift your glance from Ralsei to the colossal pile of cakes in front of you. Many of them, you now see, are some variation of chocolate flavour. Your stomach rumbles, despite your unease. Perhaps you really were just overreacting. Gingerly, you take a fudgy brownie - it is studded with glossy milk, white and dark chocolate chunks that ooze slightly from the still-warm cake.

'Now how about we try this tea, Kris?' says Ralsei with a sweet smile, proffering the teapot to you. You nod, mouth full of gooey sweet brownie, and he pours out a small cup for you, before seeing to his own. The liquid is a deep dark caramel colour, but you also suspect you can glimpse the occasional flash of deep crimson as the light dances across its surface..

'Ohh, doesn't it smell heavenly?' he continues, lifting his china cup to his nose and inhaling the steam, before giving off a contented sigh. 'Give it a sniff, Kris!'

Curious, you copy Ralsei's gesture. The steam wafting from your cup hits the inside of your nostrils, and you are taken aback by how hot it feels. Once you acclimatise, however, you take a tentative sniff...

...it smells like nothing you have ever experienced before. An aroma that teeters on a fine line between rotten and sweet, like the faintest whiff of fermenting fruit, or of the manure spread over the fields in spring. Not entirely unpleasant... but not what you would call "appetising", either.

'...you know, Kris,' the prince says, peeking over the rim of his cup at you, 'I didn't really, um, have you down as enjoying this... sort of thing.'

You raise an eyebrow. Ralsei gives you a nervous chuckle, an endearing bleat-like noise.

'Well, I suppose I don't... I don't really... know you all that well, do I? F-for all I know, you could actually really like... this. Am... am I making any sense, or...?'

You don't respond right away. Thankfully, you aren't required to give an answer, because a moment later, You nod. His shoulders sag a little, and a small smile spreads across his face again.

'O-okay... that's good, haha,' he says. 'I... I was worried that you were just... just humouring me, I suppose. N-not that it would matter if you were, or are! It's nice just being here with you, Kris.'

A paw reaches out across the table, alabaster fur gently tickling your fingers. His smile widens, his eyes go soft... and then he seems to realise what he's doing, and sharply withdraws his hand, almost as though you'd burnt him. There's a slight stab of rejection close to your heart - it's not clear which of You the feeling originates from. Perhaps both.

'A-anyway-!' says Ralsei, tucking his offending paw into his robe and turning his face away slightly. 'Wh-wh-why don't we t-try some of this lovely tea you've brought for us? If it tastes anywhere near as g-good as it smells, then I think we might be in for a real treat...!'

You nod enthusiastically, grateful for a distraction from the awkwardness. You waste no time and take a long, slow sip from your teacup, bracing for something truly stomach-churning...

...but that's not what you taste. You were expecting something like spoilt milk, or toast so burnt it's unbearably bitter, but instead all you can identify is... chalk. Not awful, but not pleasant. It seems to coat your mouth and throat as you swallow, and you're reminded of the milk of magnesia your mother used to make you drink when you had an upset stomach.

You're almost disappointed at how bland it tastes. You were expecting something a bit more than this... whatever it is.

(HP + 10)

'Well?' asks Ralsei. 'H-how is it, Kris...?'

You make a show of thinking about it. Take another sip to add to the effect - strangely, the chalky flavour is starting to grow on you. You worry a little about what that implies.

'Yeah it's pretty good,' you're able to say; it's always a slight shock when You're permitted to speak. You wait a moment to see if more words are forthcoming, and when they are not, you gesture the prince to follow your example.

Finally. Now you'll be able to see which You he thinks he's talking to. Your breath catches a little in your throat as he raises the cup daintily to his lips, as the first drop of manna falls onto his tongue.

You wait as he takes a sip. And then another. And still another. With each gulp, he tips the cup further and further, until you wonder how he could possibly hold it like that without drenching himself with hot tea. And still he is not done. In fact, he fully upends the cup, draining it to its very last dregs.

'...oh,' the prince says, setting the china back down upon his saucer. You note the trancelike glaze in his eyes, the cogs whirring in his fluffy head as he struggles to quantify and comprehend what it is he has just experienced.

'Oh,' he says again, voice lower this time. 'Ohhh.'

You'd ask Ralsei if he was alright, if you were capable. But you don't need to. You know exactly what's happening. It's exactly as you'd always suspected.

'This... K-Kris, this is...!'

He is unable to finish the sentence before he is pouring himself a second serving of tea, china rattling as he picks it up and downs it all in one go. A third cup is poured, which joins the others in the pit of Ralsei's stomach. And you watch it all unfold, expression flat, inscrutable.

'...still can't...' the prince breathes, smacking his lips together. 'It's... it's like nothing I've ever tasted before...! The... the sweetest sugar would taste like bitter salt next to this... the richest cake, as bland as tofu! It's... the closest thing to... to heaven I've ever...!'

(HP + 451)

He is enraptured, seeming to forget you are there entirely. You can't even imagine how anything could possibly taste so good - not even your mother's posh chocolates could elicit that kind of a reaction from you. It's a little uncomfortable to watch, and not just because of the implications.

After a little while, however, he starts to come back to earth. Ralsei blinks, apparently mortified that you witnessed him losing control like that. He takes off his glasses to polish them, and you note that his eyes still have that slight faraway look to them.

'O-oh, I'm sorry, Kris,' he mumbles into his scarf. 'That was rather, err... unbecoming of me, wasn't it...? B-but that tea really was so... um, th-thank you for bringing it to me!'

Slowly, you nod. His gaze slides off of you, as if he is ashamed of what he had just done - yet still, he cannot seem to help looking pointedly at your half-full teacup. You pretend you don't notice, and he doesn't make anything of it. And so the minutes pass awkwardly by until it is time to go.

'Oh no, don't worry about that!' he says hurriedly as you offer to help tidy everything away. 'I've... e-everything's under control here! A-and I enjoy tidying up, anyway!'

As if to demonstrate his enthusiasm, he sweeps everything up onto the tray and hoists it into the air with both hands before you can object. As he whisks all the plates and cups back where they belong, you think you spot him surreptitiously sip from the cup you drank from - desperate for one final taste of godly manna. You wait patiently for him to finish, and then stand up to go, stowing away another delectable brownie for later.

Ralsei walks you to the door. 'It was lovely to see you again, Kris! And, um... thank you again for the wonderful gift.'

He seems to look through you as he says this. You'd seen that look before, but now it holds much more significance as you realise - Ralsei has literally been looking through you the entire time. Through to the You residing in your very SOUL. The You that no-one else could see.

As you say your goodbyes and leave the darkness behind, you start to wonder if this had been such a good idea. If maybe you should have just left things as they were. If maybe, it would have been easier - better, even - not to know about these things.

You might have at least been able yourself into thinking that any of it was for you in the first place.

---

The alleyway was deserted when you arrived. No-one came this way unless they absolutely had to, and with good reason; a terrifying host of unearthly creatures made their home in this place - beings that could offer the curious and the credulous deals to attain their heart's desire. But all transactions were made at the purchaser's own risk.

The figure you were after resided at the very back of this hellish locale. As you passed by several dilapidated stalls, voices whispered to you, as insubstantial as cobwebs in the darkness, imploring you to browse the various goods and services they could provide. More than once, you were forced to turn down something referred to only as a "Single Sneaker" - a cursed trinket of unfathomable origin, no doubt.

A lone creature sat at a small table, upon which rested an item that looked very much like an ordinary household kettle. The demented runes scrawled underneath this shabby display told of its power: "FLAVORED TEAS MADE HERE".

The figure noticed you approach, springing to life like a motion-sensing anamatronic. Its angular nose and rictus grin unsettled you - though you couldn't quite understand why.

'Care for a sample?' the Addison spoke, its voice dry from lack of use. 'Teas specially made bespoke, tailored to YOUR unique flavour profile!'

You did not respond, but stopped directly in front of them.

'Just you today, Sir and/or Madam?' they laughed, nerves showing.

You swivelled your head from left to right, sweeping the alleyway for signs of anyone there aside from the two of you. It didn't hurt to be absolutely sure - you didn't want any more people knowing about this than was absolutely necessary.

Then, very slowly, you nod.

'Great! Then I'll just-'

The Addison had no time to continue their sentence, before you raised an arm into the air, clenching and unclenching your hand in preparation for what had to be done next.

Your screams were silent as you struggled against Yourself - a well-rehearsed mime show of internal pain and anguish. The darkner's eyes widened in mute terror, their smile frozen in place. They could not look away as you gripped hold of something lodged deep within yourself, yanking at it once, twice, thrice...

And with a sickening wrench, it came free: a heart-shaped object, the colour of blood, pulsed weakly in your hands. It was You. It was not you. Both and neither of these things were true at the same time.

You proffered the SOUL to the quivering Addison, gesturing with your free hand towards the kettle. Somehow, they understood what was required, and set to work brewing a tea. Satisfied, you returned the object back where it belonged, and waited patiently as if nothing interesting had happened.

The resulting liquid shimmered uncannily in the faint darklight, shivering as if possessing a life of its own. Wordlessly, the salesperson decanted the tea into a canister, wrapped it up in gift paper, and handed it to you with trembling fingers.

It felt lighter than you thought it would be. Almost insubstantial - as if it didn't have a physical presence. You spotted a small tag tied to the gift bag, with a single word scrawled upon it:

SOUL.

You tore it off and discarded it. No need for him to know what this was. Now you would know for certain, just what he actually thought of You.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Killing Cure (Part 21)

So this is another mobile post. Will put it under the cut when I get to my desktop.

He doesn't know how he hadn't noticed promptly; Lady Dimitrescu, though she is still much taller than he, is actually quite small. He wonders if the woman is aware silent in his embarrassment he strikes his forehead with the heel of his hand, stupid stupid Salvatore, of course the lady I knows! She is a smart woman and a change so big…? Small…? Profound, wouldn't go unnoticed. It is somewhat comforting if he were to be honest. Before she was such an intimidating presence to be around. So much so that he sought to avoid her if he could help it.

But the woman who sits before him, shifting in the chair with a look of mild disgust is infinitely more approachable.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Dimitrescu shakes her head and is hear sinks. He is loathsome, repulsive, repugnant! Of course she doesn't want anything that has been delivered by his grimy hands.

"You got any beer? I haven't had a good beer in a while." Ethan requests. "I could use one."

Salvatore nods eagerly. He hasn't had company in so long, much less company that is willing to let him be hospitable. Only Mother Miranda let's him be hospitable.

He plops a can into the man's hand. He visibly cringes when the slime runs down the side of his his palm. And for a second Salvatore thinks that he will put the drink inside. Instead he wipes the can clean and pops the cap.

"Are you sure that you don't want anything, Lady Dimitrescu?"

"To eat or drink, absolutely."

He thinks that he hears Ethan grumble, "you should eat, those vitamines are only supplements."

"But there is something else that I would like." She carries on as though she hadn't heard the man sitting next to her.

"How can I help?" He has asked the wrong question. He knows that he cannot help. He wonders why she is asking him rather than Donna or even Karl. Surely even Karl is a more desirable option.

"Winters and I are looking for his daughter. I imagine that Mother Miranda has given you a role to play? I am asking you to... reconsider your alliances."

"Betray Mother Miranda?" He squeaks. He could never! He doesn't understand how she could ask such a thing! To betray the only person who has seen his value.

"I-I couldn't possibly, Lady Dimitrescu! Mother Miranda has been good to me."

"By turning you into a gross and gushy fish...man...thing?" He chuckles to himself, "manthing." And then he clears his throat, reverting back to tealitibe seriousness, "I wouldn't call that good."

"I...well it's...nobody, mostly nobody, messes with me anymore."

"That's because you isolated yourself in a swamp." Lady Dimitrescu drums her claws...former claws upon the armrest.

Salvatore slinks back. "Mother Miranda sees my value." Even where he doesn't, she always has.

.oOo.

"She doesn't see your value, Moreau. She sees you vulnerabilities and she uses them." Just as she had used her. And how lovely it had been to believe those lies. "I see your value, Moreau." At least she hopes that she will in time. She thinks that even he can tell that she is telling pretty lies.

"I know how you look at me and my dwelling." He gestures about the place. "You want to use me."

"So then what does it matter? You're being used either way, what difference does it make who's using you?" She scoffs.

Ethan nudges her. "What she means to say is that we would really appreciate your help."

"I meant what I said, Winters!" She snaps.

Ethan inhales deeply, "I would value your help. And I wouldn't use you. You gave me a beer, we're friends now."

"Friends?" Moreau tests the word.

"You ever have a friend before?"

Moreau meekly shakes his head, "none at all, Winters."

"Well now you do and you can start by calling me Ethan."

Now Moreau looks far beyond anxious. The pathetic creature is all jittery and stuttering.

"B-but you won't like me. You'll find me repulsive eventually."

"I already do but friends look past that. I was able to look past Alcina's occasional blood baths. She smells like a corpse when she comes out of those and it's pretty awful."

