Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Move, move, move!"

I left the awful, deteriorating city of Nockfell when I was ten years old. It was worth it-- I've always said that. I had nothing in that town; the population went down each day and hell, it was starting to look like I'd die there too.

I had to leave all of my friends behind, but at least we kept in touch. I only had three friends, anyway. Being able to keep those three around meant more to me than the fear of moving to a bigger city. Nothing was scary as long as I had my few friends.

"I'm trying! This guy in front of me is being stupid!"

Moving didn't mean much at the time, but it did leave me very lonely. Both of my parents were and still are workaholics, so I grew up pretty alone. Well, I did until mom and dad got divorced.

I think mom was the driving force behind dad's need to work so much. She was a drama queen.

Dad and I live in the heart of Los Angeles now. We moved here from San Diego just last year. He has his normal job that makes enough-- otherwise we wouldn't be in such a big city-- but making enough isn't always... enough over here.

"Go around him maybe!?"

But I've learned to work around that. Dad has, too. I have a mediocre job at a diner to pay for expenses and to help with some at-home things.

After all, life in one of America's most famous-- and most expensive-- city's won't pay for itself.

"Shut up, Ash! Fuck, why won't this person just move!?"

Though, I wish there was something I could do to make more money. Something to give me more freedom instead of being cramped in dad and I's little apartment. Something easier than breaking my back for pissy customers that won't even tip.

Honestly, I want something easier for me and dad.

And still, I find myself sitting in front of the TV in my living room-- mint chocolate chip ice cream in my hand as I watch my childhood friend fuck shit up on her most recent Youtube video.

The best part about this small, suffocating apartment is that it's on one of the highest floors. Sure, I have quite the elevator ride to take when I come home and sometimes I'm late to work because I miscalculate the time it'll take me to get down to the bottom floor-- but it's so worth it.

Our balcony doors are cracked open, the curtains pulled away to show the busy streets of Los Angeles below. The city is a beauty, that's for sure. The sun and headlights are always reflecting off of the tall, glass buildings which make for quite the light show-- and I have free tickets.

Early morning light filters into my dim living room. A stray golden ray forms a rift in the drab darkness of the rest of the room, illuminating a stripe across the back of the couch, across my legs, and then all the way to the other end of the room. I take note of dust that seems to float on the small stream of light as I redirect my focus from the Youtube video that's currently playing.

This apartment can only get so dark. When I say dim, it's still pretty bright. Our apartment is like any modern apartment-- it's new and filled with neutral colors, making it seem bright and inviting. Our walls are an eggshell white color. Our furniture is a mix of beige and black fabric, never leather because dad hates the feeling of it. And any wooden furniture is black, as well as our carpet.

It's simple, modern, sleek. It's everything a Los Angeles resident could want.

Right?

"Dammit, Sally! You cost us that entire game!"

My best friend's shrill scream pulls my attention back to the television. I see her face in the bottom left corner, her brows furrowed and mouth wide open in a mixture of shock and anger. Her cheeks turn a rosy shade as she begins scolding the guy in the mask at the top right of the screen.

They're playing Call of Duty.

"All you had to do was move around the glitched dumbass, are you kidding me?" Ash bellows. "How long have you been playing this game? I thought you were the pro. Give me my fucking crown."

Sally Face, the guy in the mask, or as he calls it, a prosthetic, snorts into the microphone. His head bobs with laughter, showing that he finds Ash's anger quite amusing. "Ash, if I could have moved around the guy, I would have. I was glitched, too." He pushes a veiny hand through his pretty hair. "I will never revoke my crown."

Sally Face is confusing in my brain. He has unnatural, bright cerulean hair. It's fluffy and full of layers, creating a pretty interesting texture to accompany the fringe that always hangs over his prosthetic.

His style is a contrast to his blue hair— dark, mainly all black clothing. He's always wearing either a plethora of different necklaces or just one that no one has ever seen before. He has chipped, black nail polish— no matter how many times he streams, it's always the same. I've never seen a fresh coat on his nails.

My favorite, and undoubtedly the most distracting, part about him happens to be the rings and bracelets he wears. He has plenty, much like his necklaces. Most times, Sally Face is wearing the same wrap-around snake ring with a black finish and a silver one with unique carvings and a garnet gem. He has a ton of cute fan-made bracelets that say different things, like "Cogito Ergo Sum" and "SF."

And he has this accent, a very attractive one. It's not too strong and I can't put my finger on what kind of accent it is, but I find myself holding onto his every word. There's just something about the way he articulates certain sounds.

Not like I'd admit it, but sometimes I rewind a YouTube video just to hear the way he says "water" or "coffee" again.

Is that down bad-ish of me?

Larry catches my attention, effectively dragging me back to earth from my simping thoughts. His face is in the top left corner of the screen; he pinches his lips together and shakes his head. "Will you two stop bickering? It's just a game," he says, shifting in his chair to get into a more comfortable position.

"Who stole Larry? Because you are not him," Todd's voice cuts in just as Larry finishes speaking. His face is in the bottom right corner. "You're supposed to be the shit-starter, not the shit-stopper," Todd continues, chuckling.

Larry snorts. "Maybe I'm just feeling different today. Ever thought of that, Todd? Huh?"

"You guys are insufferable," Ash scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. She leans back in her chair, showing off her headset. It's super cute with little cat ears that change colors. "I'm taking away friend rights. I'm all for y/n now."

I perk up at the mention of my name. She never talks about me online-- not that I blame her. We agreed to pretty much keep our friendship private.

"Awe, come on, Ash," Larry whines, pouting at the camera. "We have to share y/n, and besides, we love you. You have to take care of us, mom," he jokes.

"Y/n is mine, thank you very much," Ash chirps, smiling wickedly. "And, for your information, I am not your mother so I can very easily dip out of your life."

"Fuck, it's like my dad all over again," Larry says. Everyone is silent, suddenly afraid to say a word as Larry's dad is a sore subject. But Larry starts giggling at his own joke.

"Stop making fun of such a serious situation, Larry," Todd says, holding back little giggles. "I'll go to hell if I laugh. Don't do this to me."

"Ash practically set up the entire joke, Larry just took advantage of the opportunity," Sally Face says, a pretty chuckle leaving his mouth. "But anyway, who's y/n?"

"Oh, shit." Ash slaps a hand over her mouth. "I completely forgot that I mentioned her. I was hoping I'd keep her a secret forever."

I tilt my head, my eyes narrowing as I watch the screen. All four of their characters are idle in the game lobby as they chat with each other.

Shoving a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth, I start to wonder if Ash, Larry, and Todd just... never bothered to mention me to Sally.

As far as I know, Sally Face moved to Nockfell long after I left. He became friends with my friends but I never met him. I never spoke to him. I had heard of him, but I just never bothered to reach out and get to know him.

Just two years ago, at the ripe ages of 21 and 22, the four of them decided to try streaming as a way to make money since there were only so may job opportunities in Nockfell. And wouldn't you know, the group went viral almost immediately.

Larry and Todd are the clowns, Ash is the pretty one with a temper, and Sally Face is the mysterious asshole. Viewers want a face reveal from him so bad and that's exactly why he became the most popular streamer out of the four.

Larry and Todd have about two million subscribers and followers, Ash is nearing 2.5 million, and Sally is at a whopping 3.5 million. They're pretty big.

So, my favorite pass-time is getting to watch all of them play. But today's video is extra spicy.

"We were so busy gatekeeping y/n that we couldn't even tell Sally?" Todd asks, a bit confused. "You know, now that I'm thinking about it-- I really don't think we ever mentioned her."

Larry hums, looking off to the side as he thinks. He chews on his bottom lip, tapping his finger against the armrest of his chair. "I've thought it out," he mumbles after a few moments. "I have no recollection of ever mentioning y/n."

Ash laughs shortly, shaking her head with a soft smile. "Damn. I guess we did a good job at keeping her a secret then."

Sally groans, leaning closer so we can clearly see his left eye in the screen. It's the most striking blue color I think I've ever seen. "Who the fuck is y/n?" He whispers, the microphone right against his prosthetic as he says it. This makes the whisper sound like a scream and, as a result, the other three jump in surprise.

"You don't get to know y/n, she's ours," Larry jokes, sticking his tongue out to tease Sally.

"Okay, fine." Sally backs up, his pretty hands gripping onto the armrests of his chair. He's wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt and a chain around his neck. His nails are painted black and multiple rings adorn his fingers— as per usual. "But is she hot?"

I choke on my bite of ice cream, spluttering pale green all over my dad's black carpet. The thought of staining his beloved carpet doesn't even cross my mind as I stare at the screen with wide eyes, watching as Sally Face waits patiently for his friends to recover from their surprised laughter.

"What's so funny?" Sally asks calmly, electric eyes flitting back and forth across the screen.

Larry takes a deep breath, one last laugh leaving him as he places a hand on his heart. "Bro, I can't even lie. I had the biggest crush on her whenever I knew her. She left a couple years before you came along." Larry winces, like he's just remembering that his millions of viewers will be seeing this video-- including me. "Sorry if you're watching this, y/n. I promise I'm over it but anyone can see that you're hot." He shrugs, winking at the camera.

I let out an obnoxious laugh, a smile forming on my lips as I continue watching. Larry has always been hilarious, though I never knew he had a crush on me.

Todd closes his left eye, a little quirk of his. He always does this when he's thinking. "Well," he sighs, tapping his index finger against his arm. "She's beautiful, I'll say that. But I'm gay, so like, I'm not Larry. I've never wanted to fuck her. Unlike someone, apparently."

Larry shoots forward, a serious expression on his face as he starts yelling out to defend himself. "Fuck off, Todd! I never said I wanted to fuck her, I just said I had a crush on her! She's hot!"

This has gotten a bit crazy. When I sat down to watch this video after Ash begged me to put it on earlier, I expected to giggle a bit and relax on my one off-day of the week. I didn't expect to be hearing about famous streamers, who are also my friends, wanting to dick me down.

I feel like I've just worked a double shift.

I place my melting carton of ice cream on the wooden floor at the foot of the couch, my eyes never straying from the TV screen as I watch Larry and Todd bicker.

Ash and Sally watch, seemingly just as horrified as I am.

After a couple seconds, Larry runs a hand down his face, sighing as he listens to Todd get a good laugh out of the situation.

"Okay," Sally awkwardly drags out the word. "So we have one vote for hot, one vote for beautiful. What's your opinion of the mysterious y/n, Ash?"

Ash hums, smiling brightly. "I vote both. Y/n is the hottest and most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Sally Face nods his head and I smile. Ash has always been so kind to me, though I think she, Larry, and Todd are hyping my looks up a bit too much. I'm not the hottest or the most beautiful.

"So the important question now, Ash, is would you fuck y/n?" Sally asks. What a dick.

I scoff at the screen, scrunching my face up. He knows that we're all close, clearly. Todd and Larry joking with each other about his crush is all in good fun, but the tone in Sally's voice shows that he's trying to start shit.

Ash narrows her eyes, "Yes, actually, I would."

I pause the video, my smile so wide that it genuinely hurts. I debate calling Ash for a moment just to give her a little smooch through the phone and tell her how much I love her. But I can always call her later. There's only two minutes left of the video anyway.

Larry chortles, Todd following with a very similar sign of amusement.

Sally nods, humming again. "Okay. Two points for hot, two points for beautiful. Those ratings are pretty good."

He pauses, lifting a hand and suddenly waving them off dismissively. "But you guys have terrible taste, so I doubt she lives up to the hype you guys gave her."

What the fuck did he just say?

I shoot up into a sitting position, scooting toward the edge of the couch with my jaw dragging along the fabric. Did I hear that correctly?

Sally looks into the camera. I feel like he's staring me directly in the eye, a sarcastic and cocky look in his gaze as he says, "Sorry, Y/n Whoever-You-Are."

Come again?

Chapter Text

Standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I hold my glasses out in front of me, using the light fixture above to see any smudges on the lenses.

Frowning, I pull my sleeve over my hand and wipe the left lens, then lift it up to the light again.

No matter what I do, they can never be smudge-free.

I don't normally wear my glasses-- they're a last resort-- but I'm out of contacts and I don't have the money to get more. So these will have to do for now.

I'm startled out of my minor frustration by the sound of Sally Face's reverberating laugh in the living room. His video must have played randomly because one of Ash's old Youtube videos was playing just minutes ago.

The sound of his laugh, no matter how beautiful it may be, makes me want to punch a hole through my wall. Makes me want to stomp my foot like a child. Throw my TV over the balcony.

It makes me want to physically release all of the hurt he's caused-- but, it shouldn't hurt this much. It's not like I ever really got to know the guy, his words shouldn't affect me.

It must hurt more because he's hot.

Sighing at myself, I walk back into the living room, fixing the frames of my glasses on my face until they feel comfortable. It's nice to see clearly.

My phone begins ringing, making irritation flare up within me again. I pause, pinching my lips together as I make a b-line for my kitchen, snatching my phone off of the counter.

I've spent my morning watching Ash kick ass at Among Us, joined by Larry, Todd, and unfortunately, Sally Face. So, to say the least, I've had mixed feelings. I've caught myself staring at Sally Face's hands every few minutes and I have to snap myself out of looking any harder. Everywhere his hands go, my eyes follow.

When he runs his veiny hand through his soft-looking cerulean hair, fixing his fringe. Or when he loses a game and leans back in his chair, huffing out a breath and throwing his arms behind his head. It always gives me a pretty view of his neck, showing off light scars on his jaw.

And my favorite part of that losing position of his? It definitely has to be the tattoo of a shattered sword on the side of his neck. Every glimpse of it makes my mouth water and I forget to fight the losing battle of doing my best to fucking look away.

I bite my bottom lip, groaning in aggravation as I finally answer my phone. Lifting it to my ear, I answer with a harsh, "Hello?" as I push the bridge of my glasses up my nose.

"Damn! Someone piss in your cheerios this morning, y/n?" It's Ash, and she's as chirpy as ever.

It's not her fault Sally Face is a prick.

Sighing, I put the tips of my fingers on my forehead and close my eyes, "Yea, babe," I murmur sarcastically. "The pisser in question happens to be your awful excuse of a friend."

I hear Ash suck in a quick breath before she hisses, a clear sign that she forgot all about the crappy things Sally Face said in her last video. "True..." she forces out, her voice delicate, soft, and quiet. Like she thinks she's in trouble.

"Seriously," I say, pacing the tiled floors of my kitchen. "Where the hell did you find this guy?"

Ash smacks her lips on the other end of the line. "Well," she starts gently. She stays quiet as a little mewl filters through the phone call.

I furrow my brows, pausing my pacing. "Did you get a cat?" I ask. Ash is definitely a cat person, but I never expected her to actually get one.

"Um," her voice quivers. "Not exactly--"

I can hear another muffled voice in the background, but I can't make out what the person says. Then, there's shuffling and crackling. I tilt my head confusedly as a quiet and distressed, "Hey!" can be heard from my friend.

Is Ash seeing someone?

"Well, if it isn't the infamous y/n!"

My eyes widen and my phone almost slips out of my hands.

"I've heard that you watch our videos. I'm sure you're pretty livid about what I said during our last Call of Duty stream, and everyone agrees that I owe you an apology." Sally Face's pompous, attractive voice has me in a chokehold. I stay quiet, waiting for him to continue-- for something to happen. Hopefully, Ash just takes her phone back.

His voice sounds similar to his videos, but it's a little different hearing him in real time over a phone call.

To say the least, there's a blush on my cheeks and I'm unsure of whether I should hear him out or not.

I release a shuddering breath in response to staying as stiff as a board and previously refusing to breathe-- and to that, Sally chuckles. "But I literally have nothing to apologize for. All I'm doing is speaking the truth. I'm sure you understand, right, y/n?" He says.

My eyes narrow for a fraction of a second as an annoyed smile quirks my lips. This asshole doesn't deserve my time and he sure as hell doesn't deserve my attention.

Instead of entertaining his bullying, I laugh. It's not the prettiest, but it surely is the most psychotic laugh to ever leave my lips. I'm sure he catches my drift at first, but he only laughs back.

It's a beautiful sound. Regardless, it matches the chaos that I put into my own laugh, so it shuts me up immediately. His laugh falls off into a sigh. "Nice talking to you. Hopefully this is the last time. You've left me pretty unimpressed. So, here's Ash!"

I stand still, silent and fuming as Ash's voice suddenly grows louder. Sounds like she's bitching at Sally, and rightfully so. I hear a string of cuss words and growls-- the best that a human can do, of course-- leave her lips before she finally picks up the phone with a huff.

"I'm so sorry," she starts breathlessly. "I have no fucking clue what his problem is. He's normally... honestly... a pretty quiet guy."

I snort, unamused as I wiggle my nose to adjust my glasses-- damn these things-- and answer Ash. "I'm sure he's quiet. Oh, yea. That's completely believable." I say sarcastically.

A quiet guy? That is the most bullshit claim I have ever heard in my life. Sally Face is rotten to the core, a bully, and downright disrespectful. He can be as beautiful as he wants; that doesn't make up for his shit personality. "Put him on a fucking leash." I seethe.

Ash sighs, and then a door closes in the background. "Yea, I've been thinking about buying a muzzle for Christmas. Once was already enough, but twice is really getting out of line."

It's quiet for a moment. I don't know what to do or say.

Clearly, Ash and I are on the same page when it comes to Sally's behavior. Doesn't make it right, but at least I'm not alone.

"Anyway," she says sweetly. "I called you to ask how you're doing? We text all the time but I haven't called in like a week. You know I have to hear your voice at least once a week or I'll lose my mind."

I giggle at her statement, starting to feel a little better. Sally can't dictate my feelings anyway. "I'm doing okay, Ash. I'm about to head to work though." Speaking of, I grab my uniform from the kitchen counter and start making my way to my bathroom. "Need to put food on the table."

Ash hums in agreement. "Is the money thing getting easier? Maybe you should look for a different job, y/n. That diner doesn't deserve you."

I shrug, a bit bashful. Ash is the only person I've ever talked to about me and dad's financial problems. "The diner really isn't bad, Ash. They're good to me. I'm just... underpaid."

"So you're still in the same boat?" She sighs helplessly.

"I mean... pretty much," I wince as I admit the obvious. I hate making people worry about me, but I can't lie to my best friend. "If I had more job opportunities, I'd take it. I want to make more money. Dad deserves it. I'd like to get a paycheck, pay all my bills and shop, and not have to cry over my empty bank account once it's all done. You know?"

"Oh, I know, babe. Do you want me to send a couple hundred over? You know I don't mind." Ash generously offers, much like she does anytime we talk about money.

I decline immediately. "No, Ash. That was a one time thing. I still greatly appreciate it, but I was really in a mess that time. I'm a lot more careful now. But thank you, I appreciate it so much. You have no idea." I panic a bit, word-vomit seeping from my mouth before I can stop it.

"Of course," she says. I can almost hear the worry and frown in her voice. It's quiet for a bit before she speaks again, this time her words are a little more enthusiastic. "Why don't you start streaming?"

I'd never considered it before. When I think of making more money, a college degree comes to mind. It opens up a world full of opportunities that I can choose from. I can live and work and just be. But college isn't in the near future either, especially because I don't have the money for it.

But streaming could get me more money right now. You know, if I were to go viral and gain some traction, that is.

In reality, it's a gamble. But the good thing is that I won't lose anything just by trying.

"Do you really think I could, Ash?" I ask, holding my phone to my left ear with both hands.

A fresh wave of hope-- of excitement-- that I haven't felt in a few years makes my heart race.

Doing something like this makes me nervous. Being so well known. Having people recognize me. Knowing that I'll have to live up to certain standards with people watching my every move and judging every little bit of me is horrifying.

But it's an opportunity to make a difference in my life. I think it might be worth it.

"Of course you can do it, y/n! And you will! You're talented, you love games, and you are gorgeous. I know I haven't seen a picture of you since you were, like, seventeen-- but you can only get prettier. The looks are a plus, but your personality in general is so kind. The world will love you." Ash's voice is so melodic and excited as she speaks. It really starts to excite me too.

I do love games, but my personality isn't that amazing. It could be better. It needs... a lot of improvement. But Ash thinks I'll do well, so it can't be that bad. But my looks? That's different.

"Okay," I say softly. Ash squeals immediately, but I cut her off. "I don't want my government name on the internet though. And I don't want anyone to see my face." I pause, biting my lip and pacing across my living room floor. "Can we do that?"

"Of course we can! You'll be just like Sally Face--"

"Don't even get me started on that fucking guy," I bite out, feeling my face grow hot with rage all over again.

"You're right-- I'm sorry," Ash says, but she's still as excited as she was moments ago. "We need to get you on social media. You'll have to create a new, separate email account that can't be traced back to you with your name or anything. And then we'll make a Twitch account for you and finally get you on Discord!" Ash takes a deep breath, a happy squeal leaving her once again.

I laugh, trying to fight off the huge smile on my face when my cheeks start to hurt. But I'm just as excited, so I don't fight too hard. "We'll do all of that," I tell her, holding my phone to my ear with my shoulder as I start to shimmy out of my sweatpants. I reach over for my stockings and ugly red skirt, starting to put them on. "What name should I go by?"

"Hm," Ash starts thinking. "Well, how have you been feeling lately? I find that creative nouns can sometimes be pretty good names."

One word comes to mind. And the instigator of that feeling is the one and only Sally Face.

"Violent," I say immediately. "I've been feeling violent."

Ash is quiet for a moment. "Ooooookay," she says softly, her tone a little odd. She seems to shake off my noun, as she put it, and asks me another question. "What about colors? What color do you like?"

Shrugging, I pull my phone from my ear and place it on my bathroom counter, putting the call on speaker. I take my glasses off and lay them next to my phone. "I mean... I like purple? I guess? Like, if I had to pick."

My uniform shirt is all black with the diner's logo on the left. It's probably one of the ugliest uniform's I've ever had to wear in my life. But what am I gonna do about it, right? Like always, I pull the shirt over my head and tuck it into my skirt.

"So purple and violent. Purple. Violent..." Ash mumbles to herself. I smile at the way she works through things.

"I've got it!" She says after a moment, her excitement becoming apparent once again. "Violet Violence! It sounds so badass and it totally sets you up with a nickname! It's perfect."

I tilt my head, mulling over the name. It is pretty cool. I like it. "Cool," I chirp as I pull my hair into a low ponytail. "I love it! Thanks, Ash."

"Anytime, honey bunny! What time do you get off of work?" She asks.

I check the time on my phone. It's ten thirty in the morning and my shift starts at eleven. "I won't be back until late." I frown. "We may have to wait to set everything up until next Tuesday."

I really don't want to wait, but my shifts leave me exhausted. It's just... going to have to wait.

"Hear me out, then," Ash says, her voice telling me she's a little nervous but insanely excited nonetheless. "I can create all of your new accounts for you, make a list of every platform that you're on, then send you all of those accounts and your usernames and passwords?"

My heart swells with love. Ash is just so sweet, and I'm so thankful to have such a wonderful friend like her. I don't know what I did to deserve this friendship, but I certainly will never give it up. I'm so incredibly grateful for this.

"That would mean the world to me, Ash," I breathe. "Are you really okay with doing that?"

"Of course, I am," she says sweetly. "I'd do anything for you. And either way, it's just creating the accounts. When you have some free time, you can set them up and organize them however you want. We can link your bank accounts to them. And then you and I can start streaming together!"

"Ash, you'd stream with me?" I ask quietly, my heart ready to burst through my chest at this point. If I stream with Ash, it's likely that I'll really start gaining a fanbase out of this.

"Well, duh! I wouldn't tell you to start streaming if you'd be doing it without me."

I laugh softly, shaking my head. "Of course you wouldn't. Thank you so fucking much, Ash. You have no idea how much this means to me. I really love you."

"Awe!" Ash coos. "I love you more! I can't wait to start working with you, my dearest friend!"

I smile, tears welling in my eyes. I can't tell if it's because I'm excited or just so touched, but there's a little bit of both for sure. "I look forward to working with you, babe. But, hey, in the meantime, I really have to go." It takes me a few minutes to get to work and I'd rather get there early.

"Oh, shoot! Yea, I'll talk to you later and update you on all your social media," Ash says as I grab my bag and walk out of my door, closing and locking it behind me.

"Alright, sounds good and thanks again!" I grin as I start speed-walking to the elevators. "Love you!"

"I love you more, gorgeous!" Ash squeals, making a kissing sound before she swiftly hangs up.

I walk to work with a huge smile on my face, feeling like my entire life is about to take a major turn.

Maybe I'm just getting my hopes up, but I know that Ash makes plenty of money from streaming. More than anything, I hope I'm able to do the same. I want to be able to make more for Dad and I. If I can make more money, Dad wouldn't have to work so much or as hard. Making he could get a different job that doesn't require so much of his time.

We could be content.

I skip into the back of the diner, grabbing my apron and setting my bag down. I tie my apron on then get to work even though I am early. There's no point in just staring at my phone-- I have no real friends other than Ash, Larry, and Todd anyway.

I walk to the front of the diner, where everyone is being seated. There's a group of girls that walk in-- four of them. They're dressed in dark colors with beautiful makeup. My eyes follow them as they take a seat in one of the full areas.

My coworker is rushing around the area; she has three big parties and a few other tables. To say the least, she's filled to the brim.

"Hey, Tess," I say, walking up to my coworker and gently grabbing her shoulder. "I'll take the new group since my shift hasn't started yet."

Tessa turns around, her eyes wide and thankful. "Are you sure, y/n?" She asks, wringing her hands nervously. We're packed today.

"Yea, I don't mind." I shrug, smiling at her. She thanks me a couple more times before rushing over to another table.

I start making my way to the group of four girls that previously walked in, taking my notepad out so I can write their orders.

As I get closer though, I accidentally hear what they're talking about.

"Yea, Sally has just been in a mood lately. Have you noticed? Like I feel bad for that poor y/n girl who had to face his wrath. That was messed up..." One girl says, frowning as she flips through her menu.

Another girl straightens her posture, intrigued by the topic. "Why do you think that could be? Like maybe he does know y/n personally and he's just not admitting to it? Maybe she did something really messed up."

I wince, debating on whether I should turn around and give this group to someone else. This isn't the day for me to be worrying about Sally. Seriously.

I haven't even started streaming yet and I'm already known by... quite a majority of the population.

I'm not sure how that makes me feel.

As I stand there, a couple feet away, I hear another girl in the group speak.

"What about Ash, Larry, and Todd though? They've known this girl for so long and never said anything about her. Maybe Sally's upset about that. I mean, they're supposed to be best friends and now there's someone else they never talked about before," she says. "I don't really blame him for being upset."

Sucking in a breath, I hold it and puff out my cheeks. That fiery rage I felt earlier comes back full force. Maybe these girls will never know that I'm the actual y/n, but I can sure as hell show them that I'm a nice person.

With newfound determination, I walk up to their table and click my pen, smiling sweetly at the girls. "Hey, everyone!" I say cheerfully. "My name's y/n and I'll be your server. Can I start you off with any drinks?"

I look around the group, watching the girl who sided with Sally choke on her words for a minute before she shakes herself out of shock.

They each give me their orders and I walk away, hearing one of the girls whisper, "It's like a fucking sign, Kaci. Stop fucking around with the universe and saying that poor y/n girl wasn't innocent."

I smirk to myself. I've never understood how satisfying scaring the shit out of someone can be-- but I understand it now.

The rest of my shift goes by pretty smoothly, and I get a text from Ash later in the night. She sent me my new email account and a ton of usernames and passwords with their specific platform to go with it. I texted her a quick thank you then got back to work.

Unfortunately, I wake up the next morning at six to be at work for eight. It's my least favorite shift of the week, but it's the shift that gets me the most money.

I lay in bed for longer than I should, staring at my phone screen and scrolling through Twitter.

My hands tighten around my phone and I narrow my eyes when I come across a post by Sally Face. I forget that before I found out that he's a dick, I was actually a fan of his. I wasn't a huge fan, but I did frequently watch and like his videos. And I also follow him on every social media platform.

His post is a retweet. Some other big influencer who apparently wants to meet Sally Face soon. Told him to come to... Los Angeles.

I snort at the tweet, rolling my eyes. Sally Face can stay the everliving fuck out of my city.

With a grunt, I lift myself out of bed and get ready for the day, running all the way to work just in time-- a singular minute before my shift starts.

I almost decided to call in sick. But money is needed...

It's an aggravating and slow shift. I guess I can be thankful for the slow part, but all of my customers have been either flirty or assholes. I'm not into either of those.

Not to mention, someone put Michael Bublé on-- no hate to the man, his music just doesn't help the men who can't stop staring at any woman who enters the diner.

It's around lunch time when another coworker, Michael, stops me and asks if I can take over the one customer who just walked in and over to his side of the diner. I had just dropped off a meal when he ran up, begging me.

"Listen, y/n-- I hate to drop this on you but my girlfriend got a flat tire on the highway. I need to go help her. Can you take the guy who just sat down on my side? There's only one other table and Tessa has them. Please, can you cover for me?"

I blink, my mouth opening. No words come out at first. I'm tired of working and tired of these horrible customers today, but I don't mind helping my coworkers. So I nod with a small smile. "Yea, I've got it. Don't worry!"

"Thank you so much, y/n. I owe you!" he says before rushing out of the front door. Poor guy is in such a rush that he didn't even bother leaving through that back.

With a sigh, I walk across the diner to the booth farthest in the back on Michael's side. The person is in a black hoodie, facing away from me. It doesn't really strike me as odd; I'm an observer and many different types of people walk into this diner. If I could bury myself in a hoodie all day, I would.

When I get a little closer, I notice just what kind of hoodie they have on.

It's Larry's merch.

I quicken my footsteps, a little more excited to serve this person now. There's more pep in my step at the reminder of my friend. I'll have to text Larry later and let him know about this.

