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vcgardenia · 1 month

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under the moon’s veil (Luke Castellan x Apollo!daughter)

summary: Cora is kinda losing her cookies but in an interesting poetic way! And Luke is totally there for her like Drusilla and Spike or Catherine and Heathcliff.

wc: 2483

cw: angst, lit + greek mythology references, kissing, suggestive content, depictions of insanity, gore and blood

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results - Albert Einstein

It was the dark of night, and Nyx had tucked all the world in his shining blanket of stars. A glistening sky sighed as another day had passed them by- all was sound, and all were quiet… Well, all but one.

Cora tossed and turned in her bed, anxiously anticipating a rustle from the bushes. After an hour of waiting, tossing, and turning some more, she sat up from her bed and stared longingly at the door. Where was he?

The Apollo cabin was dead silent; not a usual occurrence, and Cora could not have been more relieved. She looked around at the drooling, passed out campers around her- trying to scope how asleep they all were before she made any first moves. Her half-sister Heidi had practically fallen off of her top bunk, and Cora knew she had to leave the cabin before that happened.

She stood up from her bed- almost stepping on the baby deer that her half-brother Liam had adopted after he found it stabbed in a clearing. Normally the counselor would’ve said no, but it was a baby deer with a limp… and the head counselor wasn’t a monster.

Cora tried not to look at it. She avoided its presence entirely before continuing on her self made quest. She cautiously slipped on her Crocs- trying to ensure that no rubbery friction from the shoes would give her away.

Cora tried to steady her breathing, but it was becoming more erratic by the second. He was supposed to rustle the leaves at the bushes at 10, and then Cora would come out by 10:15. It was currently 11:07 and she had no idea where he was. Cora felt as if she was breaking into a cold sweat; she could feel her hands shaking as she thought of the worst.

What if he got hurt by someone? Or his ship sunk? Backbiter may have stopped working, someone caught him on the way here- thousands of possibilities were circling through her mind. Cora’s heart was now racing… what if he was dead?

She shook her head, refusing to believe her own thoughts. Her entire body was shaking at this point, and she knew she had to run out of the cabin before she started bawling. So Cora ran. She sprinted out of the cabin, and off the well worn path, into the forest. As she ventured further into the woods, less and less moonlight came from the sky above; covered by the growing number of trees. Through the tears and flem in her throat, she began to yell, practically scream his name,

“LUKE. LUKE. LUKE WHERE ARE YOU!” She was breaking down into tears, collapsing over herself into a heap of despair. What had the world done to her love?

“Hey sunshine.” Luke appeared from behind one of the trees Cora had just run past. She kept her head down, sobbing into the ground beneath her; more out of relief now than sorrow. Luke quickly knelt down next to her- rubbing her icy cold back with his pleasantly warm hands. With each up and down motion he made, he would make patterns on her back with his delicate yet deliberate fingers. Slowly, Cora was able to collect herself. While her breathing was still erratic, she was no longer wailing so loud the gods could hear.

“I didn’t mean to worry you baby.” Luke’s face was full of concern and worry for his love. He hid his face in her hair, muffling his next words,

“Can you forgive me?”

Cora looked up for the first time, turning her head around to see him. Immediately she gasped,

“What happened to your scar?” She instinctively held his face in her hands. Luke smirked, giddy from the attention,

“Percy reopened some old wounds both figuratively and literally.” He chuckled. Cora scowled.

“If you had let me go with you this wouldn’t have happened.” Luke took a large sigh,

“Let’s not talk about this right now. I just wanna see you happy.” Cora’s scowl quickly turned into a beaming smile,

“How could I not be happy when I’m with you, my winged Romeo?” She planted a kiss on his wound, longing to make it disappear with some magic touch.

She could tell even by how Luke held her, that he had longed for her touch. His body bent as easily to her will as a stick of puddy at her fingers. Cora wrapped her arms around Luke’s neck; melting into the warm embrace. She missed this.