Alcina clenches her teeth, cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "How dare you--"

"I look past a whole lot of that too." He jabs his thumb at the snarl on her face. "She's pretty cranky all the time but she isn't so bad once you get used to traveling with her."

"Blood and mucus are not the same. At least she's nice to look at."

Ethan smiles a lopsided awkward smile. "Yeah she's a beautiful lady. Her eyes are alluring, her face is charming, she has nice hair and a fantastic…"

"Winters, stay focused!" She demands sharply.

"Ass." He whispers to Moreau.

She shoves him off of the couch, "have some tact or sit yourself down next to Moreau, you loose lipped oaf."

Ethan rubs his own rear. "Well anyways, to show you that I am not repulsed by you I will gladly sit next to you until Alcina wants to be nice to me. She rolls her eyes as one cretin seats himself next to the other.

He does his best to keep the appalled expression off of his face even as the stench of death and fish assaults his nostrils. His eyes are watering and Alcina smirks. She must admit that the man is very good at feigning acceptance.

For a heartbeat she wonders if he is only pretending to accept her, wonders if he will stab her in the back as soon as he has his Rose back. She bites the inside of her cheek.

"So what do you say Moreau? Trade a heartless cultist for a real companion?"

"I'll consider." He twiddles his thumbs.

But she knows him, she knows that he won't want to venture beyond his comfort zone. And his comfort zone wears a bird mask.

"If you can stay the night, I will have the answer by morning."

.oOo.

It was exactly what he was hoping to avoid; staying here with the putridly smelling miasma of sea and decay. And on a makeshift hammock that is damp and slicked with what could either be mold or algae.

He doesn't want to rest which it is. He is rather content in his blissful ignorance. He can't deny that he is quite pissed that Alcina has taken the dry cot. He can't even get to sleep in a perfectly hammock and has no idea how Moreau can possibly sleep in what looks to be a large and repurposed fishing net.

He groans and makes his first attempt to scramble onto the hammock. By the fourth, he is ready to sleep on the floor.

He pretends not to hear her when Alcina slips into the room. A feat made harder by the very obvious cracking of the floorboards.

“Winters…” She looks off for a moment. “I’d like you to spend the night with me again.”

With only a sentence, his anger dissipates, "shit,I thought you'd never ask."

"After your," she coughs, "crass commentary, I wasn't going to. But I changed my mind."

"What made you do that?"

"This place is damp and chilly. You are warm."

It sounds like an excuse to him but he isn't one to question a mercy no matter how small.

This cot is even smaller than the one at House Bennivento. Ethan is certain that Alcina is plenty aware of this. She climbs onto it anyhow and gestures for him to join her.

"Shouldn't I get in first?"

She shakes her head, "lay down before I change my mind."

He crawls atop her and tries to make himself comfortable. It isn't particularly hard, Alcina is very pleasant and charmingly soft and kindly warm. He hesitates for a moment before resting his head upon her chest.

He feels her fingers weaving through his hair. "Comfortable?"

"Very." He confirms. He thinks that he is more comfy here than he would be in a bed of his own.

She sighs. The exhale is followed by a brief duration of silence. At last she fills it, “it has been a very long time since I’ve been in pleasant company. And longer still since that company has been a man.”

"We're there any women?" The question comes forward before he can curb it.

"Several of them have warmed my bed. Good girls, they were." She muses.

"What happened to them?"

"Well I used them for my wine, of course."

Ethan cringes and she chuckles as though she has only told a simple little joke. "I was thinking of doing the same to you but your blood was so stale." She continues to stroke his hair.

"Well that's reassuring." He grumbles.

"I suppose that it doesn't matter anymore."

This time it is he who is responsible for the silence. He as he tries to make sense of a woman who doesn't seem to, by her very nature, make any sense at all.

"Why?" He finally musters.

"Why what?"

"Why am I sharing a bed with you again?"

She furrows her brows as though he is the confusing one. As though it is he who has been sending all sorts of conflicting signals.

"It's just that, one minute I'm a stupid manthing and the next I'm a charming gentlemen." He continues. "Do you like or not?"

"You are indeed a stupid manthing and a gentleman. I wish that you would just pick one, preferably the latter of the two."

And she is dodging the more important question. "And if I decided to pick 'stupid manthing' what would you do them."

She makes a sound, perhaps something to indicate both amusement and annoyance at his audacity. "I would…" she trails off. "I suppose that it depends on the extent that your idiocy reaches."

He has to laugh at this, how can he not--it is her quaint prose and relief that she is even considering humoring dumbassery to any extent at all.

"Your antics can be endearing and entertaining sometimes." She confesses. "But they are also terribly annoying."

"So do you like me or not."

With no way to dance around it she falls back into her silence for a very long time before she mumbles, "I'm trying my hardest not to…"

"But you do?"

"I...yes. I think." This mumbling is even softer.

"Care to figure it out for sure?" He asks. Though there any enough room to contact his preferred test, he thinks that something simpler will suffice.

Her hair stroking comes to an abrupt but brief halt. "I suppose that I wouldn't mind."

"Good." He props himself up just enough to kiss the woman's forehead and then her lips, a gentle testing of the waters before he kisses her neck. And when she doesn't bat him away or shove him off of the bed he lays one on her collarbone and then her chest.

He is met with something between a hum and a purr, her fingers tap upon his back. "How was that?"

"It was well enough, Ethan." She replies. "Perhaps we can double check when we find more comfortable lodgings."

[moonlit-han]

sometimes, wishes don’t come true ↠ huang renjun

genre: angst word count: 1.7k warnings: angst, breakup, swearing request: yes (anon. prompt: “Don’t lie to me.”) a/n: to the anon who said they needed some angst: i hope this suffices~

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

You sighed, resting your cheek against the cool tile of your bathroom wall. A shiver passed over you, and you hugged your knees closer to your chest. Your eyes felt dry and itchy from crying—even your throat was sore from holding back screams.

You should have known this was going to happen.

All the signs were there, after all. For years, you’d wished that you and Renjun could be more than just best friends, that you could date. You’d wanted it so fucking much that your desire consumed you, making it nearly impossible for you to feel anything else. At times, you felt like you were watching a different version of yourself walking around and talking with Renjun—a version that was entirely a lie. You had to be so careful not to let something slip about how you felt or else you were sure everything would fall apart. Worst of all, you’d thought he only loved you like a best friend or a sister for years; you just never saw the signs that it might be anything more.

When Renjun confessed to you, you were laying side-by-side on the grass of your high school’s baseball field. He’d insisted on taking your stargazing. He reached out and took your hand, placing it on his heart, and while holding hands was nothing new, you felt his heartbeat racing under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Renjun had sounded so scared when he said he was in love with you, that you immediately rolled over and kissed him full on the mouth. Suffice to say, he was surprised but absolutely thrilled.

That had been the happiest day of your life. It was as if everything had fallen into place, all the stars had aligned, and the calamities of the world had been solved.

Renjun was the perfect boyfriend.

Since you’d been best friends your whole life, you didn’t have to worry about getting to know each other from the start. It was almost too easy to be a couple. Your dates were a lot like just hanging out, but with more casual touches and so, so many more kisses. Kissing Renjun was like the feeling you get on the first true day of spring when the sun is hot on your skin, like that first delicious bite of decadent chocolate cake, like falling asleep to the soft sound of rain. You could spend hours just kissing and never get bored.

The strangest part of actually dating was when you were intimate. You’d swum with Renjun more times than you could count, had definitely changed in front of each other, and you were pretty sure you’d seen everything he had. Well, almost everything. And then, you had seen, felt, and tasted everything that was Huang Renjun. But him bare before you felt almost wrong, like you were too close to knowing his soul. But, maybe that was just because this was the last thing between you and you nearly knew his soul anyway. Even with the strangeness, everything was perfect.

You should have listened to the stories in the books you grew up reading. Be careful what you wish for. Look for the worm at the heart of the perfect apple. Everything comes with a price.

Eleven months passed in bliss with Renjun before things began to change. You’d both started your third year of college and were busier than you’d ever imagined you could be. The time you spent together dwindled until you only saw each other two or three times a week instead of multiple times every day. Communication became almost strained, with you calling and messaging Renjun more than he ever did you.

But, you were still in love.

One day, Renjun seemed to disappear. You couldn’t get in touch with him no matter how hard you tried, and his friends wouldn’t give you a straight answer. As the sun set, you found yourself growing angrier and angrier at your boyfriend. Leaving you with no notion of where he was or what he was doing? Did he not know how much you’d worry? You didn’t have to spend every waking moment with him—in fact, you preferred if you didn’t—but at least knowing he was okay would be nice.

More than nice. Necessary.

Renjun was back the next day as if nothing had happened. He showered you with the usual affection, promising to take you out for a fantastic date that weekend.

When you asked where he’d been the day before, all he could say was “Around. I just needed a day to myself. Stop bothering me, Y/N.”

No matter how many times you asked, no matter how nicely you said you loved him, he wouldn’t say more. Two hours later, you were just as frustrated.

“Renjun, I’m gonna go home,” you grumbled, gathering your things. Renjun just continued reading silently. “If you ever decide that you’re going to tell me where the hell you were yesterday and why you’re now ignoring me, let me know. Until then, I’ll be at home, probably binge-watching a show.”

“No, don’t watch our show!” Renjun said, finally looking up.

“Really?” you demanded. “That’s all you have to say right now?”

“What . . .”

“I’m going home. Call me tomorrow so we can talk.” You firmly closed the door to his apartment behind you, relishing the satisfying thunk the wood made.

When you got home, you practically ran to the bathroom to strip off your clothes and hurl yourself into the shower. The heat of the water always helped calm you. After what was probably too long in the shower, you put on your cat onesie and crawled into bed with your laptop. Just to spite Renjun, you watched a full two seasons of the show the two of you had been watching together. You didn’t care what he thought.

As you’d hoped, you and Renjun made up the next day and he did take you on that fantastic date. He’d said that he truly had just spent the day by himself—he’d gone on a hike in the nature preserve nearby, and even had pictures as proof. Although, to your slightly suspicious mind, they could’ve been taken anywhere. But, you had to think the best of your boyfriend, had to trust him.

Three weeks later, you couldn’t have guessed when you woke up that morning that it would be the last time you would ever say “I love you” to Huang Renjun.

It was the day after your one-year anniversary, and Renjun showed up at your door looking utterly bedraggled. He hadn’t even hugged or kissed you when you let him in, just shoved by you into the living room. Frowning, you walked into the room to see Renjun pacing back and forth along the length of your sofa.

“Ren, what’s wrong?” you asked, reaching out to touch his arm. Renjun flinched away, and you withdrew your hand to cross your arms as you stood in front of him. He didn’t answer.

“Renjun,” you tried again, trying to keep weeks of frustration and confusion out of your voice, “babe, just tell me what’s wrong and I’ll help or do anything I can! I love you. I hate seeing you like this. What happened? Please, just tell me.”

Renjun was silent for what seemed like a hundred years, finally coming to a stop so that the two of you were directly facing each other over the coffee table.

“You really want to know, Y/N? Do you really?” he spat. You’d never heard Renjun sound like this before: angry, despairing, and like he was at the end of his tether.

“Yes! Just tell me and then maybe we can fix it or I can help or something!”

Renjun let out a laugh that was mostly a sneer, and leaned across the intervening space between you. You had to stop yourself from stepping backward.

“I don’t love you anymore,” he said with deliberate care, the words coming out of his mouth like bullets fired at close range. “There. You asked what was wrong and I told you. I don’t love you anymore and haven’t for weeks.”

You felt hot tears begin to slide down your face as you stared numbly back at him. Didn’t love— No. No, no, no. NO!

“I don’t believe you,” you said, your voice barely audible but you knew your fury could be heard nonetheless. “You fucking bastard. I can’t believe it. What happened?” Your voice rose as you lost your grip on your anger. “Did you find someone else? Don’t lie to me. What the hell happened? Did I get boring? Could you just not take it anymore? What the fuck, Renjun?!”

He just stood there as you yelled. He didn’t try to defend himself, didn’t try to make excuses. Once you’d called him every name you could think of, Renjun raised his eyebrows.

“Are you done?” he said sardonically.

You spluttered.

Renjun rolled his eyes. “No, I didn’t find someone else. I just realized that I don’t love you anymore. We should’ve never tried to date, Y/N. It was a doomed relationship from the start.” Renjun tiredly ran a hand through his hair.

“I— Things were so good,” you said, sniffling. “How could you think it was doomed?”

“Grow up, Y/N. Not everything’s a fucking fairytale. Sometimes you don’t get everything you want and thinking otherwise just going to see you get hurt even more.” He huffed. “I can’t do this. Goodbye, Y/N.”

With that, he turned around and walked out your door.

So now here you were, curled up on your bathroom floor. You’d been sobbing for hours, feeling like your still-beating heart had been cut out of your chest with red-hot razors. Your head pounded from lack of air and water, and too much pressure from crying. All you wanted was to sleep but you couldn’t stop thinking about Renjun. He was your best friend and the love of your life. You’d talked to him nearly every day of your life since the time you were eight.

