Fantasy 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝐵𝓇𝑜𝓀𝑒𝓃 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓈𝑒 : 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔

[JJae]

• Airen O'Bechtel
• Alarick De'Vil

• 
  
  CODE BY SEROBLISS

  Airen O'Bechtel

  SERPENT'S KISS LEADER

  
  Interactions: RoninN7
  
  Airen O'Bechtel laughed. Genuinly. Not everyone brought that furth. Well, barely anyone at this point. Mike had been Soffie's little box sack for quite a while now. She rested her hand on her knee, asserting her head on it. "I really don't know," she spoke with drawn up brows. "Maybe because you'd win it too easily. No one stands a chance to my dear Soffie~"
  
  Her physique slipped from where she sat, the boat beggining to swim along the river. Not many walked along it right now. Usually she'd wave at a few but now? Barackius said popularity was one important hell for a leader. He'd be damn proud, at least Airen told herself that.
  
  

  “Enough about me, though. How is my favorite girl in the whole world? Still as shocked as I am that Earl and Emma broke up?”​

  
  A groan slipped over her lips. "E&E! My ship, my go-to. My everything!" Airen exclaimed and drew her hand dramatically to her head. "I can't believe Earl would leave Emma— Emma the talented girl who sat nights with him to console him or who literallly broke into a supermarket to bring him this special treat— for that fucking bitch! She is so fake like hello? Open your darn eyes Earl." She pivoted to her sister and fell into her arms. Here no pretending was needed. Barackius would have gave her a slap on the back of her head by now. Too bad the old male laid six feet underground. "Soffie~ Earl fought so long for Emma. They are E&E, EE, The double E. And now Emma is heartbroken for this fucker. I swear. I hope they fix it next season."
  
  The territory filled with trees and fields mended into high buildings craning their next to the river. A road? Barely. No one needed a vehicle like that. Except for her brother. But she supposed he went to different places all the time since a few of his friends, so he claimed, came from other territories. Serpent's rivers and canals only reached to the Neutral Zone. From there the other clans could transfer the goods from the ships to their trucks or whatever they used. For Airen, and Barackius, it was clear that the toxic substances errupting from the cars damaged the fields and air the potatoes or carrots grew in. They had planted trees and plants to filter the air a long time ago. Anyone wanting to own a vheicle other than a boat had to register it, wait for approval and only buy nature-friendly ones. Except Zirke. He had done whatever his thick head thought of.
  
  The buildings vanished once more. Instead her sight filled with a thick line of trees. It worked like a marking. Anyone entering her zone knew this was Serpent's Kiss. Airen leaned against the railing, water danced across her face. "Soffie, we still have a lot of time, you know. How about we have a drink first? I am in dire need of a coffee after this… particularly interesting meeting."
  
  She wondered if Lang and Sofia had a history together. They ignored each other's guts as if it was poison or a muddly swamp. Though, she guessed they might have had one given the fact the two of them had been intervined with underground doings. Given the fact Zirke brought Lang in and Sofia, Airen guessed they pretty much had one. Or they delibertly hated each other for no apparent reason. She shook her shoulders. Soffie would always be her first choice and whatever her sister deemed to be rightful, she simply accepted and went along with it.
  
  The boat soon stopped in the Neutral Zone. Right before her favorite café. The siren turned with a bright smile to Soffie and tucked her hand under hers. "Let's go, Soffie! Time to get ready for some nice nice tournament."
  
  She loved coming to this café. Not because it had the best coffee or the greatest cookies, but because it was also a library. Airen barely ever had enough time to read but when she did, she made sure to come here. Not without Sofia though or Zirke. Or anyone else believing the siren couldn't take care of herself. After what happened a few hundred years ago… she couldn't judge them for it. And one single part of her had been glad. Glad to know she had someone backing her up.
  
