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hel-phoenyx · 5 months

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"We do."

I read your last text for the fifth time in five minutes. You're supposed to be here soon, or so I hope, because even though you are the one that reproached me my avoidance for the last days there is a gnawing incertity at the back of my mind, one that tells me you finally got tired of my bullshit.

Down there, the noises of the party still reach me. I hear Thibault's laughter, Willy's teasing, Mareva's curious voice, and Elvira's shouts of joy. Sharon is already asleep. Parties never were for her. And I have nothing to tell her for now. I already vented too much. She managed to stay out of this, only noticing something was wrong when I locked myself in my room.

All your contrary.

What did I had in mind when all of this began? I hardly remember. I just recall sending you a message asking for intel, and you telling me it will be all you'll do. But then Lan Yue got enthousiastic about matchmaking and I felt compelled to bring you. Because you knew about it, had a good chance to help, and because you were my friend.

I guess that was my mistake. Now not only you got hit with Hope's Peak shady, shady business, but also by the falling out of all that shit. And me, in the middle, only seeing the pain I could have brought you and not the one I did.

And now I'm searching for my words up there on the balcony, looking like an outsider upon the happiness outside. I always felt like an observer, all my life since I was six, but I never got quite hit by the pain of it.

Probably because of the condition that flared up days ago.

The door open. No laughs ou teasing or anything, so I guess it's just you. I'm not turning around to check. I can still recognize your footsteps.

"Lock the door behind you, please, I ask, still looking down the balcony. Keys are on the lock and I'd rather not get interrupted."

"Sure you want to get locked up with me? You ask, uncertainty plaguing your voice. No offense, but it looks like a rip-off game of seventh heaven."

"Non-existent Lord how I hate that trope. Yes. You've seen how everyone is. They're too happy to understand I need space."

The sound of jiggling keys, and finally I hear the lock click. Door is not see-through, I went there for a good reason after all; So now, I can safely assume that's only you and me there. That I can turn around without being perceived by anyone else but you.

Your face is still pale, still holding the stigmata of a deep fatigue. Your hair is in a bun, but I can still tell, under the moonlight, that you haven't been taking care of it properly. Cheeks got hollow, emaciated, subtle enough for normal people to miss it.

I've never been normal people.

Worst is, maybe, your eyes widening when you look upon my face, not enough to make the dark circles disappear.

I smile, softly, hoping that I am at least almost beliveable.

"Yeah, it's worse under the moonlight, huh?""

You keep silent, still looking at me. Looking at the emaciated cheeks, the paleness of the skin, the tear trails, the dark, empty eyes of a body I struggle to believe is mine.

A moment of silence. You kept the keys in your pocket, probably to stop me from escaping. And you were talking about a seventh heaven rip-off, whan an irony, my friend. Well, I didn't plan to run anyway. The call of the deep is more powerful than the call of the flight.

Then you make a step forward, in an attitude that wants to be nonchalant.

"Not gonna lie, I preferred the pictures."

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment. I always know how to be photogenic."

You sigh. The couch on the balcony is there for you to sit on, but nevertheless you choose to put your butt on the armrest. Bisexual-cliche ass. Am I better tho, me, the sex-obsessed, flirty queen aromantic pansexual? I wonder if since the beginning, we're not just walking cliches created from the mind of a very, very cheeky writer.

The thought makes me snicker. You don't follow. Face tells me you're still angry at me. That's very fair. We never properly met to settle things and afterwards, I had my hands full with Elvira's surprise birthday.

"Something funny?"

"An intrusive thought. Mind if I sit?"

"That's your house."

Taking that as a yes. I take my place on the couch, pulling my legs close as a reflex before silence takes over again. I can see it annoys you, but what am I supposed to say? "I'm sorry"? "I won't do it again"? Such empty words for an empty man.

Because the truth is that I am sorry. And I will, probably, do it again, for I am far than strong enough.

Finally, you roll your eyes, arms crossed on your chest.

"I didn't come here to be ignored again, Emerens."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just at a loss from words."

"Ironic for the Ultimate Romance Novelist."

"I've always been better at finding words for others than for me."

You shrug, but keep silent. I guess I have to carry on, if I want to keep one of the most precious things in my life mostly intact.

"It's just... Been a lot. I'm aware it doesn't excuse anything, and it doesn't explain all... Everything since the moment I asked you that goddamn question just has been fuck-up after fuck-up from my part. And you took everything without even being involved in the first place."

"Glad you can admit it. But I didn't come here to get the apologies on that part. Your texts covered it enough. I want to know why you ignored me. Anger can't be the only explanation."

"I really am sorry for this-"

"I didn't ask for a sorry. I asked for a why."