And now, he was just gone.

Completely gone.

You didn’t know if you’d ever see him again.

You felt utterly empty and alone, like an unmoored ship drifting out to sea. The world had lost its center.

You should have listened to the stories: Be careful what you wish for.

[mytwistedhome]

Pomefiore and Ignihyde when they find out you have Anorexia

Trigger warning to anyone who suffers with an eating disorder!!

I decided to write these headcanons because I've been having a really tough two weeks, and thinking of the twst boys makes me happy...

I hope this can maybe bring comfort to someone else, or at least provide some bit of entertainment. My intention is not to cause harm or trigger anyone. That is the last thing I want.

Other dorms will be coming as well! I already started working on all of them, but I just haven’t finished them. They will most likely be posted the next time I have a bad day //

One more quick thing: I will be posting requests this week! I’ve already broken several promises that I made in regards to the time I’d post, and I feel horribly guilty. I’m sorry for the wait. I know I shouldn’t tell you to expect something on a certain day and then delay it for weeks. I should be honest about my efficiency, and I am sorry.

I'm also sorry for not responding to message (this applies to all my blogs...) I see them, but then forget about them, and then cower away because I feel like I'm already too late. I hope this little apology is enough to suffice... I'll apologize properly to every person when I find the courage. I know I shouldn't be doing this to people who've been kind to me just because I feel unwell. Please know that I am very sorry, and I'm trying to be more responsible and less careless to those around me.

💜

Vil Shoenheit

So that's why your skin is so dry and you have bags under your eyes

He scolds you at first. He believes that you’re starving to get a good figure, and he tries to inform you that doing so is unhealthy and that being malnourished actually makes a person quite ugly.

As if you haven’t already heard all this before

You try to tell him that you’re not doing this to look good. At least, not anymore. Sure, it started out as a way to lose weight, but it soon became an obsession much more meaningful than beauty or weight-loss.

He doesn’t understand. Why would you deliberately hurt yourself like that? Especially when you’re aware of all these negative outcomes?

Nevertheless, he is still very worried about you

He wouldn't normally concern himself with such a personal problem, but he would feel so guilty if he just stood back and watched you whither away

So, he does, indeed, go out of his way to try and help you

He finds a psychology book about eating disorders in the library, and he reads it in its entirety

He is... quite disturbed. He never imagined that you could be suffering so badly.

He's smart enough to realize that he, himself, can't do anything to make you better

He encourages you to seek professional help, and he even searches for phone numbers you can call and therapists/counselors close by of whom you can see

You are really touched by his efforts to find help, and you promise him that you will see one of the counselors he recommended

But... several weeks go by, and you haven't done anything

Vil grows furious. Don’t you want help!?

He takes your lack of seeking help rather personally... He went out of his way to provide with the things he felt that you really needed. Don’t you appreciate that? Don’t you care about yourself? What more do you want him to do?

You try to tell him that you don’t want him to do anything, that you’ll find help when you’re ready--

Vil isn’t buying that

What does “ready” mean, anyways? When you’re already in the grave?

He’s a bit harsh on you... He points out the patches of dry skin along your neck and chest, the way the hairs of your arms always stand on end from goosebumps, the metallic taste in your mouth...

Are you happy with those things? Do you really want to live this way?

You try and try to explain to him that it’s hard to get help and go back to eating normally

It spirals into an argument...

Vil is done with this. He did what he could and got you the resources you need to begin recovery. Once you decide to get help, he will be there for you. He will be there whenever you reach out for support, comfort, or care. But, until then, don’t talk to him about it. Don’t complain about your misery until you have sought proper help. It’s your fault at this point, isn’t it?

Rook Hunt

He had noticed that you were very quickly losing a lot of weight

He was concerned, but he never imagined that the problem could be something so serious

You're actually surprised with just how much he's concerned. You thought that if there was anyone to romanticize such a disease, it would be him

But he seems to know more than you thought about such disorders

He begs you to get professional help, and he is quite a bit more pushy and earnest than Vil is...

You try to explain to him that no doctor or therapist could ever help unless you were READY and WANTED to be helped

Well, he doesn't understand why you don't want help

He's pushing and pushing you... begging you to seek a professional

You get so frustrated that you turn and leave. He just doesn't understand!

And now Rook is even more distressed. How will he ever get through to you? How can he ever help you?

Now, every time he sees you, he looks at you with such sorrow

He sadly remarks upon how your beauty is fading... and how he fears that your life may be fading as well

Your heart aches to hear such sincere worry... Your chest feels tighter than it normally does as you crumble with guilt

You promise yourself you'll get better... Just so you won't have to see Rook with a horribly sad expression whenever he passes you

You start eating more in front of him to ease his worry, which does work a little bit

You add about 400 more calories to your usual intake--enough so that your "recovery" becomes visible through the way you bounce with energy

But you stay up late at night, running laps and doing situps to burn off some of that intake

And you keep losing weight

In fact, it's worse now because your body is aching from the unfamiliar intake and exercise...

Well, at least you look better

At least you have Rook fooled

Or so you think. It'll only be a matter of weeks before he catches onto your schemes and grows so distressed once again

He tries to sit you down and have a talk with you... He just really wants you to get help

Epel Felmier

Poor Epel finds out after he witnesses you collapsing in the middle of the hallway when no one else is around

He panics and rushes to your side, trying to see what is wrong and how he can help you

You blacked out for several seconds, which is why you collapsed, but even though you have your vision back, everything is still very cloudy and you are too weak to stand up

This makes Epel panic even more

You try to calm him down, despite your weakness

"it's okay, Epel...! Just get me something to eat. Please, I need something to eat. Hurry!"

He is a bit confused, but he does what you say, and he rushes off to find you some food

While he is gone, you try to stand, but to no avail. Your stomach aches with hunger and you are cold all over. Your body just feels so miserable

He rushes back to you with an apple and places his hands on your shoulders in concern as you quickly eat it down

That apple... It's the best thing you've ever tasted, but it's gone too quickly, and your mouth waters for more as the last bites slide down your throat

Although it was small, it still gives your body such a blissful burst of energy. All your senses are ignited now that you have finally eaten something after such a long fast, and your head is hurting far less

You stand up and smile at Epel, thanking him graciously before turning to leave

Uuuhhhhh.... What was that?

You suddenly collapse on the ground and then are all better after eating a simple apple?

No way is Epel going to let you go just like that. He holds you back, demanding an explanation, for it surely seems you know quite a bit about this bizarre thing that just happened

You try to tell him it's nothing, just a strange thing that happened this one time

Well, then, how did you know how to fix it by eating something?

You quickly lie and tell him you get dizzy sometimes and fall due to low blood sugar

Well, now your story is inconsistent

He presses you for the truth, growing rather angry

His harsh tone begins to scare you, and you tell him... You tell him that, sometimes, you go days without eating, and it of course causes you to grow so weary that you faint

You watch as all the frustration quickly rushes away from Epel's face, leaving his eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock

"That... That's really unhealthy..."

Oh, great. Not this speech again

But, it actually isn't a lecture about how this is such a "dangerous diet"

Instead, Epel pours out all his concern with a sad look upon his face

He knows that he can't do much, but he assures you that you can come to him if ever things become too tough to handle

You're touched by his offer, and you thank him for his understanding

But, now, everytime he's around, he watches you with care to see if you're doing alright and to make sure you don't fall over again

You hadn't expected him to worry this much...

If Epel ever thinks that things are getting out of hand, he will likely go behind your back to someone who can help for your sake

💙

Idia Shroud

He really wishes that he hadn't found out because now he can't stop worrying

This is the kind of thing that would just be easier to ignore and shut away from his mind

But how could he possibly ignore something as serious as this?

He keeps telling himself that this isn't supposed to be his issue

But... It is his issue, isn't it? If you ended up dying and he knew all along about your suffering yet did nothing to help, than that would mean that he aided in your death, right?

He's really starting to panic. He doesn't what you dead. Not at all

But... What is he supposed to do???

He calms himself down and tries to think

Perhaps if he built you a mechanical body that didn't need food this whole thing would seize to be a problem...

No, bad idea

Well, that will be his last resort if nothing else works...

He messages you and tries to plead with you to please just eat and take care of yourself...

You message back, explaining to him that it really isn't that simple

He decides to ask why you're doing this, and he tries to show through his words how much he really cares

You feel comfortable enough in telling him some of the reasons why you think you started, and why it's now so hard to stop and all you want is to continue with it...

Idia is happy that you were able to open up to him this much, but what is he really supposed to do with this information? He's no therapist...

Well, being vulnerable with you emotions and talking about the problem is at least one step in the right direction, isn't it?

Idia continues to try to be a source of comfort for you, while also encouraging you to seek proper help

Ortho Shroud

Oh, no... He can’t help you with this, can he?

Why can’t he help you? Why won’t you get better?

Surely nii-san programmed him with something that could help you...

Right...?

RIGHT!?

Why aren’t you better?

Why are you doing this to yourself!?

Ortho is a mess... so distressed. He can’t understand--he doesn’t have the capacity to understand such a disorder, and he is so frustrated that nothing he does is helping!

And he does everything

He exhausts himself trying to “fix your mind”

His eyes are wide, yellow irises shaking with misery

Knowing that you are willingly hurting yourself actually traumatizes him...

He can't wrap his head around such an awful mental illness. To him, it looks as though you're really trying to harm, hurt, and even kill yourself by your own accord

Something must be wrong with your brain, but he just doesn't know what!

The poor child is so upset. He's panicked and worried sick

And now you feel even worse

Sorry for ending on such a horrible note... I was originally going to have all the dorms, so Diasomnia would’ve come and saved the day, but I just didn’t finish them.

[siljascribbles]

A doodle that turned into something a lot more detailed than what I originally anticipated. I figured it was still sketchy enough to post here 8>

The famous trash rat on the right still belongs to @routaluonnokset​

Underneath is a little thingy I wrote of this picture. Not too happy with it, but exploring these two in written form is always nice!

Yehochanan stepped outside on Lucian’s balcony, the long haired brunette following closely behind him as he left the door halfway open. Lucian’s apartment was pretty warm during this time of the year so might as well ventilate a bit. Yehochanan stopped right before the railing of the balcony and after looking through his pockets, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took two cigarettes from the pack and offered one to Lucian.

”You want one?” he asked, already lighting his.

”Oh, sure, thank you…” Lucian nodded, took the cigarette from Yehochanan and looked at it. He had been craving for a smoke all day… Maybe one of these days he’d be able to quit his bad habit but, for now, reducing it was the best he could manage. Yehochanan leaned closer and light up the cigarette in Lucian’s hand, then took a long drag from his and blew out a small smoke cloud that soon faded into the warm summer air. Lucian followed his example and soon felt a calming wave rush through his body, making all the muscles in his body loosen up and relax. That feeling alone was one of the addicting aspects that kept Lucian clinging on to his smoking habit even if he knew how bad it was for him and how it made him feel worse in the long run. The human mind sure was a strange and stubborn thing…

The two men stood in silence for a while and watched over the beautiful city view that opened before them. The sky had turned from a beautiful pink to a deep, inky black color as however many hours had passed – Lucian didn’t know anymore, he had completely forgotten his sense of time many, many hours ago. All the light coming from the streetlights beneath them and the buildings in the distance created a warm, golden and orange glow that blended into the black sky, creating a beautiful gradient. As the duo were multiple stories off the ground, the only noise that accompanied them was a cooling breeze that came and went as it pleased. For some people, the silence was uncomfortable, awkward, and spoke of a lack of connection between people, but for Lucian and Yehochanan, it was quite the opposite. For them, it was a much needed break from their otherwise chaotic and unstable life. And besides, sometimes all they needed was someone’s company, even if the silent kind. And they were fine with that.

”Hey…” Lucian suddenly broke the silence between the two men as he sighed and looked up at Yehochanan who, in turn, replied with an asking look on his face. ”Thank you for coming. I… I think I really needed this.”

”Don’t mention it”, the redhead replied and blew out another smoke cloud. ”I’m glad if my company suffices to ya. And y’know, I happened to be in the area so I thought to come and stop by.”

”How very considerate of you”, Lucian teased with a smirk.

”Well, you know me, the world’s most considerate man”, Yehochanan sighed dramatically and soon the two men chuckled quietly. Silence fell between them as Lucian turned his gaze back to the busy streets below them where he spotted a couple walking together. He hummed silently. Sure, he was only joking around, but it was actually nice that Yehochanan had thought about him and even bothered to come and see him. Lucian enjoyed his company and it was a nice thing to have every now and then, even if Lucian had a hard time admitting that to himself.