When they started meeting up in the woods, Luke would talk to her about his adventures, she would talk about hers. But, over time it just hurt too much for the both of them. Knowing that the love of their life was existing without them by their side.

These days they would just touch. Making sure no area was undiscovered before the end of the night; it never felt the same way twice. New scars, new bruises, nothing could stop the passage of time.

“How long can you stay tonight?” Cora looked up at Luke, searching for an answer in his eyes; begging him to stay just a little longer than last time. In response Luke inhaled, looking ahead of her- knowing he couldn’t bear to see the expression on her face.

“So not that long then?” Cora furrowed her brows. Luke dug his head into her shoulder, shaking his head. After sitting there for a little longer, Cora spoke,

“Let me go with you.”

“No I- you know you can’t. It’s too dangerous.” She looked at him with bitterness in her eyes, shaking her head,

“If you don’t let me go with you Luke,” Cora searched for her words, tears filling her eyes, “the last time you’ll see me is hanging from a tree.” Cora started getting up, ready to run away from his phony warm embrace.

“Cora don’t say that. Please don’t say that baby.”

“Do you even love me Luke?” Luke stared at her with the most puzzled look,

“Why are you saying these things?”

In truth, Cora didn’t know. She just wanted everything to be normal again. She wanted them to swim in the lake together; finding the secret passageway that would take them to the stone cave, overgrown with green ivy. He would hold her in his arms, lifting her up to the ledge where they could just sit. She would put her head in his lap and he would caress her features. They would just talk. They could just talk back then.

But now, Cora didn’t know what had become of them, of her. Luke was crying, holding his head in his hands as he tried to hold back his sniffles. His voice was breaking with the little whimpers that dared to escape.

Cora thought back on the week before. She had been in the woods and she had taken a knife with her, trying to pick some raspberries for lunch that day. Cora finally found a bush full of them- not often found in these woods. As she began to pick them, her mind started to wander. Of course the first place it went was to Luke- what was he doing right now? Was he thinking about her? Was he safe? Lost in thought she cut open one of the raspberries she had picked. She gasped. The shade of pinkish red perfectly matched that of Luke’s lips. She grabbed more from her basket and continued to cut into more of them. It was incredible; the shade and pigment would’ve blended right into his if he was here. The juices of the previous raspberry escaped into the soil, merging into one as the cycle of reunion began again. Even the juice had consistency to find comfort in.

She started cutting open the raspberries with more aggravation; almost jealous of their fate. In her fury she had accidentally cut her own hand, instead of another raspberry. The blood was a redder hue than Luke’s lips, but as she looked down, she could see that it too was able to become one with the earth.

She smiled.

She hadn’t smiled for weeks. Luke hadn’t been visiting, and it had been filling her with more despair than she knew what to do with. But this spilling of blood was the sweet release she had been looking for. She was now part of the cycle; Cora giggled in glee at the thought. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she felt a new moisture on her hand. She opened her eyes to see a creature licking off the blood that had finally connected her to something; given her comfort. It had stolen her joy. It had taken the one pleasure she had away from her. Her face snapped into a look of blind rage, and she stabbed it.

She quickly withdrew her knife, ready to inflict a second blow- then she looked into its eyes. It was a deer. From the looks of it, the harmless animal wasn’t even a year old. Cora quickly took the knife away from the baby’s untouched skin; it had now been drenched in its first bleeding… and it was all her fault.

After that Cora had made sure one of her siblings found it. The counselor let the deer stay in their cabin of course, he wasn’t a monster… but she was.

She had tried not to think about it since then, but every time she looked at Liam’s baby dear, every time she heard someone question what kind of villain would stab such a pure and beautiful creature…

She turned her attention back to the present.

She couldn’t stay and watch as another beautiful being was destroyed by her hands. Especially not Luke. Her Luke. So she ran. She ran as fast as her legs could take her. She could hear Luke yelling for her, but it all just felt like background noise to her. She had to distance herself from the world.

Cora had learned to be strong in the face of adversity, and she had always been praised for her level headedness- always keeping perspective, being kind and gracious to all. No matter what happened she always kept her light. But Luke was the exception. He was the hamartia that would bleed her soul dry; without even having to try he could undo her.