Cut in the middle of my words, I turn my head towards you, dumbfounded. Of all the words that I expected coming from you, those were the last. And of all the emotions I was waiting for on your face, I didn't expect genuine worry.

Why would you worry about the one that hurt you?

I blink, searching for my words.

"I really don't think any explanation is satisfying-"

"Emerens, I did not come here to hear you wallowing in self-pity, I came here to understand why one of my best friends, the very one that promised me he would stay by my side not earlier than months ago, decided all of a sudden to not answer my texts, give me the silent treatment and lock himself in his room so he's unreachable and I'm driven back at his door. So please fucking tell me, because I am not moving until I have a better explanation than your fucking condition."

Your face is still the same, you never were an emotional person after all, I can't recall for one moment where I saw the shell crack at least a little. But your voice is snappy, your words full of an impromptu venom, and behind the patience I always envied you, I see a trembling eyelid.

I guess I can't escape behind empty words and shallow excuses. Only the truth holds here, and the liar finds it tastes sour on his lips used to the sweetness of dreams.

On my face grows something looking like a smile.

"If I had to search the closest explanation, I would guess it's because I didn't want to hurt you."

You roll your eyes, I can tell you're not convinced by my words. But not convinced is better that straight up not believing me. I guess the truth still hold to you a hint of certainty.

"Great fucking job you're doing there."

"I sense sarcasm. Never said it was supposed to be efficient."

A sigh escapes my lips.

"Last time I've been like... This, I've hurt people. Badly. Not intentionally, but it hardly matters in front of all the damage. And the thought of that pain happening to you makes me sick. Despite getting angry, I mean."

"And you didn't stop to think that isolating yourself may make thinks worse?"

"Oh, I did. But between losing you as a friend and being responsible for your damn death, the choice is all too easy."

You stay silent, still looking at me, still arms crossed, your eyes encouraging me to pick up where I left off. I suppose I have to. I have to gather my words and my truth to give you something I at least won't bring to my grave, no matter what you decide it's worth.

"Giving you the silent treatment was a dick move, and I can't deny it has been fed by my psychosis about secrets. But if I did stop caring about you and your feelings, you and I wouldn't be here on this balcony trying to make up."

I hide in my throat the fact that I wouldn't be here at all. You don't need to hear about how bad it's been. The emptyness. The cutter in my hand before Elvira sent me that message. The feeling that I'm growing to be no better than my mother, no better than my 13 years old self. The sensation of utter defeat.

You don't need that. And I certainly don't want Hope's Peak to be able to hear I relapsed. Not after the project. Not after I saw everyone lock themselves in a lab for days of weeks of months. No matter if it's by you, or the Ultimate Empress being right there at my own house.

I still think you caught the inner meaning of my words, because you frown, eyes still on me.

"I tried to do damage control, even in that state, but I suppose you get a clearer head when your mental health is not somewhere in the Marianna trench. So I won't deny I could have handled it better, or at the very least asked for help. I won't deny I'm at fault. But since you asked for an explanation..."

"And I guess it is an explanation. But really, next time, just ask for help."

A laugh escapes my throat, croaky and painful.

"You're asking for a lot to the sovereign of isolation."

I laugh some more, right before I'm interrupted by a pair of arms wrapping around me, and a chin of the top of my head. Provoking enough surprise for me to stop.

Dumbfounded, I couldn't even move an inch. My face, far from the heat that would usually take over, is unusually stiff, the same stiffness prompting my brain to run a function check. Because in what world are you of all people, less tactile than Sharon, more recluded than Thibault, more passive than Louna, initiating not only contact but also a hug?

It takes a few seconds for me to recover some braincells. Enough to prompt my lips to open, my tongue to formulate some words. Not enough to understand.

"....... Aren't you being unusually affective?"

"Oh, shut it. I thought you were done for, asshole, I think I'm owed a bit of unusual."

I suppose I can't deny that unflawed logic, or maybe it's the amount of brain cells that is still not enough to protest anything you say. All that's left is to enjoy it while il lasts, snuggling against you, smiling at the thought I haven't felt that kind of warmth for so long.

I bring you on my lap, tighten my grip on your back.

"I missed you."

Something laughs soflty in my hair.

"Likewise."

#hel is talking #hel stories #la peste moderne #hel ocs #lpm #not my ocs #hel writing #I wanted to write something around my chatfic and these two for a while #but really I can't find for any excuse to make EMERENS VAN HEEL have a heart-felt convo BY TEXT #so I'm diverging from my media and writing a lil something #I should note that I wrote this on Down By the River.#heart-felt apologies are complicated when you and your character are avoidant towards their feelings #so uuuuuh I hope the fact he brought up the explanation is enough for Senri?-#because I really don't know what I can do more as a writer

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