Lucian glanced at the redhead from the corner of his eye. He felt like… He could be himself, nothing more or nothing less, in Yehochanan’s company. Both knew exactly what kind of work they were doing, how it almost split them into two different personalities, and they had agreed not to talk about those sides of them. Instead, they had focused on what kind of people they were outside of their work. What they were interested in, what did they like to do in their free time… Lucian liked that. For once in his life, he like he could be just a normal human being instead of a horrible monster, who had taken the lives of so many people he had lost count, when he was with Yehochanan. Moreover, Lucian liked his attitude towards life. He had a tendency to live in the present and, while usually having a lot of going on at all times, he also knew how to take it easy without too much worrying. He had his spontaneous side to him as well, as he sometimes helped Lucian get out of his apartment and explore the city around them. Lucian also liked his sense of humor. It was dry and sarcastic yet surprisinlgy witty. Overall, Yehochanan was a man with a very rough and coarse exterior… Yet, somewhere deep inside of him, Lucian could feel the soul of a good, loyal man. Perhaps that was why he felt so safe and good around him…

”...Is there something on my face? And don’t say my scar - I know. That joke has been beaten to death.”

...Huh?

A familiar voice dragged Lucian back into reality as he quickly shook his head. Shit, he was staring again, wasn’t he?

”Ah, no, no, not all! Sorry, I just… Must’ve spaced out. It happens often”, Lucian sighed and quickly looked away.

”Got a lot on your mind?” Yehochanan asked, raising and eyebrow at him.

”When don’t I…” Lucian groaned and took one long drag from his cigarette before he smothered it in the ashtray. ”Sometimes I wish I could stop thinking altogether. Maybe then I’d actually get some sleep.”

”Yeah… I have my ways for silencing thoughts, but you wouldn’t like those.”

”Is that so? Do I even want to know?”

”Nope.” Now Lucian was really curious, but sometimes ignorance was bliss… That, and he had learned not to ask too much the hard way.

”Well, nobody’s perfect as they say…” Lucian huffed and then turned to face the redhead. ”But even so, I…” Lucian shut his mouth before he could even finish his sentence. He wanted to say so many things to Yehochanan, but the words couldn’t come out – or perhaps they didn’t even want to. He felt an ache in his chest… An ache that wasn’t quite what he usually felt when he was having one of his sudden ”attacks”… It was an ache he hadn’t felt in many, many years and the kind that he thought he would never experience again. Lucian relaxed his fist that he had clenched without even noticing and sighed. ”…I still think you’re a good guy, despite what everyone else might say. Like I said, you even bothered to come here.”

”Didn’t I tell ya not to worry about it? It wasn’t that big of deal, really”, Yehochanan snorted and finally put out his cigarette as well. ”...But thank you, I guess. You’re all right, too.”

”’All right’?” Lucian scoffed. Phew, he bought that. ”I think that’s the most genuine compliment I’ve ever got from you.”

”Oh, fuck off”, the redhead huffed and smirked. ”Anyway, shall we go inside?”

”Sure”, Lucian nodded. Yehochanan already stepped inside when Lucian still hesitated, his hand on the door handle. The ache in his chest was still there and it seemed like it wasn’t going anywhere soon.

He would have to talk about it with Yehochanan at some point. He wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret forever.

Lucian sighed and closed the door after him.

But not yet. Not that night.

[for-ests]

Late Night: Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Word count: 2, 371

Warnings: NSFW / Angst

Summary: Kuroo finally coming to terms with the crush he has on you, his best friend.

"Can I ask you something?" Kuroo's deep and intimidating voice emitted from the kitchen entrance. It was getting late in the night, and your senses were growing hazy. Any person who watched three movies in a row would feel groggy.

"Yeah, sure." You raised an eyebrow. Despite how tired you were, you wondered why he would ask such an idiotic question. He was the kind of person to speak before he could think about the repercussions, which is what surprised you even more about his sudden reserved manner.

You turned as he reached over your shoulder, grabbing something to eat from the top shelf where he kept his most precious snacks, far out of your reach.

"Can't you just wait your turn?" You glanced up at him with an annoyed expression to mask what you were really feeling inside.

He was hardly an inch away from you.

The proximity caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stand straight up, followed by an euphoric wave of nerves.

You had the biggest crush on your best friend, but you would never admit it. You couldn't, your pride wouldn't have it, and you assumed he felt the same.

It wasn't like Kuroo was out of your league, he was far from it. You were respected and admired in your own right, you just had emotional baggage and trauma that you didn't want him involved in. Though he was a dear friend, he had only brushed the surface of the fear and anguish you held within your layers.

And frankly, you would sometimes take it out on him. You were about to throw another insult about his height, or maybe his ridiculous hair, but something about his expression caused you to lose your breath.

"W-what are you staring at?" Your cheeks flared up and your heart began to beat incredibly fast. You hated when he looked at you like this, as if he knew what you were thinking about. Thinking about him and everything you could be together.

"You." Kuroo said softly, the whole atmosphere changing with one word.

You blinked, turning to face him completely.

It was at that moment, staring into his dark and mysterious eyes that you knew held depths you wanted so desperately to unearth, that you finally acknowledged the feelings you'd been hiding for so long.

Kuroo was the most alluring boy you had the pleasure of befriending. He was so kind, so thoughtful. There was a mutual respect between the two of you that you had not found through any other man. Though he had never asked, if he did, you wouldn't be able to deny your attraction towards him, an unspoken pull that had always been present. Lurking, threatening, which is why you had been so cautious. Until now, to him, your discomfort must be obvious.

You had brushed your feelings off and buried them deep inside, thinking he was just your friend and that was all he would ever be. Now, your feelings were becoming too hard to ignore.

The dynamics had changed. You were older, far more mature and developed. All the other guys had noticed you, that was never a problem. The problem was your heart had always been reserved for Kuroo. Whether he was choosing to ignore it, or completely oblivious, was something you were too afraid to ask. The thought of losing him completely outweighed the truth.

You glanced back to him with furrowed eyebrows. Things had never been this awkward around Kuroo, so tense and unsure. You had invited him over in hopes to settle whatever had pulsed unspoken between the two of you. Yet being alone with him like this, was far too tempting. Far too easy to slip up.

Until a few months ago, all the two of you would do was play video games and eat junk food after practices with Kenma. But now, Instead of you and the boys, it was just you and Kuroo. The two of you had started to become much more closer, and he became more intimate with you. Kuroo started to become more protective when other guys were around, and instead of playing video games he would invite you over to cuddle.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, you would lay in bed with him for hours. Talking, finishing homework, drawing, whatever. Whatever helped to keep your hands off him, you would immerse yourself in. Now that you were staring into his glistening eyes, you could figure out that he had been playing your game the entire time.

You would stay after school and watch his volleyball games, while he would do the same and watch you play (Y/F/S). Many people suspected that you and him were dating, but nothing questionable ever happened. Even with his flirtatious nature, Kuroo had never tried anything with you. Much to your dismay.

You had always assumed it was because he didn't find you attractive-but boy, you'd never been more wrong in your entire life.

"Kiss me, Y/N." The dark haired boy held your gaze, fiercely. Emotions you couldn't pinpoint rushed through your body, yet you refused to break the intensity. "I know you want to."

Maybe it was finally time to face this.

Your mouth opened in hopes to retort his ridiculous statement, to prove to him that he was wrong.

But nothing sufficed. You were silent, breathing heavily from the tension that pulled at your heartstrings. You so desperately wanted to pull him down to you and fulfill your hidden fantasizes.

Yet, your legs refused to move. You could not risk this friendship. Kuroo had joked about kissing before, he had tried to trick you multiple times. What if now was one of those times?

Before you could really make sense of what you were contemplating, Kuroo's touch snapped you back to reality. His warmth flooded your senses, you were unable to think clearly.

"T-tetsurou.." Your voice faltered at the feeling of his hands on your waist, pushing you closer and closer to the kitchen counter.

Shocked, you dropped the bag of chips you were holding as your bum brushed against the counter. Your hand automatically reached back to steady your near-shaking, much smaller frame.

Kuroo's gaze, again, flickered down to your lips as they parted. Nervously, you glossed them over through embarrassment.

"A-are you okay?" You partially squeaked, still frozen with insecurity from the position he had moved you into.

"I've never been more okay in my life." Kuroo chuckled, that famous, charming smile, that all the girls swooned over spread across his face. "And that's because I can't resist you any longer."

You blushed, finally flashing your gaze away from his hypnotizing face. Your stomach flipped with butterflies under the touch of you best friend—a touch that felt familiar, yet so foreign in its unexplored way. He had never touched you like this before, so tender; yet laced with hunger.

You didn't know how to react. Truthfully, you had been thinking about it all night. With each movie that ended, he had snuggled closer to you.

"Look at me." Kuroo purred, his voice soothing your nerves instantly. You swallowed down the lump in your throat as he lifted your chin up with his calloused, rough, fingers.

"You need to explain yourself." You mustered, almost melting completely into his arms, almost giving in to the temptation. "You can't toy with me like this."

He chuckled, his voice still deep and serious, yet amused. "There's the girl I know."

"There's a lot you don't know about me." You met his gaze once again, challenging his motives.

"Oh, I know." His hand left your waist and rested gently under your jawline, large hands engulfing your delicate features. Ones that he had always adored.

Your breath grew short, raspy. You waited, pleading with him through watery eyes that he could follow through with the action he had been alluding to. You just couldn't say it yourself. Afraid of the consequences, you couldn't make the first move.

"Should I confess before or after?" Kuroo whispered, head turning slightly to the side, hands sliding up to your cheeks in a yearning, impatient motion.

"What?—" You were cut off by his lips connecting with yours, engulfing your thoughts in complete and utter bliss.

For a brief moment, your eyes stayed wide open in shock, and through it, all your resistance disappeared.

You melted against his towering frame, succumbing to your desires. His lips mended perfectly with yours in motions that were so passionate, that you could hardly focus on breathing.

You clutched onto Kuroo's arm to steady your weakening knees. His kisses become rougher, hungrier, and more intense with each passing moment. You became drunk on the lips that you had waited so long for.

Seconds later, Kuroo hoisted you up on the counter and broke away from the kiss, saliva connecting your lips to his. You gained a moment to breathe, cheeks tainted with evidence of your current, sinful state. You wanted more.

Kuroo didn't know that you had rejected every other guy that came your way. Because to you, none of them could compare to the way he made you feel.

"God you're so beautiful." He whispered, prying your toned legs apart to snake between them. His forceful grip sent blissful ricochets to your core, along with the anticipated collision of his lips back to yours.

You moaned into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his torso to bring him even closer, desperate to feel every inch of him.

One hand gripped a fistful of his jet black hair, your back arching as one of his hands began to rub you sensually through your pants.

Kuroo pulled away from the kiss and instead, moved to your jawline where he began to leave soft and tender kisses. He was good, far too good to keep you from resisting. You had completely submitted to his sensual actions. From this moment onward, you wouldn't be able to stop.

His scent, his warmth, everything about him you craved. You loved him.

"M-more.." You whimpered, subconsciously throwing your head back and allowing him access to your neck.

He smirked, catlike, knowing he had finally broken down your walls. God only knew how long he had waited for this moment.

Even if you could have stayed there forever, things escalated quickly. Kuroo picked you up and rushed hastily to his bedroom, causing you to laugh into the crook of his neck. As you gripped into him, you could feel his muscles shifting under the thin fabric he was wearing. You had always felt them when you cuddled next to him, but never like this.

You blushed furiously as he laid you on his bed. With no hesitation, he crawled on top of you.

"Tetsurou.." You mustered sweetly, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and helping him slip it off. He grinded up against you abruptly, his own nature taking over.

"We should probably slow down." He grunted.

You laid underneath him helplessly, feeling yourself coming undone each time he moved his bulge against your core. You needed more, you craved for it. Yet, what Kuroo had whispered was out of respect, reminding you of what you had relayed to him so many times before. You wanted to wait, or at least be sure that he was committed to you.

Kuroo himself was trying so hard to stop. His eyes were filled with lust, open and honest with what he craved.  You.

Not wanting to stop just yet, you let his fingers creep along your torso and under your shirt.

He tugged the material off and tossed it on the floor, connecting his lips lower than before, leaving hickey after hickey on your collarbone and between your breasts.

The sensations caused you to whimper in pleasure, completely new to this feeling, letting him be the first boy to kiss you there.

You knew that Kuroo wanted to mark you the most, being the jealous type he was. And you let him, happily.

"I have waited so long for this." He finally spoke over your moans of delight. You were frozen with bliss as he unclasped your bra and tore it off your body. He then proceeded to pull your shorts off, leaving you just in your panties.

Kuroo's eyes sparkled with affection, an affection that was surprising. He brought you up to his chest and let you sit in his lap, still stroking you as best he could.

Though you were in such a compromising position, all you could think about was to pleasure him. You ran your hands up and over his shoulder blades, down his chest, and up to his face where you held it affectionately. His sculpted body only made you want him more. Why didn't you do this sooner?

"Y/N..." Kuroo confessed softly, running his fingers over your breasts, leaving a promising wet kiss between them. You gasped at the connection, your skin prickling with delight.  "I love you, I think I've loved you all these years."

"M-me too." You breathed deeply, trembling with so many emotions, wishing that the two of you had realized your feelings sooner.