Luke was searching breathlessly for Cora. He didn’t know what he said or did, but he had to fix it. As he wandered through the forest he pondered- what happened? He should have seen a breakdown like this happening, he had been gone for too long, he should have come back sooner. Should haves and what if’s raced through his mind as he looked desperately for Cora. She was the epitome of perfection to Luke. He felt as if he had ruined her.

He knew it was selfish to keep seeing her even after he chose his side, but Luke couldn’t help it. He had to see her. Luke couldn’t breathe without her. Some days it felt as if they inhabited the same body, he could tell how her day was going just by looking inwards; other days she was a complete mystery. She would blow up and scream at him, and he would still be just as willing to plunge a knife into his chest for her.

He wanted to have a life with her, have Cora as a witness to everything he did… but he was a disgrace. He was an outcast of her world. He knew it could never be. She would find some man who is deserving of her- and Luke would have to watch just as Heathcliff watched his Catherine. But he searched nonetheless. Because at the end of the day, he knew that he would rather beat his head against a tree than be in a world without her.

After what felt like ages he heard sniffling coming from behind a bush. Luke let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as he cautiously walked over to the noise.

“Sunshine, are you here?”

“Go away!” Cora still refused to look at him. She was curled up in a ball on the floor and didn’t look up.

“Baby I-” Luke tried to find his words as he sat to meet her eyes. “I don’t have much time left.” Cora finally looked up, staring at his gorgeous curls instead of his agonizing face. “Can’t we spend it together?” It was a plea.

Cora moved closer to Luke; leaning in more and more until their foreheads touched. She lightly chuckled as she took her hands and placed them on his torso. Luke smirked as he pried her by the wrists away from what she knew was a sensitive area of his body. With her wrists in his hands, Luke pulled them towards him, which left both Cora and Luke mere atoms away from each other. They stayed there for a good minute- allowing the moment to breathe.

After a while Luke set Cora’s wrists on her lap. He took his thumb and opened her mouth, letting his tender touch linger on her plump lips. Luke couldn’t help but sigh at how beautiful she looked under the moonlight; despite her father being god of the sun. Cora gave a faint smile, still tired from the buckets of tears she had produced. She leaned in ever so slightly, and was easily able to find her way to his lips.

They didn’t talk after that, they just touched. Cora and Luke didn’t have time to take off each other's clothing as they normally would do, so they had to suffice with lifting up a shirt or pulling down some pants. Cora was gripping at his clothes almost frantically- sensing that time was running out, that their time on earth together was expiring. Luke would often take her arms and put them to her sides; rubbing them in hopes of calming her down. Then, it was time for him to go. They hadn’t gotten enough time that night, they never got enough time.

“You have to stay here. You’re safe here. Can you do that for me baby?” Luke begged with his eyes. Cora sighed, letting a tiny whimper escape as they were separated from each other’s touch.

“Yea… yea I can do that for you.” She avoided eye contact.

“Hey. Look at me.” She allowed her gaze to wander to his eyes, “I’ll see you soon, okay Sunshine?”

“The sooner the better my winged Romeo.” She smiled mournfully.

Luke walked away and Cora knew better than to call for him. He longed to turn around, just to see her one last time- but much like Orpheus with his Eurydice, he knew he couldn’t. If he turned around, he would lose the strength to leave. He would stay there forever.

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lunar-system · 4 months

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Izzy Hands: The Moon.

Re-imagined from the traditional Ride-Waite-Smith tarot, this version of the Moon shows Izzy taking the shape of a lone Lover, longing for what he cannot reach.

Longer exploration of the card's symbolism under the cut.

Symbolism of the card

I initially meant this card to be specifically Izzy's, but he is once again unseparable from Ed. Though the moon itself is depicted as Ed, it is through Izzy that I interpret the journey of the card. Feel free to invent your own interpretation as well!