As I'm walking up right behind the person, I say, "Hey, I love your hoodie! Larry is one of my favorites."

The person is quiet as I walk closer. Only a quiet "Uh, thanks." coming from them.

There have been many moments in my life when I start questioning what I did to deserve some things. Those things could be good or bad-- either way, they always fill me with a special type of dread. A dread of having to handle the moment, or a dread of inevitable bad consequences in the future.

As I lay my eyes on bright cerulean hair and an expressionless prosthetic to match, I realize that I'm feeling both types of dread that I just mentioned.

I pause, my eyes widening as my stomach nearly drops out of my ass. I stare forward into the eyeholes of his prosthetic. He looks everywhere but at me-- my only guess is that he doesn't want to be recognized.

He doesn't want to be recognized and he's just realized that he may be fucked.

What in the fuck is he doing here?

"You've got to be shitting me." I spit out, my voice shaking as I try to wrap my mind around the sudden influx of information. Trying to process the fact that Sally Face is sitting in front of me as my customer is a tough task.

I feel like I'm dreaming, like this is some fucked up nightmare. Did I get drugged? Is this some kind of chaotic alternate universe that I've been transported into?

Sally's bright blue eyes meet mine, a hint of nervousness in the depths of his gaze. "Um, excuse me?" He asks softly in response to my rude statement, tilting his head down.

I blink at him as my brain finally starts to fucking work. "Uh," I say intellectually at first, going silent for a moment.

He can't find out who I am. He'd have my head. Hell, he might go as far as to get me fired. I have to do anything in my power to just get this over with and move on as quickly as I can.

This is bound to blow up in my face later.

"Sorry, uh," I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. I also slap a hand over my name tag. "I'm just... surprised. My bad. My name is... Lexi. I'll be your, uh, server. Can I get you something to drink?" I ask, doing my best to ignore the fact that someone famous is directly in front of me-- someone famous who hates my fucking guts.

"Er, yea," Sally replies, his voice taking on the smug tone that I'm more used to. "I'll take a water, thanks."

I push my glasses farther up my nose then awkwardly give him a thumbs up before disappearing into the back.

My eyes widen all over again as I start taking deep breaths, fumbling through my bag to pull out my phone and call Ash. How could she not have told me he was coming to LA? I feel betrayed-- worst of all, I'm fucking mortified. I only have so long to talk to Ash before this quick water trip gets suspicious.

But what's the point of calling Ash? I already have to pretend I'm a random stranger and go through with this whole thing anyway. Not only that, if I tell anyone about this, it could very well get out. Ash might accidentally spill the beans and I don't even want to think about the chaos that would cause.

With a frustrated and horrified groan, I throw my phone back into my bag and pull my name tag off too. Then, I run off and fill a glass of whatever before slowly and nervously walking back over to Sally Face.

I put his glass down in front of him, all while avoiding eye contact. I pull out my notepad and look down at it as I ask, "Do you want any appetizers or do you already know what you want?"

"Not quite yet," he says politely, shocking me. "But can I ask you a few questions? You can... sit down, too. If you want."

I look up at him, wide-eyed once again. Is he fucking serious? How do I even answer this?

"Um." I point a thumb behind me. "I have more customers to take care of. Sorry." I smile sheepishly.

He tilts his head slightly then leans back in his seat, peeking over to look at my side of the dining area. "But, it's empty over there," he says.

My eyes bug out of my head as I whip my body around to look at my section of the diner. Sure enough, he is correct. Unfortunately.

I turn back to him with a nervous smile. "Oh," is all I say.

Through the eyeholes of his prosthetic, his baby blue eyes squint like he's smiling. I hate myself for blushing at the idea of it.

"It won't be long, I promise. I just don't know much about LA and you seem nice enough. Nervous, but nice." He chuckles, the beautiful sound sending a shock through my entire body.

Instead of saying anything at first, I just slide into the other side of the booth and plaster on a fake smile, willing away the blush on my cheeks. "Sorry for being so nervous," I spit out. Can I shut up for once? "I, uh, just..."

Sally lifts a hand, waving me off. "Ah, don't worry about it. Your reaction told me that you know me. You haven't screamed my name or anything though, so I trust that you'll keep me company and keep my appearance under wraps."

I swallow thickly, staring at him as I nod.

His hypnotizing eyes are set on the table in front of him, his elbows resting on the edge of said table. He has one hand flat on the wood and the other lifted up, playing around with a napkin.

I can smell him from here. It's a tantalizing mix of some kind of cologne. Spice, musk, definitely bergamot. Leather. That's all mixed with a delicious natural scent that he carries and I'm left mesmerized.

More than anything, I'm wishing I never sat down.

My gaze strays to his veiny hands, noting the plethora of black and silver rings on his fingers and his chipped black nail polish. Every time he moves his fingers, the veins and tendons in his hand shift, creating some kind of movement that has me sucking in a breath. I look away just in time for him to push the hood off his head, giving me a full view of his shoulder length, unnaturally colored hair.

"So," his voice is gentle, dominant. Slightly deep, not too deep, and raspy. Addicting. "I'm here for business. Wish I had more time to tour the town, but I don't. This is my only free day, and I only have a couple hours. Any recommendations on what I should do?" He asks.

Sally pushes a hand through his hair, ruffling it around and, thus, giving me a perfect view of the tattoo on the side of his neck. That shattered sword that silently speaks numbers. It may just be some ink to other people, but I see something more.

He's too fucking hot.

I break my gaze away from him. "The Broad," I murmur. "I'm not sure if you like art, but it's an interesting place regardless."

When I have the time, I stop by Los Angeles' museums every once in a while. So far, The Broad has been my favorite. It's so different and unique. I've never seen anything quite like it.

"It's a museum, I presume?" he asks. I look over; his head is tilted down, but his eyes are on me.

"Ah, yea. Contemporary art. It's very different, but a good different." I shrug, struggling to find a place to look. I keep looking back at him, but then I grow nervous and look away-- all to look back at him again.

His presence has a horrifying effect on me.

Sally hums, his eyes squinting to show his smile again as he says. "Okay. And, Lexi, right?"

Nervous shivers terrorize my body and I break out in a cold sweat, doing my best to hold up a fake smile for him. "Yes?"

He hesitates, then knocks my damn socks off. "What... what kind of music do you like, Lexi?"

I gape at him. Is he trying to make casual conversation with me? I thought he just wanted some basic information about LA. What does he think he'll get out of this?

"Um," I whisper shakily. "I like just about anything. Rock is on my list of favorite genres, though."

Sally nods thoughtfully, letting out a little huff. "I like rock, too. I wouldn't play guitar otherwise, honestly."

I've heard him mention before that he plays guitar. He's never played for his fans and never showed anyone his guitar, but he doesn't mind talking about it.

I nod back, smiling lightly. "Yea. Slow songs on guitars just aren't the same as rock songs on a guitar."

"Exactly!" He exclaims, "I've been trying to learn some Atreyu lately."

So he has taste. I perk up. "Oh, yea. That's a good one, for sure. What's your favorite song by them?"

Sally scoffs, stretching his arm across the table. His fingertips are an inch away from me and I find myself gulping down all of the fuzzy feelings the sight of his hands evokes within me. This interaction is making me dislike him a lot less. "Bleeding Mascara. That's the song I'm learning at the moment, actually."

Giggling, I reply. "That's my favorite song by them, too."

I look harder at his hand, noting what looks like a marker line or something peeking out from under the sleeve of his hoodie. The mark just barely reaches the back of his hand, but not quite. It must be around his wrist--

As if he can tell what's running through my head, Sal lifts the sleeve of his hoodie and reveals a gorgeous sleeve of geometric DD Verba style tattoos on his arm. There are a lot of different sharp lines and boxes. A pretty compass, The Thinking Man sculpture, aligning planets, and a medieval knight in armor. It's quite a canvas of ink, but a beautiful one that just makes sense. It fits him so incredibly well.

"Wow," I whisper breathlessly, leaning a hand forward. I pull it back immediately when I realize what I'm doing, petrified by my thoughtless movements. Hey, y/n-- remember this guy wants your head on a stick, yea?

Sally closes his hand into a fist, flipping his arm over to show the underside of it and the other side of his sleeve. "It's okay, you can touch," he says.

His closed fist makes his veins protrude through his surprisingly toned arms. I expected him to be pretty lanky, but it seems that he must work out or something.

I pinch my lips together, hesitantly lifting my hand and bringing it closer to his arm. I lightly run the tip of my index finger over the inside of his wrist, tracing the outline of a planet.

Sally flinches, pulling his hand back a bit. I look up, eyes widening slightly as I curse to myself. "Sorry," I say quickly. "I didn't--"

"No, it's not you," he says kindly, uncurling his fist and pulling his sleeve back down. "My wrist is just a sensitive area, I guess."

He seems confused as he explains, flexing his hand on the table for a moment before hiding it out of my sight.

"Y/n! You've got one!"

My blood runs cold when my name cuts through the air. I do my best to hold a straight face as the air shifts at the table. Sally tsks under his breath, mumbling, "Creepy coincidence." Then, he tilts his head at me and asks, "Any recommendations from the menu here?"

I have to play everything off extra well now. He genuinely has something against me. Just the sound of my name ticked him off. What the hell did I ever do to him?

I pray that I can hold off. Hopefully someone just picks up the person on my side.

"The Southern Chicken Sandwich is pretty good," I say with a barely held together grin plastered on my face.

Sally's eyes squint in a smile again. "Cool, I'll go with that then. Thanks for keeping me company too. You can stay longer, if you'd like."

I do my best not to suddenly choke. Fuck, this is crazy.

Before I can say anything, the chef yells again.

"Y/n, get your ass over here! You've got one, dammit!"

My eye twitches and I struggle to hold myself together as I watch the customer standing at the front of the diner out of the corner of my eyes.

Like the intelligent human vessel I am, I put a hand over my mouth and say, "Huh, I wonder where y/n is. She was here earlier." Sally stays quiet. "I should probably pick up her customers or look for her. Sorry, give me a few." I continue, shooting Sally Face a shitty excuse of a happy smile.

"Oh, yea. That's fine," he says sweetly, leaning back in his seat. "Before you go though, by any chance, do you know if... y/n... has a friend named Ash? Like, the Ash I play with?"

I cackle unceremoniously, waving Sally off. His eyes widen in surprise. "Oh, no. If she knew Ash personally, I promise I would be the first one to know! Y/n and I are like besties!"

Sally nods slowly, "Ah, okay." He chuckles awkwardly. "Good to know."

"Ha, yea," I say, nodding back. "Well, I'll put your order in and check out those customers and then I'll be back."

I scurry away before Sally can say anything else or stop me. What a fucking day. And it still isn't anywhere near over.

I seat my customer, take their drink order, then run over to the chef to put in Sally Face's order.

"Where the hell you been?" He asks gruffly, a disapproving frown on his face.

I have no excuse. So I shrug, wincing as I do and just smiling awkwardly.

The chef grunts, waving his spatula in the air in aggravation. "Just pick up the damn pace, girl." is all he says before I'm rushing over to grab my new customer's drink.

I drop off their drink, take their order, put that in, then make my way over to Sally again but with his sandwich this time.

"Sorry for the wait," I murmur, placing the sandwich down in front of him.

"No worries, Lexi." I grimace at the fake name. "I have plenty of time."

I don't know how many more fake smiles I can slap on my face today, especially in front of Sally Face. I've gotten used to the never-ending panic I feel within his presence-- I likely won't shake this feeling until he's long gone-- but it's hard to pretend like I'm just an excited fan and not the person he probably hates most in the world right now.

"I leave tomorrow morning," he says quickly. "I've never been here before and I most likely won't come back for a while. But I'm glad I met someone nice, so thank you. I'll make sure to drop by and tell you hello when I come back."

The smile in his eyes almost makes me fold. He sounds and look so genuine and kind as he says those few words. I almost forget about all of the horrible things he's said about me.

I send him a smile that isn't as fake as the ones I've been showing him before. "That's nice of you," I say. "You've been good company."

I'm surprised that it's not exactly a lie.

Sally chuckles beneath his prosthetic, looking away for a minute. "I'll pay my bill now. I won't be ordering anything else."

"Oh, okay. I have your ticket with me," I tell him. And damn right I have his ticket. I've reprinted it ever since he ordered water just so I could send him on his way as quickly as possible. I've been waiting for this moment-- but now it feels a little bittersweet.

I place the ticket down and he doesn't even look at it, just hands me a hundred dollar bill-- for his $12 meal-- then says, "Keep the change."

"I absolutely cannot." I laugh hysterically for a second, shutting my mouth when I realize it's the same laugh he heard over Ash's phone just a day ago. "This is too much. Keep your money."

"I want to, Lexi. I don't mind, seriously. Just keep it." His eyes show me his smile again and suddenly, I can't decline. I just stare at him, stars in my eyes.

Can I change my name to Lexi?

"Here," he says when I've been quiet for too long. "I want to give this to you, too."

Sally reaches into his hoodie, pulling out a leather necklace and lifting it over his head. I'm practically hyperventilating and I haven't even seen the entire thing yet.

He holds it out in front of him. Attached to the necklace is a black Fender guitar pick with his initials carved into it. "I know it might seem weird, but I really value kindness. You're probably the nicest person I've met since I started streaming. You never asked me anything personal or freaked out. You treated me like a normal person. So, in return for being my favorite kind of person, I want to give you my favorite guitar pick," he explains sweetly, taking one of my hands that rests at my side and placing the necklace in my palm.

The necklace is still warm from laying against his chest.

I suck in a shuddering breath as I stare down at our joined hands. I look back into his eyes, trying to hold myself together.

"Sally," I start softly, scared as all hell. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." He laughs prettily then pulls his hand away once my hand closes around the necklace. "But, before you leave." He runs a hand through his hair-- I'm starting to notice that he does this when he's distressed. "I really like your glasses. They suit your face shape. They're really cute. And you have beautiful eyes."

I could cry when the tips of his ears turn pink and he looks away from me.

I huff out a breath. None of this feels real. And even though this guy hates the real me, I can't skip over the fact that he's done a lot for me within the past two minutes.

Smiling slightly, I say, "You know, my glasses are one of my biggest insecurities. I appreciate that more than you know. You also have really gorgeous eyes. I've never seen any that blue before."

I hold back every other compliment I could give him. It takes everything in me to forbid myself from telling him how hot I think he is. It's a fight to stop myself from asking him why he isn't like this with y/n. I have statements and questions that I want him to respond to-- but that can't happen. I don't want him to ever find out that Lexi and y/n are the same person.

Fuck. What a damn mess.

What's worse than all of this physical drama is the internal battle in my brain. Sally has been too damn sweet for me to hate him anymore. I can dislike him, but I don't think I can hate him at this point.

"Thank you," He says softly. "That's very sweet of you. And I'm really glad that I met you, Lexi."

"Likewise," I smile genuinely.

Sally nods. "Until next time, then."

Chapter Text

I watch Sally walk out of the door, trying to hold it together until his messy blue hair turns around a corner and finally leaves my field of vision.

How did this even happen?

The streets of LA are bustling and, still, all I can think of is his black clad figure—the only color on him being the sapphire shade of his hair—walking through and between people. But everyone else was just a shadow beside him. Zooming figures in my way. Blurs with no soul and no purpose but to burden others.

He's long gone now. Michael walked in just minutes after Sally disappeared. I'm forced to pretend that I'm ignoring the phenomena that just occurred as I wait tables and deal with customers that mean nothing to me.

Every inch of me burns to call Ash and quiz her about Sally's surprise visit. My muscles tense up in excitement when I think about it and my head throbs with tons of ways to tell her about what happened. My lips are chewed up and bloody, no doubt, just because I've been worrying over this since he walked through the door.

As much and as badly as I want to call Ash, I know that I can't. She would tell Sally that we met, for one. That's the last thing I want. Even if I asked her not to tell him, I'd be putting her in a compromising position if Sally and I were to ever meet as our real selves rather than this Lexi character that I created.

I'll just keep what happened today to myself. I don't ever have to tell anyone. It's my business anyway. I'll just deal with the consequences if it ever comes out that Lexi and y/n are the same person, which it will come out. With Ash, Larry, Todd, and I's friendship, we're bound to meet up again at some point. Not to mention, I'm planning on trying out this streaming thing soon.

Mine and Sally Face's meeting is fate no matter what fake name I come up with.

My day is boring and cruel. All I do is think about Sally's guitar pick hanging around my neck and the warmth in his bright blue eyes. I remember the way he complimented me, the way his ears turned pink with embarrassment, and all of the nice conversations we shared during his short stay in the diner. I still can't truly believe it happened. I'm honestly... mind blown.

I'm closing up tonight. It's about a quarter to ten and Michael is sweeping around tables as I count up all the money we made today. We close at ten, so we might as well finish our extra responsibilities now. Usually, customers are beginning to finish up at this time. We hardly ever have anyone walk in.

"Alright, y/n," Michael sighs, standing near the front door with his broom in hand. "I'm going put this up then I'll be heading out. You need any help closing this place?"

I smile at him. "No, don't worry about it! I shouldn't be much longer. I'll see you tomorrow."

Michael grins, pulling his apron over his head. "Awesome. See you bright and early."

He disappears into the back, then leaves out the front door just a minute or so later. So I wipe down the counters around me.

It's been a long day and I've been under a considerable amount of stress compared to other days. I'm so tired that I almost feel sick—I have a pounding headache and achy limbs. I almost want to skip work tomorrow and just take a day to myself—but taking a day to myself means losing a pretty $100 for bills at the end of the month. I'd rather not risk that, especially since I only work five hours tomorrow. What's the point of staying home if I won't be out too long anyway?

The bell on the front door jingles with a new customer and I almost groan out loud. I lean down, looking at my phone. We close in three minutes—why would someone do that?

As per my boss's request, if anyone walks in before closing, we have to sit them down and get what they need. I get it in a way, but for other workers like me who have taken a full day's shift, that's tough.

"I'll be right with you!" I say sweetly, scrubbing a spot on the counter despite my aggravation over having a new customer. I'm just ready to get home.

"No worries. Take your time."

I look up in a panic, making eye contact with a sweet, smiling gaze. Do my eyes deceive me? Even if they do, my heart surely wouldn't. It's beating so quickly that it almost hurts. And the sudden butterflies in my stomach make a queasy feeling slam into me.

I take a moment to reply, glancing over Sally who's randomly decided to show up again.

His hands are in the pockets of his black Larry merch hoodie, hiding away the edges of the beautiful tattoo I got to touch earlier. And as always, I can't see his face, but I can tell that he's at ease. Just enjoying his night and perfectly okay with waiting an eternity for me to get to him. Must be nice to not be in a rush all the time.

I gape at him for a moment, then blink. Quickly fixing my posture, I let a little smile pull at my lips as I walk closer to him. "Hey, Sally," I say a little nervously. His name is odd to hear but feels perfect leaving my lips. I can't even remember why I hated this guy at first. What did he say again?

"Hey, Lexi," Sally excitedly says, taking a step closer and leaning his weight against the counter. His hands never leave his pockets. "Sorry to come in so late. I won't be long, just wanted to come talk to you."

I tilt my head curiously, laying my washcloth on the counter. "What about?" I ask.

"Well, it sounds a lot better in my head." He laughs, finally removing a hand to push it through his hair. "Honestly, I'm considering just... saying something else. I don't talk to people often so this is..." he motions between us awkwardly then turns away, looking over at the front door.

I hum, biting the inside of my cheek. His words strike a bit of fear in my heart. Part of me wonders if, somehow, he found out about my real identity. But I know that's next to impossible, especially since Larry, Ash, and Todd haven't gotten a picture of me in years. "I mean, you can say anything. We're just two people in a judgement free zone. I'll never know what you were going to say either if you decide to say something else." I shrug, offering him a sweet smile.

Sally takes a shaky breath. "Yea, you're right. That's why I respect you, though. So, I might as well just do what I came here to do."

I shrug, pinching my fingertips in hopes to quell my anxiety a bit. "Up to you."

He turns his head, azure eyes meeting mine. His gaze slowly travels over every inch of me before they settle on my eyes again. Then, he sighs, resting his elbows on the counter behind him. His hoodie sleeve rides up his arm a bit, showing off an inch or two of the geometric, entrancing tattoos on his arm.

Drool.

"Can I have your number?" He forces out after a moment. He tilts his head nervously. "Like, I don't want to tell you I just want a good friend to talk to." Sally's voice is giggly, like he's extremely anxious. "I mean, I do want a good friend to talk to and you're a really awesome person. But I also would like to talk to you as more of a friend—" He pauses for a moment, then flinches, pulling his hands out of his hoodie in a flash. "But not like a hook-up kind of thing, I mean more of something that could turn into like a relationship over time." He sucks in a breath. "But you don't have to—"

I snort before I can hold it back. A hand automatically slaps over my mouth in shock and I feel bad for giggling. I pull my hand away just as quickly as it went up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. Your explanation was just... really cute." I giggle again. Why am I calling him cute? "Yea, you can have my number. I think you're amazing."

I wish I'd have thought about my response. It came naturally, even quickly like the words had their own nerves, cells, and ideas. I'm jealous of their confidence. At the same time, I truly wish I could take them back because how the fuck am I supposed to get away with my secret now?

But I don't worry about it too much because the excitement reflected in Sally's eyes is just worth it. Any fear or resentment I had left for him melts away and I wish to see his pretty smile more than anything.

I give him my phone number with no reservations for a moment, watching him type it into his phone. He brushes a strand of light blue hair from his eyes then looks up at me, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

"Thanks," he says. "Sorry if that seemed kind of weird. But, uh, I'll text you later?"

"Yea, that sounds good." I smile at him, pulling my apron over my head and setting it down on the counter beside me. My heart races a bit at the thought of him leaving already, but I know it has to happen.

"Alright," Sally says, chuckling softly. He just kind of stares at me for another moment, eyes flitting over my features before he glances down.

I swallow thickly when his hand is suddenly in front of me. I flinch at the brush of his cold fingertips on my collarbone. My brain is overloaded as I gaze down at his hand, wondering what on earth possessed him-- when I notice the guitar pick between his fingertips.

It's extremely hard to ignore my heated skin and flushed cheeks while I watch him flip the pick between his index finger and thumb, his skin brushing against my chest with each slight, subtle movement.

"Didn't think you'd wear it," he murmurs. "I'm happy to see it."

When I look up, I'm sent into an endless night sky just upon simply gazing into his powerful blue eyes. The gold flecks littering his iris' look like stars lighting up the piercing blue that takes up my entire life for a moment.

He's a lot closer than I imagined he'd be, so we both get lost in each other for a moment-- that much is noticeable.

"It means... a lot to me." I say shakily, finding my small smile again. I'm still shocked by our unexpected proximity and, fuck, his absolutely gorgeous eyes.

I wish I could see his smile when he takes a step away from me and giggles lightly, a light pink dusting his ears and neck. "That's sweet of you. Anyway, I'll get going. I have a flight to catch early in the morning. Um, and I'll probably be playing with everyone tonight, so..." He tilts his head down, shaking his shoulder length hair away from his prosthetic face, but he still never looks back to me.

Compared to how much hate I felt toward Sally just a day ago, I actually feel quite infatuated with him now. He is so amazing. I shouldn't have jumped the gun. Maybe he heard something bad about me and that's why he was so hostile towards y/n. Maybe it's a misunderstanding that we'll have to talk about at some point. I'd prefer that over him just hating me because I'm... me.

"Oh, of course," I say cheerily. "Don't let me keep you, I was just about to close up anyway." Even though he's the one who walked into my diner and I am in no way holding him hostage. "It was so nice meeting you again." The more I talk, the more rushed it sounds and the more frantic I feel. "Thank you for being so kind to me. I'm happy to have connected with you." What the fuck am I saying?

Sally lets out a hearty laugh, patting my shoulder amusedly. But he keeps his hand there. "You sound like I did when I first walked in, Lexi." Oh, true. I'm not y/n at the moment. "Relax. I'm really happy we met, too. I'm looking forward to seeing where we can take our friendship."

I can feel the chill in his hands seeping through my thin shirt and the tightening of his fingertips on my shoulder. The same heat from earlier returns to my cheeks before he finally pulls away. "See you, Lexi!" Sally calls as he walks away and towards the front door.

I lean onto my tiptoes, waving to him. "Bye, Sally." The door closes and a weight that didn't exist just milliseconds ago drops onto my shoulders like 12,000 overweight cats.

The reason I say cats is because the weight is very welcome (who doesn't love chunky kitties?) but it's also incredibly hard to hold up. I love the situation I've found myself in regarding Sally Face, but then again, he hates the true me but seems to enjoy this fake character I created out of fear.

So, like, yea! Sally Face is totally into me, but he's going to catch me in a lie then hate me even more than he already does.

He can dig my grave and spit on it too if he wants. Can't change my fuck up. I'm here and either way, shit's crazy at the moment. I might as well be crazy with the shit.

And then there's the fact that I gave him my phone number. There are so many issues with that stupid decision and I don't even want to think about the full list, but some reasons include, but are not limited to:

1.) Ash could totally match my phone number with the one I gave Sally.
2.) Did I forget to mention that I gave him a fake name?
3.) He fucking hates my guts.
4.) He's going to end up hating Lexi too because I highly doubt I'll ever be able to text him back after realizing what kind of shit-show I've become the main attraction in.

I could list so much more-- those are just a few.

Another happens to be my awful history with relationships. I'm not good at relationships. I've battled depression all my life, which just so happens to be part of the reason as to why my friends back in Nockfell haven't even seen a photo of me since I was a teenager.

I was diagnosed with depression at fifteen. Things took a bit of a turn for me quite quickly. I had been fine beforehand, then my parents got divorced and constantly traveling between their homes made it hard on me. I didn't enjoy anything anymore. Life felt like a chore. I slowly began to distance myself from my new friends, only texting Ash every few days. Sometimes, I'd even go weeks without messaging anyone. I'd just wait for night to come so I could sleep again. So I could dream.

I actually enjoyed school growing up simply because it got me out of the house and kept me busy-- it was the only time that I didn't think about how fucking tired I was of living.

So I've been taking antidepressants for about six or so years now. Life improved for me once I began taking medicine to help me out. I had a few boyfriends who introduced me to many things, but ultimately left my tiny little heart bruised and broken.

Relationships never work for me. I've been cheated on, mentally and physically abused, and betrayed. Maybe it's trauma, maybe it's bad luck. Either way, I don't want to end up like my parents. I'm perfectly fine with living the rest of my life without ever having a significant other.

So Sally Face's phone number will be sent to my text-message purgatory when and if he decides to text me one day.

I grab all of my things and start walking back to my apartment. Dad should be home by now. He works all day and sometimes has to stay at hotels depending on where he is in California at the time, but he told me he'd be close by today.

By the time I make it to our apartment door, I can hear mine and Dad's favorite band playing. The sound is lightly muffled by our door, but I wouldn't mistake this band for the world.

One of the things that got me through my couple years of undiagnosed depression was Breaking Benjamin. Dad showed me the band one day and my young brain fell in love with the sound, the instrumentals, and the lyrics. I have been obsessed with them since I was a teenager and a dream of mine is to finally see them in concert when I have the money to do so.

In fact, I have some of their lyrics tattooed on the left side of my chest, right over my ribs.

An excited smile builds on my face as I throw my front door open, instantly making eye contact with Dad in the kitchen. He waves a little spatula around, grinning at me.

"I know it's late, but--" He tiptoes over to me, speaking in a sing-song voice. "I made pancakes and bacon!"

The lyrics of my favorite song from their Phobia album, Unknown Soldier, quietly plays through our apartment with the sweet smell of warm pancakes to accompany the melody. Our balcony doors are open, letting in the sound of honking cars and laughter from the city below. It's dark out, probably about ten thirty in the evening. I can see all kinds of lights in the distance with just one glance.

My phone starts vibrating in my pocket and a squeak falls from my lips as my momentary bliss is interrupted. My heart thunders against my chest. Fuck, what if it's Sally calling me? I'll decline it. Instantly.

Gosh, I don't want to look at my phone. It's going to be so hard to decline the call mainly because I truly don't want to. In all honesty, I'd love to see where things could go with Sally but I'm in too deep with this lie and I don't trust my luck with relationships. He and I just shouldn't be.

I watch my father for a moment, who raises an eyebrow at me before glancing at my noisy pocket. "You gonna get that, Ducky?" he asks.

Dad's old nickname for me always calms me down a bit. He only uses it if he can tell I'm nervous and need some kind of calm. It's a reminder of simpler times and he knows how much the name means to me. "I don't know. I'm kind of scared," I answer him honestly.

"Want to talk about it?" He asks, lifting up a full plate of pancakes.

I smile, finally growing the balls to pull my phone out of my pocket. I hold my breath and look down at the screen.

Oh, thank God. It's just Ash.

The call ends before I can answer, so I make a mental note to call her back after I talk to my dad.

"I met this guy and... it's a little complicated but I gave him my number. I don't really want him to call me," I murmur, locking my phone and putting it back in my pocket.

Dad snorts. "You know how that sounds right? You gave a guy your number but you don't want to talk to him?"

I roll my eyes. "Okay, yea. It sounds ridiculous, but like I said, it's a complicated situation that I really don't want to get into tonight. I have some things I need to do with Ash."

"Whatever you need, Ducks. I'm here to talk if you want. How is Ash, by the way? She and the guys still doing that online stuff?" Dad asks, stuffing a pancake into his mouth.

I hum, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a pancake for myself. Yes, I do eat them like a normal human-- on a plate with syrup, but I want to get with Ash as soon as possible so I'll be fine with just a plain pancake for now. "Yea. I'm actually going to try it out soon, too. They're really popular and making a lot of money. Look up Ash Campbell on Google."