He was right. Despite how long you had waited, you knew deep inside that this was the right time to finally be with him. You knew everything about him, you were his best friend that has cherished him more than anyone else. The need you now acknowledged was stronger than ever because of the years you had held back. Without your previous friendship, the bond would've never been as strong as it was now. You had grown together, and realized that everything you had been wishing for was always right in front of you. That only came with experience and patience.

"We have time. I can wait for when you're ready." Kuroo's voice sounded like sweet music, and for a moment, you were unsure if you could pull back.

The part of Kuroo that you had yet to explore was intoxicating, but he was right.

Thinking now, how hard you tried to resist him was comical. And because of that, your playful nature overtook you, even though you were laying naked underneath him.

The intensity of the moment had passed, and you were able to think clearly.

"I mean if we move forward as boyfriend and girlfriend, and stop trying to pretend we aren't in love, even though everyone else can see it."

He turned away to laugh loudly, the forcefulness of it shaking the both of you.

"I agree, Y/N. You're my girlfriend whether you like it or not."

"It's a good thing I happen to like it."

[vanchlo]

The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Three, “If It Kills Me”

A story about what happens when she can’t be just his assistant anymore, and he can no longer be only her boss. Now, can they be happy with being just friends?

Read this story from the beginning here! :-) 

Inspo tag here!

*NEW* Spotify playlist in the works can be found here, songs that inspire me for the story and have significance in the story c: 

Warnings: one brief mention of vomiting, and some mild language.

                                   SNEAKY PEEEEEEEEEEEK

“And Becky’s face consumes my thoughts, much like it’s been captivating my conscience as of recent. Rather unsurprisingly. 

There it remains for days, much like it has been. It follows me through the air as I stare out the window, floating above the clouds. It crops into my conversations, leeching any enjoyment gathered from them. I even see it in a crowd of people inside the walls of the courtroom before I deliver my closing statement. When I look a second time, I’m disappointed to find the eyes of a stranger. 

I only find a respite from longing for her face when I turn my phone off, trying to stop wondering why she won’t return my texts. That thought only sticks to all of my others during the coming week with more ignored texts, craving her voice, and sufficing for browsing her Instagram. Her face. That smile. The smell that sat in the corner of her neck. I miss all of it.”

Song Inspiration: If It Kills Me by Jason Mraz (click to listen)

            “It’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh electricity, you know?” - Steve Harrington, Stranger Things 

The warm rays hit my cheeks as my sandals pound on the pavement. I wonder how I could ever be unhappy given the May sun shining down on me, and walking from my favorite restaurant. Without fail, the blissful idea is stolen away by a swarm of thoughts dosed in reality. And a particular one that reminds me of what I need to do, despite the dread I’ve been feeling. Not even the former respite of Asher’s hug after our shared lunch can keep them away. 

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I swipe through my apps until I find the right one. Stopping in front of my gray car, I lean against the door with a huff. My thumbs hover across the screen nervously, followed by a curse under my breath. Quickly, they flit across the screen composing words in front of my eyes. Sliding into my driver seat, I stare at the screen for a moment longer before hitting send. 

I wait for the chime to come, telling me I have a new message, from him. Nervousness coats my limbs and only grows worse as the minutes tick by driving home. Waiting. But when I check my phone after walking in the door, my lock screen showing my dad and I’s smiling faces is blank. 

No new messages. 

Sliding off my black sandals, I pad through the shared living room and kitchen area before reaching my bedroom. My laptop beckons for me across the room on my desk, and I sit down before it. I hope that maybe if I don’t procrastinate this specific thing, maybe things will turn out a little better. But as I’m opening a study guide for Family Law’s final exam, I’m proven wrong. 

The chime grabs my attention immediately, making my fingers still on the keyboard. Flitting my eyes to the lavender Speck phone case, I grow antsy at wondering who the text is from. And what it says. Inhaling nervously, I pick it up and wake up the screen. The few words of a preview I see of the text cues a sour anxiousness to grow in my stomach. Bringing my knees up onto my chair, I pull them against my chest as I open the text. 

Me

Hey I’m so sorry I’ve been terrible at texting back, finals these next two weeks are getting to me. Speaking of that I realized that I have to take a final at the time we’re supposed to get lunch in a few days. I’m really sorry but can we reschedule . . . again? I was thinking in two weeks when I’m finally free from the clutches of uni????? :( 

Harry 

sorry cant love. im in edinburgh all that week for a case. lets talk about it when im back. good luck w finals xx

Sighing, I type up a short response, agreeing to that. With guilt casting a shadow over me, I return my attention to the lengthy study guide. The gross feeling in my stomach remains, and with its arrival, my excitement for our lunch date is replaced with disappointment. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks since we rescheduled it the first time, due to me messing up the dates, again. Peeking my eyes at my phone, I turn away and slump against my chair. 

It’s been a month since I saw him last, and although we’ve sent a handful of texts, they haven’t been enough for me. Skye, of course, told me that there’s nothing stopping me from showing up at his office door, but she’s wrong. I don’t know his schedule anymore, and for all I know, I’d be waiting around for him. Plus, my appearance would just yell ‘desperate!’ Sometimes, I wonder what little world Skye is tucked away into that’s far simpler, not realizing I still have to work during the day, especially more so this summer. 

But as the days drag on with chemo and radiation appointments, and lectures upon lectures, I think maybe Skye has the right idea being so optimistic. Maybe. 

+

Over the next few weeks, I see him at almost every corner I turn, and it hurts more than it should after all these weeks. The ignored texts shouldn’t feel like a fresh stab wound when I see that Scrabble box in the family room, get on that very same lift, or walk past the nurse’s station I found him leaning against that morning. Nothing compares to the piano and the pang I feel in my chest at the sight of it. It comes every time I walk through those doors and am reminded of the intimacy held on those keys. No, it didn’t get easier after the first time being back there with my dad, or the fifth time. Avoiding that gray sofa like the plague only reminded me of the texts I sent him that went unanswered. I can’t blame him though, because like a bitch, I took a week sometimes to reply to him. 

The tight feeling in my chest only feels heavier as I sit on the plaid couch in my childhood living room. I can’t even enjoy watching FRIENDS like I used to be able to, as their faces bring forth the sound of his laugh. It pains me to turn down their voices as I dig my phone out from under the cushions. I try not to let it get to me when I, once again, find no new text messages. My attempt is futile and it only causes me to take longer to open the phone app. By now, I know his number by heart, but my shaky hands cause me to mess up a few times. 

Pressing the phone to my ear, all I can hear is its ringing and the pounding of my heart. As the seconds drag on, I’m almost certain I’ll hear the voicemail next. But then I’m pleasantly surprised, although the bitterness in my stomach blossoms. 

“Hullo?” His gravelly voice pulls my lips into an instant smile. Rubbing the back of my neck anxiously, the words fall from my lips hurriedly. 

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” he responds curtly, a clattering noise heard in the background before he mutters a ‘shit.’

“I’m sorry, did I call at a bad time?” I ask quickly, regret filling my veins. 

“No, yer fine. ‘m jus’ makin’ dinna.”

“Oh um, nice. What are you cooking?” I inquire, twirling the braided silver ring on my pointer finger. Swallowing, I wait to hear his molasses drawl again, like music to my ears. 

“Jus’ a stir fry. So . . . why’d ya ring?” Harry responds, a coolness hugging his voice. 

“Um, I haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to say hi.”

“Hi,” he hums awkwardly, followed by the sound of a door closing. Squeezing my eyes shut, uneasiness falls over me in a wave. Oddly, I wonder if all of a sudden I can’t call to say hi. “Ya, we’ve both been busy. Cases fer me, an’ prolly uni an’ yer dad’s treatments fer you.”

“Yeah,” I agree aloud, my chin falling to rest in my palm. But it leaves a second later to lose my fingers in my hair. “I wanted to tell you that I finished my finals last week, so now I just have clinical left in the fall. Oh, and my dad got to ring the bell today. He’s all done with chemo and radiation after his scans all looked good. It’s hard to believe that he’s cancer-free. His doctors will, of course, have to keep an eye on him in the future to make sure it doesn’t come back, but I couldn’t be happier.” 

“Tha’s wonderful, love,” Harry coos into my ear, the first notes of happiness heard in his voice. It begins to put me at ease, and cause me to think maybe something isn’t off after all. “‘m really glad t’ hear that- well both o’ those things.”

Unbeknownst to me, I find myself nodding along with his words as if I needed his confirmation. But his words stop there, and the sickening feeling that something is wrong settles back in. A small ‘yeah’ stumbles off my lips as my fingers form into a fist in my lap, debating what to say next. Or if I should ask what I’ve been wanting to say the entire time. 

“We weren’t able to get ahold of each other a few weeks ago to reschedule lunch. Would you still like to?” Going out on a limb, I let the words fly. 

I watch for them apprehensively, uncertain if they’ll take flight. The loud sound from his side, the subsequent shuffling, and a voice saying his name shoots them down hastily. 

“‘m sorry, I gotta go. ‘ll text ya ‘bout gettin’ lunch,” Harry remarks, his words stringing together swiftly. I barely have the chance to say an ‘okay’ before he abruptly hangs up, sewing together an unwanted thought for me. 

Tossing my phone to the other end of the couch, I fall back against the cushions. Turning up the volume of the telly, I avert my gaze back to the make-believe world I’ve always taken comfort in. As the phone call gnaws away at my insides, planting insecurities every few steps, I let the characters whisk me away. Even if their faces and familiar jokes will now never stop reminding me of him, and something I let go of that I didn’t know I had. I only feel worse when I realize that I knew then that he’d never send that text, and I think he knew that, too.

+

“Staring at it isn’t going to make it ring, y’know,” somebody states, pulling me from my webs of thoughts. 

Lifting my attention away from the black screen in my hand, I catch Myles looking at me impatiently. 

“Wha- ‘m sorry. I was listenin’.”

“Then what’d I just say?” he requests, the hand propped against his chin rising in a silent question. 

My lips fall apart to welcome my voice, but nothing comes out. Shrugging, he receives his answer and replies with a disapproving glare. 

“Hare, this is important stuff. We’re leaving for Edinburgh tomorrow for the case, it’s a huge one.”

“I know, My. Jus’ repeat what ya said, please,” I huff, batting a hand at him. His eyes roll into the back of his head when he leans back in his leather chair. 

“I swear to God, Harry, I-.”

“Stop,” I retort, growing annoyed. 

He plays with the point of his quiffed blonde hair before clearing his throat. Although I try to listen the second time around, my gaze is lulled back to my laptop screen. My fingers itch to touch the keys and type up words, and when Myles begrudgingly answers his ringing phone, I find my chance. Sliding my silent phone into my pocket, I click on the blue thought bubble, only to be met with disappointment. Brushing it away, my fingers fly across the keys and my words are sent with a soft hum. Soon, Myles hangs up the phone with a perturbed sigh and resumes the conversation we were having. Again, I try to return to the bubble we share and the words that occupy it, but my mind is consumed with the anticipation of that coveted ding. And with Becky’s face, much like it’s been captivating my thoughts as of recent. Rather unsurprisingly. 

There it remains for days, much like it has been. It follows me through the air as I stare out the window, floating above the clouds. It crops into my conversations, leeching any enjoyment gathered from them. I even see it in a crowd of people inside the walls of the courtroom before I deliver my closing statement. When I look a second time, I’m disappointed to find the eyes of a stranger. 

It crowds my mind when I wait for the boarding call, tapping my fingers along the screen and watching the words be sent off. I only find a respite from longing for her face when I turn my phone off, trying to stop wondering why she won’t return my texts. That thought only sticks to all of my others during the coming week with more ignored texts, craving her voice, and sufficing for browsing her Instagram. Her face. That smile. The smell that sat in the corner of her neck. All of it. I miss all of it. It gnawed away at me slowly, and terribly, burying doubts beneath my defenses. They sprang up when I least expected them, and when I thought about sending just one more text. A few words wouldn’t hurt anything, I thought, but at the same time, I distrust the ultimate impact they could have. 

The pounding jars me from my reverie, bringing me to my feet slowly. Padding past the television and kitchen area, a yawn jumps from my lips. Another pound lands on the door, dragging my brow into a knot. 

“Oh, shuddup!” I exclaim in disbelief, wrapping my fingers around the smooth metal of the door. Yanking it open, I find the grinning bearded face of my mate standing on my stoop. “‘m not goin’, Rore, I already told ya this.”

“C’mon, Harry, I’ll look like a right idiot being there all alone,” Rory responds, his steps telling me he’s following me inside once I turn around. “Help a mate out here.” 

“Ya, ‘coz ya were so helpful tha otha day when I asked ya t’ consult with me fer the Starkey case.” Scoffing, his words pause between his lips as I fill a glass of water from the attachment on the fridge. “Why’re ya goin’ anyways, since it sounds like sumthin’ yer dreadin’? And since when d’ya even go t’ these sorta things? Last place I thought ‘d see you at, Rore.”

“I don’t, but it’s for me sister’s showing. I can’t miss it, she’s me baby sister. I’d hear about it from me mum for weeks.”

Snorting, I have to pull the glass of water away from my lips. 