In the original version of the Moon we see a dog, a wolf, and a crayfish. Izzy takes the place of the wolf, marking him as wild and untameable. He is accompanied by a dog, symbolizing his loyalty. The crayfish has retreated, and we can see a monster lurking in the depths of the water, reminding us of the beasts that lie within.

Rachel Pollack (2011) writes: "The Moon signifies the dangerous time between the end of one world structure and the beginning of another. On the emotional level it can indicate the strange state when something powerful has ended and you find yourself thrown back on your instincts."

In the card Izzy already has his wooden leg. He his stepping into his role as the Unicorn, marking a shift in his loyalty and his place in the world. His reign as Blackbeard's first mate is ending, and a whole new world order is being imagined.

Ed is also seen in a new light. With his short beard, he is at the end of his captaincy, possibly even at the end of his piracy. He as the Moon is illuminated by the light of the Sun, personified by Stede in another card, The Sun.

Izzy bears witness to their combined light, unreachable to him on the ground. He teeters at the edge of the water illuminated by that very light, and is faced with a choice. Will he turn, follow the path and try to reach the unreachable? Or will he explore the unknown waters in front of him?

In tarot, water symbolizes emotions, intuition and subconscious. Pollack writes: "Here in the unknown territory our animal selves take over. We cannot suppress the wild emotions but only travel through them." The message of the Moon beckons Izzy to step into the water and face his emotions.

However, there are also dangers in the murky waters of the subconscious. Pollack continues: "The Moon card calls forth powerful dreams, visions, and the power of the feminine." In tarot water is a feminine element. Izzy, a beacon of masculinity, has in the past confused the feminine with the monstrous. He is now dared to invite the feminine within him to the surface. His posture already mirrors that of the feminine lover from the Lovers-card. It also calls back to the Fool, to someone at the beginning of their self-discovery.

Tl;dr: Izzy, the Fool and the Lover, is on a journey from one world to another. Will he follow the path and try to reach the unreachable, or will he find the courage to plunge into unknown waters?

A comparison between the original Rider-Waite-Smith card from 1909 and the re-imagined version

Izzy's pose mirrors the feminine Lover

Sources

Image source: Pamela Colman Smith, 1909, republished as Tarot of A. E. Waite, 2016, AGM-Urania, Germany

Text source: Rachel Pollack, A Journey of 78 Steps, 2011, as cited in the booklet for instruction and guidance of Tarot of A. E. Waite, 2016, AGM-Urania, Germany

#there is even more symbolism in the lighthouses that are topped with the domes from the Tower but it's so much already #it's about the journey between life and death #ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #edizzy #steddyhands #blackhands #i'm tagging this as ships cause i ship them all and i made this with shipperly intentions #even if it's not like explicitly shipping content #ed teach #edward teach #blackbeard #gosh i went to some deep waters with this myself #i mean there is so much to interpret here #is izzy shooting for the moon with ed? has he lifted ed high on the pedestal himself?#what does it mean that the water is lit by moonlight?#to me this is the point in fics where izzy does not yet know how he would fit in the steddyhands triangle and doesn't see it possible #and maybe it won't be unless he accepts some things and allows himself to feel #but it can also be read that he needs to let ed go #in either case water is discovery and acceptance #i am planning to make ed the star and stede the sun as well!#my fanart

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theminecraftbee · 7 months

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hermit horror week day 3: season 5 or chase

Hypno pants, grabbing the last cooked pork chop he'd managed to pilfer from Jevin's shop at spawn and tearing into it with his teeth. He's bleeding from his forehead, and he's hungry, but he can't stop running yet. The distant howling is forever getting closer, and the moment they flush him into a plains or a desert or anywhere else open, he's dead. So he has to eat the pork chop now.

Still, that brings his supplies down to an apple he managed to pick up off the ground, three arrows, a flame bow he'd had on him for a minigame, and a fully-enchanted pair of shears named "shearly beloved" that he'd managed to steal at about the same time he'd stolen the pork chop. He's not going to get any of it back.