Dad's brows furrow as he munches on a slice of bacon. "You're kidding." He pulls his phone out, squinting his eyes as he types. Then, his eyes widen and he hums. "Net worth $780,000. That's crazy."

"Yea," I sigh, dusting my hands off over the sink. "You should see Larry and Todd, too."

"I'll go look them up now, hun. You let me know how that online stuff goes. I'm hoping it works for you." Dad sends me a smile then turns back to his phone.

I smile back and begin walking to my room as Anthem of the Angels by Breaking Benjamin comes on-- that's dads favorite song.

The sweet sound of instrumentals and a beautiful voice follows me through our apartment as I grab some clothes to change into. The music I grew up with fills me with a sense of nostalgia, taking me back to a place where everything was easy. I wasn't doing the same thing every single day. I wasn't living paycheck-to-paycheck. I wasn't on my feet all the time and hoping I made enough tips to pay my credit card bill for the month.

It's nice to go back in time every once in a while, even if it's only through music.

When I walk into my bedroom, I grab comfy clothes then head over to my bathroom.

I pull my phone out again, clicking on the notification of Ash's call from five minutes ago. My phone rings for a singular second before a sharp shriek bursts my ear drums.

I flinch, covering my ears and quickly turning down the speaker. I'm sure my dad heard that.

"Y/n!" Ash exclaims. "I was kinda worried you wouldn't call back because I really want to ask you something but like I need and answer now--"

With a nervous giggle, I slowly remove my hands from my ears and pull my dirty work shirt over my head. "Sorry about that, I was just getting home and talking to Dad. Whatcha got for me, babe?"

Ash giggles maniacally, sending alarm bells off in my head. "Okay so how would you feel about jumping online with me and the boys tonight?"

I blink, my eyebrows slowly furrowing as gears turn in my head. She means all the boys. Sally Face told me he was going play with them not twenty minutes ago.

Am I ready for a step like that, especially after just having jumped a hurtle with him? Probably not. But I might as well just get the hard part of introducing myself over with, right?

Maybe he'll like this version of me like he likes Lexi. One can only hope.

"Um," I quietly murmur, chewing on my bottom lip. I'm nervous. I know nothing about streaming and it's been ages since I've used my voice to speak with Larry and Todd. But I'll have to try it out sooner or later anyway, right? Why not get it over with now?

I ponder over the idea for a moment longer before finally saying, "I'll do it. Just don't tell anyone who I am-- not Larry, Sally Face, or Todd. Larry would spill the beans immediately."

Ash laughs sweetly. "You're so right about Larry," she says before squealing. "I'm so excited. This'll be so fun! I'm going to help you set everything up and explain how to record your videos and post and set up your microphone and all of that good stuff!"

I let out a shaky breath, a small smile pulling at my lips. "Sounds good. I don't have a good mic right now, though."

"That's okay!" Ash says while I put on some sweatpants. "We'll figure that out with time. For now, go turn on your shit!!"

"Yes ma'am!" I chirp, saluting the air even though Ash can't see. I open the door and slide out of the bathroom with my socks and veer around a corner to my bedroom. "What are we playing?" I ask as I grab my headset and power it on. I have some experience with parties of people. Ash and I have played together plenty of times.

"We're playing Among Us on PC." I can hear some clicking from Ash's end of the line. "I just sent you an invite to join our channel on Discord. We'll start a VC from there."

I tilt my head, turning on my computer and widening my eyes. "What the hell is VC?"

Ash sighs, clicking her tongue. "My poor, sweet, technology deficient y/n."

"Hey," I murmur, pursing my lips as I pull up my new Discord account and log in. I see the invite, so I accept it, immediately being met with a few immediate messages between Larry and Todd.

"Someone has to tell you the truth!" Ash says matter-of-factly. "Anyway, the boys are probably pretty active right now. Todd and Larry have been bugging me about starting the VC."

"Will you finally tell me what a VC is, Ash?" I ask frantically upon noticing Larry's messages as they come in.

LARBEARAWR: dude who tf is VioletViolence
LARBEARAWR: did we get hacked
LARBEARAWR: do we need 2 start a new channel again

Todd comes in next, his texting style exactly the same as it was and has always been.

T0DDLES12: Idk, man. I wouldn't be surprised if someone found us out by now.
T0DDLES12: VioletViolence, who are you? Has someone hacked us and invited you?

I nearly choke on air when Sally Face pops into the cat. I'm horrified of things going wrong within just a few minutes of us officially meeting. Not to mention, him seeing me as a hacker isn't a good way for me to scoot into the group.

SALLYFʌCɜ: why the fuck would you talk to the hacker

"Oh... Ash they are going crazy. Please say something," I whisper with shaky breaths as panic and anxiety begin to settle in the pit of my stomach.

"Shit, I forgot to tell them about you. Hold on," She says quickly, her soothing voice taking a harsh edge as the sound of her quick typing echoes in my room. "Fuck, what do I tell them?"

"Uh," I wave my hands around and look around my room for something to help me come up with an excuse. All I find is a collection case of every season of Friends-- but it does give me a little idea. It's the best I've got. "Tell them that I'm your cousin's friend?"

I hear some more typing and a quick breath of relief, then Ash's message pops up.

ASHYPOOO<3: VioletViolence is my cousin's friend! Just trying to help her get on her feet :P She's a big fan and looking for a job. She has experience with gaming too so she's not a newb or anything

Unfortunately, at least for me, Sally responds immediately and the outcome is not looking very good.

SALLYFʌCɜ: ash wtf
SALLYFʌCɜ: we don't do new people
SALLYFʌCɜ: especially people we don't know

Ash scoffs over the phone and I peel my attention away from my computer screen, blinking away sudden tears. It's just because I'm really anxious, but I don't want to break down over something so ridiculously trivial.

But, as always, I'm lying to myself.

I hate that a big part of my life is constant lies. Some of them are little white lies, things I've said for years. I'm fine. I had a good day. I ate lunch. But these recent lies are getting complicated and I keep coming up with and acting on them even though I know it's going to fuck me up in the near future.

Karma's gotten my ass before. No doubt that it'll happen again. And this time is going to be awful.

"He's such a little ass. Always worried about bringing new people into the group. You're our first test trial, y/n." Ash sighs. Wow. Great. Can't wait. "If you look at the channels, you should see a section called Voice Channels. Click on the first one there and that's how we'll talk-- also, that's what VC means."

"Finally," I snicker, following her directions. "Okay, I'm in." I'm the only one in the voice call, clearly since I can't hear anyone else.

"Awesome!" She chirps. "Now open up that screen recording app I told you about, log in, then press record. I'm going to hang up, but I will see you again in the VC in just a moment."

"Sounds good. Don't use my name, Ash," I mumble, focusing on setting up the recording app.

Before I start recording, I wait for Ash to promise that she won't use my legal name, then I press record and go back to Discord.

Ash is online with me a moment later, then Larry right behind her.

"I'm cowering in a corner, Ash," Larry whispers. The sound of his voice in real time makes a beaming smile and excited shivers take over my body. "Who's this chick?"

I can't help but let a little giggle out at his amusing introduction.

"Oh?" Larry's voice seems to perk up a bit. "A hot chick with a cute laugh?"

There it is. I roll my eyes and finally speak. "Hey, Larry," I start carefully. "I'm a big fan. Nice to meet you. Ash tells me a lot about you guys." I'm playing the role perfectly, I think.

An unflattering, hilarious, garbled sound comes from Larry's line. "Well, the pleasure is all mine, little lady." He chuckles a bit, drawling out some mumbles and poking fun at Ash. "So like, what's up with you?"

I struggle to hold back little laughs as I sit down in my chair and lean back. "Um." I shut my mouth when I realize I have nothing to tell him. What am I supposed to say for now? "Err--"

"She's from... Connecticut! She's... twenty-one and struggling with her job as... a bank-teller. She wanted to try something else so I offered to help her out." Ash saves the day and comes up with a lie so random and absurd that it sounds believable.

"Oh, cool. What's it like... counting numbers in Connecticut, little lady?"

"Larry, stop calling her 'little lady,'" Ash's thunderous, agitated voice makes me flinch away from my computer.

Larry gasps, feigning offense. "Gosh, fine, fuck, whatever, Ash! Just trying to be nice!"

"So this VioletViolence is not a foe?" Todd's deep voice makes another smile quirk my lips.

"I'm a friend, I promise." I laugh lightly. "It's nice to meet you, Todd. I've been watching you for a while."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, VioletViolence," Todd formally and sweetly welcomes me. "Your name is quite a mouthful. We'll have to find a nickname for you."

I hum in response, thinking it over. "You're right. It's a bit much." I don't quite know how to shorten it down, though. We'll just stick with this for now I suppose.

I don't have time to prepare myself when Sally suddenly pops into the voice channel. I simply suck in a breath as his livid voice fills my ears. "Ash," he says angrily, "our agreement is to never let randos into the group, so why the fuck is this person here? And no, I couldn't give a shit less if this insignificant fan that you found online is witnessing this right now."

All of the memories I have of Sally crack. Just one more slip up and I'll forget them all. What is his problem with almost every version of me and why is 'Lexi' an exception?

"Sal, stop acting like that! I've met this person many, many times and I trust her. Stop being a dick. She's a fan of ours and she's practically family to me," Ash sticks up for me, arguing aggressively with Sally.

"You think I care? This is just a repeat of whatever went on with that y/n chick. I swear that bitch's aura follows me around every turn. I even heard her fucking name today. Now I have to deal with another?" Sally scoffs into his mic, his voice growing dangerously low and hostile.

I know he didn't just refer to me as a bitch.

I wince. He heard the right y/n's name today. He also met her-- but he doesn't need to know that. So what's his deal, then? Is he just overprotective of his group?

I jump into the conversation before Ash and Sally can argue any further. "Um, hey, Sally Face." My voice is soft and shaky. Anyone would be able to tell that I'm horrified. "I'm sorry if you feel that I'm impeding. I won't cause trouble and you guys never have to play with me again. I'm actually a big fan of yours--"

"I don't fucking care. I do not want you here," Sally's sharp, straight-to-the-point tone makes me flinch in my seat for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

"Stop it, Sally. We don't need you being an ass, man. Come on," Larry tries to diffuse the situation, his voice a bit disappointed but soft, consoling even. "I'm gonna start recording so watch the shit you say. Be nice to Vi. She's just looking for a kickstart."

"There!" Todd exclaims. He sounds excited. "There's the nickname! Yes, that works great!"

A smile settles onto my lips again. I thought I'd lost it for good because of Sally, but Larry found a nickname for me.

Larry laughs, followed by Ash. Then he starts with his intro into his stream followed by Ash, Todd, and Sally. I just kind of sit there for a moment, waiting.

"Vi!" Larry's overexcited and comforting voice calls my nickname. I sit up, paying close attention to what he says next. "I'd like to introduce you to The Faces! Everyone, this is VioletViolence. She will be joining our game of Among Us today. I've heard some pretty good things about her skill, so let's see what she's got!"

The Faces. The group that consists of Ash, Larry, Todd, and Sally. I never thought I'd be included, even if it is just for one video.

"You heard him," Ash says. "Vi, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?"

"Or we can just start the game?" Sally says, tone biting and dangerous. He's putting up a barely held up front for his viewers.

The crack in my new view of him finally breaks apart. My opinion of him is just as vile as it was before I met him in person and it takes a lot of willpower to stop myself from snapping at him.

"Well, I'd like to learn more about VioletViolence and it seems like my viewers would as well. They're wondering if your Twitch account is VioletViolence as well, by the way, Vi," Todd says, turning attention to me.

"Oh, yes!" I sit up quickly, pushing down the blush on my cheeks. "My Twitch account is VioletViolence, but I'm not streaming there at the moment. I'll be posting a video from tonight somewhere. Maybe Youtube."

"Okay, everyone seems to be looking forward to your video. If you need any help with Twitch, let us know," Todd sweetly says.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," I reply.

"So, tell us some fun facts, Vi!" Ash says excitedly. "What's your favorite color? Favorite movie? You know, just so we can get to know you!"

Smiling brightly, I settle into my seat and navigate my way around the loading screen of Among Us while I talk. "Well, my favorite color is actually violet. I love dark colors, especially purple. Um, my favorite movie is Rob Zombie's remake of Halloween. Big fan of Mike Myers."

"Yuck, Sally loves those movies, too! I hate horror," Ash giggles, fake-gagging.

Laughing, I think about how lucky I am to have Ash before I talk again. I'll never have a friend as generous and loving as she is. "Makes sense. You're pink and upbeat. You know I had a goth moment growing up."

I feel like I'm going to vomit when I realize I've slipped up, but Ash saves me again. "Oh, true! I forgot to tell everyone, but Vi and I know each other! She's a family friend."

Thank the stars. Ash deserves love and success to last a lifetime.

"What kind of music do you listen to?" Larry asks, giving me some scary deja vu from earlier today. I guess I have to come up with a different answer from what I told Sally.

"I really like rock. My favorite band is Breaking Benjamin! I'd love to see them in concert one day." I keep my voice light and comfortable, pretending to be something I'm not.

"Oh, cool! I like Breaking Benjamin. They're pretty rad. I love the Celtic symbol they use as a logo," Larry says, sounding like he's genuinely interested. "Don't the members have the logo tatted on their wrists?"

I chew my lip, lifting my legs and holding them to my chest as I twirl back and forth in my chair. "Yea, as far as I know. I have their lyrics tattooed on my side, actually. I guess that's another fun fact."

"Oh, so you have tattoos, too? That's hot as fuck, bro." Larry starts giggling like a little schoolgirl. At that exact moment, I get a few notifications on my phone from Twitch and Youtube. All new subscribers. Shit.

"Only one for now," I say with a little laugh. "It says, 'Empty and perfect, shattered and worthless. Sober and silent, faded and violent. Never surrender, out of the embers.'" I debate on whether I should give a little more information about myself. "It's from the first song I ever heard by them called Never Again. It really stuck with me, I felt like I could relate."

"Those are some deep lyrics," Todd says. "Is that where you got your username from? The 'faded and violent' part?"

I'm shocked Todd noticed that, especially since I didn't notice it. "No, I've never realized it until you said that. I guess it was fate, huh?"

"That's so cute! I love how everything always ties together in the end," Ash says, her sweet voice making me grin.

"Getting lyrics tattooed is kind of basic. You should've gotten something else." Sally's words are murmured and I can almost feel his nonchalant shrug like I'm doing it myself.

"And being an asshole is really old," I fire back, letting my foot fall from my chair so I can bounce my leg. I'm really starting to get fed up with this guy.

Ash sighs. "Here we go."

Sally Face snorts, unamused by my retort. "You asked for the asshole side of me when you jumped in on what I do for a living. I don't even know you. None of us do."

"Ever heard of socializing?" I ask, tilting my head. "It's not impossible. It's not a bad thing either. I'm not going to steal your heat, man."

"You wouldn't be able to take any of my heat regardless," Sally laughs heartily. "I'm just ready for you to go back to what you were before we met-- insignificant."

For the first time since talking to him as VioletViolence, I smile at his words and I mean it. It's not forced, it found its way onto my lips of its own accord. No fighting, no issues. I embrace the smile because I know I'm an even match for Sally Face, and perhaps that's why he's already so upset over my existence.

I'm going to beat him at his own game.

My reply is instant. "You're not the only person in existence, you shrimp-dicked fuck nugget. Have some respects for others around you."

I start a new game of Among Us, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated as I finish our little argument with, "I win."

Chapter Text

My night was filled with banter and laughter. If I'm being completely honest, it was even more amazing than I imagined it would be.

I grew up with the mindset of "do what makes the most money, not what you want to do." So actually enjoying my job for once feels different. I'm not sure if I'll be able to make enough with playing games online with my friends, but I'd be elated if I could because I genuinely enjoy it.

I don't want to go back to the way things were before.

Sally Face was quiet for most of the night, only really talking when directly spoken to. But what he didn't do— no matter what— was speak to me. Never addressed me. Never acknowledged me again. He ignored any attempts I made to bring him into our conversations (which didn't happen often, by the way) and he would even scoff at the sound of my voice.

But it didn't bother me all that much. Over the course of the night, I amassed thousands of new subscribers and followers between each one of my social media accounts. It's shocking to say the least, but very welcome. I'm not sure if those numbers will continue to grow or if this is just a spur of the moment excitement for The Faces fans, but I'm anxious to see where things go.

And Sally Face never called or texted "Lexi." Not once.

My guess is that I pissed him off enough to shut him up completely.

Larry, Ash, and Todd posted their recordings to Youtube. Sally hasn't yet, but going through comments has been quite interesting. I think, with the way people are enjoying me and Sally's arguing, I may be able to make something out of this.

One such thread of comments goes as so:

sllyfcefannn: Sally is a MENACE LMAO
ashypoosbby: wtf is even happening
sallyfacesallyfacee: he was quick with it too hahaaa
larry4lyfe: Why is Sally such an asshole tho--
sxllyfxce28: nah they rlly dont need more people in The Faces. four is enough. bye violetviolence, go somewhere else.
ashintheair: Honestly feel bad for VioletViolence. she's so sweet and she was so kind when she introduced herself and Sally was just such a dick. like imagine hearing this as a fan (which she is). so heartbreaking.
toddsdaddy: agreed. he could've been a LOT more sensitive like??

I look through more comments beneath my own video, smiling the entire time as I get dressed for work. I'm still stuck wearing glasses, but I don't mind. I'm used to them for right now and there isn't much that could break my excitement of having people actually defend me and enjoy my video.

It's fortifying.

My shift is a short 8-12 that goes by even more quickly with the aid of tons of comments and likes giving me something to look forward to throughout the day.

As I'm walking home and enjoying the afternoon sun, Ash calls me.

With a startled flinch, I pull my phone from my pocket and quickly accept the call when I realize who it is. Why would she be calling?

"Y/n-- sorry, I guess I should call you Vi now, right?" Ash curses quietly then starts over again. "Vi! Hi, how are you, guess what!!!"

I smile, unable to stop a small giggle from slipping past my lips. Ash is so precious. She can't hide her true intentions-- she only called me to tell me about something interesting.

"I'm well, Ash. Most of that is thanks to you," I reply happily, ingesting the tempting sight of various stores around me. Downtown LA. "What's up?"

Ash practically squeals, a shuffling sound coming from the other end of the call. "Guess who's going to fucking Vegas!?"

My eyebrows raise and my heart skips a beat as I pause my steps. Ash heading to Vegas? That's ridiculously close. Even if it's still hours away, the thought of finally being near her again after all these years makes my heart race to the point that I feel a bit lightheaded.

"What? Really?" I breathlessly ask, looking down at the bright cement beneath my feet. My stomach feels tight and a lump begins to form in my throat. I really want a chance to see Ash, though I'm not sure I have the money to take an unplanned trip to Las Vegas...

"YES!" She screams again. I can even hear her feet pittering around her room-- the thought of her running in excitement makes my elation grow to insane heights. I feel like running through the streets and screaming myself. "We'll be going to Vegas in three weeks! It's for an exclusive party at some club. I got you a ticket. I'll send it!"

My brows scrunch together. She got me into some VIP event? "How did you get a ticket for me? And who's we-- do you mean me and you?"

"Ooo, fun question!" Ash whispers morbidly. "The host of the event asked me about you first. Didn't know if you'd be into going somewhere so social! But they love your intro into the tech and gaming world. Especially the tension between you and Sal! That part was easy. I hardly had to say a word." She giggles proudly to herself whereas I wince.

I don't want Sally and I to be some kind of spectacle to the world. I don't want people to know me as that random girl that argues with Sally Face because he just can't help but hate her guts. I want to be that nice girl that plays games. I want to be VioletViolence and I want to be known for it.

"And by 'we' I mean all of us! You, me, Larry, Todd, and Sal!"

I chew the inside of my cheek, feeling unwelcome tears sting my eyes as my heart drops into the acidic depths of my stomach. An involuntary sigh escapes my lips as I think of how to tell Ash that I'm absolutely not going to Vegas with The Faces.

"That sounds... fun," I murmur, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and tilting my head to the sky to stop my tears from falling. "I appreciate the invite, but I don't think I... have the funds to go." My claim isn't exactly a lie, but I'm almost thankful for it right now. I can't go to Las Vegas if Sally is going to be there.

We don't get along. The two of us are a ticking bomb-- except none of us know how long the countdown is before it blows. It's an issue. I don't want to reunite with my friends then immediately jump into arguments and fights with Sally. That would be so embarrassing for me and for Larry, Todd, and Ash. I do not want that.

I'm forgetting that the most important reason why I can't go to Vegas is because Sal knows the face behind VioletViolence. He would hate 'Lexi' if he were to find out that she and VioletViolence are one. I want him to like at least one thing about me even if he doesn't know that it's me.

Then again, why should I care if he dislikes every version of me? He's shown his distaste in various ways. He's been a complete ass, so why defend him? Why do I want him to like me?

"Y/n-- Vi," Ash corrects herself with a hiss, effectively pulling me from my thoughts. "I'll cover your trip. Just, please, come see us. The guys miss you."

"Not all of them." I laugh humorlessly, kicking a pebble at my feet.

"You know what I mean. Sally has no say in what happens anyway. We won't let him bother you-- just come!" Ash pleads. If she were with me right now, I just know she would be grabbing my hands and giving me her puppy dog eyes.

My teeth clamp down on my bottom lip with a force I can't control. I crack my knuckles, scuff my foot on the ground. I feel apprehensive-- I don't want to have to tell Ash the truth on why I don't want to go, but I know it's getting close to that.

"I don't want anyone to see my face, Ash. It's not a good idea for me to go..." I trail off, picking at the skin on my fingers and hoping that she'll at least accept that.

"We can figure something out, Vi. Just say yes and we'll handle everything else when the time comes, but I can promise you now that your identity will remain a secret. No one will know who you are." Ash tries to bargain, her soft and soothing voice nearly persuading me.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I can't, Ash." Gosh, I don't want to upset her. "You know how I feel about you paying for me. Plus, there's really no way to hide myself from everyone. Think about it. And..." She'll fight me on everything else because she wants this so bad, so I'll throw the truth in. "I don't want to be around Sally. It would be bad for all of us. Deep down, you know that, too."

Ash sighs disappointedly, but I can tell she isn't going to push me anymore. "I understand. I'm sorry if I was crossing a line. I just... I really miss you. It's been nearly a decade. I really fucking wish Sal wasn't such an ass either. He's never acted that way before. He's normally a very soft, humble guy. I don't know what his problem is. I'm... I'm sorry, Y/n."

I don't know what his issue with me is, but I believe Ash now that I've gotten the chance to talk with Sal-- no ties to anyone, just the two of us. He didn't know a thing about me and because of that, I got to see a side of him I didn't expect. He was sweet, kind, and giving. I enjoyed that personality. He was open and happy to get to know me.

"I believe you. Maybe it's just me. No matter who I am, he just has something against me." I lick my dry lips, an iron taste on my tongue. I must have bitten my lip too hard. "And thank you for understanding. I do appreciate the invite and I miss you more than anything, but it's not quite time yet."

"That's okay, babe. I'll wait for you forever. And Sal shouldn't have anything against you. You do not deserve that, not with how incredibly precious you are." Ash perks up a bit, a smile in her voice.

Hearing her more upbeat tone makes my worrisome thoughts and racing heart calm down a bit. "Oh, well. People will hate. It's whatever."

"He'll come around eventually," Ash says softly. She's quiet for a moment then says, "Well, hey. We're getting online again tonight if you want to join."

I take a deep breath, looking up at the road ahead of me. There are people everywhere. It's a beautiful day. "Yea, that sounds good. I'll be free all afternoon."

"Great! Just check Discord every once in a while. We'll figure out a time and a game there! You gonna try Twitch tonight?" Ash asks.

"I think I will," I answer. It's time I start going where I'll get money-- if I get money. Doesn't hurt to put everything into swing though. "You think I have a chance with this, Ash?" I ask, my voice betraying my vulnerability. Truthfully, I'm afraid of trying and failing at this because I truly loved playing with everyone last night.

"Oh, honey," Ash's voice is gentle and comforting like a nice, warm hug. One that I desperately wish I could get from her. "I know you've got this. You already have over eight thousand new subscribers on Twitch. That's a fantastic start. It took me a while to get there. Not to mention, people love you. I love you. Larry and Todd love each side of you."

A genuine smile pulls at my lips and I find myself fighting off tears again. Ash reminds me of my dad-- they are both just so easy to talk to. I feel like I can tell them anything. I'd admit every one of my darkest secrets to both of them and know I wouldn't be judged. To me, that's one of the truest, purest forms of love.

All of my secrets except for the fact that I've already met Sally Face.

"Thank you, Ash. It's all thanks to you. I love you so much and I can't wait to continue this journey with you and the guys," I say gratefully. And you know what, I can't be too angry about Sally because our arguments got me some traction, too. "Even Sally," I decide to add.

"That's the spirit!" Ash claps her hands, the sound reverberating through my ears. "I'll see you online tonight, 'kay?"

"See you then. I love you," I tell her, waiting for her to hang up the call with an unbeatable, winning smile on my face. I'm looking forward to getting home.

"Je t'aime, mon couer!" Ash blows a kiss then ends the call, leaving me alone in the Los Angeles wilderness-- nothing I'm not already used to.

I feel happier than I did at the beginning of our call. Ash was reassuring and just as helpful as she always is. Even if I won't get to see her in Vegas, I'm happy knowing that she'll be close by.

Walking further down the street, I look between various stores and window-shop. There are tons of nice things. For example, a tiara and crystal store-- what a combination!

The sun beats down on me in what would normally be an uncomfortable way, but today, it feels restoring. The ridiculous heat feels like a sign of a new start.

A glance to my right causes me to do a sudden double take though and I find myself distracted from any previous thoughts.

That's something interesting. I walk closer to a shop, letting my eyes wander over all the goodies inside the window. Of all things, half of an answer sits before me. An answer that I never would have come up with on my own-- and yet, here it is. All and only because I realized that this could conceal me. Maybe not at this exact moment, but it has potential. And I want it.

Without a second thought, I pull my eyes away from the window and gaze at the door to the shop instead. I don't worry about funds, I don't think about how odd it'll be for me to keep this in my room-- unused. But I need it because this gives me an actual opportunity to go visit Ash, Larry, and Todd someday.

It's a mask store.

I walk in, listening to the door jingle behind me. The store is small, but very personal and unique. The walls are black and littered with various masks all with different styles, colors, and designs.

Beads and other decorations hang from the black ceiling, adding a bit of color to the void above. It's only a bit of decoration to aid the music in the room, but it works incredibly well.

The music is in a foreign language, but it seems to be a mix of pop and rock. I'm pretty into it.

I slowly walk further into the shop, gazing left and right, just trying to decide where to look first and doing my very best not to tap my foot to the beat of the music. Standing here looking overwhelmed makes me me feel awkward and out of place. Should I really be in here at all? It's probably better if I wait and think on this a bit.

My question is immediately answered when I feel a little nudge on my arm. I glance over my shoulder, feeling an urge to scoot to the side in case I'm blocking anyone, but a lady stands behind me with a smile on her face and a mask in her hand.

I feel like I've just barely decided on doing this, like life is moving past me at double the speed. To see this lady standing before me with a beautiful mask in her hands feels like a sign, though.

"I had to grab it in when you walked in," she says. "I think this one will suit your face nicely."

The woman has salt and pepper hair in a loose, messy bun atop her head. Her skin is a gorgeous caramel shade and her face is littered with little freckles. And her eyes-- a welcoming, inebriating color that reminds me so much of smoky quartz. Absolutely stunning.

She's a bit shorter than me, too. But she seems to notice my hesitance, patting my arm with her free hand. "Why don't you take a look at it, honey?"

My mouth opens, my lips dry as I try to find the right words to stay. But my brain is empty, so I snap my mouth shut and gently take the mask from her instead.

It seems like almost an exact replica of Phantom of the Opera's Red Death mask. The one from the live action movie with Gerard Butler.

It would only cover from my forehead down to under my nose, but it's gorgeous. There are grooves in it to mimic the shape of a skull and it's a deep, dark red.

My heart feels like it's just participated in a NASCAR race. This feels so right. It feels perfect-- like all the stars have aligned just for me in this moment. My stomach feels queasy in the best kind of way like the time I overate for my 21st birthday. I felt full and surrounded by love, though I knew better than to crack open a beer because I knew I'd throw up.

So I use that little experience to remind me that, yes, it feels right-- but I shouldn't push my luck. This will be my one thing for now, then I'll see what I can do in the future.

"Um," I murmur softly, tilting my head toward the woman with a hesitant smile. "Would you happen to have this one in purple?"

The woman leans toward me, her hands behind her back and her eyes narrowed as her smile grows into a sly grin. "I have four. What kind of purple?"

I beam at her, finding that maybe pushing my luck a bit more will be beneficial. It'll end some day, but this moment feels lucky enough to me.

The woman takes me to her counter then fishes out her four masks. They all have the same style, but their colors are much different than the red one in my hands.

There's a pastel one with neon green designs, a bright purple mask with glitter in different places, then a pink and purple tie dyed one.

But the mask that wins my vote is a dark purple-- so dark, it would look black in dim lighting-- with gold highlights in just the right places. It screams me-- screams VioletViolence.

I run my fingers over each nook, cranny, and hill of the mask. I feel it out, falling deeper and deeper in love with the creation until I feel an unignorable yearning deep within my soul. I need this. Somehow, I feel like purchasing this mask will be life changing for me.

I take a deep breath, feeling my eyes widen as I get lost in the beauty of pure, undeniable art. "How much?" I ask softly.

"For you, fifty." Her voice is soft, but determined. So I look up, noting the content smile on her face, almost like she's proud of my decision.