• 
  
  CODE BY SEROBLISS

  Alarick De Vil

  Ash Wolves

  
  Interactions: 606
  
  Alarick De'Vil started to walk in the direction of some local bar. People in the moods of festives. Some alone, reminded of their inability to fund a circle of friends or even a family. They needed to bash out their thoughts somewhere and instead of trying to fix their problems, they rather ran their mouth about recent events. He needed just one little hint of inner crisises. Just one. And his monthly work finally would be done.
  
  "Say, Rick. Alcohol is pretty flammable. Have you ever wanted to see the fire when a whole building filled with alcohol?"
  
  Such blatant questions. Stupid. The Ash Wolves truly let anyone in, didn't they now? Even such a mutt as Silvester Pierce with a brain so small like a peanut. A burning building, pah! … A burning building? Rick held in the middle of his tracks, causing a demon behind him to curse and jump out of the way. He turned to the silver haired man beside him.
  
  "You might be the stupidest boy alive," his hand trashed through this peculiar hair. "But you bring me insperations." He kept on leading them to a bar. Not the first one he'd seen. It didn't look occupied enough. His eyes strolled through the crowd. As if he looked through a catalog for a new coat or gun. Some families, some friend groups. But he looked for the ones with their empty eyes. Those who had jealousy written all over their faces whenever one of those groups laughed. Until he found one.
  
  The male demon, small with little goat horns, drifted into an alley. Alarick picked up his pace, not caring for Ves if he could keep up. Or at least that was what he told himself completely ignoring the shy glances over his shoulder. He bashed through the crowd, spilling a few excuse us or pardon my lady. It left those idiots in a bit of a shock. Bad or good one didn't matter. They finally reached the dark side street. It gave him a little shake. A good one.
  
  "Come on," he said and waltzed along the buidlings. Every district had their shitholes. A little fire here or there should have been common. Perhaps a brawl between two drunkards or simply being not careful enough. He stopped at a door. The wood morsh, the doorhandle broken. Rick scratched his nose. A foul smell errupted from this alley and he did not want to know what the fuck caused it. He turned to Ves, "Okay, listen. We go in there, I befriend someone and you do whatever you want. Once we are out, burn this place. Got it?"
  
  With that, Alarick ventured inside. Just as he had guessed each table had been occupied with some lonely folks. The glasses on their table already multiplying. They did not want to have another day of their misery. He could put them out of it today. Sadly, he needed them to function and talk. His gaze scanned for the male he'd spotted earlier. The guy sat in the last corner to the left, already downing a third glass. That was quick, Rick mused in his mind.
  
  In his walk to the table, he called out to the shop keeper to bring him a glass of water and a whiskey. As the male got to work, Rick got to his aswell. "Mind if I sit down here?" He asked the horned demon. The guy was perplex, fair enough. But he didn't reject as Rick slid down on a chair across from him. He didn't look out for Ves. Whatever he wanted to do next was all up to him. For now, Rick would be busy with this fella here.
  
  
  

 

[blue tea]

yuhwa aeng

ravinca leader.

alias

hananoami

nicknames

pretty boy, pinkie, cherry, yunnie

title

pink spider lily, huli jing

species

demon ( nine-tailed fox )

pronouns

he / him

age

" twenty-five "

abilities

shapeshifting, shield construction, would | pain transfer.

clan ability

falling yin

i don't wanna die or fade away i just wanna be someone i just wanna be someone dive and disappear without a trace i just wanna be someone well, doesn't everyone? and if you feel the great dividing i wanna be the one you're guiding 'cause i believe that you could lead the way i just wanna be somebody to someone, oh i wanna be somebody to someone, oh i never had nobody and no road home i wanna be somebody to someone

i've lost myself long ago

THE PINKETTE REMAINED HUNCHED OVER HIS desk with dull hues that once glimmered with life, now remained empty as he scanned through the various papers held tight within his shaky grasp. He sucked on his bottom lip, worrying the tender flesh with a shaky hum that bubbled up from his throat, spilling out past his lips like bees bursting out from their home. His senses remained sluggish, unable to comprehend what had happened fully. He felt awful. His head pounded in tandem with his heart that pulsed beneath his skin, reminding him he was alive, but how he wished to fall in couple with the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

He paused, staring blankly at nothing in particular, unaware of his surroundings once again. His arm pulsating, reminding him he should seek one of the medics. Shame bubbled up at the thought of bothering them for something so measly as burnt flesh. He hated feeling weak like a newborn fawn stumbling after its mother on trembling limbs that have yet to cooperate.