“Hope ya bloody choke on that water, mate,” Rory scoffs, only making me laugh harder. Water flies from my lips as I’ve forgotten the glass on the marbled countertop. “Are ya coming or not, Harry? Ya know it’s a good place to pick up chicks, too. They blooming love these art gallery places.”

Recovering from my fit of giggles, I turn my head to find Rory waiting with the question in his eyes. He huffs and riffles a hand through his tousled blonde hair a few shades lighter than that which covers his face. Shaking his head, he wiggles his head at me. 

“I’ll consult with you on the next case, or even give ya first pick,” he whines, folding his hands together under his chin, as if he’s praying. 

“‘m yer bloody boss, I always get first picks,” I murmur, a smile cracking at the end of my words. 

“Oh, fuck off, would you?” he spits, pushing at a chair in front of the seated bar attached to the kitchen island. Clucking his tongue, he messes with the collar of his navy blue blazer thrown over a bloody Zeppelin shirt. Yeah, you sure look artsy there, Rore. But with the next words that fly from his sailor’s mouth, he pins me down. “What’re ya gonna do here anyways, sit and watch the bleeding telly all in your lonesome when ya could be with me getting damn a date?”

Biting my lip, my house slippers come into my view and when Rory’s eyes find them, a laugh explodes from his lips. “Go hurry up and bloody change before you’re too far gone, mate. I’ll be in the car,” he titters before his voice falls with a delighted sigh. Delight found in my pain. 

“Two cases, Rore. Any two cases I want, ya consult with me on. Ya got it?” I argue, following on his footsteps. 

“Whatever makes ya feel better, mate. I know you'll be thanking me later tonight.” 

“Doubt it,” I mutter, watching him open the door, sure there’s a sly grin covering his face. 

I turn to jog up the stairs until I arrive in my bedroom. Quickly, I toss on skinny jeans, a Keith Haring shirt, and a mustard button up smattered with faded white flowers. I look rather artsy, I reckon, I decide as I look at myself in my bathroom mirror. It’s an easy feat when you’re standing next to wannabe Rory over there, though. After taming my hair and finding a pair of shoes, I pad down the stairs. 

“Alexa, turn off all o’ my lights,” I announce, slipping my wallet and phone into my pocket as my hous darkens around me. 

“Take fucking long enough?” Rory groans when I slide into the passenger seat of his silver Sentra. 

“Shuddup and drive, will you? So we can get this ova with.”

“If you’re gonna be an ass tonight, then just go back inside,” he almost laughs, beginning to back away from the towering walls of my house. 

“Talking ‘bout yerself, are ya now?” I quip, bringing my phone from my tight pockets, tapping in my passcode. 

“I’ve noticed, y’know,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for me to hear him. Looking up from the bright screen, his eyes don’t stray from the road. “There’s a girl, isn’t there? Or there was?” he continues, a man I’ve come to love over the last three years he’s worked with me. And somehow I thought I had fooled him, but it turns out, I haven’t. I can’t even fool myself.

“Sumthin’ like that,” I whisper, my attention straying back to the conversation lit on my screen. Another day of the ball being in her court, and she just leaves it in the bloody corner, neglecting it. “I see why ya wanted me t’ come now . . . jus’ don’ try t’ set me up with yer bloody sista. She’s like twenty.”

His hearty chuckle fills the space around us, the words of a song from Death Cab for Cutie lurking in the background. “I won’t, but y’know she’s not gonna let ya out of her sight, mate. She’s had the hots for you from day one.”

“Oh God, Rore, what’d I let ya drag me into here?” I joke, my lips curling into a nervous smile. But the smile feels good, and it feels even better when her name disappears from my screen, and I forget my phone in my pocket. 

+

“What happened to making me dinner?” I whine from the couch, crossing my left leg over the other under the comfort of my blanket. 

“That was when you were busy, and well, the other day when I was feeling generous. Not today, missy,” Skye scoffs, the sound of the fridge shutting marking her words. Something lands in my lap with a plop, startling me. 

“Wow, how gourmet. Why thank you, I definitely don’t need to make dinner now,” I joke, picking up the wrapped piece of string cheese. 

“I know you’re still going to eat it. Just eat cereal or something, you hobo. I’m going to bed at a decent time, unlike somebody.”

“Hey, it’s a Friday!” I argue, pressing the page down button on the remote, waiting for something to catch my eye on Netflix. 

“Yeah, and some of us still have a job on Saturdays!” she calls from her journey down the hall. 

“Party pooper!” 

She remains silent on the defensive line, and so does the list of boring content on the television screen. Relenting, I click over to My Stuff and press play on the next episode of FRIENDS. Relaxing into the cushions, I unwrap the cheese and slowly eat it in strings. Giggles flow from my lips watching the scene unravel in front of me, and some eye-rolls because of Ross or Monica. After a while, my legs stray to the fridge, and I return to the tan sectional with a bowl of Cheerios. The milk threatens to spill over the side when I sit up suddenly, almost yelping in laughter at the scene when Monica and Rachel lose their apartment to Chandler and Joey. The sugary Cheerios soon disappear, and the milk follows them as the episode nears the end. 

Placing my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, I hurry back to the sofa to catch a Phoebe scene. My cheeks warm with a smile, but they soon grow cold when my thoughts have to interrupt with a memory of his face. That god awfully sweet smile adorned with his cherry lips and precious dimples. Without knowing what I’m doing, the cartoon looking app appears under my nose, and pictures fill my feed. I take a second look at a few of them that catch my attention, the angry voices of Rachel and Monica tickling at my ears. 

Soon, the search bar materializes and although it feels wrong, I type in letter after letter to create his name. I can’t remember the last time I glanced at his profile, just to catch a hint of him. Finding the profile I’ve become familiar with, I tap on his picture and wait for his profile to load. Glancing away, the tv captures my attention once more as I scratch at an itch on my leg. Yawning, I rub at my eye before it falls back to the blindingly bright screen. Blinking hard to clear the haze from my vision, I scroll down to see what new pictures he’s posted, although they’re usually few and far between. 

I find the most recent picture I recognize and tap through them. Picturesque shots from high in the clouds. His unbelievably adorable niece. Food-grams. A picture of a homemade pizza is making my mouth water and is still stuck in my mind when I happen upon the next photo, and the most recent one. The moisture in my mouth is wicked away, suddenly bone dry when the image in front of my eyes slowly registers with me. But I can’t believe it, even though I’m seeing it. I don’t want to see it, or believe it. The moisture reappears in the corners of my eyes quickly as a sourness quickly knits together in my gut. The image shakes in my hands and then blurs in my eyes, accented by the thrashing of my heart inside of my chest. 

“Skye!” I shout, the words leaping from my lips with little success. 

My lip wobbles and I feel my entire face collapse from pain, disbelief, the whole shebang. The sob screaming from my lips is muffled by my fingers coming to my mouth. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” I mutter, inhaling fast and feeling the tears in my throat. Because I can feel it everywhere in my body - the pain. In my eyes, my stomach, my hands, and my chest. The sight of Harry’s lips touching that of another girl’s sends knives into my heart, and my stomach roiling. “T-this can’t . . . ,” but my words escape me, because the multitudes of feelings punished with anguish and despair course through me. 

“Skye!” I yell again, not realizing that I’ve gotten to my feet. I stumble at first, feeling the weakness reach my legs. Her name leaves my lips wet with tears as I run past the kitchen and down the hall. 

Pushing open her door, darkness meets my eyes, and I swear in that moment it swallowed me. Hitting me, I grab the doorframe and feel my forehead fall against it. Leaning there for support, the sobs roll through me, the very reason still clutched in my hand. 

“Whaaaaat?” she groans tiredly from her bed across the room. 

But I only reply with a sob of her name, hiccups havocking my chest. My hands claw at the wall, darkness coating my eyelids. 

“Ree?” Skye asks groggily, the click of her lamp following her words. “What happened? Are you alright?” she hurries, the pillowy patting of her covers being thrown back meeting my ears. 

Her arms wrapping around me are almost numbing, and do nothing. And feel like nothing. But when I feel my head meet her chest, the slowed-down world I lived in for those few seconds vanishes. 

“Skye, I-. . . ,” I attempt, once again falling up short as tears suffocate my voice, much like they’re making me feel. Shakily, I press my phone into her hand as I try to find safety in her arms. 

I wait and then am rewarded with her intake of breath followed by a sigh. “Holy fuck,” she whispers, and retaliates by pulling me closer against her. “Come here, Ree.”

She walks me over to her bed and helps me under the covers until I’m surrounded by them, and her arms. 

“Who i-is she?” I demand sloppily, searching for something to hold onto and to anchor myself with. I’m compensated with the smooth fabric of her shirt that I cling to the back of, my head falling into her hair. The mundane scent of strawberries wafting from her body tries to relax me, but to no avail. 

“Ree-,” she begins, but I don’t let her start, let alone finish. 

“I want to kn- I need to know,” I respond, sniffling against the warm expanse of her neck. There’s shuffling next to me before she sighs, and I sense the light of my phone. Tapping prods at my hearing as I try to form coherent thoughts. 

I’m met with images of him. Harry. His dark curls, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and the high-pitched giggle that accompanied my tickling as well as his own. The intruding memories rack my body with shaking sobs, pressing my lips together as new tears gush over them. My belly contracts with each sob, and I don’t even register the cramping in my hands from holding on so tightly. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Skye hums warily from above, pulling my head into her neck, leaving her arm there to shield me from her words. Or the image that I can’t remove from my mind even if I tried. It’s burned there indefinitely now. 

His arms in a blue button-up surrounding her and his lips enveloping hers. A smile creasing his cheeks with happiness, and spreading to those of her dark cheeks. Her curvy body pressed against his, flowing ebony curls tickling her chocolate skin. 

“Tell me.”

“Okay,” Skye caves, the tips of her fingers running marathons along my back, in attempts to calm me down. But I don’t know if the tried and true will work this time, although it has for every other, even when my dad’s life was painted with the C-Word. “She’s a London based artist, does some sculpting and gallery work locally. According to her Instagram account, anyways.”

“I asked . . who is she?” I repeat, my voice wavering under the dominance of the tears. 

“Her name’s Bailee Taylor.”

“W-what does her page look . . . like?” I request, exhaustion blanketing me, and only adding another feeling to the rest. Blinking away the tears, I try to take in a deep breath, but my memories hit me with the safety I felt in his arms. Unwaveringly. 

“It looks like they’re . . dating,” Skye announces quietly, squeezing me around the middle. The confirmation I didn’t know I’d been searching for hits me like a train, knocking the air out of me again. And all of a sudden, hatred pulses through me, asking me where to lay it. Where to feel it. “There’s a few pictures of them on her feed, looks like they met maybe a few weeks ago.” 

“Why?” jumps from my lips finally, taking a nosedive to join a sea of unanswered questions. The word shakes the second it leapt from my tongue, and somehow it hurts more than all of the rest. “I h-hate him,” I cry, my nose smushing against her skin when I try to hold onto her tighter than I already am. 

“No, you don’t,” she coos, raking her fingers through my hair slowly, and carefully. 

“I know, b-but I wish I could,” I answer, the memories dancing through my head at hyper speed. Falling asleep in his arms, and waking up in them. The tickling fight. The almost kiss. The Scrabble game. Waking up to find him waiting there in the doorway. Him coming back even after the way I treated him. Finding him standing there at the front of the lecture hall. The reprieve of being in his arms again after so long spent away from them. And then, like a wall, my mind runs into the strings of unanswered texts. The canceled lunch dates. The both of us ignoring the other’s texts, but then at the end, it was him. It was him who was awkward during the last phone call. He hung up on me abruptly, and I heard somebody else was there. Was it her? It’s possible they would have already been together by then. He said he’d text me to set up lunch, and he never did. 

“It won’t make you feel better,” she murmurs, cupping my head with her palm. The sound of tears edging at her words only makes mine come harder, and the feeling in my gut grows louder. 

“Then what will?” I beg, wondering if I’ll ever forget the taste of the salty tears. A taste I thought I could forget just late last month when my dad was cured. News that I told him, and had been impatiently waiting to do all day. “I thought I was just feeling okay again, Skye.”

“I know, Ree, I’m so sorry,” she returns, placing her cheek against mine, the first tear peeking through in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

I unpeel myself from her anxiously, kicking away the blankets before my feet land on the floor. 

“Where are you going?” she almost demands, the sound of her following me far away. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” I confess, rushing down the hall before falling to my knees in front of the toilet. The Cheerios and milk from earlier make a reappearance, along with the string cheese, and mushy contents of my other meals. 

Running a cold cloth along my face, Skye kneels in front of me, her face painted in sadness.

“How can it hurt so much, Skye, when he wasn’t even mine?” I croak, focusing on the lone tile in our bathroom that doesn’t match the rest of the flooring. 

“I think you’re wrong, he was yours, Ree.”

“I was so close. I fucked up, again,” I weep, my lips collapsing with yet another sob. 