"And..." I trail off, gulping as her smoky gaze meets mine. "How much would it be for someone else?"

"One twenty." Her reply is immediate and honest, her ashy eyes glinting in the dim lighting of the shop.

I definitely don't have the money to pay for a $120 mask. $50 is insanely reasonable, but I can't take such a discount just for... I don't know why I've even been given a discount.

Choking on air for a moment, I try to recover and bargain a bit more. "Ma'am, I can't take this for fifty. Let me at least give you a bit more than that."

The lady leans onto the counter separating us, lifting a hand and pointing at me. "See, I knew you were the type to say something like that. Honestly, I'd give it to you for free but I feel like that would bother you for eternity." She laughs, the raspy sound filling the air around us.

"You're right." I smile at her, placing the mask on the counter. "But seriously, I can't take something worth so much without paying the correct amount."

The woman tilts her head. "Alright, your choice. $50, or just take it. But you can't walk out of here without it."

I narrow my eyes, grinning slightly. I appreciate her kindness. I'm not sure why she's showing so much compassion toward me, but I can't complain. Maybe life just decided to give me a break today.

I pull a couple bills from my wallet and slide them over, making sure to put $10 into her tip can. I don't have much, but I can't give her nothing, especially when she's nice enough to give this to me for $50.

"If I'm ever famous," I say in a giggly voice. "I'll thank you for bringing my character to life."

The woman's smile brings life to my already enthusiastic body. "Then tell me your name so I can look for you, sweetheart. I know you'll get recognition one day."

I swallow thickly, feeling my heart swell with so much appreciation for this random woman who decided to be so kind to me. But what do I tell her? If I am famous one day, she can't know my real name because I won't go by my real name. But, she knows my face and I don't want her to associate that with VioletViolence.

I watch her for a few moments, debating in my head. She watches me patiently, the caring smile never leaving her lips.

So I cut off my thoughts and lean on the counter too. "Can you keep my face a secret if I tell you the name I go by?"

"I don't even remember what you look like," she says, waving a hand in front of her and closing her eyes.

I laugh, unable to stop myself from patting her hand affectionately. Each little bit of fear in my bones gets shredded into indecipherable pieces. Maybe this'll come back to bite me in the future, but I'm not concerned about it right now. Plus, what proof will she be able to show? I doubt she'll even remember my face. I take a glance at the empty store behind me before speaking. "I go by VioletViolence online," I say cheerily. "I'm friends with that group called The Faces."

The woman's brows furrow in shock. "Really? My son loves The Faces. He hasn't told me about you." She smiles again though, patting my hand back. "I'll definitely look out for you, love. I have the utmost faith in your abilities. May you achieve all that you long for."

With a little sweet pull at my heart strings, I squeeze her hand in mine. "Thank you, ma'am. That means the world to me." I pinch my lips together to contain the ugly crying that's bound to set in later. This visit was definitely a sign for me to keep moving forward.

This random lady with no name has managed to give me so much self-pride and hope. I'll make sure to thank her generously if and when I can.

She puts my mask in a safe, pristine, crisp box then bags it, handing it to me with a smile and well wishes before sending me on my way.

My walk home is even more vibrant and enjoyable than it was before, but it's unfortunately quick.

Dad isn't home when I walk into our apartment. Figures, though. Most of the time, he's out working late on projects or attending meetings. Hopefully he'll be able to come home tonight.

I set my bag down on the table and walk into the kitchen to find something to eat. It's almost two in the afternoon-- I've been fucking starving myself. So I decide to heat up some leftover pizza from lunch yesterday and pull my phone out of my pocket for the first time in an hour.

My phone is filled with Discord notifications. I'm going to have to turn that off. I'm a private person and so many names and tons of information slapping me in the face makes me feel uneasy.

But I notice my name brought up and the queasiness falls away for a moment.

LARBEARAWR: i bet vi is so hot
LARBEARAWR: prove em right baby

T0DDLES12: Don't objectify her, Larry.

LARBEARAWR: im not objectifying her im just saying i KNOW shes gotta be hot.

SALLYFʌCɛ: she's not hot.

ASHYPOO <3: Shut up, Sal!!

SALLYFʌCɛ: you need to get into the habit of using my stage name, ash, jeez.

LARBEARAWR: VIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

I roll my eyes, typing back a quick response with a smile pulling at my lips. I was going to ignore it, but Sally's claim made me change my mind. I'll be damned if he goes on thinking I'm not hot. Because I... well, am I hot?

I guess I'll let Larry be the judge of that.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: who said I'm not hot???

SALLYFʌCɛ: that'd be me. you got something to say?

VIOLETVIOLENCE: yup. you a bitch.

T0DDLES12: Laughing my ass off.

LARBEARAWR: fuck todd just use abbreviations damn that's weird
LARBEARAWR: we wanna know ur laughing but not REALLY like be a normal fcking person

I giggle over Todd and Larry's banter. They're quite a duo. Larry is just so informal and then Todd... well, he's the exact opposite. How have they been able to get along for this long?

With a sigh, I chew on my nails and debate sending them a photo of myself. Not my face, of course, but something just to get everyone off my back for a bit.

The last time I thought Sally was far away from me, he ended up being in front of my face. To say that having to serve him just once caused me to develop some paranoia is an understatement-- so if I'm going to do this, I'm going to change my clothes. I don't need anyone recognizing what I'm wearing.

With a sigh and shaky hands, I shut my phone off and take slow steps to my bedroom. The door feels like it weighs two tons-- though that's my own doing. Instead of just telling them that they don't need to know what I look like, I'm making things harder on myself because I feel the need to prove Sal wrong. But what if he's not wrong?

My brows furrow as I contradict myself-- that doesn't even matter because Sal-- Sally-- is wrong. I'm totally hot. I have to be.

I skip over to my closet with some pep in my step, rifling through shirts and immediately throwing Sally's merch to the ground. I might as well throw that away.

Or...

A petty little smile pulls at my lips. I lift the hoodie and throw it over my shoulder. It's blue-- the color of his hair-- with SALLY FACE diagonally written across the front in an almost scratchy black font.

I grab Larry's merch hoodie too-- the same one that Sal-- dammit, Sally-- wore the day he walked into my diner. Larry's hoodie is all black with some fun red designs running down the sleeves and his name-- also in red-- in big bubble letters on the front. His popular saying, "Zesty, Voluptuous Mommy Milkers" is on the back of the hoodie and that's part of the reason why I bought it in the first place.

Then, I just grab a plain pair of skinny black jeans and leather combat boots.

I set my phone against the drawers in my room and throw on Sally's hoodie first. I take one, singular picture of me, from the neck down, flicking off the camera. Then, I switch to Larry's hoodie and take one with a thumbs up, then another with my back towards the camera while pointing at his ridiculous catch phrase.

My hands shake and my mouth goes dry as I load the first photo in Sally's hoodie before pressing send. My finger hovers over the button, never touching the screen.

Honestly, I'm horrified. What is he going to say? What are they all going to say?

SALLYFʌCɛ: VioletViolence is a pussy-- clearly. she doesn't want us to see that she's actually some old guy preying on younger hotties.

ASHYPOO <3: Dude, stop being such a dick. Do you not remember that I've met Vi like... hundreds of times??

SALLYFʌCɛ: you sure this is actually her? what proof do you have, huh?

There's my cue. With a little guilty smile, I press send.

The chat is quiet for an uncomfortably long time. I'm still in Larry's hoodie and my anxiety is so bad that I lift the collar of it and pull the fabric over my face, sniffing the washing detergent Dad has used since I was a child. It's comforting and nostalgic for the moment.

I hear a notification so I glance over the edge of the hoodie, seeing a message from Todd.

T0DDLES12: See, she's not ugly.
T0DDLES12: Wait, is that Sal's merchandise?

Yes, Todd. Yes, it is. Thank you a thousand times over for taking the bait. This is working out better than I thought it would and my nervousness is gone as quick as it came.

I put the other two photos of me in Larry's merch then press send, typing out:

VIOLETVIOLENCE: sorry, wrong pic! here's what i meant to send <3

My heart skips a beat and I push out a big breath, feeling heat crawl up my cheeks as I wait for someone else to type in the chat.

LARBEARAWR: hot as fuck. 10/10. BARK RUFF QUACK RIBBIT AWOOGA

I knew he'd like that. A giggle falls from my lips and I cradle my phone, reading over Larry's message repeatedly. He's being a bit extra and really exaggerating, but I appreciate it regardless.

ASHYPOO <3: Just as pretty as I remember <333333
ASHYPOO <3: Send your tit!!
ASHYPOO <3: Tat** hehehehe

Funny, but that's a no-go. The only person who's seen my tattoo is Dad-- but what's the issue in sending it? Why am I afraid? Because I'll be showing skin? It shouldn't be that big of a deal. Why am I insecure over it?

ASHYPOO <3: I'd love to prove who you are to Sal-- but you don't have to send if you don't want to!

Ah, well, that's quite an incentive. It would prove who I am to Sally. He knows what I have as my tattoo, so it would be a clear indication that I'm not lying.

But I decide to joke with them a bit before finding out how to get a clear picture of the tattoo on my side.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: want bikini pics of me too ash??? what's next-- my titties???????
VIOLETVIOLENCE: oh sorry, i mean my zesty, voluptuous mommy milkers???????????

LARBEARAWR: please
LARBEARAWR: god, please

ASHYPOO <3: I mean... will you be upset if I agree with Lar?

T0DDLES12: I'm down for Vi's breasts. Can I get hands in the chat?

A true, genuine laugh reverberates through my room. It takes a moment for me to realize that I'm the one who did it-- fuck, I love my friends.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: one sec

I move to lift Larry's hoodie over my head. I'll have to move my shirt too since the tattoo is right on my bra line. Sometimes I regret getting it in such a hard to reach place.

My phone suddenly blows up with notifications and I nearly drop it onto the ground at my feet. I flinch back, looking down at my phone with furrowed brows and wide eyes.

LARBEARAWR: WUT????
LARBEARAWR: TITTIES??? MILKERS????
LARBEARAWR: B-B-B-BREASTS????
LARBEARAWR: UR SENDING THEM VI????

T0DDLES12: ^^^ Really? I thought we were only joking around. Let me prepare. I'll pull Neil in for this one.

ASHYPOO <3: Woah, holy hell-- Vi's sweet, juicy titties? I've been waiting for this day my entire life.
ASHYPOO <3: Let me get my camera ready-- screenshots just won't do. This is going in a picture book. I'm making an album just for your titties. Dedicated to the one and only VioletViolence.

Oh, fuck. Seems I didn't specify what I meant.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: NO
VIOLETVIOLENCE: sorry, i did NOT mean titties. just sending my tat.

LARBEARAWR: :(
LARBEARAWR: ook but can we get titty pics 2??????

VIOLETVIOLENCE: maybe.
VIOLETVIOLENCE: for you ;)

I love this banter with Larry-- he's such a funny guy. I enjoy talking with him, Todd, and Ash. And speaking of which, Sally's been pretty quiet.

LARBEARAWR: O_O
LARBEARAWR: r we flirting????? is that what this is????
LARBEARAWR: omg vi *bites lip* r u trna smash? me????

I snicker, ignoring the messages and maneuvering my body and phone around to try and get a clear picture of my tattoo. Minutes pass though and I find myself growing frustrated over the fact that I cannot get a good picture of it for the life of me. No matter what.

I set my phone down again, getting some major deja vu over the fact that I have to do this again. My brain is on overdrive as I throw my worries to the wind and just lift my shirt and bra strap, a photo being taken as the timer counts down on my phone.

When I pull my phone close to my face to inspect the picture, I wince and shut the device off for a second. My "fuck it" moment was a little too much. There's a good bit of underboob in that photo and I don't think I can send it.

My phone vibrates with another notification, so I carefully glance back at it. I haven't even sent the photo and I feel embarrassed by it.

ASHYPOO <3: Tit jokes aside, you really are beautiful, Vi. Inside and out! Never forget it, mi corazón <33333

That makes me warm up a bit and a smile works its way onto my lips again. Damn, Ash. She always knows what to say to make me feel better.

Suddenly, sending the photo doesn't feel as terrible to me. Sure, it still makes me nervous because I'm showing off so much skin, including skin that not a single person has ever seen-- aside from past boyfriends. It feels scary, but I know I can trust my friends and they'll even hype me up over it.

So I send another message before linking the photo.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: omg <3333 ash, don't talk to me in other languages i will melt over you. but seriously, thank you so much. i love you

I quickly send the photo before I can think too hard about it.

Anxious and debating on deleting it as soon as the picture goes through, I send more messages in a panic. I feel the need to pull at the roots of my hair, chew on my lips, crack my knuckles-- all of my nervous habits. My skin is burning hot and my legs won't stop moving.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: undertitties
VIOLETVIOLENCE: fuck this scares me ngl
VIOLETVIOLENCE: never sent half-titty pics before in my life
VIOLETVIOLENCE: #tittypicvirgin

My friends are quick to reply now, filling my endlessly frantic brain with love.

LARBEARAWR: FUCK YES TITTIES
LARBEARAWR: rlly tho, ur tat is super nice. titties too. hair is pretty and fluffy and i wanna run my fingers through it like ur a fairy r smthn

ASHYPOO <3: GORGEOUS BEAUTIFUL LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!
ASHYPOO <3: Awe, my baby's first titty pic <3 look at you growing up!

T0DDLES12: Voluptuous breasts, indeed. I love the meaning behind your tattoo. I wonder what it means to the band.

What did I ever do to deserve such amazing friends? Never did I think I'd have anyone care for me and support me so dearly, yet here are three. Three people who have been here for me since we were kids. And they still haven't left my side.

Their sweet words make a beaming smile form on my face and it's the sole reason behind my achy cheeks, but it's so worth it.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: guys :,) you're so sweet. thank you for all of this

ASHYPOO <3: Stahppp! There's no need to thank us, we're just telling the truth.

LARBEARAWR: word
LARBEARAWR: where's sal btw? ur missing tits bro
LARBEARAWR: r u wanking off to vi's pic in ur hoodie r smthng

Oh, shit. My eyes widen as I stare at Larry's message in shock. I can't believe he said that. But I'm also really happy that he did say it. This puts the heat on Sally and gives me something to cackle over.

Like he hasn't been gone for the past five or so minutes, Sally's username pops up in the chat.

SALLYFʌCɛ: eat shit, larry.

My cackling starts immediately. I thought it'd be something I'd do in the dead of night as I wait for sleep to take me, but it's come early. All because it is painfully obvious that Sally's message is guilty denial.

At least, I hope.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: it's okay to be honest, sally. masturbation is healthy!

His response is immediate again. He's been close to his phone.

SALLYFʌCɛ: i'm not even joking right now, i fucking hate you violetfucking whoever you are.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: awe but i totally wore your hoodie so you'd fall in love with me :(

This feels so good. I wanted a reaction and I'm getting it. Sally's messages fill me with adrenaline. I can practically feel my blood rushing through my veins. I can smell the anger in his text. I can taste his rage from all the way across the United Sates. It feels so incredibly invigorating.

SALLYFʌCɛ: choke on my damn dick.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: is that a threat or a promise? i have a pretty resilient throat. no gagging.

I send a thumbs up and lose it on my bedroom floor. I roll onto my back, laughing so hard that tears spill from the corners of my eyes. I find that with every single day of being close to The Faces, I feel so much better. I feel too good even if Sally's a dick. I feel so damn good that I trick myself into thinking that I'd be okay without my antidepressants. That's dangerous.

The chat is silent and I feel like I'm on top of the world. That's a clear win for me.

SALLYFʌCɛ has left the channel.

Oh, well, shit. I didn't exactly mean for that to happen.

Chapter Text

Me, Larry, and Todd are quietly sitting and waiting for Ash to convince Sal to join the voice chat. Apparently, the prick has never gotten angry enough to leave the chat before, so Ash is going nurse his bruised ego back to health. I laughed about it, but no one else found it that funny. I get it. I guess.

So I sit with my headset on and my arms crossed over my chest with Call of Duty's Warzone loaded on my screen. Todd and Larry haven't said a word-- I almost wonder if they're muted.

I hear some Discord notifications, then Ash's over-exaggerated sigh. I sit up quickly, uncrossing my arms as I prepare to get into another argument with Sally.

Instead of feeling remorseful or even guilty, I feel energetic to the point where I have to remind myself that stooping down to his level isn't a good thing. But it still feels so damn good.

"Alright everyone," Ash says. When she's serious, she always says 'alright' in that exhausted, slightly disappointed tone. "We're having a meeting. Call this therapy because, clearly, some of you fuckers need it!"

I hold my breath and my stomach turns with excitement as words just leave my mouth without command. "Yea, I'm sure Sally needs some therapy after that burn. It's okay, buddy. We all support you."

"Y/--" Ash chokes on the first syllable of my name and I hold my breath again, but this time it's not out of eagerness. Fuck, I guess that one was a warning for me to just shut the fuck up from the universe.

Thankfully, Ash spits out a random word that starts with the same sound as the beginning of my name. It's random enough and the others are used to it, so no one says anything.

"Dammit, Vi!" Ash tries again, a tremor in her voice. I gulp, chewing on my bottom lip anxiously. That was way too close, but it's my own fault. "This is serious. Sally's pissed off and the two of you are way too hostile. This needs to end, or tone it down a bit at least."

My mouth feels dry and sticky as the guilt I wasn't feeling earlier starts to pick at my brain. I don't want to feel bad because if anyone should feel bad, it's Sal. He's a dick to me for no reason and it's fueled every one of my reactions. That's exactly why we're having a damn group intervention right now.

But, then again, all we're doing is giving Ash, Larry, and Todd a hard time. I genuinely don't want to do that. I feel selfish realizing that I've ignored how they may be feeling over the situation.

I chew on my lip and try to bite back my pride because the truth of the matter is that I need to apologize. My insides burn and I swear I'll make my lip bleed, but it's for the good of the group, right? Sal will let up, and maybe we'll even become friends. Right?

"Sally," I say with a sigh, trying to push away the slight sarcasm that leaks through my words. Fuck, it physically pains me to have to do this. "Listen, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... done or said what I did. Can we, maybe, start over?"

I hear a scoff. My eyes narrow and my head clears. It's a moment of clarity for me-- not quite an epiphany, but a full second of time where I accept reality. It's a point in my life where I ditch any original plan I had just come up with.

"Shut up," Sally's voice bites out. Then he sighs heavily. "You're not my friend and there is no do-over. The only thing that's saving you right now is that I refuse to let you tear apart everything me, Ash, Larry, and Todd have built up. You will not get in the way. You're just an obstacle on my righteous path of life." His voice is confident, even amused as he speaks rather than the instant aggression he originally addressed me with.

I tilt my head and swallow thickly, "You know what?" I say, adopting a clear and gentle voice. Honestly, I'm kind of tired of fighting with him by now because he can't overlook whatever bullshit he's starting. He's a brick wall. At the same time though, I see how things must look to him. I'm some random person who's causing trouble-- a possibility that could break up the group he's worked so hard on. If I were in Sally's place, I'd feel threatened too. "That's fine by me. I have no intentions of breaking up your group-- I never have. I just want to get to where you guys are, make some friends in the process. I mean no harm."

"You do know that offering to choke on my cock is the quickest way to break up a group, right?" Sally snorts, his voice filled with accusation and humor.

So he finds this entire thing funny now. And for once, he scores a point. I can only win for so long, I suppose.

A blush tinges my cheeks and I pinch my lips together. He's managed to embarrass me and spew the truth at the same time. I can't fucking stand him, but I respect the accomplished attempt. I'm a fair person. He gets two points in my book for that one, but he doesn't have to know I respect him.

"So you don't want your dick in my mouth?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow even though he can't see it.

"Can you both just stop?" Ash says tiredly, clearly exasperated.

The reminder that I'm probably stressing all of my friends out makes me see rationally again, so I swallow back whatever else I was going to say.

"Sorry guys, I'm done with it. Let's play some games," I say, forcing a smile on my face. It's a facade to try and feel like I'm actually enjoying myself and not acting like a total bitch.

"I'm not done," Sally's voice comes in and his claim makes me sit up in my chair. No point in that, I'm just watching my character walk around with a gun at the ready-- nothing else. But it felt right to sit up-- to have a physical reaction. He never fails to fucking shock me.

"You've never seen my face, but you want my dick so damn bad, don't you?" he continues, chuckling at the end, like he genuinely can't help but find our situation funny. Probably because he knows he's beat me out on this game.

I sigh, and force myself to fight off the painful urge to kill his pride right now. I want to put him in his place so bad, but in the grand scheme of things, Sally means nothing. He has nothing to do with my future, nor will he be in it.

"That's highly inappropriate, Sally," I say softly, wincing at the obviously fake tone. "Let's just play, okay?"

Sally hums, the sound sending chills down my spine. It's sarcastic, it's meant to get under my skin, but fuck it feels good. I'm shocked into stillness for a moment, recalling the way his skin felt beneath my fingertips a few days ago. The way he spoke to me kindly, softly. His attractive mannerisms, his tattoos, and the look in his eyes when they met mine.

I shake myself out of the moment, taking a deep breath to quell the uncomfortable flutters in my chest.

"Let's play, then," he purrs, the sound of his voice digging into every inch of me in, unfortunately, all the best ways. "Just remember, if you end up with my cock in your hands, it's your position in jeopardy here, not mine."

Why is everyone so fucking silent?

Having to ignore his remark as quietude ensues around us makes me physically heat up. I've done a lot of averting and ignoring tonight and I can only do it for so much longer.

"The second you all start talking is when this ends," I snap harshly. "So talk."

"Yes, ma'am. Starting my stream now," Larry chuckles. It takes that instant of pure hilarity from my friend to realize that he genuinely has no issue with what we're doing. If anything, I think he may enjoy it. At least that's one person off my list of worries-- I'm not sure about Todd's stance. Ash has made her opinion clear.

We stay quiet out of respect for Larry, Todd, Ash, and Sally as they do their short introductions. I grow nervous as Ash closes her own intro up because that means I'm next.

There's no telling if anyone will even join my Twitch stream. I have hardly any followers anywhere, I've just started out. I don't even know what to say or do either. Todd and Larry had to break their backs trying to help me figure out how to work Twitch to begin with. The beginning of our Discord call was spent with panic and aggravated sighs.

"We have our sweet VioletViolence with us today and she'll be streaming for the first time too!" Ash chirps sweetly, addressing the fucking elephant in the room. "You know how to start everything up, baby?"

"Err," I spit out nervously, feeling around my keyboard for now reason at all as I start up my own stream. A spear of anxiousness travels through my system and I squint my eyes, wishing I could take it back.

But what helps is that ten people join the stream at the same exact time. From there, people join one by one every second or so.

This is real. I'm even more nervous now, but I'm hyped up over the fact that I won't be sitting in a barren stream.

"Uh, hi everyone. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing," I giggle, swiping a hand through my hair and releasing a shaky breath.

Ash giggles and Todd snorts.

"It's okay," Todd says reassuringly despite his somewhat monotone voice. "Introduce yourself and kind of go with what feels right from there."

If Sally was speaking at all right now, this wouldn't be going as smoothly. Another aggravating thing I respect about him, I guess.

"Thanks, Todd," I say sweetly, grinning as I look over a few comments on my screen. "My name is VioletViolence, and I don't have a cool trademark line yet, but I guess I'll say something ridiculous at some point. Welcome to my stream though, we're chaotic here and it's bound to get spicy eventually."

My eyes glance over a comment talking about Sally and how the person loves our banter, so I snort over it, scrunching my eyebrows. "That's cute," I laugh good-naturedly. "I think Sally would raise hell if he saw someone talking about our arguments as banter. Regardless, I'm glad you like it. It does get pretty fun."

An influx of comments come in and I lean back in my seat, grimacing. I should have stayed quiet.

"Banter!?" Sally exclaims over the mic, his voice cracking under the shock. "I can't stand this bitch!"

I roll my eyes, a smile pulling at my lips. He's such a literal cunt, but people love it.

"Awe, you love me. Don't lie," I coo, clicking on a couple things on my screen. Impatiently waiting to finish yelling at Sally so I can lose myself in Call of Duty. Kill bitches, feel better. "You couldn't shut up about having your dick in my mouth two minutes ago."

Sally grumbles, some aggression hidden in his deep voice that makes me giddy for a good fight instantly. "You're putting words into my mouth, dumbass. Get it right-- you're the one who offered to suck me off."

"Mmm," I hum, licking my lips. "You've read me wrong. I didn't offer, but you seemed intrigued by the thought and kept the topic alive. I'm sure you'd prefer something other than my fingers in your mouth, too, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, bi--" Sally's voice has real edge to it before he gets cut off by Larry. For a moment, I was a little worried he might try and find me to argue this out in person. The harshness of his voice actually made me flinch.

But now that it's over, the adrenaline rush feels fantastic.

"Oookay, that's enough you two. You gave the audience what they want. Let's move on," Larry actually cackles, loading up a new game. "Anyway, Vi! You any good at COD?"

I give Larry my best little evil laugh and scroll through my gun options. "Oh, I eat ass at this game so prepare yourselves," I say, clicking on my best options-- the options I know well enough, in and out, to really show what I've got. Call of Duty is the first game I've ever played, which means I've had plenty of time to get used to it.

"Is... that a good or bad thing?" Todd asks, genuine curiosity and a little bit of fear in his voice. The absurdity makes me want to laugh.

With a smile, I join the game with my friends and prepare to show up every single person in this lobby. "It means my skills are gonna leave you incapacitated for weeks. This tongue game is just as serious as my thumb game."

Ash, Larry and Todd burst into uncontrollable laughter, big sighs and choking the only thing I can hear for a bit. I didn't think it was that funny, but they did so that makes me smile excitedly. I'll have to keep working on my humor, but this is a start, isn't it?

I glance over at my twitch stream and note that 2,036 people are watching me right now and my comments are wild over the words I just said, one of them saying that I've already found my catchphrase.

I'm playing a game with over two thousand people in attendance to watch me kick ass. This feels amazing, but scary all at the same time. I have to watch what I say and do. The world is a beautiful place, but it's a haunting one too. One wrong move and shit can end just as quickly as it's begun.

I address some of my comments, grinning as our game starts and I hide myself behind a corner for a moment, listening to Ash yell at Larry to stop laughing.

"You guys like my serious tongue and thumb game? That got you?" I giggle, tilting my head curiously.

A ton of comments come in stating that they do, in fact, like the claim. "So what if I replace serious with dangerous?" I ask, spotting an unfortunate soul crossing my path.

"Fuck!" Sally exclaims suddenly, a lot of clicking and huffing going on on his end of the call. "I need help, some asshole's lighting me up."

Larry harrumphs, "A bro in need is a bro indeed," he says. "On my way!"

The phrase makes me laugh as I take off in Sally and Larry's direction as well, targeting who I can along the way. "You sure it isn't me kicking your ass?" I ask.

"That'd be cute wouldn't it?" Sally snaps, his voice grating. "Too bad you can't target group members in this setting. Otherwise, you'd be dead."

"Bold of you to assume I'm not already dead," I say sweetly, veering around a corner and finally spotting both boys.

"I wish you were." Sally grunts out, sighing exasperatedly.

"If I was, then you'd be dead, too." My tone is serious for a moment. Sally Face really was drowning in opponents and they were gunning him down bad, so I take out the last two to my left while Larry and Sally handle the others.

Sally's character spins around as I do and he notes my presence. I can't see him and I'm nowhere near him in person, but I can just smell his rage from across this continent that we both reside on.

"Fuck off," he bites out.

"I think you'd prefer to... fuck on," I can't help the smirk that envelops my face at the dumb joke. Sally doesn't find it funny, but my viewers, Larry, Ash, and Todd giggle at it.

Then an enemy pops up behind Sally while he's struggling to find something to say and the worst happens. Sally goes down in an instant-- I couldn't save him in time but I do avenge him by finishing the enemy. Friend or not, Sally is my teammate.

The issue is that he's dead because of me. Oops.

"Shit, sorry," I murmur, hot-cheeked and chewing my lips in embarrassment. I know he's going to be pissed.

"Dumb bitch," he spits out. "You just have to argue over everything."

Ew. Gross. "I apologized, asshat. Get over it. I was in the wrong, it happened, it's over. Don't be a dick," I grunt out, a little disgusted over his instant reaction as I keep playing with Ash, Larry, and Todd.

"Yea man, low blow," Larry murmurs.

"The two of you need to tone down the hostility. It's funny when it's friendly, but you went a bit far, Sally," Todd says matter-of-factly.

Fuck, his friends defending me is just going to piss him off even more.

"Yea, okay," Sally huffs out, less than pleased but forced to hold up a facade for the sake of his fans. I can only imagine what he's going to say when we end our streams later. "I'm going get coffee."

There's that damn accent. It's so nice and steals my attention immediately. The stupid way he says 'coffee' is so damn distracting that I can't stop myself from saying, "Wait, Sally, say that again."

The fear that erupts in my body gets me killed too. Everything goes to chaos for a moment, Larry yelling as I try to save myself, me panic running and still losing, then my comment section absolutely losing their minds.

Damn him. He could have just said something like "be back in a second." Why did he have to say the word 'coffee?'

I take a breath as I watch my dead body on my screen. Larry is breathing hard, Ash let out a little "oop" and Todd is off dominating elsewhere. Hopefully, Sally left before he could hear what I said.

That would be the best case scenario considering it was a moment of weakness for me. Please, let him be gone.

Of course he isn't though.

"What?" Sally suddenly asks, voice scrutinizing like he's trying to understand what just went on. The rest of the group is immersed in the game, so I lean back in my chair with wide eyes and a defeated little huff.

"What do you mean, what?" I ask nervously. Right now, Sally and I's viewers are just listening to us. This is a bad moment with no outside distractions to move us on to some other topic.