After all, Yuhwa was weak. He was a leader, but something so trivial as dogs brushing past him sent him tumbling with terror gripping his insides in a vise-like grip, refusing to let go until Yuhwa crumbled. Until he was nothing more than a shell of his former self, but what was he before this? His eyebrows furrowed, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the smooth surface. He was nothing before this. Nothing. He offered nothing. He was nothing.

Yuhwa hadn’t realized until it was too late. The tears spilled down his cheeks leaving wet streaks down his milky white flesh. The tears gathered around his chin before falling to collect on his shirt that bled like painted stars.

He dropped the file, hand reaching to cover his mouth to hide the sob that slipped past cracked lips. His eyes rimmed red from the tears that refused to stop, no matter how hard he rubbed. His shoulders quivered as a whine slipped out. Dang it! Stop crying! He begged, falling on deaf ears as the tear tracks grew larger, staining his shirt even more.

His lips curled into a bittersweet grin, rubbing his uninjured arm across his eyes while curled up in his office chair, head lowered until his chin grazed his clothed collarbone. His shoulders curled into himself, appearing smaller than he was, wanting nothing more than the chair to swallow him whole.

His quiet sobs filled the silence, encompassing him in one brilliant ball of patheticness and the bubbling dread that oozed out of his pores. He was a weak weak man. His fingernails dug crescent-shaped grooves into the exposed flesh of his arms, ignoring the flares of pain that accompanied it. He wanted to feel something. More than anything, he wanted to feel something other than the sickening numbness that flooded his veins like ice.

It had gone away when the twins appeared, banishing it until there was nothing, but warmth and safety until chuckles bubbled up past his lips. His hands shook with vigor, detaching himself from his forearms with a whimper.

Everything was too much. He just wanted things to stop, but how could he when the world continued to move with no empathy, unwilling to change its course? He let out a lofty chuckle, reaching to grip his strawberry locks in a weak grip, tugging at the silky strands with a whine. His tails wished in tandem with his fraying emotions, wrapping themselves around his side in a weak—comforting hug that he desperately needed, but was unwilling to reach out for.

His lips parted with a quiet wheeze, releasing his death grip on his locks to wrap themselves around his mid-section, uncaring that it left his skin twisting in disgust, reminding him of the various boot-shaped bruises that littered his lithe frame, the various shades standing out against his milky white flesh.

Yuhwa wanted to laugh at his predicament. His forehead thumped against the desk with a whimper, curling into himself further until he was a tight ball with tails wrapping around his frame in a make-shift blanket, having no strength to wiggle out of his seat to grab the trench coat lay crumbled not too far away that would certainly ward off the coldness that seeped deep into his bones, spreading like wildfire as it sucked the last bit of warmth he had left.

The small male let out various chirps, arms wrapping tighter around his midsection while his head burrowed deeper, ignoring the twinge of pain that sparkled along milky white flesh. It was bearable. The pain. He had worse, if not life-threatening, but this? It was nothing more than a dull ache that reminded him of how weak and skittish he could be. He sighed, giving his body a quick shake, throat constricting with each sniffle that escaped.

His hands reached to cup his face, the pads of his thumbs rubbing at his red, puffy eyes. Stupid. He grinned bitterly into his palms. I should see the medic, huh? He thought lazily, mind still reeling from the emotional mayhem that was his mind. The thought alone sent him stiffening, attempting to curl tighter into himself while becoming increasingly aware of his bandaged arm sporting dollops of blood that grew in size. No. I can’t—It really is nothing! Blueberry doesn’t need to know and I’ll re-bandage it myself later.