They've chased him thousands of blocks from spawn, and if there's anywhere they're going to have guarded to stop him from doubling back to, it's there.

If he were... whatever made his friends into this...

There's more howling. His feet are dead. He's in a dark oak forest, so it will be hard for the beasts to catch him, but--he's being herded. He knows he is.

Some of the hermits are beasts now. Some of them--aren't. Some of them are smarter. Those are the ones that are leading the pack.

Those are the ones he's scared of.

He hears more howling in the distance. His heart is pounding. He doesn't know how long he's been running for. He doesn't know how much longer he can keep running. But, distantly, he hears footsteps and howling and the gnashing of teeth, and he knows instinctively that he can't stay here.

He takes a moment to assess his surroundings. He takes another minute to thank Tango-from-Before. Without Decked Out 2, Hypno thinks he would have been caught long before now. He doesn't know what happens when he's caught, except for the fact the first time one of them who became a beast caught up with him, it bit his shoulder, and the wound hasn't stopped bleeding, no matter how many pork chops he ate.

"Pork Chop Power," he mutters to himself like a mantra. Might as well; that was his last one. Then, he runs through the trees, whipping past mushrooms and dark oak branches, occasionally changing directions and doubling back on himself.

Nearby, a fox sees him and darts into a burrow. If only; he'd been driven away from any bases very early on. If he could burrow his way into a base, he could defend himself.

It's where he's trying to get. None of them chasing him should know that. He's trying to find a base. He knows there are remnants this direction, of things like Bdubs's gates or Etho's village. He doesn't know if they remember that, though. He's hoping they don't, and he can get into one of them, and then--

And then--

It's a good question. He's lost his communicator, and he's not sure how he's going to get console access while barricaded inside. He'll figure it out, though. He's good at figuring out things like that.

Another howl.

He doesn't have time to do it now, though. Not when he hasn't had more than twenty minutes of downtime in several days before a beast catches up with him and he has to run again. Not when he can barely catch his breath before sprinting again. He's going to be out of sprint. He's nearly out of arrows.

The howling, the howling, the howling, and he can't run much longer. But he has to. He hasn't seen any of his friends as themselves in so long. And he's an admin; next to Xisuma, not to toot his own horn or anything, he's the best. If he can get enough time to get console access, then he can figure out how to restart the server, restore their player data from backups, and fix this.

His heart pounds. He stumbles over a rock, scraping his hands. The howling follows him. They're--fifteen minutes behind him, maybe? Maybe twenty? He can't rest that long. He needs a longer lead than that. They're always closer than he thinks they are.

And the ones in charge, the ones who can think... they've been trying to drive him somewhere specific. If he had time to think, he'd be able to worry about why they're driving him through the woods when he knows open spaces are far more dangerous for him. If he had time to think, he'd already be out of this, though; with time to think, he'd have time for console access.

He's getting close to somewhere he can hide. He can feel it. So why are they driving him--

There's a sudden blinding pain as he screams. Something--his leg--oh gods--

He collapses to the ground in a moment of white-hot pain. The howling is so loud in the distance. He looks over at his leg and pales.

Around it is clamped some kind of horrible trap. A bear trap, he thinks distantly. Could have sworn those were modded, but since they probably have Once-was-Xisuma among them, it wouldn't be hard to, too--

His leg is bleeding horribly and at a terrible angle, bent around where the trap clamped around his calf. It's a mangled, bloody mess. He thinks he can almost see shards of bone. He feels sick.

The howling gets closer.

Oh gods, is this how it ends? He can't move with the trap around his leg. It's chained to the ground specifically to prevent that. His left leg is useless. He's out of pork chops, and no amount of food-based regen is going to fix it. He's--he's out of options. The howling is getting closer. He only has three arrows and a flame bow and a set of enchanted shears, and he can't escape, and he's bleeding everywhere, and his leg's more crushed than trapped, and--

He can't go anywhere with the trap on his leg.