"You told me to say something again. What did you want me to say?" he says, seemingly short-fused. He's acting like he's sparing me just this once, like he's giving me a little break. The bastard.

I swallow thickly, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to remind myself that I really need to play up my act. No one can see how fucking embarrassed I am, so I can't let them hear that I am, especially Sally. "It doesn't matter. I thought you said something different."

"You sure?" Sally asks, a meticulous edge to his raspy voice. I shiver for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. He's too good with the way he speaks-- not specifically the words, but the way he uses them. "Did the accent get you?"

Dammit. This mustn't be the first time he's gotten shit about the way he says some things.

I try desperately hard to hold back a groan. What else should I say? How can I deflect-- deny? I... don't think I can.

"Yea," I improvise, bringing my fingers to my lips. "It sounded... cool. Where are you from?"

Sally and I have never had a normal conversation before so trying to initiate one to save my own ass is awkward. I don't know how to talk to him like a normal person.

Sally snorts. "Yea. I get bitches with the accent. Wish you were next?"

I roll my eyes and drop my hand back to my table. "You're such an ass. I was just trying to make casual conversation, you know?"

"That's not a 'no,'" he chuckles lowly and I feel like I'm going to fall apart. He needs to contain this asshole-ish, aggressive flirting because it's tearing me apart. It fills me with rage, but attracts me to him at the same time. I've never hated a guy's charm more than I do his.

"It's a no. I do not want you, Sally Face," I rush out, attempting to keep any hostility out of my voice even if it's incredibly hard. "Just tell me where you're from."

"Nope. I don't see why that's relevant when there are more important topics, such as your very obvious attraction to me." Sally quips, laughing lightly like he enjoys terrorizing me. He definitely enjoys it.

"Oh, really?" I grit out. "You keep bringing up this attraction you think I have for you, so are you sure it isn't the other way around?"

"More than. I've never seen you before. How could I be attracted to you? Not to mention, your personality is utter shit." Sally's insult is fired back at me angrily. Every time he's not in control, he gets pissed off. All I have to do is flip the switch on him, huh?

"Oh, there's no need to lie, Sally," I antagonize. "What about when I sent photos on Discord earlier? You disappeared then came back so, so angry. Were you just upset that you thought I was hot? What happened there?" If he can play this game, then I can, too. Fuck moving on, I'll bring up the past if it just so happens to be in my favor.

"I disappeared because there were more important things to do. You just think so highly of yourself, don't you? You think you're the center of attention. I saw your bullshit in the chat and left to get some water while everyone else hyped you up for no reason." Sally's smart, I'll give him that. He's quick with his rebuttals and he knows how to make me fucking itch.

For example, he pulled out his trump card-- that fucking accent again. He said 'water' on purpose. And no, I'm not hearing anyone out. Of course he said that on purpose.

No, I'm not just losing my mind because he's hot and and irking me all at once. I'm fine.

Before a syllable can even leave my mouth, Ash pipes up and cuts our argument short.

To say I'm fuming and yearning for Sal's neck in my hands is an understatement. And I'm not even quite sure how I want his neck in my grasp-- to assert dominance or to actual wring him fucking breathless.

"Hey, you fuming little fairies," Ash chirps with a giggle. "We won. Let's start a new game."

"No thanks to the bitch in the chat, of course," Sally's sighs. I can hear the mocking smile in his voice. "But yea, new game."

Things are getting worse, not better.

Chapter Text

I wake up groggy and exhausted. Definitely not prepared for a full work day, that's for sure.

The Faces and I spent the entire night playing together. It was honestly fun aside from the few times Sally and I got into really aggressive arguments. I was worried one of them would turn into a yelling match, but somehow, we were calmed. I blame-- I mean-- thank Ash for that.

Still, it was about two in the morning by the time I realized how late it was. I told my friends good night and ended my stream that amassed a whopping five thousand and something viewers. I thanked them all the best way I could-- which was just through words. For now.

And the best part of ending abruptly is that Sally wasn't given a chance to bitch at me for getting him killed early in the night.

The only issue is that it's eight in the damn morning and I have no energy. But, I do have a clear and optimistic mindset.

Later, Ash is going to help me link my bank account to all of my socials. For Twitch, I need to at this point. With how often I plan on streaming, alongside my growing number of viewers, I'll actually start making some money, which blows my mind.

But, I'm excited. This is the change I've been looking for. It's something good for me and dad. And hey, who knows, maybe I'll be able to go back to school at some point.

I get ready for my day, sighing upon realizing that I've forgotten to get more contacts again. I'll have to do that soon.

A wave of deja vu washes over me as I situate my glasses onto the bridge of my nose, looking over my form in the mirror. The last time I did this, I wasn't involved with Sally and I definitely wasn't streaming. Come to think of it, VioletViolence didn't exist either yet.

The deja vu feels good this time and I can't help but smile at myself as I pull my stupid skirt higher on my waist and get ready to leave for the day.

Maybe I won't have to work this taxing job soon, too. If I could have true, reliable income from streaming and being a bit of an influencer, that would help me out tremendously. Being online could be my only occupation.

Before I step out of my apartment to start my day, my phone starts ringing. There goes that deja vu again.

I bound over to the elevator, trying to fish my phone out of the side pocket on my backpack. But it's stuck, and I can't get it in time to answer the call.

Hissing, I press the button to go down to my apartment complex's lobby then take my backpack off, man-handling the damn phone and yanking it from its fabric clutches. Life being hard on me just because.

I glance over my lit up screen with furrowed brows due to extreme aggravation. It's going to be a long day.

With pinched lips, I click on Ash's missed call and put my phone to my ear, listening to consecutive rings. It doesn't take her too long to pick up though.

"Hey, y/n! Everything okay?" Ash asks, her kind voice chirpy and cheery like she got a full seven hours of sleep. I'm not sure how she manages to not feel aggravated on little sleep because I know she definitely went to bed later than I did.

"Hey, hun," I start, smiling slightly. Her happy voice makes me feel a bit better. "Yea, I'm fine. Just couldn't get to my phone, it was stuck in a pocket. I'm on my way to work. How are you?"

Ash sucks in a breath. "Ouch, sorry. We shouldn't have kept you up so late," she says guiltily.

I walk into the elevator, scooting in beside an older man with a briefcase. I smile at him. He doesn't smile back. So I face forward and raise my eyebrows. "No, don't worry about it," I tell Ash. "I actually really enjoyed myself! Sally's a bit of an ass, but I can overlook it."

"Wow," Ash gasps. "Is this progress I'm seeing? I noticed you guys getting real flirty, but for you to actually be getting used to him? The gates have fallen and all the little monsters are taking my y/n-bug!"

A giggle leaves my lips and I hold my phone with both hands, trying to hide myself from the man behind me but refusing to let some random kill my instant good mood. "Don't get your hopes up. I think the arguments are fun, but Sally genuinely can't stand me. I'm not sure how to fix that, and I don't really want to make him like me at all either. It's fun making him suffer," I say smugly, grinning at the metallic elevator doors.

The doors-- who are absolutely against me in every way for unknown reasons-- open up to a handful of people the minute the expression envelops my face and my grin drops. Way to make myself look like an absolute villainess in front of potential neighbors right?

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and weave through people until I find my way out of the apartment building and into the hot, summer LA air.

The sun is bright, blinding even, and I can already feel a sweat working up, so I keep walking in the direction of the diner and try my best to find some shade.

"Oh well," Ash sighs into the call. "Sally will come around eventually. He's just really hard headed with you-- not sure why. Even just your name-- either one, in fact-- gets him worked up. It's really weird."

I shrug, feeling like an idiot when I remember that she can't see. "Not my problem. He has something against me and I don't know what it is, but I don't really care either." I shield my eyes from the sun, squinting my eyes in the harsh light. "So what's up? Any plans today?"

"Oh, actually, thank you for the reminder!" Ash says, cursing herself lightly. "I called for a reason. I know you said you won't be coming to Vegas. Boringggg." She giggles and the action makes me smile a little more. "But I emailed you the invite a few minutes ago. I wanted to make sure you got it!"

I hum, pulling my phone away from my face to look down at my screen. My eyes are still shielded as I scroll through my recent emails and, sure enough, there's one from Ash. The subject says,, "That party invite-- the one you won't be coming to :("

With a little giggle, I place my phone to my ear again. "Yea, I've got it. I'll check it out a little later, but I'm still not going," I remind her, noting the diner coming into view. "But listen, I'll talk to you again tonight, okay? Are you guys playing again?"

"We sure are!" Ash exclaims excitedly. "We'll be getting on around six in the evening. Can you be there for that time?"

Frowning, I remember that I'm staying until about eight tonight. "I'll be late, but I'll be there," I promise.

Ash squeals. Her cute noises always excite me and fill me with actual joy-- something I don't feel very often nowadays. "Yay! Okay, I'll tell the guys! I'm super excited!"

I huff out a laugh, opening the back door into the diner's kitchen. Nodding toward some of the cooks, I turn into our rest area and put my bag down. "Sounds good. I'm excited too." I glance at my surroundings and realize my shift starts in ten minutes. "I've got to go. I'll see you tonight."

"Barf, but okay! Ich liebe dich. Have a great day!" Ash says, blowing me a kiss then hanging up. Her trademark lately is telling me she loves me in different languages, it's pretty cute.

Most of my day goes by quickly. Well, the first half at least. I couldn't be more thankful for that. But when I'm on break, munching on a burger that the head cook was nice enough to make for me, I spend some time hanging out on Discord.

Ultimately, I come to regret it.

LARBEARAWR: hey vi i have a cewl pic 4 u wana c???

VIOLETVIOLENCE: sure lar :3 send it over!!!

T0DDLES12: Larry and Sally have been off doing something all day. They haven't been home in about four hours.

Ew, so they're together. I hope Larry just sends me a cute kitty picture or something.

ASHYPOO <3: Really? GUYSSSSS what are you doing??? We're literally going to be streaming laterrr. Plus, Larry owes me a ride to that new smoothie shop on the outskirts of nockfell >:(((

T0DDLES12: Sally mentioned something about wanting to practice his guitar at their parents' place down Main Street. Apparently, Lisa and Henry bought some type of studio to open a little meat market but haven't gotten around to it yet. So it's ended up being the perfect place for Larry and Sally to do criminal things.

I reel back in my seat, a bit confused by the information I've been given. I have a mouthful of fries, but I stop chewing as I try to make sense of who exactly Lisa is with.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: wait, who's Lisa and Henry?

I wait with bated breath. Of course, I had to lie about knowing Lisa given the situation I put myself into. But I know Lisa very well, she and I were besties before I moved. She made the most amazing lasagna for me, Larry, Todd, and Ash. She was an awesome second mom.

T0DDLES12: Henry is Sally's father. Lisa is Larry's mother. They're married and it's all thanks to the boys. The guys started out as best friends when Sally first moved to Nockfell, then their parents met and the rest was history.

My eyes are wide. What are the fucking chances that Sally and Larry have ended up being step-brothers? Fuck this is wild. And fuck, this is really not looking up for me. I have to be careful with what I say.

I genuinely hope that Henry is nothing like his son.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: awwweee that's so cute, i'm glad it worked out that way for them :)

It sounds sarcastic and, let's be honest, it kind of is. I'm hardcore freaked out.

A photo comes in from Larry but it takes a second or two to load in. So, I squint my eyes and bring my phone closer to my face.

When I don't have time to decide that I don't want to see the picture, a blisteringly hot photo finally pops up in front of me and I suddenly find myself choking on my fries. A few bits of gross, chewed up potato fly onto the floor at my feet as I rush to cover my mouth with a hand. My phone gets slammed onto the table in front of me as I try to catch my breath.

Every inch of my body is on fire and I feel like I'm being seared from the inside out. My brain is overwhelmed and fighting to hold onto my sanity. And my sanity? My rational, working order that keeps me in check? It's running for the hills-- sprinting over to my phone just so it can lick my screen. I struggle to grip onto the last bits of me that actually make sense.

And, by the way, fuck Larry. Because I lose my grasp on my good-natured superego. My scary ego takes the reins, commanding my hands to bring my phone up to my face again.

Sigmund Freud would have fucking loved me.

With shaky hands and wide eyes, I rake my eyes over the photo that Larry sent. Hell, I even zoom in on it.

In the photo is a shirtless Sally Face. He's dripping in sweat, his hair messy and sticking to his prosthetic, and his guitar is securely hanging onto the front of his body.

His hands are holding onto the body and neck of his bright red, fiery guitar and I'm not quite sure where to look first.

His skin, as pale as the moon on a dim night, glistens with sweat from putting his entire heart into playing the instrument, I'll bet. His arms aren't too muscular, but they're veiny and there's definitely some muscle mass there. Has to be a result of constant working hands. My eyes trail up the various veins in his arms and then over the wide variety of tattoos.

Sally's sleeve is completely free for me to view right now-- and it doesn't just stop at his elbow. The tattoo I saw on his arm-- the one I got to touch-- goes all the way up to his shoulder and I can feel my mouth watering over the attractive, geometric designs.

His other arm doesn't have quite as many tattoos, but he does have a vine of some kind of flower wrapping around his skin. It's not a big tattoo that covers every inch of him, in fact, it's rather small, but it is long. It starts at his wrist and trails along and around his arm, all the way up to his shoulder.

There's a tattoo on his collarbone, but I can't quite make out what it is. Regardless, it's nice to look at and my brain has gone fuzzy.

I can see his shattered dagger tattoo exceptionally well with his head looking down at his finger placement. His neck is reddened just a bit with little pieces of his shoulder length, cerulean hair stuck to his skin in some places.

Fuck, I hate that he's hot and I was doing just fine with ignoring my dull attraction to him until this. The thought of seeing his face covered in sweat and stuck in a focused expression would probably make me lose whatever brain cells I have left.

I cross my legs and clear my throat, slapping my cheeks after a moment. I look up and away from the photo, trying to clear my mind in an attempt to quell my raging emotions. And somehow, I still find myself looking down at the photo again.

Sally's wearing black ripped jeans that hug his thighs in all the right places. Now that I'm looking closer too, I can see little scars littering his pale, glistening neck. And fuck, he has the most beautiful torso I think I've ever seen in my life.

And what is that?

I narrow my eyes and zoom in closer.

My stomach practically drops out of my ass upon realizing that the edge of a tattoo is peeking out of the waistband of his jeans. I'm not sure where it is exactly, but it's probably on his thigh and I'd give anything to lay my eyes on the full thing one day.

My heart is beating wildly and I feel like I can't breathe. If I take a breath, I think I may burst and I'm not sure in what way. There are too many aggressors in just one photo. My head is overloaded and I almost throw caution to the wind, say fuck it, and ask Sally to fucking fly back to LA.

Come to think of it, where's that text to Lexi?

I hiss at the photo and click out of it, finally taking a deep breath and realizing I've broke out into a nervous sweat. My thighs are glued together and I'm afraid to move-- afraid to even think because my head is impure and I haven't gotten fucked in far too long.

Damn.

I lick my dry lips and blink at the Discord chat.

LARBEARAWR: vi if u zoom in on the red thing u can c my name on the bottom
LARBEARAWR: vi do u c it
LARBEARAWR: viiiiiiiii r u bein like sally
LARBEARAWR: ok i'll leave u 2 masturbate in peace

T0DDLES12: Larry, I'm too gay for that picture. Please delete it. Neil and I are trying to find your location and it's not for innocent reasons.

ASHYPOO <3: No wonder Sally's pulling all the bitches... HE NEVER LEAVES ANY HOTTIES FOR THE REST OF US AND THIS IS WHY fuck >:(

T0DDLES12: That must be frustrating for you and Larry. Though, Sally would be the only bitch I need.
T0DDLES12: Also, Vi, I am not cheating on my boyfriend. I casually flirt with my friends and Neil finds it hilarious. I don't actually want to have sex with any of my friends, or anyone else for that matter.

ASHYPOO <3: Todd's lying. He's actually a little whore for hot people. Don't let him lie to you XD

T0DDLES12: No need to call me out, Ashley.

LARBEARAWR: shut up vi is trying 2 get off
LARBEARAWR: gosh u guys have no respect 4 others needs

ASHYPOO <3: True that. Sorry, Vi. We'll leave you to let out some sexy steam~ :3

Fuck, how did I manage to put myself into this ridiculous position. The worst part is that they aren't far off from the truth. Sal is hot as fuck and it pains me to admit it.

This ground is officially dangerous, tainted with bombs that'll go off the minute I make one wrong move. Sally and I cannot meet again. If I see him without a shirt in person, his pants are coming off too.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: sorry guys i'm at work and just getting to my break! sally has a badass guitar. and yes, i see your signature larry lmfao

I didn't even look for Larry's name on the damn guitar. If I click on that photo again, chaos will ensue in my mind and I can't handle that. I still have a few hours left to go in this shift and I'll actually have to talk with Sally tonight. I can't subject myself to that torture while knowing I'll have to converse with him in just a few hours.

LARBEARAWR: lol did u rlly c it
LARBEARAWR: r u sure u weren't looking @ sally's lickable shirtless bod 2 hard

VIOLETVIOLENCE: yes lar, i'm sure lol. i see it, it's there!

LARBEARAWR: lol... that's wild... cause my name isn't on it...
LARBEARAWR: sally wood off me if i ever touched his guitar :P
LARBEARAWR: caught u in #4k hehe

I want to scream and cry and roll around on the floor because, yea, Larry caught me in the most obvious fucking lie ever. I think when I see him again, I'm going to punch him. I don't think I'll feel better until I do.

My eyes squeeze shut and I throw a hand over my mouth again, letting my phone drop to the table a second time. This man is evil. Both men are evil. Larry is smarter than he lets on and Sally is just too damn fuckable. I should have never started streaming.

What do I do. What do I do? I can't let this marinate, I have to fix it.

My lungs are wedged into my throat and my legs are bouncing up and down in a panic. I feel like I'm going to fucking throw up.

I got caught slacking in one of the worst moments of weakness I've ever shown in my life.

In a last ditch effort to restore some faith in myself, I download the photo of Sal and do my best to ignore how badly I want to drool over it.

Zooming in all the way into the bottom right of the guitar, I screenshot and then delete the full photo so I don't have to listen to my insides scream upon seeing his naked upper half again. Fuck, this is aggravating.

Deny until you die, right?

I edit Larry's name onto the screenshot of the guitar then quickly send it in the chat.

The group is silent for a second, and I know that photo is obviously edited, but maybe it'll take a little bit of heat off of me. I chew on my bottom lip, cheeks heating up again as I think abut how to lose every connection to the name VioletViolence. I can start over again. Under a fourth name.

Hell, maybe I have a problem...

All my names are a result of me running away from my unavoidable problems. I'm starting to see a pattern.

My phone pings and I focus in on it again, sucking in a quick breath.

SALLYFʌCɛ: awww, what a cute attempt to save yourself. don't wear yourself out too much. and clean up whatever mess you make along the way.

I'm fucked for life.

Chapter Text

The start to my stream with Ash, Larry, Sally, and Todd tonight has been uncomfortably... serene.

When I imagine any scenario with Sally involved, that's not a feeling I can even think of associating with him. So the simple fact that he's not addressing me too much and that he has a cheery lilt to his voice makes me feel nearly sick with anxiousness.

He must be smug about my obvious loss on Discord earlier.

Not to mention, after I got caught, everyone dipped out of the chat and I didn't even bother defending myself. How would I even come back from that? But at the same time, I'm filled with this incredible need for a vendetta. I don't know how to save myself from this.

What's worse is my stupid attraction to this godawful Sally Face has only grown. I find myself flinching at every single word he says because it sounds different tonight. Maybe I'm still recovering from his photo, or maybe I'm not even that crazy. Maybe he's making his voice sound so seductive on purpose.

Definitely a possibility.

"Come on out, my little victims," Sally face purrs. His words are purposeful and absolutely vicious. I never should have gotten on tonight. To say that I'm quaking in my seat while I try to get a handle on this game (which is new to me) is the understatement of the century. I can't help but roll my eyes at myself for being so ridiculous.

Earlier, we started our streams with a couple rounds of Among Us and, surprisingly, Minecraft. Now we're all playing the Friday the 13th game and Sally's playing Jason. What fantastic luck.

I'm trying to hide wherever I possibly can with what time and mobility I have. It's my first time playing and I have no idea how to work anything. I don't even quite know how the game works, so I'm open bait to the one man who wants revenge on me most in this world.

Not only am I fighting for my life, I'm fighting for my dignity. My head is just above the water in this sticky situation I've gotten myself roped into and I need a good win to keep my head above water right now. Otherwise, I'll have to pull a y/n and change my name again. It's what I'm good at.

"I think I saw a little foot over there," Sally murmurs, more so to himself. The statement makes me stiffen up though and I stand completely still in the wide open spot I'm in on the map. He could be talking about anyone, but under the assumption that he's talking about me, I think my best option is to stop moving altogether.

Still, I bite my lip nervously as I wait, listening to the sound of my rapid heartbeat that only grows stronger as the seconds pass. Not a word is spoken between our group and the ensuing silence only makes my internal panic even worse.

My heart is screaming at me to keep moving in case Sally sneaks up on me, but my brain is trying to rationalize everything and tell me that I need to relax.

The thing is that the few sane parts of me know that the odds have been against me since the second I got involved with Sally. In truth, I was fucked from the start.

But I don't hear any footsteps around me. Nothing's happening.

So I follow my heart's rushed commands and start moving slowly, looking for a new spot to run to and hide.

A hum reverberates through my headphones and a rush of air leaves my body. I'm so suddenly tense that my stomach aches as it turns in on itself. My head is filled with waves of thoughts and emotions that just can't grasp at the sound I've heard. And deep on the inside, all of my organs are raging over the thought that I wasn't able to hear that in person, and that I won't be able to hear something as pretty as that again.

It had to have come from Sally-- the pitch and tone matched him perfectly, even the slight rasp to his clear voice.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep it as quiet as possible as I attempt to dispel my overwhelming thoughts that are doing their best to drown every little bit of my mind.

"I know you're there, Larry," Sally drawls. "I love a chase. Don't you dare hide from me." A low, short chuckle follows his words before he says, "Run."

I bring a hand to my lips, cussing quietly over my slightly trembling fingers.

Never in my life have I ever been so spell-bound and wonderstruck by just a few words. There has to be some kind of rhyme, reason, or magic behind the art. Especially since it's Sal. He must know the logistics of the perfect sound, frequency, and longevity of each syllable he speaks in order to make him sound so alluring.

Paying too close attention to his words is the equivalent to trying to pet a wild tiger. It's beautiful, enchanting even and you feel drawn, but the bite isn't going to be worth it.

But the overwhelming desire to indulge in my desperation and yearning is quite literally incriminating to my heart and mind. I shouldn't get too close to him or his appealing nature. It'll only get me into trouble in the end.

So I cross my legs, gulp down the urge to make bad decisions while recording a live stream, and run off to a new place at the sound of Larry's frantic cackles.

Larry gets killed, of course. It's a fun moment where he runs past me, screaming bloody murder and laughing hysterically in fear the entire way. I watch from the shadows as Sally chases after him, light giggles following his form.

From there on, Ash and Todd get killed too. And then it's just Sally and I alongside a few other counselors who are running for their lives.

But I know he's looking for me.

I've been hiding for an eternity, waiting for Sally to grow tired of looking for me so he'll plow through the other players. Hopefully I can just find my way out of here.

I have a bad habit of treating this game like Dead By Daylight. I have an inkling of a feeling that I can actually survive, but I probably won't be able to.

A quick, anxious glance at my stream shows over seven thousand people watching me. My viewers have gone up significantly and it irks me a bit knowing I can't talk to them while being pursued by Sally.

"Come on out, bitch," Sally lazily says. It's a lot easier to ignore his attractive attributes when he treats me like this, so for once, I don't mind the insult. At least it's not his distractingly charming voice and words.

Still, my eye twitches a bit as I hold my breath, noting the moment he passes by me. I hope I've blended into the shadows well enough, simply waiting for the moment I can get him away then run to victory.

His feet move a bit farther away from me and I close my eyes, not realizing that a rush of adrenaline has spiked because of my near death experience. Crazy how this game gives me such realistic reactions.

"You're around here somewhere and I'm aching to get some blood on my hands," Sally slowly says, an amused sway to his deep voice that sounds as harmonic and entrancing as an electric guitar and bass playing perfectly at the same time.

Fuck this guy.

I don't say a word as I watch him saunter off in the opposite direction from me.

Once I feel that he's far enough away, I bite my tongue and crawl out of my hiding spot. I have a clear shot to victory, I just need to not screw up. And if I snap at Sally due to an unjust stroke of confidence, I'll fuck myself over. It's better to let him have this little victory for now because, overall, I'm leaving Camp Crystal Lake alive, motherfucker.

I turn slightly, setting my sights on a car not too far away from me. I just need to get there and fix it, then I'll be on my way.

My character ambles over and my chest aches with every step out in the open. The ominous darkness and eerie noises as well as the knowledge of a killer close by fills me with unease. Anything could happen and being too imbedded in the game-- like I'm actually walking through a scary forest myself-- is dangerous.

The last thing I want to do is scream loud enough for my neighbors to hear it or terrorize myself too badly.

I shake my head, trying to remind myself that I won't be hurt. I only need to win.

My neck is cool with sweat and I pinch my lips together, curling my knees up to my chest as I grow more apprehensive upon reaching the car.

But a damn knife flies into my back. An alarmed squeal leaves my lips as I jump in my seat and lean forward, making my character run for its life. Fuck the car, I can hide out for a while longer.

A menacing chortle that quickly grows closer sends chills through my body and I huff out quick breaths, trying to weave in and out of trees. I break into a full sweat and frantically wipe my clammy hands on my skirt, hoping I can actually get away from fucking Sally.

Another knife hits me, and then I'm enveloped in hands, looking into the zombified eyes of Jason Voorhees as he brutally pulls my jaw from the rest of my head.

I lean back in my chair, listening to Sally's remorseless laughs as he looks down at my lifeless character. I'm filled with a violent fury that's incomparable to any other emotion I've felt in the past few days since working with this monstrosity.

"I think that's the most delicious blood bath I've seen all game," Sally says, a deep chuckle following and increasing the heat in my glare that no one can see. "A vendetta completed."

"Fucking dick," I seethe quietly, knowing he won't hear me anyway right now. He still has other counselors to kill.

My boiling anger increases a notch or two while watching Sal diligently and slowly take out every other player in the game.

My tongue runs over the front of my teeth and my jaw is clenched tightly. I want to beat him at this game so badly but I just keep losing. He's hardly even trying to fight me all that much because it's so easy for him to overpower me-- that pisses me off. I'm tired of letting him come out victorious. My turn is long overdo.

I let my hands drop to my table and my eyes languidly wander across the screen as another counselor dies.

With a groan, I lift a hand to rub my eyes, scrunching up my face in irritation. How is he pinching every single nerve of mine? He's like a crab claw that won't let go of my finger-- a painful fucking burden.

I hold all this anger toward him. I've focused it into one laser beam directed at him and I'm counting down the immeasurable days until I'm able to finally get everything out and beat him down with my words.

And yet, I still dig my palms into my eyes at the sound of his laugh, readjust my skirt, cross and uncross my legs, talk myself through the endless fluttering in my stomach. I even have to hold back smiles at his clever phrases and slick tongue.

Wish I had his slick tongue in my mouth, speaking of which, but I'd also genuinely like to punch him in the face.

Battling the desire to have him in any way I can alongside my deep vexation for the asshole is exhausting. I kind of just want to sleep on this entire situation, leave it for me to stress over tomorrow.

Why does he have to be hot, smooth, and an asshole? Why couldn't he have been sweet and kind like he was to Lexi?

By the way, I'm just beginning to accept that he's never going to call or text Lexi. I'm not sure if I'm happy or ticked about that. On the one hand, if he would call Lexi and express some interest, I could fuck this attraction out of my system. On the other hand, him messaging Lexi would out me immediately. He could find out my phone number from Ash, Larry, or Todd and that's some fire that I don't want to mess with.

"That's a win for me," Sally sighs out pridefully, gaining my attention again. The game has ended.

"You're fucking... damn," Larry breathes, seemingly at a loss for words. "You're too good. I don't want you to play a killer ever again."

"Hey, maybe it's just in my genes. Not my fault you can't compete with this skill," Sally boasts, humming contently to himself. Fuck, I wish he'd stop doing that. It feels like his voice circles me and leaves me caged in the memory of that stupid sound.

"I'd hope not," Todd scoffs lightly. "I'm getting off for the night though, so I'll see everyone when we get on again."

We tell Todd goodbye, then Larry goes not too long after him. With the three of us left, we end our streams too, but I stick around while Ash and Sally chat.

Truth be told, I'm not quite sure what I'm waiting for. Maybe a chance to bitch at Sal or maybe it's just to hear his hypnotizing voice for a bit longer.

"Are you going to get off or what?" The sudden snarky tone makes me focus in on Ash and Sally's conversation that had been drowned out by my thoughts for a bit.

Ash is quiet, the only sign of her presence being a muffled groan. That clearly tells me that the dickhead himself is talking to me.

"Oh, shut up," I bite out, squinting my eyes at my computer screen. "I'm not even bothering you."

"Your presence pisses me off. Leave," he simply replies, his delicious voiced tainted with nonchalance and agitation.

"You're such a dick," I spit out venomously once I can't come up with anything else to say. Knowing that he has an advantage over me yet again is making my chest bubble with barely contained anger.

I glare down at the microphone that Ash was kind enough to send me years ago when she and I used to run around our map in Seven Days to Die. Usually, the device brings me memories of joy, but tonight I can't gain any positive feelings from it.