He could fix it. He didn’t need help. He certainly didn’t need people fretting over something as much as a silly burn.

He gradually pulled himself out of his mind to stare at the bandage in distaste, lips tipped into a frown. A sigh slipped past his life at the thought of making the burns worse, but the male didn’t seem all too worried about messing it up more than it already was.

At the sound of the knock, Yuhwa cursed, biting his lip to stop the whimper that threatened to escape behind clenched teeth as he smacked his injured arm on the desk in a hurry to hide it behind his back. The male doing his best to conceal the injury the second Naomi walked through the doors carrying three hot chocolates and a handful of churros. His ears perked up at the sight of his comfort food, feeling drool collect at the corner of his lips which curled into a weak-willed grin.

“H, Hello peaches!” The male chirped, tails swishing at the sight of the second-in-command.

His light blue hues zeroed in on the hot chocolates and churros that sat on his desk begging to be eaten. His stomach churned at the thought of eating. The rancid smell of the dog filled his nose at the thought, drawing a tight-lipped frown that vanished seconds later. He wanted to puke, but he’d puke nothing but acid. “Thank you!” He trilled. His uninjured hand reached to grab one of the offered cups with a happy mewl. The pads of his fingers curled around the welcoming warmth, drawing a sigh from the pinkette.

His ears flattened at the thought of … talking. His brows furrowing in distress, knowing for certain his voice would crack and the tears appearing all over again to spill over his cheekbones and dot his shirt like stars. He didn’t want to worry Naomi more than he already had. He didn’t.

The pinkette took a sip of his hot chocolate while debating on setting his drink down to nab a churro. In the end, he ended up placing it on the desk while reaching forward to sneak a churro, biting it with a lofty hum. His tails wiggled in delight at the cinnamon flooding his mouth.

It was nice despite the sickness that pooled into his stomach, leaving his frame shivering despite it not being cold. His shoulders hunched into themselves as he shifted to stare up at the other, brows furrowing at the clear dark circles and the pale skin that accompanied them. “A, Are you alright peaches?” He wanted to stand up to run his fingers over the darkened circles, letting out a worried trill. He doubted he’d be able to get up without tumbling over, so he remained seated.

“Maybe you shouldn’t … come to the tournament? You need sleep—Besides! I’ll be fine on my own!” He didn’t want to explain why his arm looked like a cooked noodle that was left on the burner for too long. He didn’t need to worry peaches any more than he already had when Sebastian showed up, choking him until he saw stars. The worst part? Yuhwa let him do all those horrible things. It was natural. He was used to the sickening pain that left him reeling, falling deeper into his mind as a last resort to preserve what little sanity he had left.

He wanted to laugh. To drag a hand through his hair and tug, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He wasn’t that weak. He was still healing, but how much time would that take? Forever? He didn’t have forever. He sighed, hiding behind the cup of hot chocolate in hopes Naomi wouldn’t notice. He was barely keeping it together, already busting the seams that he was trying desperately to keep together.

He worried his bottom lip, light blue hues watching the other with furrowed eyebrows. He subtly noted there wasn’t a chill like there normally was. He was thankful, but didn’t? Yuhwa frowned. “You—” He paused. His shoulders hunched in on themselves as he nibbled on the churro. “You don’t have to stop using your abilities! I don’t want you to feel—” He sighed. I don’t want you to suffer because of me. He wanted to say but couldn’t get the words out other than the inaudible whine that slipped past parted lips ( Now? I can usually hold a conversation for two people! Of course, I’m delaying the inevitable. Just get it over with! ). He could deal with the coldness that wafted from Naomi. Naomi was home. Naomi would never hurt him, although he couldn’t say the same for himself. He was always reckless. The leader who lacked the will to live. It was in his nature to give it his all, even if it destroyed his entire being.