"I hope you appreciate my pragmatism," he says to the sky. "I hope you appreciate what I'm trying to do for you one day," he says, and he imagines that maybe xB is able to hear it, wherever he is. That'd be nice. xB would then mock Hypno for what he's about to do, which is good, because it's a stupid plan.

Shears can't even have sharpness. It's just efficiency. He doesn't need perfect sharpness, though, and efficiency is going to have to do in a pinch. The bear trap's already crushed the bone in that leg. It doesn't need to be sharp enough to saw through bone when the bone's already basically powder. It just needs to be sharp enough to. To sever. To finish breaking...

And the flame bow. The arrows. He doesn't want to use his last arrows like this. It's a stupid plan. He should--there has to be another way out--

The air gets colder. The howling gets closer. Hypno takes a deep breath. He pulls the shears out and opens them as wide as they'll go, until nothing but the blade is facing downwards onto his leg. He can barely touch it against the wound without it hurting so much he gets dizzy and nauseous. His hands are already slick with blood just from that much.

In his left hand, he leaves the shears. In his right hand, he notches the arrow and waits until it lights aflame.

Gods, he's going to die if he does this, he realizes with a sudden, horrible clarity. He's going to die, and with the server like this, he doesn't know if he'll come back. It will be a stupid death, and the most painful thing he ever does to himself.

But the howling gets closer.

He can't let them catch him like this.

"I hope you all appreciate what a thing I'm doing for you," he says, his whole body shaking, and then he pulls his bandana off his head and stuffs it in his mouth so he can't scream and give away his location.

In one swift movement, he throws his entire body weight onto the shears, and then the bandana does nothing to stop him from screaming anyway.

For an eternity, the world is white-hot and painful. It is the worst sensation he has ever felt. He can't think. His whole body tries violently to throw him away from the blade he's shoving into an already bleeding wound, but between having the forethought to throw his whole weight onto it and the efficiency enchantments, it's too little too late.

Some horrible, distant part of his brain remembers the arrow.

It's funny. The fire feels so hot and painful that it instead feels cold. The world goes strange and blank. Hypno does what he has to. Hypno finishes the job.

Then, all at once, he's throwing himself away from the bear trap, using both hands to go against his every instinct and hold the arrow to the place where his lower left leg used to be. A trail of blood and viscera follows him. He sobs into the bandana.

He's going to die. He's going to die. He's going to die.

The howling gets closer.

He doesn't have time to bury himself in a hole and die, though. If he does that--well. It will be a death worse than this if he doesn't get up, he tells himself. He's in shock, he tells himself. He's drenched with sweat and blood, and he's missing part of a leg, but--but he can move. He can't run, but he can, he can move, he can--

Can--

He sobs. He doesn't want to die.

He claws himself onto the leg that's working, throwing the shears on the ground. He never wants to see them again. He's shaking. He falls back to his hands. The bushes, the bushes, he can hide in the bushes. He crawls. Is he still leaving a trail of blood? He can't leave a trail. They'll find him if he leaves a trail. He should kick up the leaves behind him. Hide--hide the blood. From the trap.

What if there's another trap in the bushes, he thinks distantly. What if that one clamps shut around his neck?

It would be better than being caught, he tells himself, and he pulls himself into the bushes, and he buries himself with leaves, and he shakes and he leaves the bandana in his mouth to disguise his whimpering as the bleeding, horrible wound of his leg burns hot and cold and he's dizzy and he thinks he throws up onto the bandana but he can't remove it, he can't--

The world goes cold and dark. The howling is here. He hears unnatural footsteps. Sniffing. Then, even more horribly, though the gaps in the leaves, he sees rows and rows of teeth.

The teeth are all he sees, but he will not forget them.

He doesn't know how long he lies dying in the leaves, waiting for the teeth to find out what happened. It's long enough that he goes from dizzy and sick to delirious. He tries, more than once, to spit out or swallow the--thing?--in his mouth, forgetting and re-remembering why it's there. His leg cycles between horrible pain, cold, hot, and nothing at all. Periodically, he sees teeth, and his heart races, and he knows he's going to die.

Something else steps into the woods.