“Don’t say that, don’t,” she insists, tucking her hair behind her studded ear when it goes every which way with the shaking of her head. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. She’s so pretty . . Of course she is,” I remember aloud, breathing in quickly before the tears take hold of me once more. Closing my eyes, I reach out for her and let my head rest against her shoulder. 

“She really isn’t, Ree. A big pair of tits doesn’t make you pretty, and anyways, you’re far prettier. He could do much better, like you.”

“You’re just saying that,” I confess, trying to swallow, but my throat has tied itself into knots with the thoughts of him. And when that word falls out of bed inside of my head, I find that it can hurt worse. “I was his Becks, Skye, I thought it was right there. That it was gonna happen for us.”

“Oh, Ree,” she cries, sniffling against my hair when she pulls me against her. “I know, I’m so sorry . . so sorry.”

Nodding into her chest, it feels right as her necklace digs into my wet cheek. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, and so does every other part of my body in some way. Somehow I let her bring me back to her bed, and hide me away in her arms. My head swims with questions, then fleeting hatred for him, and inconsolable longing the very next. I shed a tear for his smell, his contagious smile, that Scrabble game we’ll never finish, the churros I’ll never be able to eat again without him ruining them for me, the color of his eyes I could never forget, and the lost feeling of his lips I never got to kiss. The list miles long of things I never got to say to him, or do with him, or make him feel. Because now she does, and she isn’t me. 

“I-I thought . . that he felt the same way about me, and that somehow he knew that I loved him.” 

A whimper escapes Skye’s lips as my tears fall into her neck, adding to the puddle I’ve shed there. 

“What does she have that I don’t? Am I not interesting? Does she have a nicer body than I do? Am I not pretty enough? Was I not nice enough or appreciative of him?” I weep, the questions flowing off my lips from the recesses of my mind. My name greets my ears firmly, but I ignore it. “I was trying to answer his texts when I could, but things got so busy with uni and my dad. All the driving, the tests in both places, and I couldn’t keep dates right in my head. Maybe if I’d texted him back sooner that one time, or made the lunch date on the right day the first time-.”

“Becky, don’t do the ‘ifs’ thing,” Skye urges, pulling the covers further up our shoulders before returning to combing my hair back again and again. 

“But I can’t stop thinking about what went wrong, a-and how much I miss him, Skye. I miss him a hundred times more after seeing that picture,” I reveal, falling into her, my lips meeting her shoulder. My teeth dig into my skin and I let them, numb to the pain as the same word is too busy with my mind. “I don’t know if I ever wanna see him again.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to, I’ll always want to. Like something inside of me will always want him.” 

+

The sunlight streaming in through the windows is the first thing I see when I awake. Ducking my head back under the covers, I pull them over me with a groan. The blissful ignorance of the first few minutes after waking up follows me, until it all comes crashing back. 

“Are you awake?” a voice murmurs, sleep clinging to it. 

“Unfortunately,” I whisper, staring into the muted light underneath the gray covers. 

“I can stay home if you want me to, I was just making some breakfast,” Skye responds, the tapping of her feet along the floor following. 

“No, don’t cancel your hair appointments because of me. I’ll be . . I’ll be fine,” I tell her, but then the tears greet me good morning. 

“Oh, Ree, I’ll cancel and we can watch movies all day, or FRIENDS. Whatever you want,” she announces. The bed falls to one side when she sits on the edge, and I feel her hand find my back. 

“Thanks, I was hoping you’d say that,” I return, turning around and sitting up to dive into her arms. “I was hoping I had dreamt it all and it was just a bad dream. But my life is the bad dream.”

“Oh, Ree,” she coos, surrounding me with her arms. “I know this is cliche and it doesn’t feel like it, but it’ll get better.”

“I don’t know about that. My life is a running joke lately because it feels like it’ll get better, and then it just gets worse.”

+

“Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it, Becky?” somebody asks. Looking up from my cupcake, I find the face of Sophie. 

“Yeah, end of next week,” I answer, picking an orange sprinkle from the white frosting to eat.

“Do you have any big plans?” my boss asks as she places her lunch in the microwave. 

“My brother and I hang out every year, we’re twins.”

“Oh, how fun! I remember meeting him once when he brought you lunch one day,” she smiles, turning to face me as she waits in front of the humming microwave. 

I just nod and dip my finger into the frosting, feeling it melt on my tongue a second later. 

“Everything alright, love?”

“Yep, just tired is all,” I fib, taking a bite of the carrot cupcake, although I’m not wrong when I think about it. Skye has been a lifesaver for the last two weeks helping me get back on my feet. Thinking back on it and all of the tears leaves a funny taste in my mouth, but I try to brush it away with a forced smile. 

“How old will you be this year, Becky?” Sophie asks, pulling out a rolling chair to sit to my right at the long table. 

“Good old 26.”

“Wow, still a spring chicken, I’d say,” she comments, bringing a quirky smile to my lips. I almost follow her laugh with mine. “Well you know what, an early birthday present from me is you can have the rest of the day off. You always do a great job, Becky, and so you deserve it.”

“Sophie, I-,” I begin, my jaw falling to the floor. 

“I mean it, go. Get out of here. Go do something that makes you happy, love, it looks like you need to,” she smiles, squeezing my arm from across the table. Standing to my feet, profuse ‘thank yous’ leave my lips before I leave the break room. 

I drive around with my windows down, unsure of where to go instead of home. Before I know it, I find myself walking into my favorite little coffee shop. I’ve always loved to hang out here with a cup, reading a book, doing homework, or just relaxing on one of their sofas. 

Soon, I sit down with a Cubano sandwich and an iced cinnamon roll coffee, my very favorite. Pulling a book out of my work bag, I crack it open to the first page, unable to remember when I last had the time to read a book for fun. The words of Ruth Ware stare back at me, slowly drawing me into a made-up world, and away from the desolate one trying to swallow me. 

Quickly, I’m grateful for the respite from the thoughts mucking up my mind. Instead I lose myself in the sentences that spin a scary story, thanking my old self for stashing something besides a romance in my bag. That’s the last thing I could even think about indulging in right now. For some reason, the mystery entices me, a genre I’ve always had a love for. I think, especially now, it’s the aspect of being able to solve a mystery, and to fix a problem. If only I could do that now, I wish silently with a spiteful snort. 

Placing my empty plate on the return area by the cash register, I return to my cozy spot on the couch and to my book. Losing my fingers in my hair, I prop my head up and open the book to where I had left off. Soft indie music trickles from the speakers as conversations float around me. Several more sofas are dotted around the large room and booths, as well as tables varying in sizes. Friends play board games borrowed from the shelf by the fireplace, and others do schoolwork or actual work. A laugh from behind the counter echos through the room, right as the bell on the front door jingles. Although across the room, I can hear the voices floating in from the sidewalk. Cars honking and birds chirping. The sounds make me itch to leave the air-conditioned room, and bring my reading outside into the June sunshine. 

The words covering the pages root me to the spot, but they can’t protect me from what I hear. It’s a voice that I know inside and out, from the shortened words to the often used words. My vocal cords soon begin to tangle into knots in my throat at the mere noise. Beneath my baby blue blouse, there’s a clobbering in my chest as the voice grows near and then stops. Instinctively, hair falls through my fingers as I lower my head, wishing to remain unseen. Unknown. 

I can’t stop myself, and there I am looking up to see that crinkly-eyed smile through wrenching tears. 

Harry. 

[cbacofficial]

Connected by a Cable [Chapter Six]

"It sucks that you can't make more than one character. How else am I suppose to experience all the game has to offer? Maybe it's me but perhaps if they just expand the server capacity we might be able to make more than one character." -Random Commenter

   Reports were coming in from Sephirion of adventurers vanishing here and there. The reasons were still undetermined and all the characters were starting to get paranoid over who would be next. Some did conclude that the Controllers DID have control over if they remain or not, and the reason for their eradication was possibly due to either their own boredom or they were not having fun. Some didn't want to think of this. The idea that their supposed masters could easily remove them with a simple button push was not setting in well enough. People still thought this was a game, and had no idea that the people they played with were real living humans. They assumed it was just part of the game's aesthetics.    Since waking up, Yukara was paranoid. The image of last night haunted her. The idea of being erased at the will of her master. It was gnawing at the back of her head. She tried to do some small jobs while Hioshi was at work to get her mind off this but it wouldn't fade. In her heightened state, she heard a faint sound and felt something breeze by her. In panic, she screamed in terror. "NO! I don't want to vanish!" causing the people around her, especially the computer characters to stare at Yukara. She wasn't vanishing. Nor was there a sign of it. So she tried to laugh it off before running elsewhere in the capital to relax.    She would end up over by a secluded section of the capital, overgrown with vegetation against the brick and stone. The trees healthy and ripe with fruit at times. The cobblestone unevenly placed but sufficed for ease of walking and a running fountain that made it all the more harmonious. Yukara took a seat on the bench and tried to collect her thoughts. Hioshi didn't seem like the guy who would outright remove her, right? He and his friends are kind and caring. She had to trust them. So she sat alone to her thoughts as time passed. It was haunting her...Yukara needed comfort.    Suddenly, a warm hand rested on her shoulder. She jumped again and shielded her face with her hands. "Calm down, Yukara. It's me." His voice came through. The blonde hair and young face. Kael had taken his seat beside her. "Oh...For a minute i thought i was getting erased." she breathed in a sigh of relief. Taking another look at Kael, she was worried that his controller would do the same as well. Yet he seemed calm. "How are you so calm after last night?" Yukara asked in a bit of a panic. "Did you not see what being deleted is like?"    Kael tried to find the right words. He smiled and replied. "I don't know. I trust my master. She seems like a nice person. Especially when we started leveling up." Kael recalled the moment of meeting his controller, Rei. He thought her voice was sweet and cute. Yukara though tried to chuckle back but her current state reduced it to an awkward sound. "Yeah I guess...Hioshi wouldn't ever delete me...R-Right?" This nervous tone she had was concering. Kael then had an idea. Digging into his bag, he pulled out a pastry. The fruit filling in the small cracks caught Yukara's eyes.    "Are those...Leyberry Strudels?" her hunger was starting to show. Eyeing the sweet treat with greed. Kael then offered one to her. With a smile he said "Yes they are. I thought maybe it could calm you down a bit?" but already they were gone! Whisked away into Yukara's delicate hands as she took a large bite into them. The sound of bliss and enjoyment as she could taste the flaky pastry with sweet filling tickle her tongue. The light hint of mana surged inside, replenishing her resources. It did perk her up and with Kael around she felt at ease. At least for the time. Kael leaned over. "You should really trust him. If he's anything like my master, he will not treat you like rubbish!" -----    During his time working, Hioshi was in his zen like state working at the bar. He often checked his phone just in case but Yukara was not responding nor she was attempting to contact him. Perhaps there was a glitch or the servers were down? Needless to say, he didn't seem too worried. It wasn't like Yukara would do things on her own without reward. Though the new update did allow for occasional rewards to be accumulated from the character. Minor things. As he passed a drink to a patron, he overheard two people talking about the game beside him.    "I like the game but i have to delete my character to even play the other classes..." one commented. Another replied "Yeah. You only get one slot. What if i want to play a Shellmage instead of a Runeshaper?" bringing something to his mind. Indeed only one character per account. Perhaps it was a limitation of however they made the characters more real than simple coding? Whatever the reason, Hioshi would never delete Yukara. Always the one to cherish what he made and who he became friends with. Yet his zen state would go away when he heard a familiar female voice. Nira.    "Oh hey, Hioshi!" She gleefully said, hopping into a bar stool and looking at him with some clear interest. Wearing a miniskirt and tank top that promptly showed off her bust and figure. Her hair in a bun and makeup as well. Clearly she was trying to impress or grab attention. Hioshi offered the selection to Nira and yet treating her like a normal customer. "Take the time to see your-"    "Hioshi! I came here to see you work and you don't say hello!?" Nira pouted. Hioshi chuckled a bit. "Sorry...Yes hello Nira. I'm on the clock though so mind if we keep the talk to a minimum?" this was of course not that he hated Nira but work was where he could shine. Yet Nira blinked before tapping the table. A rude gesture to Hioshi in a way like she wanted his full attention. It was about this time that Zack caught wind of Nira's actions. Something felt off about her. The actions, her tone and voice. It was like Nira was TRYING to control him. Zack passed by and looked to Hioshi. "Hey, Why don't you take your break now? I'll handle this." he whispered as a code word. To help his own state of mind.    Once Hioshi had left for the back of the room, Zack turned to Nira with a smile. "Now then...What can I get you, miss?" offering his assistance while his friend took a much needed break and time away from Nira. Hioshi took his time to exit out in the back. He re-adjust the collar of his work clothes and checked his application again. When he tried tapping to get Yukara's attention there was silence. The application continues to tell Hioshi that Yukara is still on a mission. He knew they could still talk regardless...and he was worried. Was Yukara ignoring him for what they did yesterday? Was she sleeping a lot? Death dose not concern Hioshi as she would be immune so long as Yukara stayed in the towns or city.    "Please pick up..." Yet why was he concerned so much? -----    Coming back home, Hioshi started his computer up. The warm glow of the screen brought some comfort but he still worried about Yukara. She hadn't even tried talking through the application lately. It concerned him. Hioshi logged in, waited on the loading screen and sure enough there she was enjoying a meal with a few companions. He tried calling out to Yukara. "Hey Yukar-" and suddenly she fell out of her chair in a panic!    "D-don't delete me, Hioshi!" Yukara huddled in terror. Her arms covering her head and unwilling to look up. Hioshi wondered why she would beg like that to him? He tried calming her down with gentle words. "Woah. Calm down...I got worried because you were not answering the app." and while it did diffuse the situation it didn't stop her from talking about it. "Right...App...But people have been vanishing lately! It's scary..."    Vanishing? To Hioshi, that sounded like characters being deleted without a second thought. With one character slot it would be inevitable that some players would grow bored of the character they were playing or want to try a different class. Everyone else doesn't seem to realize exactly how human they really are. Majority still think of Law of Mahna as a game and nothing more. Why should they concern themselves over code that is merely a representation of their avatar? Hioshi and his friends started to feel like the characters they made were less graphics and true people. Perhaps he should tell her...    "Probably because people are...not happy with what they made? This is a guess but because there is only one character slot, we are restricted to one person to play with. I know some people prefer to play with multiple characters rather than focus on one...but i'd never delete you, Yukara. Don't worry." He tried to assure Yukara to the best of his abilities.    Hioshi's words slowly reached Yukara. Though trust would need to be built up again. Who knew if he would just turn right around and remove Yukara for good? For the time, Yukara would rebuild her wall and be on alert of Hioshi. "Right! So, what will we do today Hioshi?" she put on a smile regardless despite her inner judgement of Hioshi still. He had the power to make her...and destroy her if he so wished. Even so she couldn't hate him yet.    Hioshi though took that smile differently. That she was okay. So he told her "Why don't we start working on some dungeons? I'm sure the others would love to come with us." -----    In an apartment in the same city as Hioshi was, a young woman stepped through the door of her home. Long, straight hair reaching just past her shoulder, neatly kept and a pair of glasses reflecting her sunset orange eyes and dressed in her uniform office attire of black and white. Coming home, she tossed her bag on the couch, cleaned the kitchen space, took a shower and changed into something more comfortable, brief shorts, a long t-shirt and socks. This was how Rei spent her days for quite sometime. Television played on for noise as she started her computer up and logged into the game to greet Kael, her computer companion...   During her game time she can't help but wonder who Hioshi was and how he was so alike her. The strategy and reactive attitude to raiding in the dungeons she's seen before. Rei overlooked the numbers of her guildmates as she noticed Hioshi's own. Something inside her wanted to call him. Perhaps meet up with him. She picked her cell phone up...and then she put it back down. "No. I don't want to bug him..." she mumbled silently before returning to her game to escape her boring lifestyle. 