The pinkette made a quick note of the paint splotches that coated their body, head tilting with a questionable trill. Pretty like the stars. He thought with a tilt of his lips. Naomi was always pretty. Far prettier than Yuhwa and the pinkette would stand by that statement for eternity.

He let out an inaudible sigh, slouching forward until his forehead smacked the desk with an audible thump. “I’m sorry—This is all my fault.” He laughed weakly. He had set down the churro he had originally been snacking on to drag a hand through pink-hued locks. Yuhwa had fared a little better, having stayed up mostly until Mason and Aoi appeared, latching onto the two like his life depended on it. He always fared better sleeping soundlessly with the gentle rasp of someone’s breathing. It was odd, but it calmed him more than he realized. He grew used to listening to … his voice that sleeping without it was a nightmare. He was far more affected than he realized.

He glanced up from behind thick lashes, offering the other a shake of his head. “No! You aren’t—I just don’t think I can get through it without breaking down again.” He laughed wetly, tone wavering, unable to fight off the shiver that raced down the lengths of his spine. Naomi deserved an explanation. Peaches deserved to know how messed up he was. It was only fair if the other would have to deal ( he hoped peaches would never have to deal with something like that again ) with another one of his failed, miserable relationships.

He wasn’t ready to face it, but he couldn’t just sit and pretend as if nothing happened. Not anymore. “You aren’t stepping over anything! I promise! You deserve answers!” I hope you don’t look at me with disgust after this. He fiddled with his fingers, keeping tabs to hide his bandaged arm that was sure to bubble crimson against the pristine white.“You’re … special to me, so you’d find out, eventually.” He added, but it sounded broken, a far outcry from his bubbly tone that held so much life.

He wanted to hold on to something—anything to keep him grounded. “Ah—You're giving me too much credit. I’m just as replaceable as anyone else.” He laughed sheepishly. The male rubbed the back of his neck at the statement. Even if he were to die, he doubted many would grieve over his unfortunate death. He let out a nervous trill, rocking his legs, poorly attempted.

“Sebastian? The one that … showed up. We used to date? I’m not sure what we were exactly, I was so far into my head that I wasn’t … aware of what was happening. I wasn’t in the best place.” He chuckled, unwilling to look Naomi in the eye. “It was my fault, really.” He paused, unable to get the rest out with a choked mewl. He could barely say his lover’s name without breaking down.

He let out a wet laugh, reaching to grab the hot chocolate off the desk. He held the drink close to his chest. “Sorry! Sorry! It’s stupid! Don’t … Don’t worry too much, yeah? It’s not even that bad.” He worried the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip.

“I just lost someone that was my entire world. He was—” Yuhwa couldn’t get the words out, opting to shrug, laughing sheepishly. “Sebastian was a rebound as were,” Yuhwa shuffled, “a few others?” He huffed out a snort, reaching to press the cup against his forehead. “It’s stupid.” His shoulders slumped. “Sebastian wasn’t always bad.” Although Sebastian wasn’t always kind. The red-haired male found joy in watching Yuhwa break beneath his manipulative ways and bloodied fists, but Sebastian was far nicer than the others. He was a saint compared to them.

He worried his bottom lip, glancing up from behind the cup to stare at the other with owlish hues. “Are you alright? He didn’t … He didn’t hurt you, did he?” His gut churned at the thought. “I–I ruined your time at the cemetery, didn’t I?” His lips tilted into a wobbly grin. I’m sorry. I have a tendency to screw up everything, don’t I? Some leader I am. He thought bitterly.

thoughts speech​

i forgot what it's like to be loved.

you're a little tragedy, aren't you?