"And you're a foul-mouthed bitch," Sally Face replies, his voice seemingly more amused than angered. Though, I can definitely detect some aggravation in there.

His response makes me itch. I haven't said more than maybe three words to him tonight-- before we started arguing of course. So where does he find the audacity to call me foul-mouthed?

I snort. "Yea, okay. So what does that make you then? A stuck-up nobody? Your fans only know the idea of you."

My pickings are slim and I'm just grabbing onto any little option I have. I know I'm practically fighting fire with gasoline considering Sally doesn't show himself for his own personal reason, but I have my own reasons too. I can push his buttons on the topic because hitting me in the same place and on the same level wouldn't be enough to top the damage I did. He's smart and methodic so he at least knows that much.

I suddenly notice that Ash is missing from our group call. She must have left.

Frowning, I lift my phone to send her a text and apologize. I'm even about to just hang up on Sally too. What's the point of arguing? It's only aggravating and it's not like he'll ever explain why he hates me so much.

But Sally Face grunts and the sound makes a flame of irritation light up inside me again. "The same goes for you, you fucking brat," he spits. "No one knows who you are. At least they see me-- I've never even seen anything above your neck."

"You'd be the last person to see me, asshole." My words come out quick and aggressive, I even lean closer to my computer, simmering with audible rage. "I don't know why you have such a problem with me," I continue despite knowing that my attempt to get any reasoning out of him is futile.

How could I have fucked up twice with him and still not understand how? I've never even met him as y/n and he still can't stand either side of me, with the exception of Lexi, of course. I want to know what I did. Being the target of hate with no explanation maddens me beyond comprehension.

Honestly, he probably doesn't understand why the fuck he hates me either. He just dislikes things and people out of spite. He hates because he's angry at or about something. He converts hurt feelings into negativity-- that has to be the reason why he's so aggressive and rude. What else could it possibly be?

Obviously, my spit-fire persona doesn't make his resentment toward me any better. I'm on his level and he can't win on command. He's still an open book so I can tell that losing our battles pisses him off too.

"You just show up out of nowhere and become besties with my group," Sally Face scoffs. "Like who the fuck are you? Did you pay Ash to play with you or something? You were nonexistent a week ago. I wish you'd have stayed that way. All you do is fucking bitch and yap like a little chihuahua."

That's a lead, one that I already had my suspicions about, in fact. That still doesn't justify his behavior though.

I bite my lip, my fingers quivering under the weight of my fury as I grip onto the edge of my desk. "If you weren't such an asshole, I wouldn't have to bitch and yap. All you do is talk over me." I gulp, licking my lips and trying to shake the fighting response out of my mind. I should just leave this alone for the night. I shouldn't entertain it at all. But I continue anyway. God only knows why. "It feels like you're constantly choking me--"

"You like that though, don't you?"

There's an almost unnoticeable difference in his voice. His tone is just a bit deeper, the connotations a tad darker, and he drags the words out slowly-- like each sound is a melody waiting to be sung.

But the problem here is that I do notice, and I acknowledge the change. I don't know what to make of it.

I'm struck into silence, my voice dying out as I struggle to catch the breath that's rushed out of my lungs. Did I hear him right? I know I couldn't have heard differently-- his voice was loud and clear-- but it doesn't make sense. Something like that wouldn't come from him and be directed at me. Ever.

Or would it?

I think back to the day I sent everyone photos of me. When Sally wouldn't answer and got really defensive over Larry's joke about him masturbating to my pictures.

What if Larry wasn't too far off?

...No. There's no way.

Like the intellectual that I am, I force out a breathless, "What?"

At this point, I'm waiting for some kind of confirmation on whether my internal war is won or lost. His voice alone makes me feel hot with need, but I don't want to chase an impossible daydream just because he's trying to get a reaction out of me. Which, honestly, he probably just wants to dig my grave even deeper by getting me to admit that I'm attracted to him. Why else would he say that I'd like to be choked?

Sally Face hums, the sound making my heart thump against my ribcage. My head feels fuzzy, like my brain is bouncing around on a fuck ton of bean bags. I can't take in as much oxygen as I would like to; my breaths come out rushed and heavy. Worse, my cheeks burn with more fury than a thousand suns colliding all at once. But worst of all is that I'm falling into that fantasy anyway-- a fantasy where I get to have my way with this insolent man-- whether that way be pleasurable or destructive.

But right now, I'm wondering if he'd like to choke me too.

"You seem like the type of woman who enjoys a hand around your throat. I'm sure you just love the idea of my hand being the one to leave you breathless."

Has he crawled into my head?

Sudden heat pools between my thighs. I shift, crossing my legs as I blink at my screen, unable to get a single word out.

He sounds intrigued, curious, and just a little annoyed. If anything, it seems he's testing the waters and trying to see what he can make out of the tense situation he's dragged us into.

I lick my lips, hoping to lubricate my dry mouth a bit. It feels as though all of the moisture has traveled down to my core despite how badly I wish I wouldn't respond to Sally like this. Fuck, I shouldn't feel this way.

The way he's speaking, so dirty and promiscuous, makes me feel differently about him for the first time in days. Acknowledging attraction is different from chasing dangerous opportunities.

Suddenly, I can see it. Most of all, I wish I could feel it. The way his ring clad fingers would squeeze my throat, leaving me breathless and begging for more. The way he'd ask me to beg-- we all know he would, he loves when people fall at his feet-- the way his cool skin would feel against me. How would he smell? Like cologne and shampoo maybe, musky but sweet. Or maybe he'd smell the same way he did when we first met.

I take a deep breath, choosing to remain silent as my hand inches toward my thigh.

Hundreds of different thoughts race through my mind. Yea, maybe this is risky. But the way his voice alone has me dripping in an instant is just something I can't pass up. I can't even arouse myself this much, and Sally Face has managed to do it within two seconds.

I have access to a pleasurably sick and twisted, possibly embarrassing, fantasy that I'll probably never get again. Ever. Because this is me and Sally Face-- two complete opposites.

No. I can't. I won't. I won't give him the satisfaction-- I won't give myself the satisfaction. I can handle up on the burning in my body and my raging pulse below later.

I know he wants to damage my dignity, maybe even my reputation. He isn't being serious right now, he's just chasing another win in this longterm game we have going on.

"Your silence speaks numbers," Sally Face says, voice deep, raspy, and smooth. This is far different from the high pitched, aggressive voice he normally uses with me.

I keep trying to tell myself that he's just toying with me, trying to get some incriminating evidence of how fucking hot I think he is. But the way he speaks right now alongside his word usage is just dragging me further into the abyss of craving him even more.

He chuckles at my refusal to answer and the sound sends my brain into a frenzy. That's good. He's on top of his game tonight and it pisses me off, but turns me on all at the same time. How can someone do that? Talent like this shouldn't exist. It's incredibly dangerous.

The proof lies in the skirt bunched in my hands and the clenching of my thighs. Good God, how could just a laugh send me over the edge?

A whimper slips past my lips and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that Sally didn't hear. It could have been interpreted as me crying or something, but it sounded far too lewd-- though I'd never admit it to anyone other than myself. More than anything, I want him to skip over whatever this is and let me wallow in my pitiful lust for him in peace.

Sally hums again and his next words make the decision that I couldn't force myself to take action on.

"What a little slut," he seductively says, and I can feel my heart drop to the pit of my stomach. My mouth gapes and the insides of my thighs are soaked by now. What a fucking mess.

His voice drips with shameless desire, something I never could have expected, but fuck it sounds so good coming from him. "Are you touching yourself?"

"No--" I rush to say with a raging blush on my cheeks. How could I do something like that over a call? Not to mention, how could I do it over him? I definitely thought about it, but there's no way I could do that.

But, if this is all real and his unhidden desire isn't a facade... if we're really going to cross a boundary...

"Listen, Vi," he starts darkly. My thighs clench together tightly and my eyes roll into the back of my head. Just his damn voice alone. "Maybe your words don't normally work for me, but in this situation, I need to hear them. Silence is out of the question, so I'll ask you again. Are you touching yourself?"

I shiver at his use of my nickname, my lips parting. Maybe I wasn't doing much touching beforehand, but now I want to be able to tell him yes. He's never called me by name before and hearing it now, during a time of such heightened emotions, makes me yearn for a chance to hear him moan. To know that he'll get some kind of pleasure from just the thought of me, just the sound of my voice.

My teeth clamp down onto my bottom lip as I nervously spread my legs a bit, trailing a hand over the inside of my thigh. The light touch makes goosebumps erupt on my skin, but it fills me with a sense of urgency. I'm ready to chase a high I don't get too often.

My fingers run over my panties, the sensation of my cool digits finally touching my heat after craving some kind of release for the past hour or so is erotic. Compared to every other time I've done this, it feels so much different now. Every light touch has me shaking uncontrollably and I've hardly done anything yet.

My hand dips into my underwear and the tip of my index finger ghosts over my clit as I test the waters, thinking of all the ways the man on the other side of this call can bring me to the most extravagant climax I'll ever see in this lifetime. If only I just give in and let him.

And I think I'll do just that.

"I am now." I finally answer him, the words coming out as a breathy moan as I apply pressure, beginning to move my index and middle finger in slow circles.

Pleasure erupts within me like a volcano, sending sweet tingles up my spine and rapturing heat to every part of my body. Fuck, just admitting such a thing makes this ten times hotter and I never would've imagined I'd be into something like this.

Sally and I's current circumstances are insane. I didn't think something like this was possible and I'm absolutely raving over my slow-building movements and the thought of how this is going to play out.

My pussy is dripping, my fingers slick without even having to do much work. Sally Face is something else-- talented in ways that I never thought were possible.

I'm faintly able to hear as Sally sucks in a harsh breath, then the sound of a zipper.

My heart skips a beat then picks up speed, pounding so powerfully that I can feel it in every inch of my body. My eyes widen as I pause my movements, my body almost jolting from the lack of contact.

I immediately return my fingers to my clit, using more pressure than I did before. I flinch, tilting my head down embarrassedly as I continue moving my digits, indulging in the addictive feeling of bringing myself pleasure because no one can do it as well as I can, though I think Sally may end up being good competition.

I let out a quiet moan that dies out quickly, but I know he hears it.

"Good," he says breathlessly. "Keep doing that. Touch yourself for me-- and you better only think of me."

My eyes shut in ecstasy and I throw my head back, releasing another soft moan that isn't nearly as nerve-wracking as the first. My hand travels over my soaked pussy and my fingers are working faster, handling the ache that only continues to build up.

Sally groans on the other end of the call, a shuddering breath leaving his lips that I wish I could see-- that I wish I could feel. My fingers quicken their pace, rubbing against my bundle of nerves in the most compelling way.

I imagine his hand taking the place of mine, sending me into an endless wave of pleasure-- taking me to heights of debauchery I could never dream of. If anyone could do it, it would be Sally Face. I have no doubts about that.

"Tell me exactly how it feels," Sally grunts, his voice shaking with the force of what he's undoubtedly doing. Just the thought makes the aching in my lower stomach grow and I yearn to see the look on his face. I long to see his hand working along his member.

I can't believe I got this lucky. What's more unbelievable is the fact that I managed to convince myself to actually cross this line with him.

Still, I feel more than just shy when it comes to finding an answer to his demand. He knows what I'm doing, I wish he didn't want me to say it. I don't... think I can say it. Doing it is one thing, but explaining it is something else entirely.

He lets out a frustrated noise. "Say it or I'll leave the call," he threatens, sending me down an even more fucked up path than the one I was already traveling on. His voice is like melting ice, coated in slick and filthy promises, but the looming threat of ending this for good is hidden underneath.

I might rot in my own mind for the rest of time, but I'll do anything to keep this up.

Biting my lip, I drag my fingers down, slipping them between my wet folds before bringing them back up to my clit to continue the erotic pleasure that I'm combining with just the sound of his voice.

"It feels so damn good. I'm thinking of how you look right now. Wishing it was your hands on my pussy instead of my own," I moan out, shutting my eyes again as I readjust my sitting position.

I spread my legs wider, stretching my shoulders as I go faster, applying more pressure.

"Good girl," he says between the tantalizing sounds of his hand stroking his cock on the other end of the line. His breath hitches with every other intake of air, a grunt or a whimper following soon after. "Tell me how much you hate me."

I laugh softly through my quiet moans, a salacious type of exhilaration taking over me and robbing me of my ability to rationally think. I'm too excited, too deep in the sensation of his voice and the dirty things he's saying to me. The disgusting things he wants me to say and, even more, the appraisal he's given even though he holds such strong disapproval toward me.

My hand slides lower and my fingers slip into my heat, the feeling of being filled up making a strangled groan leave my lips. I curl my fingers, hitting my favorite spot that has me mewling like a kitten. And despite feeling amazing already, I wish he was doing this.

"I hate you so fucking much," I groan, my voice high pitched and purely lustful. "You piss me off and I hate that all I want to do is fuck you lately. You hot, aggravating piece of shit." My voice falls into a sinful giggle again as a smile pulls at my lips.

I'm getting so damn close way too damn quickly.

My body is hot and quakes as I focus in on Sally's filthy words and sounds of pleasure, alongside my own delicious movements. What I wouldn't give to be with him at this exact moment.

I'm almost shocked by my own thoughts.

Sally moans beautifully, the sounds of his squelching movements picking up speed. "Fuck, that's hot," he seemingly chokes out between the force of his brutal pace and the overwhelming feeling that's taking over his body.

The added image of his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, bringing himself to climax just because of the sound of me-- the idea of me-- brings me one step closer to the edge.

I add a second finger to my dripping cunt, thrusting them into myself even faster than before. I'm almost to the peak, just getting to the edge.

"I hate you. I hate you so fucking much-- you have no idea," He says between gritted teeth before sucking in a strangled breath. "Which is why you're not allowed to cum. If you're so fucking desperate for it, you can wait until I have my hands on you."

A scoff leaves my lips and I only continue what I was previously doing, finding his command hilarious and attractive. Like hell I'll listen to him.

But I stop upon hearing Larry come into the call with an echoing scream.

I fly into a sitting position, my hand leaving its previous position. Harsh pants wrack my body as I shiver, growing aggravated over the pain of losing the climax I was so close to achieving.

Sally's gone quiet too.

Fuck, did Larry hear us? Does he know what happened?

I'm quivering for an entirely different reason now, my flushed cheeks growing even warmer under the prospect of getting caught in the dirty act I stupidly agreed to.

I... fuck. Did Sal and I really just do that? We must have. My fingers are soaked and so is my pussy. My heart is racing so quickly that I'm worried I'll flatline. My limbs are tense, slowly growing a bit sore as my orgasm continues to escape me. Not like I'll get that back tonight.

"Are you guys done arguing? Ash just told me you both haven't gone to bed yet and she left like ten minutes ago," Larry grumbles, adding a little giggle.

Oh, thank God.

I swallow thickly, closing my eyes and leaning against the back of my chair again. I take a few breaths, trying to calm my racing heart. This situation could have turned out much differently, so I'm glad karma hasn't gotten me yet.

Surprisingly, I'm actually thankful that Sally wanted to be a dick in the middle of our erotic moment. It was like a heads-up for Larry's interruption.

I open my eyes, looking over at the discord call and... Sally's gone. He left.

An angry grin pulls at my lips as I chew on the inside of my cheek. That little bastard.

Chapter Text

I fly into a sudden and painful sitting position at the sound of my phone ringing loudly through my room.

My desk chair flies back at the force I put into my action and I jump in fear of falling, steadying myself with outstretched arms and wide eyes. My heart pounds wildly, causing me to place a hand to my chest and let out a shocked yelp.

Once I'm still and the threat of busting my ass is dismal, I heave a slow, shaky breath and blink my tired eyes.

I slept hard, but I definitely didn't sleep well.

My hair is a mess, tangled around my neck and around other strands, a necklace is choking me better than a hand could, and my left arm and side are so sore that I have to physically wince once I try to move it.

A dull burn spreads through my limb and across my ribs and torso as I stretch my arm out to grab my phone sitting in front of my keyboard.

My most fatal flaw is that I use black-out curtains. No matter the time of the day, it's nearly impossible for me to get out of bed because it's always dark and cozy. This morning-- night?-- is no different seeing as the only light comes from my keyboard, the rainbow colors shifting and changing with languid movements. Not a single ounce of outside light fills my room. I can't see my bed, my windows, or even my feet with how dark it is-- I only have a plethora of colors mixing across my outstretched hand.

I blink myself out of my sleepy haze, pinching my lips together as I snatch my phone from the desk, a plastic scratching sound filling the empty space around me before the device is lifted to my face.

My eyes squint against the harsh light of my screen as I look at my missed call-- the damn call that woke me up.

It was Larry of all people.

I purse my lips, staring down on his contact and wondering how I should contact him. I can't call him-- he'd recognize my voice in an instant. So, I opt to text him, unlocking my phone and opening a new text message with him.

My fingers hover over my keyboard, my heart pounding uselessly and for no good reason as a chill erupts along my skin. It's just Larry. Sure, I have this fake persona hanging over my head and it's at risk of dying every single day, but Lar and I have been friends for years. It's fine.

I send a quick text, "hey, everything okay? i was sleeping!" then shut my phone off, dropping it to my lap.

With a sigh, I tilt my head up to look at my black ceiling, the corners of my room enveloped in eerie shadows that make my spine tingle with fear just a bit. I'm not a fan of the dark unless I'm passed out, so being suddenly wide awake in my otherwise abyss-like room is a bit creepy.

My phone buzzes against my thigh, so I lift it, holding it above me. Larry answered pretty quickly.

I glance at the time before reading his message. 10:58am.

Lar-Bear :3
ofc y/n just wana bother u n
c if u'll join me n the gang tmr

Me
errr not sure what you mean...

Lar-Bear :3
ur still n la right???

Me
sure am :)

Lar-Bear :3
well we r abt 2 fly out 2 vegas
u shld pop by cuz we miss u

I swallow thickly, blinking at the message as a sense of yearning fills me up to the brim. My invite, thanks to Ash, was enough to make me feel bad. But even Larry is asking me, personally, without knowing my secret side, to go and meet up with them. I'm not sure why, but I genuinely have felt that Ash is the only one who's wanted to see me.

Larry, Todd, and I don't talk all that often outside of my second personality, but we still consider ourselves to be close friends.

I don't want to tell Larry no. In fact, I want nothing more than to drop everything going on right now and actually fly out to Las Vegas to finally see everyone. But I can't. I have responsibilities at home, no where near enough money or time, and no way to conceal myself to continue playing out the role of VioletViolence.

Me
:( i would really love to, but i don't have
the money plus i have a shift to
work tomorrow. it sucks cause you
guys will be so close, but i won't be
able to. i'm so sorry

I shut my phone off again and toss it onto my desk, flinching lightly at the loud thunk that echoes in my small, quiet, dark room.

I'm tired of hiding, of not being able to do anything because of financial issues and fear. Life shouldn't be this way-- it wasn't always this way even if it feels like it's been.

Not too long ago, I used to go out and take walks to the local library, hang out with my coworkers from the diner, and sometimes I'd even go out for a drink. But, as of recent, I just don't want to because of so many things that I shouldn't be dealing with at all, especially at such a young age.

I distance myself without wanting or meaning too, I just never have the energy to do more than what's required of me. Work, eat, sleep. That's it-- the same repeated cycle every single day.

Not to mention, I already struggle with making friends. I've always been a bit of a loner, only having a few friends in high school-- mainly because I was forced to socialize with the rest of my percussion section in band. Even then, they were all closer than I was with them.

Having to move from Nockfell killed any bit of outgoing personality I had, I think. I'm lucky enough to have my four-- three-- friends now.

So shouldn't I try to at least hold on to what I do have? Why can't I do just that?

With a gulp and an unwanted numbness starting to take over my sudden rush of emotions, I abruptly stand from my desk and walk to the door of my room, aggressively flicking on the lights.

I squint against the aggressive ability to see, noting that my room is just as untouched as it was when I started streaming last night-- my bed's made, the white pillows, black comforter, and Levi Ackerman plushie in their rightful places. There's still a pile of clean clothes taking up the left back corner of my floor. I need to fold them. My desk is still as tidy as it can possibly get and situated against my window, and my TV is hanging on the wall beside my tiny-as-fuck closet. Nothing's new. Nothing's different.

The same, uneventful morning as every other day.

And I have work in two hours.

I pick up my phone again, glancing down at a few more messages from Larry.

Lar-Bear :3
$$$ isnt a prob we got u
n fuck ur boss
come out!!!!!!! >:(((((
how dare u tell a Scottish Lord no
lest mine eyes beseech me

A light, amused smile quirks my lips for a moment.

Me
Scottish Lord??????????

Lar-Bear :3
u heard me
todd purchased land 4 my last bday
n it made me a Scottish Lord
legally
i own a square ft of prairie land
but it's MY square ft
n i get 2 write Lord b4 my name on every
legal doc
so it checks out

I roll my eyes. Of course Todd had to go and stroke Larry's unnecessarily inflated ego just a bit-- and now he gets to call himself Lord Larry Johnson. Perfect.

Still, I'm giggling at it a bit. It is pretty funny, especially since he's so proud of his title.

Me
lmao that's really cool larry.
i'll make sure to call you Lord Lar-bear
from now on, 'kay?
but still, i really can't make it to vegas.
just funds and work broski, i'm
sorry and i really do miss all of you <3

Lord Lar-Bear :3
>:(
u defy Lord Lar yet again
ur punishment is 2 ignore responsibilities
n come live it up in vegas

Me
Larry LMAO please :,)))

Lord Lar-bear :3
:(
ik, just lidding
kidding*
i mean i am lidding 2
straight lidding the top of a can
of baked beans mom gave me
u ever straight lid a can

Text conversations with Larry are never dull. Even though I still won't be able to go and see him and my other friends, I'm happy and content with having his companionship. He's a good friend who clearly knows how to lighten up a tense situation

Me
nope, can't say i have.
what, pray tell, is 'straight lidding?'

Lord Lar-Bear :3
smh
uncultured swine
i've raised u wrong
STRAIGHT LIDDING is when u lick
the lid of a can of shit cause u just can
who wldn't wana straight lid

Me
ewwwww lar 0_0
you're licking shit????
i'm sorry, forgive me, Lord Lar-Bear--
you're STRAIGHT LIDDING cans of shit?????

Lord Lar-Bear :3
-_-
fuck myc ock
just 4 tht, yea i am lidding straight shit
(҂◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

I don't realize I'm smiling down at my phone until Ash's contact pops up when she calls.

I flinch back at her loud ringtone, nearly dropping the device, but I regain composure and quickly answer, lifting it to my ear.

"Y/n!!!!" Ash squeals excitedly. "Just wanted to let you know that I'm with all the boys right now!"

I take the hint immediately, noting the slight warning lilt in her voice. I need to be incognito-- no talk of Vi right now.

"Hey, Ash," I breathe, swallowing my nerves and preparing myself for any unwanted scenarios.

Voices fill in the silence from Ash's end of the call, the sound of various conversations and shuffling filling me with unwarranted anxiety. I'd be panicking if I were in her position right now.

"We're at the airport right now, getting ready to fly out to Las Vegas! Larry said that you can't come. Boo." Ash's fabrication of the truth slips from her lips like butter, spreading out so evenly that no one would suspect that she's covering up the fact that she already invited me to Vegas.

Still, I'm shocked to hear that they're leaving now. "Really?" I ask. "How long will you guys be there?"

"We're taking a week-long trip since it's, duh, Vegas. There's some kind of exclusive party happening tomorrow night, then we'll just be sight-seeing-- if we can-- for the next few days," my friend chirps, hissing out some kind of insult aimed at Larry before returning to the call. "Of course, we have work stuff to do-- bleh-- but we have the nights free. Hopefully it'll be fun, but it would have been better with you!"

I chew on the inside of my cheek, feeling a lump build in the back of my throat. Las Vegas sounds so fun. Jealousy and pure longing burn my insides, flames licking up the sides of my deflated morale. This is a dangerous situation for me, just as most unpredictable moments are.

Right now, I'm willing to drop absolutely everything and declare bankruptcy just so I can fly out and reunite with my closest friends.

"Yea, I wish I could come," I decide to say quietly, looking down at my bare feet as they kick at my black rug.

"THEN COME!!!!" A voice bellows, one that I can distinctly point out as Larry's.

My eyes widen and I find myself smiling again.

"Ash, tell him I said, 'I bet you'd like that, Lord Lar,'" I quickly say, holding my phone to my face with two hands as a giggle bubbles up my throat despite knowing that it's a risky move. Suppose he'd take the phone from Ash, for example.

"Ohhhh," Ash drawls, rolling her tongue, "Y/n's frisky today." Her voice sounds a bit quieter as she, probably, moves away from her phone to talk to Larry. "She says, 'I bet you'd like that, Lord Lar.'"

I can't contain my smile again, listening to Larry's muffled, outlandish guffaw leaking through the call. I can hear Ash's little giggles accompanying Larry's awful excuse of some kind of him-style seduction.

"Anyway," Ash breathes cheerily, returning to our conversation again. "Hopefully we'll be able to come and visit you soon, lovely. Until then, we'll update you with photos and scary tales of our time."

I lick my suddenly dry lips, nodding subtly before remembering that my dear friend can't see it. "That sounds good," I say, clearing my throat. "Have a safe flight and trip, and enjoy yourselves!"

"You know we will, honey! Nous vous aimons, Chérie!"

The call ends, her personal goodbye making no sense in my mind, though I'd guess it has something to do with loving me, given Ash's track record and knack for learning random phrases in other languages.

I feel lighter after talking with my friends, but I'm still aching on the inside. I hate knowing that they'll be so close, but still too far for me to reach them.

After days of having the party invitation marinating in my emails, I pull it up-- even if I am just adding fuel too my already raging fire and entertaining a fantasy that should only exist in my dreams.

After days of having the party invitation marinating in my emails, I pull it up-- even if I am just adding fuel too my already raging fire and entertaining a fantasy that should only exist in my dreams
Ya boi Kieran. I have no fucking clue who he is, but whatever.

I wonder if anyone would actually show up without clothes? I'll have to ask Ash if that happens. I'm sure she'll fill up my phone with photos too.

I shut my phone off with a huff, glaring at my toes buried in the ashen depths of my rug, dreading the moment that I have to step away from it's warm confines and embrace the cold wooden flooring. I wish I could stay in this moment forever before things get worse. With the path I'm headed down today, I'm bound to end up feeling even more guilty and lonesome than I already am.

Things always get worse before they get better.

Most of my long day is spent tending to ungrateful and inconsiderate customers, going as far as kicking a rowdy woman out myself. Lucky for me, I was able to convince her that I was the manager. Still not sure how I managed (haha, get it?) but I prevailed. Not that I really wanted to.

It's well after nine in the evening once I'm finally walking home, lazily putting one foot in front of the other as people rush past me, all drunk or on their way to it.

The stars and moon are hidden by all of the city lights, robbing me of a pretty view as per usual. Footsteps and laughter echo around me, conversations I shouldn't hear flitting about my head as a distraction from the terrorizing reminder that my friends are a mere couple hours away from me and I can't see them. The flashing headlights from cars and mirrored reflections on buildings blind me enough to steal my attention away from my morbid and overactive mind.

I almost hate to continue walking toward my apartment building, knowing that I'll be alone with my disquiet. I'll only have myself to talk to.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I instinctually pull it out, unlocking it and looking at the screen.

It's from The Faces Discord chat.

It's a photo that makes my entire body tense up with happiness and nausea all at the same time. Ash and Larry have their faces pressed together, the photo a close up of them-- I can't even see their necks. But the picture is so blurry that I can really only see their blurry outlines and smiling mouths.

A little giggle leaves my lips as I react to the photo with a heart emoji then shut off my phone, stuffing it back into my pocket as I walk up to my apartment building.

I don't bother greeting the security guard, only throwing him a polite little smile as I amble over to the elevators on tired and achy feet, taking the far too silent ride up to a higher floor.

But, a sudden rush of excitement washes over me upon finding that my apartment door is unlocked.

Dad's home.

Maybe my day was rough, and it did get worse like I suspected, but it got better too. I'm thrilled upon realizing my father is lying behind this door-- I haven't seen him in about a week now.

I rush into the apartment, throwing the door open and only wincing a bit when the handle hits the wall with a loud thunk.

My excitement is paused as I sink in on myself, nervous about whether neighbors are going to complain or if there'll be an extra bill we'll have to pay-- just to see dad rounding the corner with an alarmed look on his face.

He looks at the door, then up to me, relief filling his gaze as he relaxes his stance and smiles at me.

"Well, hell, Ducks. That's quite an entrance," he snickers, walking toward the door with long strides. He pulls the hunk of wood, checks the wall, then looks at the knob before swinging the door closed. "Good thing we have no damages, huh?"

"Oh, really?" I breathe, my skin cooling off from the rapid heat that'd overtaken me due to my panic. "Sorry, dad. I didn't mean to slam it, I just..."

Dad shakes his head, scrunching his eyebrows together as he waves me off, "No issue. I thought someone was coming to murder me, but I'm alive so I guess I'm not too disappointed."

I reel back, eyes widening at his slight dig. "Damn, rough day?" I giggle, knowing he's only joking.

"Meh," he shrugs with a big smile. "Same as always. How about you, Ducky?"

My mouth feels dry as I purse my lips. I try to say something, but anxiety silences me. So I just let my mouth shut again and shrug at my father who presses his lips into a thin line, pretty much catching my drift.

He takes a step forward and wraps an arm around my shoulders, directing me to the kitchen where the scent of bacon overwhelms me immediately. The smell is so strong that I'm shocked I couldn't detect it sooner.

"Tell me what's going on, hun," Dad says, walking towards the stove and dumping an egg mixture into a pan, the food sizzling as soon as it makes contact with the hot surface. Dad loves breakfast for dinner-- though this seems like it's closer to being considered a midnight snack.