[sparkinsidewrites]

The House Wins

Title: The House Wins

One Shot: 1/1

Character/Pairing: Jade Puget/Hunter Burgan

Genre: Angst

Rating: Mature

Summary:  You don't have to be alone to be lonely, you might as well give in.

Authors Notes/Warnings:  Nothing in this piece ever happened. I claim no ownership nor do I make any sort of profit from this, other than pride and a sense of amusement.

His fingers tapped softly against the worn wood of the table. It had been something his mother left to him. Tattered and beaten from one too many childhood games, it was certainly not a sight for sore eyes but it still stood and probably would long after he was gone.

He never really let himself think on such things. The past was in the past, there was nothing to be gained from looking back on it. Some days that way of thinking was easier to bear. It was what he knew, he didn’t allow himself to question it. Not when he had built a lifetime on its back.

The sun was just starting to rise behind him, creating streaks of light across the table as it shone through the blinds. He watched as those lines slowly grew, feeling the warmth washing over him. He should have been in bed hours ago. He should have been lots of things.

Knowing it was far too late to attempt sleeping now, he pushed himself from the chair, busying himself with making breakfast. He fumbled with the coffee machine first, needing his caffeine above all else. Especially after another sleepless night.

He shook his head. Why he allowed himself to be tangled up in this, he probably would never understand. But it wasn’t completely his fault. True, he could have told him no. Could have simply shut the door in his face, something he thought of often whenever he came knocking...But he hadn’t.

“What are you doing?”

A smirk was the only reply he received in return.

“Hunt, please. Not now. You said it yourself, it’s done. Just don’t.” Jade shook his head, moving to close the door.

But Hunter had no desire to stop this. Not this time. Whatever it had been between them hadn’t worked. Not that he had expected it to. He wasn’t meant for relationships, they never worked. But sex...Sex was something he knew, something he could understand. Sex worked. He threw his hand up, stopping the door mid swing, a gleam shining in his eyes, “I don’t think so.”

There was something about Hunter. The way he cocked his head. The way he could stare through a person. The way he smiled. It was impossible to say no. Maybe not impossible. He shook his head, hoping that the action would suffice at clearing his thoughts. This was not the track he needed to be going down, not now. What was done was done and he couldn’t change it. There was no rewind feature, not in his life.

It was over. This was over. Why couldn’t he let himself understand that? This wasn’t going to lead him anywhere. Sighing, he sank back into his seat. He could hear the soft hum of the coffee machine behind him. It’s hisses and sizzles filled the air. Within minutes the strong aroma began clouding the air. He inhaled, hoping absently at the scent itself would at least jump-start the waking up process within him. So far it hadn’t, but a small part of him remained hopeful.

Pushing himself to his feet once more, he fumbled towards the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of soy milk he prayed hadn’t gone bad on him yet and a package of bagels. Not the most distinguished of breakfasts, but it would do. He needed to force himself to go shopping one of these days. What little food supply he had left in his cupboard was slowly, but steadily dwindling.

Turning back, he eyed the pot silently deciding it had filled enough to risk pouring a mug. Reaching up blindly, he groped for the nearest mug, grimacing as he brought it down to inspect it. One of Hunter’s. One of the many things the man had left behind when their relationship had turned sour.

The decent thing to do would be to pack it up with the rest of his stuff and drop it off at this apartment. But that would involve seeing him and right then that wasn’t something he believed he could do. If he wanted to cut ties he couldn’t keep going back to him. Couldn’t keep letting him in each time he dropped by.

Hell of a lot of good I’m doing on that one, he thought with a grimace, rubbing his shoulder. It was still aching from last night. Probably bruised. If he rolled up his sleeve and took a good look in the mirror he knew he’d find bite marks mingled in with the bruising.

Scorching heat overwhelmed him. Hands roughly clawed at his tattered shirt, ripping it over his head.

Teeth nipped roughly against his skin. Biting. Bruising. Claiming. His body was on fire. Harsh panting filled his ears, ghosting over his shoulder.

“Fuck.”

The lips curled into a smile against the skin of his neck. A rough bite followed. “Soon.”

A shiver ran through him. He was far too caught up in all of this. It was ridiculous. Reaching for another mug, he shook those thoughts away. Focusing on that, on him would get him nowhere. It wasn’t worth it.

The steam rising from the mug as he sat back down at the table danced before his eyes, mingling with the cooler air around it. He raised the mug to his lips, grimacing lightly as the hot liquid burned his lips and throat. He hadn’t bothered to put any sugar or creamer in it, the bitterness something he craved as of late. It was strange, but he didn’t allow himself to think on it.

Another sip and he pushed himself to his feet once more, making his way back to the fridge grabbing the bagel he’d forgotten on the counter. He wasn’t overly hungry but knew that he needed something on his stomach. He was thin enough as it was, it was something he’d heard many times from countless people in his life.

Shaking his head, he settled back in front of his coffee, picking at the bagel sitting before him. A few bites and he shoved it aside. He wasn’t hungry. He never seemed to be hungry anymore. Pushing himself to his feet, he took what remained of his coffee and poured it into the sink. What had worked to calm him before now turned his stomach. Just as well.

Dropping his mug in the sink, he slowly made his way from the kitchen. He couldn’t spend the entire day hiding in there, as tempting as the idea was. Hiding didn’t solve anything. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and slowly walked into the livingroom.

Nothing much had changed. The magazines still lay scattered across the top of the coffee table, pictures and various books rested haphazardly next to the small television he’d bought years before. It wasn’t much to look at but it still worked.

This was strange. How could everything just remain the same when he knew nothing was? Shaking his head, he pushed on, leaving the room behind him.

A trail of clothing fell behind them. Shirts, socks, pants. Inhibitions followed.

Each bite, each lick, each touch confirmed what each of them knew: there was no turning back now.

He shook his head violently, no this was the last thing he needed to think on. Pushing himself forward, he continued silently into the bedroom, knowing, absently, what would await him there. The sheets still lay tangled, the thin blanket he’d had since he was in college lay half strewn on the floor. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, hoping that when he opened them again the sight wouldn’t turn his stomach.

Without a second thought, he tore the covers from the bed, rolling them tightly before tossing them tightly into the hamper near the door. Next he tore the pillow cases from the pillows, not bothering to roll them, simply chucking them into the hamper as well. This was his ritual. He refused to let himself think on it. If he just continued through the motions, cleaned and straightened, everything would be alright. He would be able to handle this. It wouldn’t honestly matter to him.

It was a lie, he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from believing he could make it all disappear. He could do this. None of it mattered. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the hamper, making his way slowly from the room. Absent mindedly, he grabbed the bottle of half empty detergent from the closet near the front door, ignoring the coat hanging a few inches below it. Hunter’s coat. Pushing the closet door shut, he pulled open the front door, the warmer air from the hallway pouring over him.

He’d always kept the apartment on the cold side, preferring to grab an extra blanket over stripping down to almost nothing. It simply seemed more practical to him and it certainly helped keep his heating bill low. And some months that was his only saving grace when the bills came due.

A sharp hiss. Pushing. Falling. Fear. Exhilaration. Darkened eyes stare down, warm hands tracing over hips, thighs. Bliss.

It never seemed to fail. The more he pushed the thoughts away, the harder they would push back into his mind. A sigh fell from his lips as he precariously balanced the laundry basket against his hip and the wall, pulling his apartment door closed.

The hallway was empty, something he’d come to expect in this building. No one bothered interacting unless it was of dire need. And that had been part its charm in the beginning. He’d found a place he could disappear into and that was a blessing. Silently he continued down the hall towards the laundry room.

It was the same routine as it always had been. He would find the nearest machine, place his basket on top of it, dig through his pockets for the correct change. He’d take the time to sort his clothes and sheets, even though it was times like this he simply wanted to shove everything in the washer and just not think on it, load the washers, set the machines and make a quick note of the time before heading back to the apartment. It was familiar, and the familiarity brought comfort.

Familiarity was sometimes his only saving grace, and more often than not, played a role in his downfalls. Familiarity was what lead him to where he was. To who he was with. He couldn’t fool himself about that. And as long as Hunter continued to return, he knew he would let him in, no matter how it killed him to do so. Fighting against it hadn’t worked. He needed this.

Cursing, fingers latching onto dampened sheets. Panting. Silence. Exhaustion echoing throughout the room. Eyes drooping closed. Awakening, silence, cool sheets. An empty bed. Hollow.

He needed this.

[thinkofsuns-blog]

happy, happy earth day

In America, the Country I call my own, Earth Day has many different meanings. Earth Day is very dear to my heart but I will admit, it was not always that way. I am sure that if you scroll down far enough you will find plenty of "Happy Earth Day!" posts. They were not meant to cause any harm, they were words typed with a genuine love for our planet. But it is was a bit hypocritical. Sure, I did not mean to cause any harm or be hypocritical but I was still do so while unaware. See, there is a pattern here. Dominance is within the consumption of the meat and dairy industry. We willingly consume once living creatures, just as we exists, and see it as "normal". Back to Earth Day and the now found pattern. We consume our fellow earthlings, we say we love the earth, we consume our fellow earthlings and this is never ending. So, here is a question. Can we really love animals while taking away their lives when we can suffice without doing so? The common answer is yes. Sometimes the answer is no. I would put myself in the middle of the spectrum. You can say as you please. You can say that you like a band and really hate all their current and past albums. You can say that you love animals and really love dogs but see bees as unnecessary creatures. Ethical Veganism is based on equality when pitting animals and humans together. When a human stands next to a pig how many differences can you point out? This human stands on their legs and has two arms. This pig, it seems to have one, two, three, four things to walk on. Difference? Maybe. This human could bend down and crawl which resembles the ways this pig moves around. Different tones of color? Occasionally. This human might blush giving a small tint on pink upon their cheeks. Tails? Umbilical cords, maybe? The comparisons are endless but there never seems to be one that gives the idea that either deserves to be packaged away and shipped to a grocery store. Earth Day is a beautiful day. A day of blissful ignorance for some. It is not to say that the day is not for everyone to celebrate, it is quite the opposite. But how can we really appreciate Earth if we contribute to the destruction of it? Rayven Whitaker Four . Twenty Two . Two Thousand Seventeen