♡coded by uxie♡

Spoiler: bigger text

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ravinca leader

yuhwa aeng.

alias

hananoami

birth name

yu hua

courtesy name

yu yingjie

nicknames

pretty boy, pinkie, cherry ( cakes ), yunnie, yinnie

titles

pink spiderlily, huli jing

species

demon ( nine-tailed fox )

pronouns

he / him

age

" twenty-five "

abilities

shapeshifting, shield construction, wound | pain transfer

clan ability

falling yin

THE PINKETTE REMAINED HUNCHED OVER HIS desk with dull hues that once glimmered with life, now remained empty as he scanned through the various papers held tight within his shaky grasp. He sucked on his bottom lip, worrying the tender flesh with a shaky hum that bubbled up from his throat, spilling out past his lips like bees bursting out from their home. His senses remained sluggish, unable to comprehend what had happened fully. He felt awful. His head pounded in tandem with his heart that pulsed beneath his skin, reminding him he was alive, but how he wished to fall in couple with the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

He paused, staring blankly at nothing in particular, unaware of his surroundings once again. His arm pulsating, reminding him he should seek one of the medics. Shame bubbled up at the thought of bothering them for something so measly as burnt flesh. He hated feeling weak like a newborn fawn stumbling after its mother on trembling limbs that have yet to cooperate.

After all, Yuhwa was weak. He was a leader, but something so trivial as dogs brushing past him sent him tumbling with terror gripping his insides in a vise-like grip, refusing to let go until Yuhwa crumbled. Until he was nothing more than a shell of his former self, but what was he before this? His eyebrows furrowed, the pads of his fingers rubbing against the smooth surface. He was nothing before this. Nothing. He offered nothing. He was nothing.

Yuhwa hadn’t realized until it was too late. The tears spilled down his cheeks leaving wet streaks down his milky white flesh. The tears gathered around his chin before falling to collect on his shirt that bled like painted stars.

He dropped the file, hand reaching to cover his mouth to hide the sob that slipped past cracked lips. His eyes rimmed red from the tears that refused to stop, no matter how hard he rubbed. His shoulders quivered as a whine slipped out. Dang it! Stop crying! He begged, falling on deaf ears as the tear tracks grew larger, staining his shirt even more.

His lips curled into a bittersweet grin, rubbing his uninjured arm across his eyes while curled up in his office chair, head lowered until his chin grazed his clothed collarbone. His shoulders curled into himself, appearing smaller than he was, wanting nothing more than the chair to swallow him whole.

His quiet sobs filled the silence, encompassing him in one brilliant ball of patheticness and the bubbling dread that oozed out of his pores. He was a weak weak man. His fingernails dug crescent-shaped grooves into the exposed flesh of his arms, ignoring the flares of pain that accompanied it. He wanted to feel something. More than anything, he wanted to feel something other than the sickening numbness that flooded his veins like ice.

It had gone away when the twins appeared, banishing it until there was nothing, but warmth and safety until chuckles bubbled up past his lips. His hands shook with vigor, detaching himself from his forearms with a whimper.

Everything was too much. He just wanted things to stop, but how could he when the world continued to move with no empathy, unwilling to change its course? He let out a lofty chuckle, reaching to grip his strawberry locks in a weak grip, tugging at the silky strands with a whine. His tails wished in tandem with his fraying emotions, wrapping themselves around his side in a weak—comforting hug that he desperately needed, but was unwilling to reach out for.

His lips parted with a quiet wheeze, releasing his death grip on his locks to wrap themselves around his mid-section, uncaring that it left his skin twisting in disgust, reminding him of the various boot-shaped bruises that littered his lithe frame, the various shades standing out against his milky white flesh.

Yuhwa wanted to laugh at his predicament. His forehead thumped against the desk with a whimper, curling into himself further until he was a tight ball with tails wrapping around his frame in a make-shift blanket, having no strength to wiggle out of his seat to grab the trench coat lay crumbled not too far away that would certainly ward off the coldness that seeped deep into his bones, spreading like wildfire as it sucked the last bit of warmth he had left.

The small male let out various chirps, arms wrapping tighter around his midsection while his head burrowed deeper, ignoring the twinge of pain that sparkled along milky white flesh. It was bearable. The pain. He had worse, if not life-threatening, but this? It was nothing more than a dull ache that reminded him of how weak and skittish he could be. He sighed, giving his body a quick shake, throat constricting with each sniffle that escaped.