"It's really not important," I say shyly, struggling as I lean against the refrigerator, my finger running along a ceramic horse-shaped magnet that I painted as a child. "Just trying to get this little... side job kickstarted, I guess?"

"It's always important, okay?" Dad says softly but seriously, sending me a little scolding look over his shoulder before returning to his cooking. "You can tell me anything. Every feeling is justified. But how's that going for you? I know you told me that you were going to start streaming with Ash, I haven't heard anything since."

I perk up a bit, knowing that I have at least a bit of good news to tell him. "It's actually going really well," I say, my voice a lot lighter compared to how heavy and down it was moments ago. "My last stream amassed about eight thousand viewers. I should be getting around $250 for that soon. I've been playing with Ash, Larry, Todd, and their friend Sal." It always feels weird to say Sally's real name, but in this case, my dad would probably understand that better than the guy's supposed stage name.

"That's great, honey, congratulations!" Dad chuckles a bit, a wide smile enveloping his stubbly face. "I'm really happy to hear that. $250 is good money for one night, yea." He nods his head in such a rhythmic way that it looks like he's listening to music. "So, how is the gang?"

I chew on my bottom lip. "They're doing well as far as I know. They, um... they're all in Vegas right now." My voice trails off toward the end as I purposefully thrust myself into the memory. Sometimes I just want to hurt. Maybe because it's the only thing that can feed into my make-believe scenarios at night-- once all the lights are out and I'm tucked into bed, my blankets pulled up to my chin. When it's just me and my monster of a mind.

Dad's startlingly quick spin pulls me from my thoughts and I look up, noting his exhilarated expression-- a wide smile to match his wide eyes and risen brows.

"You're kidding!" Dad says breathlessly, disbelief leaking from his deep voice. "When are they coming over here? They are coming, right?"

I look away from him. I know he misses my friends too-- after all, they were always hanging out at our apartment when we lived in Nockfell. He thought of Ash, Larry, and Todd as his own. We were all very close and I'm going to have to disappoint him. "No, they won't be coming. I think they have some stuff to do while they're there."

Dad deflates in a moment's notice, his shoulders falling just as his expression does. "Damn," he hisses, pursing his lips. "Really?"

I swallow the aggravating lump in my throat and chew on the inside of my cheek, trying not to think about how deeply the entire situation affects me. It's almost embarrassing to ache for something as strongly as I do-- to want and need something so fucking bad. Anyone else would say I don't need it, I just want it. But it doesn't feel that way.

"Yea, really," I say quietly, crossing my arms over my chest. "They... they invited me to go with them," I confess, unable to meet dad's eyes. "But money's tight and I'm working for the rest of the week anyway, so."

"Ducks," dad says, his voice disbelieving and a little upset. So I look up at him and try not to waver under his sad gaze. "Tell me you didn't tell them no because of that."

I scrunch my brows and shake my head lightly. "Of course I did. It's the truth."

Dad sighs, turning back to his eggs. "Go into my room and grab my wallet and my laptop," he mumbles, using a spatula to stir his concoction.

My heart races, hoping that he isn't trying to get me to Vegas, but praying he does at the same time. I feel guilty for wanting something like that, so I contain it, doing as he says and slipping away from the kitchen to walk into his room across from mine.

I flip on the lights, quickly scooping his wallet and laptop into my hands from his bed and wobbling back to the kitchen, placing the device with his wallet on top onto the counter.

Dad leans down, switching the stove off then leaning over to grab a piece of bacon. "Food's ready," he says between the slice in his mouth. He turns around and walks to my side, opening his laptop and logging in.

The man sucks on the bacon like it's a lollipop and clicks on various things on his laptop, his eyes moving quickly as the screen reflects onto them.

"Alright," he says, finally biting off a piece of bacon and gesturing to the screen.

I look over, gulping at the list of flights leaving Los Angeles with Las Vegas as their destination.

"Dad--" I scramble to get out, looking up at him with horror in my gaze and pain filling my heart. We don't have the money for this and I don't need it.

My father just rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his bacon. "Shush, y/n. Pick a day you want and spend a night out there. Okay? I want you to visit your friends. Plus, I have savings. A little trip for you won't hurt, so don't worry."

I glance back at the screen with tears filling my eyes and my heart racing so quickly that my limbs feel numb. I could die right now and I'd still be happy.

My dad and I have tackled everything together. It's always been just us two, even when mom was still around. He and I went to therapy together, we went on trips together, we did homework together. We've been with each other at our highest and lowest points. After everything, still, to this day, he manages to give me what I want most when I'm at my worst.

He's lucky I'm not a spoiled brat, but I'm lucky that he isn't mom.

I snort, grabbing onto dad's shoulder and squeezing. "Fuck you," I murmur jokingly, to which he flicks me off with a cheeky little smile.

"Seriously, though," he says, squeezing my hand that rests on his shoulder. "Pick out a day and don't worry about a price."

I nod my head quickly, trying to overlook my guilt hurdle as my eyes travel over the screen. "I'd like to leave tomorrow if possible..." I murmur, frowning at the ridiculous last-minute flight prices. "There's a party they invited me to at nine tomorrow night, but I don't need to go."

"Look," he says, pointing a finger at a flight. "There's one here. You'd have to be out of the house for six tomorrow morning though. Can you do that? I'll drop you off at the airport for takeoff at eight."

"Ew," I say, shaking my head and taking a step away. "That's a $300 flight, dad. Absolutely not."

He looks at me blankly, then clicks on the flight since his cursor was already hovering there.

I flinch, rushing forward as a wave of fear and guilt washes over me again. I don't need a $300 flight. I can just go another day.

But dad holds a hand out, stopping me in my tracks with raised eyebrows and a stern expression. "Shut up and accept this nice deed," he warns, a little smile on his lips.

"Gosh, dad," I complain, feeling like I'm literally going to throw up when he looks back at the screen and autofills his bank account information before booking the flight. It's a thirty second ordeal of me fidgeting in my stance before deflating over the reality that I'm going to Las Vegas tomorrow morning.

"Don't 'gosh,dad!' me. I want you to go enjoy your day. Call into work early tomorrow morning while we're heading to the airport and tell them you're sick. Fuck the rules," Dad cackles ruthlessly, pushing his laptop away for a moment then opening his wallet.

"What are you, an anarchist?" I snort, still fighting back tears.

Dad tilts his head as he flips through bills. "Thought you knew I already violated several Geneva Conventions," he murmurs, making a loud cackle of my own escape my lips.

I hope he's just kidding.

"Here," he says, shoving a few bills into my line of vision. "Take care of yourself while you're over there. Let's go find a hotel for you real quick, okay?"

I take the money without looking at it. I'd burst into tears and shove it back toward him if I saw the amount, I just know it.

So after I tuck the cash into my pocket, I let a smile pull at my lips as I watch my dad open a new search tab. I can't believe I got so lucky today. I thought dad was the icing on the cake-- but he just had to add a cherry on top too.

"Okay, thanks dad."

Chapter Text

"Okay," I tell dad through my sleepy eyes and groggy voice. "I have to make this believable." Dad nods ferociously, eyebrows drawn together curiously.

"So, excuse me for a moment," I say, holding up a finger and clearing my throat. Then, I scream a good, long, loud, unnecessary scream.

Dad flinches and I can't help but smile when he glares at me, clicking his tongue and undoubtedly disapproving of my unsavory tactics.

I finish my scream and cough a bit. That should be enough, seeing as I've managed to kickstart a scratchy throat.

I fish my phone out of my carry on bag and dial my boss's number. He ends up scowling at my excuse, but I think my coughing and hoarse voice passed his bullshit test. I promised him I'd be heading to the doctor while taking my day off.

My bags were packed and ready to go right before I headed to bed last night. I only left out a change of clothes and my toothbrush and toothpaste for the morning before packing them too.

I packed my mask as well. I wouldn't be meeting The Faces without it, after all.

A nervous smile pulls at my lips as I think of the intricate purple mask hiding safely in my luggage. I'll be putting it to good use for the first time ever tonight and the reminder sends a rejuvenating pulse through my body.

I'm going to be boarding my flight in about two hours and I'm so excited that I physically and mentally cannot stay still. I'm fantasizing about our meeting, wondering how it'll go.

Larry would probably notice me first and know that I was there. He would jump around like a lunatic and hug me, then try to pick me up with his little lanky self. I'm genuinely looking forward to finally being able to see his long, luscious hair that he's been growing since he was a teenager.

I haven't seen a photo of Larry since he was eighteen-- he's nearly twenty three now, so I'm sure his hair is incredibly long. He better not have cut it.

Sal will, hopefully, not associate me with a certain Lexi. But would he be kind to me? Would he recognize my voice?

I don't know what to expect of Todd, seeing as he's such a formal guy, but I know Ash is going to know me just by stance alone.

I can't wait to embrace my best friend, feel her warmth and the rush of emotions that'll come with finally being reunited.

I carry these thoughts with me as I tell my dad goodbye, giving him a tight hug and promising to stay safe. I ponder a bit more as I pass through security. I giggle and smile to myself while waiting outside my gate, and I pull out my phone to text Ash just because I can't keep all this excitement to myself as I settle into my seat towards the back of the plane.

All this excitement made the time pass ridiculously fast.

My veins are filled with never-ending adrenaline. My sleep-deprived brain is running on straight expectations and hope. My heart is pumping out optimism and begging for a break, but my mind doesn't let up. We're going to hold onto these positive emotions until we have to go home.

Me
hiya ashy!! how's vegas? :P

Ashers <3
Hi baby!!!! Vegas is awesome so far.
We're up at the crack ass of dawn
(Larry and Sal hate it but Todd and
I are troopers) for a meeting with
some other popular streamers out
here. I think it's some kind of
breakfast meet and greet thing???
Idk. But how are you!!

Me
well, not suffering like you guys lmao.
just getting ready for an 8 o'clock
shift. the usual.

Ashers <3
Yuck :( make sure you punch your boss
for me. He's the whole reason I won't
be seeing you!!!

Me
no issue there. i've been waiting to lay
a good one on him for ages. you're just
giving me a good excuse to actually go
through with it :3

Ashers <3
That is my job as your bad influence ;)

Me
prayer hands to that, babe. wouldn't
be where i am today without miss
ash's guidance <333

Yes, I know, I should just tell Ash that I'm literally about to take off on a flight headed straight to Las Vegas, but the prospect of surprising her-- seeing the elation and shock on her face-- I can't pass that up. This'll be worth it.

"Would you like something to drink before we take off, ma'am?"

My head flies up and I meet a flight attendant's smiling gaze. Her lips are a fiery red, her hair meticulously and beautifully fixed into blonde waves flowing down her back.

I gape at her beauty for a moment before smiling politely. "Um, would you happen to have coffee? Or tea?" I ask after a moment, wincing at my own awkward question. I just really need some kind of caffeine.

"We have both!" she chirps, her sweet voice reminding me of Ash's. I can't help but smile wider at the connection. "Which would you prefer?"

"Coffee, if possible," I say, squeezing my phone a little tighter in my hands.

"Great! Creamer and sugar as well?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you!" I tell her, to which she nods then walks over to the seat in front of me to ask the people ahead the same thing.

I glance down at my phone again just as our pilot announces that we'll be taking off within a few moments. That means I won't be able to talk to Ash for a bit.

Ashers <3
Aww, you're too sweet, my little
love. I'll always be here to catch
you when you fall :D

Me
i would hope so!!
i have to go though, so i'll text you
in a bit when i get a break, kay?

Ashers <3
Sure thing, sweetness!
Se latrevo <3333

Me
ermmmmm i love you too??? if
that's what that means?

Ashers <3
It's Greek for "I adore you!!!"

Me
cute <333 se latrevo too (LMAO)

I close my phone with a smile as the wheels of the plane start moving, only gaining speed as we practically fly down the runway. Exhilaration takes over my entire body as I look away from the woman beside me and stare at the fast moving objects outside of the little window.

The plane lifts from the ground and my stomach practically jumps in my body, all my limbs tensing up as I cling to the tray in front of me. That's it, I'm officially unable to go back on my last-minute plans.

It feels a bit refreshing knowing that I have no other option now. For the longest time (all night and all morning), I didn't think I'd actually be able to do it, but here I am. And I'm so proud of myself for this.

With my head held high as my coffee gets placed down beside me, I look around the inside of the airplane, glancing away from people who suddenly meet my gaze. I'm not embarrassed though, I'm on top of the world right now. There isn't a single thing that could turn my mindset around.

I'm going to finally fucking see my friends!

My eyes travel along the various rows of seats that I can physically see (which isn't all that much) and I'm momentarily blessed by the sight of a little fur baby passing by my row.

I perk up a bit more instantly, smiling as the woman sitting beside me spews out an audible, "Oh my goodness! Look at that baby!"

I watch the exchange between the woman and pet owner, noting the yellow lab who sits right on top of its owners feet, tongue hanging out of its mouth like it doesn't have a care in the world. The little vest around it's body catches my eye and I find myself respecting the lady beside me for not reaching out to pet the sweet baby. It's a medical service dog.

"What's their name?" The woman beside me asks, smiling down at the dog who pants heavily.

"Her name is Yeager," The owner says proudly, giving their dog a little head pat. "She's a cardiac alert dog, so thank you for letting her do her job."

"Oh, no need, honey!" The woman says politely before smiling at little (well, rather large actually) Yeager again. "What a hard-working little thing! She's such a good girl."

Watching the exchange suddenly turns into a horror movie for me, actually, it's a bit more like a nightmare in which I can't wake from. You know, when you're being chased but you physically can't move. That's exactly how I feel-- the freeing feeling of taking flight is replaced by the very obvious realization that I can no longer escape the personal hell that I've stuck myself in.

Fuck. Oh no.

I've really made a terrible mistake. Why couldn't my father have let me cry for a few days?

Is there any possible way for me to get off this plane? I don't care if I lose my life. It's better than landing in Vegas within the next hour.

We're already over three thousand and something feet in the air and probably traveling over a hundred mph, but maybe I can just... you know... pop open the emergency hatch and launch myself out of it. At least everyone would be able to talk about how I went sky-diving at my funeral.

The woman and the owner of Yeager continue to chat for a bit while I try to contain my flaming cheeks and wide eyes, pushing down the memory that holds me in a vice grip-- it's like I'm bound in chains, forced to listen to everything all over again.

How could I have forgotten? And worse, why did this woman calling a dog a good girl resurface the fucking memory? I'm losing it. It's official.

I was so preoccupied with not being able to go to Las Vegas that I forgot why I really shouldn't fucking go. And now it's too late.

I completely ignored the lingering memory of one of the most exhilarating nights of my life.

Yea, I'm an idiot. An unremarkable one, mind you, who was, again, reminded of Sal and I's salacious act simply because a woman uttered the words "good" and "girl" to a dog. The dog isn't my issue because she is, in fact, a good girl. I'm just shocked that I've traveled this low on the pyramid of idiocy and lunacy.

Sigmund Freud really would have loved me.

I finally decide to just duck my head down and let it rest on my tray, nearly knocking over my fresh, scalding hot coffee. My eyes are still wide as I cross my arms around my head, my cheeks still burning with the rage of 25,000 babies being denied titties. I mean, what better way to explain how betrayed I feel? And not to mention, I'm the damn betrayer. I've betrayed myself. Larry would be proud of that statement, at least.

Sally and I haven't talked about what happened-- nor do I want to talk about what happened (it's unavoidable). We haven't even spoken since he left me hanging like a little bitch when Larry jumped into the voice chat and scared the orgasm out of me.

Somewhere, somehow, my unconscious brain decided it would be a fantastic idea to have the conversation with Sally in person. Now, I'm forced to do just that. Fucking hell.

I gulp down my overwhelming feelings. There's no going back now, unfortunately. I'll just have to devise a plan that keeps Sally Face's mouth shut until we're alone (which I pray never happens) or until I'm back home, safe and sound.

Actually, this might be good for me. Sally, despite his shitty vendetta against me, is actually pretty shy and quiet in person. I doubt he'd be brave enough to say anything out loud, so maybe this will prolong the time I have before having to talk to him about our weird phone sex thing that happened the other night.

I mentally pat myself on the back. Maybe I'm not all that dumb. I, miraculously, have some kind of intellectual influence deep down for me to be this smart about avoiding an unwanted talk with my enemy. Perfect.

Doesn't change the fact that Sally is dangerously hot though, by the way.

Either way, I have to look Sally in the eye later knowing that I heard him beating the crap out of his dick to the thought of me. I'll never forget it, and part of me doesn't want to. It was really good.

And I'll also have to look him in the eye knowing that I completely submitted to him and tried to defy him in the end. And he'll know that too.

The thought makes me shiver and I feel like I might vomit for a moment. Whether I have to talk to Sally or not about what we did, I absolutely have to be near him tonight even if I don't want to. I can't escape his presence any longer.

If I think about my future dilemmas any more, I actually will jump out of this plane and risk everyone else inside of it the second I open this emergency hatch. Which, by the way, said emergency hatch is perfectly placed beside me like it was planned out beforehand that I'd sit in a place where I could make a quick getaway. That's it, death by sky-diving is my destiny.

Fuck this-- not like I can actually go back to twenty minutes ago and step off this plane. My fate is sealed and so is my fucking seat belt.

I huff out a quiet, pitiful sigh and close my eyes, wiggling in my seat to get into a better position. My coffee will go cold, but it's better than stressing over the near future knowing I had no time to prepare. Not to mention, any announcement from the pilot would probably stress me out and make me think I'll die. So a nap will do better than my anxiety will for the next hour.

And my nap turns out to be atrocious. I'm trapped in a cage, Sal's tattooed arms chaining me in. It's almost morbid-- especially since I still took the time to trace every inch of what I could remember about the intricate designs on his skin. I am a mess even when asleep and the messy part of my brain follows me into the waking world when a gentle shake startles me from my stupid ass dream.

I throw my head up, eyes wide as I turn to the woman beside me. She has a gentle smile on her lightly worn features, a couple grey hairs peaking through the dark strands that hang over her shoulder. She has a bag in her hand as she stands and people rush past her.

We've landed.

I take a deep, sleepy breath and smile at the woman. "Thank you," I mumble the raspy words, stretching quickly before standing up. "Didn't realize I slept so long."

"That's alright, sweetie," the woman says comfortingly. At least she's nice-- though, I'd gathered that much from the way she spoke to Yeager earlier. "Just wanted to make sure you got off the flight." She gives me a little nod then turns, walking off of the plane.

I deflate in my seat and watch a wave of jet-lagged people pass through the aisle in front of me, waiting for the crowd to clear up before I start gathering my things. I'm in no rush now, remembering that I'll be seeing Sally Face come nightfall.

But I'll also be seeing Ash, Larry, and Todd...

I lift myself from my seat with a grunt and push past a few people to quickly grab my bag from the compartment above my row of seats.

After getting off the plane, waiting for my second bag isn't too rough. It takes a good ten minutes for it to finally pop up on a conveyer belt, but I take off to a Starbucks next to the bag pick-up area to grab breakfast, which consists of a bagel, a cake pop, and a peppermint mocha frappuccino because it's my favorite bitch coffee ever.

I travel through the airport, one bag on my shoulder (which holds my breakfast) as I drag my suitcase behind me and glance around with my green straw in my mouth, constantly sipping on my cold coffee that is ten times better than whatever I ordered on the plane, clearly, since I ended up throwing it away anyway.

People whiz past me, disappearing up escalators or squeezing through packed doorways. I don't wish to be anywhere near it, I mean, who would? That's an anxious nightmare, but I know I'll have to subject myself to that torture eventually. I might as well just get it over with now so I can hail a taxi and get to my hotel. Then, I can hide for the rest of the day until tonight.

I push past a few people as I make my way to the doors leading out of the airport. I wish I could get a good look at my surroundings because the airport is ginormous, but I'm too focused on getting out of dodge. I have so many things I want to look forward to and want to avoid all at the same time, but I can't do that until I finally have time to relax in my hotel room.

I manage to panic enough to the point where I disregard anyone ahead of me in line and just grab a taxi toward the back, more than ready to get to my hotel and crash for the next few hours. I don't even want to think about how excited I am to see Larry, Ash, and Todd because the fear of seeing Sally just completely ruins it.

So I get dropped off at a plain Hilton a couple blocks away from the strip at about twelve in the afternoon, check into my room, and drag the remainder of my dignity as well as my heavy bags up a few stories before finally just crashing onto my bed.

I want to cry because I'm starting to wonder if this was a bad idea, but I am in Las Vegas. Dad paid for me to come visit my friends, so I have to do it. I'm sure it'll work out anyway. I doubt it'll turn out too bad, my head is just messing with me like it always does.

But right now, things just suck. The only good thing about my trip at this exact moment is that my bed is insanely comfortable. That's a pretty awesome outcome seeing as I just want to sleep to ignore all of my worries.

My day seems to fly by as though it's been sped up. My plane ride was made quick due to me being so much of a mess, and now my day is gone since I somehow wake up at about six in the evening.

I'm too distressed to put an actual meal in my stomach, so my dinner consists of complimentary cookies that got dropped onto my tray in the airplane. I can't stomach anything more than that. And for the rest of the time, I watch a few reruns of The Office, tucked into the sheets of my bed with the comforter pulled up to my chin.

At some point, I lift my phone that's been laying face down on my bed to see a missed call from Ash, a few texts in the Discord chat, and then I notice that it's fucking 8:30 pm.

On a normal day, I'd use my lateness as an excuse to just not go altogether, but I didn't waste dad's money and I didn't come all the way here to not see my friends.

I can call, well, talk to Ash later. She'll be seeing me soon anyway.

So, I jump out of bed with a frustrated curse slipping past my lips and run into the bathroom beside my bed. It's a small room, not like I need anything big. I'm just one person.

I'll have to be... fashionably late, I suppose. No issues there. I'm sure many people are going to show up late. It's not like it'll end thirty minutes after it begins, right?

I take a quick shower, blow dry my hair, and put on some eyeliner and mascara. I'm not trying to make a statement. If anything, I'm trying to fly under the radar. Hopefully the little bit of makeup conceals me from being recognized. The last thing I want is for Larry or Todd to recognize me as y/n.

After my face and hair are done, I throw on fishnets and tuck a Fall Out Boy shirt into a black skirt that rests on my hips, then I throw on my worn black and white, hightop vans.

It's nothing special. My boi Kieran said to wear whatever, so I am. At least the fishnets add a little fun to the look.

My last little addition is the mask I bought just a few days ago. It feels as though it weighs hundreds of pounds in my two small hands. But not in a bad way-- I just cherish it so much that the weight of its unspoken value almost seems to double as I simply gaze upon it.

With a breath, I situate it onto my face, tucking the straps under my hair.

I pack a few bills into the back of my phone case and check my bank account, making sure I have a bit of money there too in case I need it. Then I finally run out of my room and out of the hotel in general, hailing a taxi who takes me through the city, adding another thirty minutes to my trip because of traffic.

Despite my poor punctuality, I can't help but feel mesmerized by all the tall, lit up buildings swarmed with people. And once the MGM Grand comes into view, I feel nervous with all the people hanging around the entrance like a pond of alligators waiting to feast upon my bones. It's a scary feeling, but hopefully I can squeeze past everyone and find where I need to go.

My taxi stops in the middle of people, right in front of the door. It's worst case scenario-- I have to step out in the middle of a raving crowd. I don't want that, but what else can I do?

I scramble out of the car, swinging around in a panic when the taxi screeches off behind me. I stare at the spot that repopulates with people instantly, all chatting and looking up at the giant, towering building in front of us.

It's hypnotizing, beautiful. I feel dizzy just by staring up at the roof that covers the driveway before I look over to the doors that almost seem to glow. But unfortunately, the moment doesn't last long because I can't see much through the ridiculous amount of bodies in my way.

Las Vegas sucks while I have my feet on the ground. There are way too many people which makes the views hard to enjoy, especially as I find myself fighting through everyone in my way who just wants casino's.

I eventually stagger through the doorway, trying to hold myself back from running over to a desk with a few workers hanging around. Damn, I really want to go back to my hotel. I've had enough of being around people today.

My stomach feels queazy and my limbs tremble a bit as I take quick steps, my presence easily gaining the attention of a lady working behind the counter.

She smiles politely at me, but a curious, almost wary look crosses her gaze as she watches me walk up. She's probably confused by the mask, but I don't have the time or the desire to explain why I'm wearing it.

"Um, hi," I murmur, smiling carefully. "I'm trying to, uh, get to the roof. For the party." The words are almost too quiet, so I force myself to speak louder despite the tremor tainting my voice.

"Oh," the woman says sweetly, still eyeing me carefully. "I need to see your invite, then." She's kind, but something about her forced expression tells me she fucking hates her job.

I pull my phone from the waistband of my skirt and open up my email to get to the invite before passing the device to her. I watch as her eyes scan over my phone and she purses her lips before handing it back to me.

She looks down, grabbing a clipboard. "Name?" she asks.

Yikes. I mean, it wouldn't be my actual name right? Kieran doesn't know me-- he only knows Vi.

"Um, VioletViolence," I whisper, cracking my knuckles and trying to keep my feet still. I don't need to scuff up this nice floor.

The woman's eyes narrow as she drags her eyes over the paper, flipping it to another sheet before her eyes widen a bit, "Aha!" she exclaims, like she's proud of herself. "Here you are. I'll give you a passcode for the top floor, you have to put it in as soon as you get into the elevator. After that, you're good to go!"

She cheered up a lot. I guess it helped to find out that I'm not some random crazy person.

"Oh, okay. Thanks," I smile cautiously.

Turns out, the passcode to the roof is 1989, just like the Taylor Swift album. That'll be easy to remember.

I punch the code into the elevator nervously, watching as a little green light envelops the button for the roof. Then, I travel slowly upwards for what feels like five full minutes until the doors finally open up to a party that practically smacks me in the face.

I look through the crowd, my heart beating wildly while a mix of electronic and rock music pulses in the air around me. People take up almost every inch of space on this rooftop. At some point, I note the LED lighted (and probably heated) pool crowded with randoms.

My eyes wander every which way in awe. I've never been to Vegas in my life, but the view is so much more than I expected now that I'm able to actually get a good look at it. Everything is exceptionally tall, super modernized and lavish, and lit up with a plethora of colored lights. Actually, I can see The Venetian from here.

I make my way to the edge of the rooftop, squeezing past people to get a good glimpse of the lights, buildings and moving life below me.

This moment feels so surreal. I'm surrounded by people I don't know, just like I have been all damn day, looking for my four-- three-- friends who aren't even expecting me. Right here, in this moment, I'm alone in one of America's busiest and most well-know cities.

I have so many fucking options. Hell, if I really wanted to, I could jump from this roof to the balcony below and get cheered on. Everything-- anything-- goes in Las Vegas.

The area is fun, but the situation is dangerous. I'm feeling risky. It's a stark contrast to how nervous I was moments ago, but seeing all of Las Vegas from up here has brought me back to life in a way.

To my left is a pool side bar, though, which will ultimately help me in the long run. If I want to pursue my risky thoughts that I'm too afraid to act on when sober, then alcohol is a good start.

I push through bodies again, holding onto one half of my mask in fear. I think I'd call it quits on life if I get pushed around so much that it falls off. Genuinely, I'd just pack up and leave.

Out of everything though, that's my only true fear at the moment, even with the lingering reminder that I'll have to find The Faces soon. I have, well, used to have horrible social anxiety, and yet here I am in one of the most social situations I've even laid my eyes on in years.

Here, I actually have to converse with people unlike whenever I was in the airport and getting into this casino/hotel--whatever it is. This right here is something to feel good about.

I'm proud of myself.

I weave past another person and slap a hand onto the bar counter, hanging on for dear life when a few people shove past me and nearly take me with them. Wincing, I make awkward eye contact with the bartender who just stares at me.

Yea, asshole. Could have helped.

"Whatcha got?" The bartender asks, filling up multiple glasses. I know he's busy. There are people in every free spot around the bar. What a fucking party, right?

"Um, can I get a screwdriver, I guess?" I yell to him, trying to make sure he can hear me over the music.

He nods once, grabbing another glass. "$15."

My eyes practically shoot out of my head and I feel like I'll choke on the way I'm being strangled with my pretty much empty bank account. "Is that a joke?" I cough out, watching as he fills the glass up with the equivalent to three shots.

The bartender shoots me a frustrated look that immediately tells me he isn't kidding.

He puts a splash of orange juice into what I would consider straight fucking alcohol then scoots it over to me.

I wince, giving my glass a little twirl in hopes to give myself some clarity and not straight vodka towards the bottom of the glass. Then, I pull a $20 from the back of my phone case and pass it to him. "Keep the change," I murmur, plucking a straw from a styrofoam cup then returning to my task of attempting to find The Faces.

Honestly, finding the group in a sea of people like this is probably impossible. There are just so many bodies and not enough consideration for the poor souls (me) trying to find their way around.

I can just barely make out an unoccupied stage. There's a microphone set up on it and speakers towards the back. It's right on the edge of the large rooftop, so maybe I'll be able to find some space there and catch a breath before I keep looking.

And of course, I could make this easier for myself and just call Ash. I could make this entire search simpler for everyone by letting her know that I have shown up. Who wouldn't do that?

But I'm scared. I love Ash more than anything and she's my best friend, but I also haven't seen her, Larry, or Todd in over ten years. The thought of physically reconnecting after so long worries me. Talking online is easy compared to actually being there, in person, flesh and all, for the thought process of every single question and answer. What if we all are too awkward and don't know how to physically speak to each other?

It's an anxious worry that makes me shiver as I break through the end of the thick crowd.

Suddenly though, I don't have any time left to worry again like I've been doing all day.