"Pity. We almost had him in this one," says one of them. "Spread out."

The howling gets further away. He thinks--he thinks maybe--

He doesn't know if he can get up, but if he lies here, they will find him, and he will die. He can't--can't quite remember why, but he doesn't want to die. The primal thing in him doesn't want to die, almost exactly the same amount as it wants to finish covering himself with leaves so he dies on his own terms.

He claws to his hands and knees. He'll--he'll figure out how to run from here.

He has to keep running.

Hypno has to keep running.

Because at any moment now, if he doesn't, they will catch him. And he'll cut off every other remaining limb before he finds out what happens next.

#hermithorrorweek2023 #a bee fic #hermitcraft #hypnotizd #blood #gore #horror #LIKE. STRONG GORE WARNING BTW. THAT'S PART OF WHY I DECIDED TO PUT THIS ONE UNDER A CUT IT GETS INTENSE #THIS WOULD BE RATED AT LEAST M ON AO3 #BE WARNED.#anyway. gotta love some horror about being hunted like an animal right?#don't worry too much about the base premise here #it's a little threadbare to get. the specific type of scene that i wanted from this #this is the first one this week where my brain lit up and i went 'oh i have to go HARD' btw #if that isn't. obvious

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ooshu · 1 year

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“i can’t believe you’re getting engaged.”

mark hummed. you both sit on the sand, staring straight at the ocean. the waves were big, guessing high tide has struck at this particular hour.

you don’t think you could bear seeing your best friend on one knee, asking another person to be the love of his life, because you made mark yours unknowingly and unintentionally.

and here you are, biting your lip and fighting the urge to cry. you just wish you could have drowned with the waves instead. but you continued carrying on.

“i mean… holy shit!” you snickered. “who would’ve thought you had the balls?”

mark chuckled. he has always been the talkative but he never had the courage to speak about his feelings, romantically per se. you, on the other hand, has had been the same.

and at some (or most) parts you think this was (entirely) your fault. you pushed mark to talk to her, to go on dates with her, and do what you would have done with a future significant other. you have given him advice that is first, amused the shit out of you because he’s out there finally exploring the world.

until one day, the shallow figure you have seen in your dreams appeared to be mark's, gradually hitting you that you would have done those things with him—to hold him, to hug him, to kiss him, and to be the person who you would have seen at the other end of the altar.

for mark, you made your call, leaving him with no choice but to oblige. he loved you so dearly the same, he let you be the person he did not want to be, little did you know. now, all you had to do is to hold it in. and mark putting his arms over your shoulder made you no better but a fool who had no redemption left to turn the tide.

“i’m gonna miss you, mark.”, you mumbled.

“i’m not going anywhere.” he whispered and leaned his head on your shoulder. he ignored how you let out a subtle cry. tears slip down your cheeks which you quickly wiped off your face. you chose to ignore how he leaned his face and kiss your damped cheek over and over; his lips almost grazing with yours.

“oh, you will.” you smiled at mark, still teary eyed, and held his hand tight. “you will.”

moments passed, both of you stayed where you are. then you started to get up from your seat. mark was about to mirror your actions but you said, “no, no.” you waved your hand, insisting he should stay. “i’ll just buy us some drinks, yeah?”

you picked up your bag with you and started to walk. but mark suddenly called your name back.

and he was still sitting where you left him. you waited for him to say something, a thing that could stir the decision you will make—but nothing. he stared at the sun that is about to sleep in a good few minutes. a smile crept up on his face, and finally, he asked:

“i’m never seeing you again, aren’t i?”

because mark recently figured out you have always loved him from afar, and your actions don’t speak entirely for yourself. and you knew you couldn’t make him the person you’d always run to any longer. he was no longer your home but someone’s, now that he’s just another house you could visit. love stories aren’t supposed to hurt, they said. you both beg to differ.

you pursed your lips and let out a small laugh.

you know me so well, mark—nothing but foolish who subscribed to cowardice. too young to know to fall in love. you thought.

you know me so fucking well.

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