His hands reached to cup his face, the pads of his thumbs rubbing at his red, puffy eyes. Stupid. He grinned bitterly into his palms. I should see the medic, huh? He thought lazily, mind still reeling from the emotional mayhem that was his mind. The thought alone sent him stiffening, attempting to curl tighter into himself while becoming increasingly aware of his bandaged arm sporting dollops of blood that grew in size. No. I can’t—It really is nothing! Blueberry doesn’t need to know and I’ll re-bandage it myself later.

He could fix it. He didn’t need help. He certainly didn’t need people fretting over something as much as a silly burn.

He gradually pulled himself out of his mind to stare at the bandage in distaste, lips tipped into a frown. A sigh slipped past his life at the thought of making the burns worse, but the male didn’t seem all too worried about messing it up more than it already was.

At the sound of the knock, Yuhwa cursed, biting his lip to stop the whimper that threatened to escape behind clenched teeth as he smacked his injured arm on the desk in a hurry to hide it behind his back. The male doing his best to conceal the injury the second Naomi walked through the doors carrying three hot chocolates and a handful of churros. His ears perked up at the sight of his comfort food, feeling drool collect at the corner of his lips which curled into a weak-willed grin.

“H, Hello peaches!” The male chirped, tails swishing at the sight of the second-in-command.

His light blue hues zeroed in on the hot chocolates and churros that sat on his desk begging to be eaten. His stomach churned at the thought of eating. The rancid smell of the dog filled his nose at the thought, drawing a tight-lipped frown that vanished seconds later. He wanted to puke, but he’d puke nothing but acid. “Thank you!” He trilled. His uninjured hand reached to grab one of the offered cups with a happy mewl. The pads of his fingers curled around the welcoming warmth, drawing a sigh from the pinkette.

His ears flattened at the thought of … talking. His brows furrowing in distress, knowing for certain his voice would crack and the tears appearing all over again to spill over his cheekbones and dot his shirt like stars. He didn’t want to worry Naomi more than he already had. He didn’t.

The pinkette took a sip of his hot chocolate while debating on setting his drink down to nab a churro. In the end, he ended up placing it on the desk while reaching forward to sneak a churro, biting it with a lofty hum. His tails wiggled in delight at the cinnamon flooding his mouth.

It was nice despite the sickness that pooled into his stomach, leaving his frame shivering despite it not being cold. His shoulders hunched into themselves as he shifted to stare up at the other, brows furrowing at the clear dark circles and the pale skin that accompanied them. “A, Are you alright peaches?” He wanted to stand up to run his fingers over the darkened circles, letting out a worried trill. He doubted he’d be able to get up without tumbling over, so he remained seated.

“Maybe you shouldn’t … come to the tournament? You need sleep—Besides! I’ll be fine on my own!” He didn’t want to explain why his arm looked like a cooked noodle that was left on the burner for too long. He didn’t need to worry peaches any more than he already had when Sebastian showed up, choking him until he saw stars. The worst part? Yuhwa let him do all those horrible things. It was natural. He was used to the sickening pain that left him reeling, falling deeper into his mind as a last resort to preserve what little sanity he had left.

He wanted to laugh. To drag a hand through his hair and tug, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He wasn’t that weak. He was still healing, but how much time would that take? Forever? He didn’t have forever. He sighed, hiding behind the cup of hot chocolate in hopes Naomi wouldn’t notice. He was barely keeping it together, already busting the seams that he was trying desperately to keep together.

He worried his bottom lip, light blue hues watching the other with furrowed eyebrows. He subtly noted there wasn’t a chill like there normally was. He was thankful, but didn’t? Yuhwa frowned. “You—” He paused. His shoulders hunched in on themselves as he nibbled on the churro. “You don’t have to stop using your abilities! I don’t want you to feel—” He sighed. I don’t want you to suffer because of me. He wanted to say but couldn’t get the words out other than the inaudible whine that slipped past parted lips ( Now? I can usually hold a conversation for two people! Of course, I’m delaying the inevitable. Just get it over with! ). He could deal with the coldness that wafted from Naomi. Naomi was home. Naomi would never hurt him, although he couldn’t say the same for himself. He was always reckless. The leader who lacked the will to live. It was in his nature to give it his all, even if it destroyed his entire being.

The pinkette made a quick note of the paint splotches that coated their body, head tilting with a questionable trill. Pretty like the stars. He thought with a tilt of his lips. Naomi was always pretty. Far prettier than Yuhwa and the pinkette would stand by that statement for eternity.

He let out an inaudible sigh, slouching forward until his forehead smacked the desk with an audible thump. “I’m sorry—This is all my fault.” He laughed weakly. He had set down the churro he had originally been snacking on to drag a hand through pink-hued locks. Yuhwa had fared a little better, having stayed up mostly until Mason and Aoi appeared, latching onto the two like his life depended on it. He always fared better sleeping soundlessly with the gentle rasp of someone’s breathing. It was odd, but it calmed him more than he realized. He grew used to listening to … his voice that sleeping without it was a nightmare. He was far more affected than he realized.

He glanced up from behind thick lashes, offering the other a shake of his head. “No! You aren’t—I just don’t think I can get through it without breaking down again.” He laughed wetly, tone wavering, unable to fight off the shiver that raced down the lengths of his spine. Naomi deserved an explanation. Peaches deserved to know how messed up he was. It was only fair if the other would have to deal ( he hoped peaches would never have to deal with something like that again ) with another one of his failed, miserable relationships.

He wasn’t ready to face it, but he couldn’t just sit and pretend as if nothing happened. Not anymore. “You aren’t stepping over anything! I promise! You deserve answers!” I hope you don’t look at me with disgust after this. He fiddled with his fingers, keeping tabs to hide his bandaged arm that was sure to bubble crimson against the pristine white.“You’re … special to me, so you’d find out, eventually.” He added, but it sounded broken, a far outcry from his bubbly tone that held so much life.

He wanted to hold on to something—anything to keep him grounded. “Ah—You're giving me too much credit. I’m just as replaceable as anyone else.” He laughed sheepishly. The male rubbed the back of his neck at the statement. Even if he were to die, he doubted many would grieve over his unfortunate death. He let out a nervous trill, rocking his legs, poorly attempted.

“Sebastian? The one that … showed up. We used to date? I’m not sure what we were exactly, I was so far into my head that I wasn’t … aware of what was happening. I wasn’t in the best place.” He chuckled, unwilling to look Naomi in the eye. “It was my fault, really.” He paused, unable to get the rest out with a choked mewl. He could barely say his lover’s name without breaking down.

He let out a wet laugh, reaching to grab the hot chocolate off the desk. He held the drink close to his chest. “Sorry! Sorry! It’s stupid! Don’t … Don’t worry too much, yeah? It’s not even that bad.” He worried the sensitive flesh of his bottom lip.

“I just lost someone that was my entire world. He was—” Yuhwa couldn’t get the words out, opting to shrug, laughing sheepishly. “Sebastian was a rebound as were,” Yuhwa shuffled, “a few others?” He huffed out a snort, reaching to press the cup against his forehead. “It’s stupid.” His shoulders slumped. “Sebastian wasn’t always bad.” Although Sebastian wasn’t always kind. The red-haired male found joy in watching Yuhwa break beneath his manipulative ways and bloodied fists, but Sebastian was far nicer than the others. He was a saint compared to them.

He worried his bottom lip, glancing up from behind the cup to stare at the other with owlish hues. “Are you alright? He didn’t … He didn’t hurt you, did he?” His gut churned at the thought. “I–I ruined your time at the cemetery, didn’t I?” His lips tilted into a wobbly grin. I’m sorry. I have a tendency to screw up everything, don’t I? Some leader I am. He thought bitterly.

thoughts speech​

♡coded by uxie♡