I should have known that Sally Face would be as close as he could possibly be to music. Thus, there he is, standing in front of the stage with his back leaned against the edge. And where he goes, the rest of the group goes.

All the air leaves my lungs all at once. My feet are cemented to the ground and my free hand bunches into the fabric of my black skirt.

They stand in a row-- Sally, Ash, Larry, then Todd.

Sally Face is the shortest one in the group. I never would have suspected it just by meeting him once. I mean, he isn't exactly short. I'd say he must be between five foot eight and five foot ten. That's a decent height. But Ash is a head taller than him-- that alone shocks me into stillness. And Larry is even taller than Ash. Then Todd is about Ash's height.

As always, Sally looks delectable. Just looking at him once fills me with memories of his sultry, dirty words and the feeling of his skin beneath my fingertips. What a dangerously frustrating man.

He's wearing a tan, almost sandy colored, Memphis May Fire shirt paired with black jeans and classic vans. The neutral colors clash wildly against the bright, slap-you-in-the-face color of his hair alongside his expressionless prosthetic, but I'm into it. He looks so fucking good and I can see the tattoos on his arms so well.

How I ache to run my hands over every inch of ink covering his skin. To see him flinch beneath my touch again. To read his story depicted in images that stain his body. It's a deep yearning that fills me with a feeling akin to rage-- it's just as euphoric, adrenaline-inducing, and deteriorating as rage is to me.

My eyes rake over him inch by inch, dragging up and down slowly until I've memorized each curve, crevice, freckle, scar, and every other little thing easy to miss regarding his physical body.

I wish I could see more of him. I want nothing more than to peel that prosthetic off of his face and get a look at the beauty he hides so desperately. I just know deep in my soul that he's pretty. There's no way a handsome asshole like him wouldn't have a pretty face.

His electric blue eyes rake across the area in front of him, but he thankfully never looks at me. It gives me an open opportunity to ogle him from afar.

I trail my eyes from his bruised fingertips, all over his ink-stained forearms while I meticulously map out each twist and turn of the veins that lead up to his lightly bulging biceps. Then, I follow the curves of his lightly scarred neck.

Somehow, the in-person image of his pretty throat is better than the photo Larry sent me. That shattered sword tattoo glints under the lights, a result of the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. It brings out the barely noticeable differences in the color of his skin-- his scars. They're lining the underside of his jaw and just a bit on the left side of his neck. I wish I could bite into his skin.

His messy hair and fringe cover the top and sides of his prosthetic, but I'm still able to get a good look at the dips and curves of every inch of it. I'm even able to see the top corner of his prosthetic that's pink instead of white. I wonder why that is.

But even if they aren't real, I can't help but stare at his prosthetic lips. Someday, I'll get to feel his real lips behind the barrier between me and his face.

I try to shake off the simp side of my brain, shocked at my own thoughts. Why am I so eager just over one look at him? Am I that bad off right now? This is an issue.

Sally Face is dangerous.

He has this confident, god-like aura about him that drips with the equivalent to gold-- if there was a color to describe the way he acts, it would be gold. It's in his stance, in his sharp and hypnotizing gaze, in the way he curls his fingers towards himself in a gesture as Ash watches him-- they're likely talking.

Sally face is tantalizing in every aspect of who he is. Personality, looks, vibes. I want my fingers in his cerulean hair so I can ruffle up the soft looking, layered waves. I want to drag my fingertips down the few scars littering his neck. I want to shatter that sword on his throat a little more, see how much deeper he can break. I want his pale skin between my teeth, and I want his gaze on me.

But these are silly thoughts. I can't embrace or act on them. Especially not right now.

I turn my gaze to Ash, the reincarnated Aphrodite dripping in modern eloquence. When imagining the most beautiful woman to walk the earth, I'd think of her over and over again. I feel that anyone else would, too.

Ash's hair has grown since her major cut about a year ago, it's just hanging over her shoulders, brushing her upper back. It's the color of silky chocolate, flowing smoothly and elegantly as though she'd spent hours preparing it. And hell, maybe she did spend a while fixing it up. But the point is that she makes effort look effortless.

The model-like air about her is swathed in a kind-hearted and welcoming feeling that comes just from seeing her do something as simple as smile. Ash is completely one of a kind, an alien in a realm where beauty is misguided and thought to be something else entirely. She's too breathtaking to be walking within ten feet of me. She's too good for this universe she's been sent to.

Ash is wearing a maroon colored dress that hugs her curves in every perfect place possible. There's a slit going up the right side of the dress-- her thigh squeezes against the fabric, more than likely attracting every person's attention within a three-mile radius. She's simply and utterly a sight to behold.

Not like she needs makeup, but even the little bit that she's wearing on her celestially stunning face compliments her dress, her personality, and her overall aura perfectly. Just a little bit of a dark brown shade on her eyelids, accentuating the glowing color of her viridian irises as she, oh shit, makes eye contact with me. But it's only for a moment before she... looks away again?

Anyway, her pearly white teeth are on display when Sally nudges her, pointing off into another direction. Each of her features lifts with the action and makes her look even more otherworldly. She's something else entirely.

I continue dragging my eyes along the entire group, passing my gaze over Larry now who absolutely blows my mind. In fact, I can't quite believe that it's the same scrawny, metal-loving, long-haired, emo teenager I last saw a photo of just two years ago.

Larry is ripped in every meaning and centimeter of the word. He used to be an awkward, lanky guy-- but now, his biceps seem like they're hardly able to fit into his plain black t-shirt, even his chest is squeezing against the fabric. Veins protrude over the inside of his forearms-- a tidbit I notice when he gestures over to Ash to mention something.

Small tattoos litter various areas of his tanned arms, little crosses or x's, I even see a My Chemical Romance and Sanity's Fall tattoo on him. The ink is a beautiful complement to his honey-colored skin. He's incredibly handsome, I'll give him that. Even in just a plain shirt, black jeans, and red converse-- he's killing the look and making it something unique to him. Actually, I'll bet he wore that shirt because it looks best on him.

I trail my eyes up his sculpted neck and to his striking, chiseled face that seems to have matured quite a bit in the past couple years. His eyes are a mesmerizing and dominant shape that beautifully accompanies his dark brown eyes that seem to mimic the shade of black coffee with just a splash of creamer. His angular cheekbones and jawline make him seem like a fully functioning Roman sculpture come to life. And more than anything, I'm so excited to see that the cute gap between his front teeth is still present when he flashes a hypnotizing smile to his left while running a tattooed hand through his hair.

Larry's septum is pierced, a new addition to his look that I didn't hear of. While a minimal difference, it gives him a boost in the 'attractive guy' department. He looks so different, but so familiar. All in all, he looks just as lickable as Sal does, only he's one of my best friends and I absolutely refuse to pursue anything that could break the bond I have with him.

I finally turn to Todd, a fleshed out man who's incredibly elegant in his own right. He's drool-worthy in a contrasting way compared to the rest of the group-- he's the embodiment of an academia professor and he's absolutely killing the look.

Todd's face is cherubic, angelic even but still handsome in a way that seems to make him shine in the dark of the night. The curves of his face are visible, but not sharp and cut-throat like Larry's features are, for example. Little light freckles paint the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks, bringing out the inebriating color of his nearly colorless, inky eyes. Thin lips and a light brush of facial hair on his chin really brings his pretty features together to make him look even more attractive, especially under the moonlight and LEDs.

His curly, red hair is styled in a side part, a singular curl hanging over his forehead in a way that fills me with an urge to push the hair into place with the rest. And perhaps he styled his hair like that on purpose, to make everyone yearn to touch him.

He's dressed in black trousers that are perfectly ironed, a white, button-up dress shirt, and a dark grey blazer that could almost be considered some type of trench coat if not for the style. Then, a pair of shiny black dress shoes.

Todd pulls off the look wonderfully, and never in my life did I imagine I would ever see him sporting dark colors, but the neutral and darker shades look amazing on him. Compared to the monotonous, bright-colored boy I knew as a child, Todd has matured into what he was always meant to be. And fuck, Neil is a lucky guy.

All of my friends are so hot that they are too hot for me. How could I possibly walk up to the equivalent to famous paintings and sculptures? I mean, they're so perfect that I feel as though I need to do a double-take because I can't wrap my head around the fact that they're real. How can anyone be so absolutely gorgeous? Not to mention, four of them standing side-by-side in the same exact place at the same time. And the slim chances that they all became best friends just tops it off and I feel burning jealousy over the thought of it.

I'm not jealous over their friendship or their looks, just that they seem so happy. Joy and true contentment is a feeling I've chased all my life, but never quite gotten close enough to grasp. To know that my full potential with happiness is out of reach, but they're bathing in the feeling... it makes me feel even farther from getting to embrace positivity.

But maybe this is a sign. Maybe they are my opportunity to drown in the throes of joy. Maybe they're meant to be my happiness-- my contentment personified, depicted in the form of actual physical, human beings.

Could be. I've never looked for parts of myself in others because I've always felt that my own emotions are something I have to achieve on my own.

Maybe I've been looking at everything all wrong. Maybe... maybe my morals are outlandish and out of place to the point that I've been depriving myself of real chances to feel something.

I know this-- I literally see an open opportunity to pursue one of my biggest dreams right in front of me, and yet I'm still unable to move my feet. I can't make myself finally meet what I've always wanted.

I can't even tell my friends hello.

This is pissing me off. Why can't I fucking move? I flew out last minute and have spent hours waiting alone to surprise my friends, but I'm too cowardly to actually spend time with them? Absolutely pathetic. I'm disappointed in myself and I'm tired of feeling that way.

I pat a hand around the top of my drink until I grab onto my straw. I pull it into my mouth and gulp down liquid fire as I let my eyes continue wandering over The Faces repeatedly. Yea, I probably look like a creep but I won't be able to walk up to them unless I have something to boost my confidence. As far as I'm concerned, alcohol is the only confidence I have. And if I look away from the group, I could lose them. I don't want to trek through this minefield to find them again.

It takes me a moment to trick myself into thinking that the alcohol will take effect immediately, but my legs finally move. I feel like I'm floating-- and way too fast at that-- as I grow closer and closer to the group, looking to Ash like a lifeline.

Out of everyone here, I'm closest with her and I'm begging, praying with just my eyes that she looks over and recognizes me and helps me grow accustomed to finally being around again.

More importantly, I hope no one is awkward with me. I think I'll just turn around and catch a plane back home if shit flops.

I get close enough to the point that Ash turns to me with a mix of curiosity and concern dancing in her eyes. I feel self-conscious beneath her gaze, but the look in her eyes slowly turns into something interesting and I find myself shrinking a bit as I stop my pursuit just two feet away from her.

My vans scuff the ground when I stop and I tilt my head up to look into her enthralling green eyes. My heart pounds wildly against my ribcage and my palms grow clammy all the while Ash simply grins down at me. Her irises twinkle, an intrigued look passing through her gaze.

"Hi," her soft, melodic voice purrs. "Nice to meet you."

Oh.

I'm thrown off by the fact that she can't recognize me, but when the mask is taken into account as well as the fact that she hasn't seen a photo of me since I was sixteen, it's understandable.

Not only that, I'm preoccupied on the thought that it seems she may be trying to flirt with me.

"Hi," I greet back, fighting off any possible signs of nervousness. I'll murder my anxiety if I can't play off my fear right now. One thing's for sure though, I don't have to worry about any awkwardness. "We've met before," I add in, giggling a bit.

I shock myself when the sound comes out a bit seductive. I don't mean to flirt back-- but what's the problem with that? Ash is my best friend for one, we flirt all the time, but she's also fucking stunning. I see no problems.

Ash tilts her head, scrunching her eyebrows as she flashes her perfect smile at me. Her eyes trail over my body and I instantly feel myself stiffen, heat washing over my cheeks. Her reaction to me is real-- this isn't us acting friendly because we know each other. This is Ash rizzing up a stranger.

"Really? I think I'd remember you if we've already met," she says with a soft laugh, chewing on her bottom lip as our eyes meet again. "When did you see me?"

I suck in a breath, trying to calm my fluttering heart and hot cheeks. "Instead of telling you," I say randomly without any thought, "How about we play a game? The group of you can try and guess who I am." Smiling, I glance over at Larry who's smirking down at me, his sharp eyebrows and deep gaze forcing that blush back to my cheeks.

Todd watches me, expressionless with his hands in the pockets of his neat pants. He doesn't move an inch.

And I don't dare look at Sally who's been quiet too.

Ash narrows her eyes, pinching her lips together to contain a smile. She glances to Sally then over to Larry and Todd before focusing on me again. "Okay," she hums. "I love games."

I flinch back when she gravitates a bit closer to me, her gaze flickering over my mask then to my lips. Is this the same Ash who screamed in excitement over everything when I was younger? And scarier, I find my heart racing because her interest in me is exciting.

Two can play at this dangerous game.

I take another leisure sip of my drink, bringing it to my mouth with shaky hands as I turn my gaze to Ash's glossy lips.

Her top lip is a bit bigger than her bottom lip. She has a soft cupid's bow accentuated by highlighter that was purposefully and meticulously placed there. Her lips look soft, plush. Maybe it's just the glitter or the way the lights reflect off her lipgloss. Either way, I'm sure she'd be fun to kiss.

What the fuck am I doing?

Ash leaves my field of vision almost immediately. I look up, noting that she's sat on the edge of the stage with a smirk on her hypnotizing lips like she knows she has me wrapped around her finger.

"So, Mystery Girl," she says, a seductive lilt to her sing-song voice. "Can you give me a little hint to start?"

I glance over, making eye contact with a concerned Sally Face. One of his elbows is propped on the stage behind him and the other is languidly resting on Ash's thigh.

He watches me carefully, no doubt sizing me up. I've noticed that he finds threats to his group then carefully assesses them. The fact that I'm saying I know Ash probably raised alarm bells in his head.

I look over to Larry next, watching as he raises his eyebrows and turns his back to me, leaning his elbows on the stage as he watches Ash's side profile. He has a really nice, strong back, by the way. Also, I'd love to braid his hair one day.

Todd stays in his same position, he even rolls his eyes when Ash tilts her head at me, waiting for me to give her an answer.

But what kind of hint could I give her? Almost anything I'd say would make her figure me out immediately. I'm really having to think hard about this because everything that comes to mind is something she knows.

I'll have to be careful about this. I have to give her a hint of a hint. Something she may have a memory about, but doesn't know for sure.

I bring my straw to my lips, sipping until I get closer to the bottom. Straight fucking vodka. Damn that bartender.

"Sorry, I'm thinking of a hint. I don't want to give myself away," I muse, throwing a wink at Ash. She immediately grins. "That would take the fun out of the game, wouldn't it?"

Ash giggles cutely as Larry turns around again, watching me with narrowed eyes and a ghost of a smile on his lips. What is that hunk of hotness thinking? I already know what's going through Sal's head-- but is Larry on his level?

"You're right. Take your time," Ash says in her soft, lulling voice.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, still thinking as hard as I can. I'm coming up with blanks. I need to pull a rabbit out of a hat, but I'm going to have to stall until I get there.

"Want to hug me and see if it feels familiar?" I ask, narrowing my eyes and opening my arms. My hand tightens around my drink as it slowly slides through my fingers.

Ash's eyes widen slightly and she stands again, her feet tapping the ground once she slides off the stage. She looks off to the side and purses her lips, taking just a step toward me. "Can I kiss you instead and see if that feels familiar?"

My breath catches in my throat and the drink in my hand feels even more slippery as I try to jump over this shock hurdle. I need to get myself together and answer her instead of actually going with this insane proposition she's dropped on me like a weight.

"We aren't familiar in that way, darling," I giggle lightly, letting my arms fall to my side.

Ash shrugs, a guilty grin pulling at her lips. "And? We can just do it anyway."

A deep, amused cackle makes me look past Ash and to Larry who has a hand over his mouth. "Sorry, couldn't hold back the laughs," he snickers. His sharp eyebrows arch further as he raises them at me. "You're in danger, MG."

"That's comforting," I say, laughing at Larry's failed attempt to hide his reaction to me and Ash's flirting. He's an evil little thing and clearly he chases a tense situation to get some laughs. "Maybe Ash is the one in danger."

My eyes cut over to Ash as she takes another step toward me. "Please let me find out if I'm in danger, I promise you won't regret it." She bends her knees just a bit for a moment, clasping her hands together with a mind-swaying look in her eyes. She's begging without words.

I glance at Sally quickly. He's still quiet, but he looks like he's on guard and intrigued at the same time.

Fuck, how do I get out of this. Todd's even standing up straight, watching us with a disgruntled look and curiosity in his eyes. They're expecting me to give in and I'm not entirely sure if I want to say no in the first place. Which is bad.

I don't have any feelings other than platonic love for Ash, but I've missed her so much that I genuinely would love to kiss her senseless. It's like reconnecting with the other half of my heart for the first time in years-- which, honestly, that's exactly what this is.

"Do you care who I am, Ash?" I ask, tilting my head questioningly. If we're going to kiss, I want to make sure she isn't going to lose her entire head once she finds out who I am.

"Yes, I want to know who you are. In regards to a kiss, I don't care who you are. When I find out, I'll probably be happy we kissed." She sends me a sweet little smile then licks her bottom lip.

"Okay. Then my only condition is that we are only friends and you have to remember that. Nothing will come of our kiss." I dip my head down a bit, trying to show that I'm being serious.

"If nothing will come of our kiss, then why are we going to do it?" She asks, starting to take quick steps toward me.

I take one step back, just to slow her down until we can finish this conversation. "We're going to do it because you're beautiful and I've missed you so much that I wouldn't be happy with anything less than a kiss."

Ash huffs out a laugh, growing close enough to take my hands into hers and yank me toward her. She towers over me and I have to tilt my head up to get a good view of her. "You must know me well then," she purrs, her expression filled with curiosity and eagerness. She's reckless. It's fun. "Are you ready?"

"I... think so?" I murmur, quickly licking my lips. Ash's cool hand trails up my arm and then to the base of my neck, pulling me closer to her.

"If you don't want to, say no," Ash says honestly, leaning down so that we're face-to-face. She looks into my eyes, trying to tell me that it's okay to say no. She won't go through with this if I don't want to.

"I-- I want to, I'm just nervous--"

"Don't be nervous. It'll be quick." Ash's serious expression washes away as she glances at my lips then back to my eyes again, pretty smile enveloping her lips again.

I nod, my heart thumping wildly against my chest as she leans forward. I grab onto Ash's wrist as her other hand gently brushes over my cheek.

And then her lips are on mine. She's still for a moment and so am I, just squeezing my eyes shut as I try to adjust to the feeling of her lips.

They're softer than I expected them to be, but sticky. And for that reason, I grip onto her wrist tighter because it feels like she's stuck to me and I'm not upset about it.

Ash takes my squeeze as a sign, tilting her head a bit. The movement causes her lips to slide perfectly against mine and butterflies flutter to life in my stomach.

I kiss her back, enjoying the way Ash's lips mold to mine so deliciously. The feeling is addictive and if it weren't for her sudden intake of breath, I'd probably pull her even closer. But her reaction reminds me that we're in public and that this is just a little test.

Ash pulls away just as quickly as she kissed me. She was right-- it was quick. And I actually thoroughly enjoyed it.

My eyes flutter open and I look up. Ash's hands are still on either side of my face, but she watches me with a tilted head and narrowed eyes-- like she's trying to figure me out. Like... the kiss actually gave her a clue, which would make no sense.

Then, she leans forward and slams her lips on mine for just a second. I shake my head once she pulls away and look up at her with a puzzled expression that I just can't control. What the fuck.

"Is your name Victoria?" Ash turns her head to the side, eyes wide and brows furrowed like even she's confused.

I choke on air over the near accuracy. What the fuck kind of succubus is Ash? How on earth did a kiss give her the first two letters of my nickname? Is this some joke? Does she already know?

"No, my name isn't Victoria," I force out through coughs, wheezing as I blink through my tears.

Ash lets me go, putting a hand on her hip and another on her chin like a real Sherlock Holmes.

I glance over at the boys quickly. Larry has wide eyes and a shit-eating grin on his face. Sally's looking away from us with his hands resting between his legs. He isn't slick. Todd is just shaking his head.

Men.

"Well, who the hell are you?" Ash murmurs to herself.

An audible, obnoxious sigh pulls my attention away from the viridian-eyed beauty again and I look over to Sally who hops off the stage and turns away from us quickly. "I'll be back," he murmurs with shaky breaths. "I'm going get a drink."

Larry snorts. "You lying bastard," he says, patting Sal's back. "You're just as gozzled as me right now."

Sally groans, walking away from Larry without a word. And Larry turns toward him, raising his arms. "What!?" he yells a bit louder as Sally disappears through the crowd. "I'm not wrong!"

"You kiss just like Victoria did," Ash suddenly says, pointing an accusing finger at me. She's gone from playful to serious in just a matter of minutes.

A laugh falls from my lips and my tense stance slackens a bit. "Oh, thank God." I twirl my drink again and shake my head. "I thought you just manifested that name from a kiss. I was freaked."

"Were you?" Ash narrows her eyes and takes a step toward me again. I find that deja vu feeling tickling the back of my brain.

I swallow thickly, never answering as I look over to Larry with pleading eyes. He only shakes his head, flicking me off with a devious and beaming smile. No fucking help.

"So, was I close with the name then? Because why else would you be nervous." Ash pries, chewing on the inside of her cheek in thought. "Actually, what are you doing here? Why wouldn't you just tell us who you are? Are you someone that we don't like?"

My mouth gapes open like a fish, opening and closing while I fight for an answer. My mouth feels dry and my hands are clammy again. "N-No. You guys like me. You've never had any issues with me, well, Sally doesn't like me but other than that we've all gotten along very well. Incredibly well, in fact!" I hold my hands out in front of me just as Ash stops walking toward me. "You guys love me, well, I hope. Actually, I don't really know. Maybe you all hate my guts, I wouldn't be able to tell."

Ash looks confused, like she's trying to grasp onto what I just spewed at her. My answer didn't convince her, it just fucking confuzzled her.

"I can't believe it." I turn my head when Todd talks for the first time. He doesn't have that borderline angry look on his face anymore. In fact, his eyes are a bit wide and he isn't frowning. I'd say this is his excited face. "You're Vi."

I don't know what to say as my mouth falls open again. I just stare at Todd and that seems to confirm it for him, so I shut my mouth and swallow through the dryness on my tongue. My throat burns and it feels like my heart's dropped out of my ass. I expected everyone to be stuck for hours, not for fucking Todd to sniff me out in just five minutes.

Larry suddenly scrambles into a standing position, his expression the first one I've seen tonight that isn't smiling. His lips are parted and his eyebrows are bunched together like someone just told him Dolly Parton died.

I pull my eyes away from the two men and look up at Ash, noting her slackened expression. Then, suddenly, she's become the same person I see on videos and talk to over the phone. The same best friend that I joke and bicker with.

In her soft, surprised, high-pitched voice, Ash asks, "Is that really you, Vi?"

There are tears on her waterline, but then there's hope in her eyes. Hope in the way she takes a stumbled step toward me with her hands clutched to her chest like she doesn't know what to do with them.

And I can't tell her I'm not Vi. She looks so torn up in the best way and it would tear me up too if I wasn't honest with her.

"Yea," I rasp out. "It's me, Ash."

Ash turns into a blur as I'm lifted from my feet with immense screams of joy filling my ears. Ash throws me around like a dog's chew toy and bellows so many indecipherable things that I'm taken aback for a moment, but overall relishing in the joy that seeps from her and into me.

"You told me you weren't fucking coming, Vi, what the fuck!? And it's been like ten years! Where the fuck? How-- What-- Where did you come from? How did you get here!?" Ash shrieks into my ear, a sob or two getting twisted into her words.

I chew on my lips, finally wrapping my arms around Ash's neck as she continues to throw me around like I weigh nothing. Hell, she has some upper body strength.

Tears start to sting my eyes as all of my senses are filled. I can smell Ash's coconut scented shampoo, I can taste her strawberry lipgloss mixed with my tears, I can hear her screams mixed with the music around us, I can feel each strand of soft hair and her heart beating wildly against my chest, and I can see Larry and Todd's excited and shocked expression every time Ash swings me toward them again.

"I know. But it doesn't matter because I made it here," I laugh through trembling lips. I sniff when the sound of my own voice hits my ears. Fuck, just hearing that I'm hardly holding it together makes me want to break.

"You're so fucking right. Oh my gosh," Ash cries, finally dropping me to my feet but never unwrapping her arms from my waist.

She squeezes me tightly, then abruptly pulls away, holding me at arms length with mascara bleeding down her red cheeks. "Holy fuck, Vi. You let me kiss you!?" She looks absolutely bamboozled, like she truly can't wrap her head around the fact that our lips touched.

"Uh," I spit out, still reeling from being twirled around like a bug stuck on a carousel. "Yea. We kissed. I told you my conditions. What, do you regret it now?" I narrow my eyes playfully.

Ash slaps a hand to her chest like she's appalled. "What? Hell no, I could never regret it! I just can't believe we fucking kissed!?"

"I can't believe you guys kissed and haven't fucking included me yet. Your turn is over, Ash!" Arms wrap around my middle and I find myself being throw around like a test dummy yet again. This time, the perpetrator is Larry. "I can't fucking believe you're here!" he bellows.

"This entire night is full of you guys being non-believers!" I yell once my feet touch the ground again. Larry spins me around to face him and I feel like I'm going to cry again just over the big smile of excitement on his face. "You guys better start believing because I'm here in the flesh."

Larry bends over to reach me, wrapping me up in a big, strong hug. And, oh yea, I take the opportunity to drag my hands up his muscular arms as I hug him back.

"Stop feeling me up, Vi. Your kiss with Ash was hot enough," Larry laughs into my hair, giving me a squeeze.

I can't help but laugh and quickly wrap my arms around his neck. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop myself. I never imagined you'd be so jacked."

"Ha, yea, I honestly didn't see it in my future either, but here we are," he murmurs before pulling away. He looks down at me, tears fucking brimming his eyes too. "Fuck, dude. I might cry. You're such an awesome chick," he says breathily, pretending to wipe tears from his cheeks.

I pinch my lips together and give him my best unimpressed look. "Come on, we're supposed to be strong. No more crying," I tell him.

"Maybe the tears will go away if I get a kiss too.." Larry rolls his eyes very obnoxiously. His gaze cuts to me then he immediately looks away again, being as playful as always.

I sigh, grabbing onto his cheeks. "Come here, jackass," I say, growing excited as I pull him close to me.

Larry murmurs out a "fuck yea" before I quickly press my lips to his. It's a little kiss, shorter than me and Ash's but I was just as eager to do it since I haven't seen him in so long.

When I pull away, Larry scrunches his face up and splutters, wiping at his mouth. "Dammit, Ash," he says, fake gagging. "Why'd you have to kiss Vi first with that stupid lipgloss? That shit is disgusting."

"Hey!" Ash scoffs, walking toward us. "Don't hate on my very expensive, very amazing lipgloss! And besides, Vi seemed to like it well enough."

I scoot my way out of their argument and tiptoe my way to Todd who greets me with a soft smile. I smile back at him and he opens his arms to me immediately.

My insides jump around in excitement as I jump into Todd's hug, scrunching the fabric of his blazer in my hands. "It's so nice to see you, Todd," I murmur into his shoulder. He smells like cedar trees.

"It's nice to see you, too, Vi. Sorry I figured you out so quickly," he laughs softly, giving me a squeeze before separating from our embrace. He puts his hands into his pockets then switches his weight to his other foot.

"It's no issue," I say, waving him off. "I'm really happy actually. I wouldn't have been able to say it myself."

He scoffs lightly, patting my shoulder. "Clearly. Grow a backbone, huh?"

I can't help but giggle as I pat his elbow in return. Todd watches me with a soft look, like he's genuinely happy to see me and that thought feels me with even more joy. Everyone's happy to see me.

Well... almost everyone.

"Vi, what the fuck are we going to do about Sal?" Ash suddenly hisses worriedly, her hands clamping onto my shoulders as she shoves her face next to mine from behind. "He's going to be so pissed!"

"It's alright," I breathe, squeezing my eyes shut as I remember that I still have some true bullshit to handle. "I'm cool," I settle on then turn my head, looking Ash in her pretty green eyes. "I've got this."

Chapter Text

As if on cue, Sally walks up to us with a slightly puzzled look in his eyes. He slows his pace once he gets closer, looking between our huddled group with a bottle of Budweiser in his right hand. Ew.

Then his eyes narrow as he scoots around us and sits on the stairs leading up to the stage. Our eyes follow him, but Larry and Ash are painfully obvious about it.

"What?" Sally murmurs softly, looking between his friends and purposefully trying to avoid me from what I can tell. Do I make him nervous?

If that's the case now, then it's bound to change once he finds out I'm VioletViolence.

"Uh," Larry drags out, tapping his fingers together. "Um."

"No," I cut Larry off. "Sally's playing the game, too. We'll see if he can figure it out for himself, but," I watch Sally carefully as he looks down at his beer, avoiding all of us. "That also means he has the opportunity to get the same treatment you all did."

I feel like I'm going to vomit when Sal's oceanic gaze clashes with mine. It's like his eyes alone have knocked me off my feet. The eye contact makes my heart race, makes my knees weak, and makes me tense up like I've just gotten jostled around a bit too much. But I don't turn away from him. I watch him.

And karma is sitting on my shoulder, asking if I'm ready to get kicked in the ass for this somewhere in the near future.

And my answer to her is yes.

"Sally," I say, a bit more confident than just seconds ago despite my raging physical reactions to his attention on me. "I kissed Ash. I kissed Larry. I hugged Todd," I start, watching his eyes grow a bit wider. I have to contain a smirk from ruining this entire charade for me.

"Can I kiss you too?"

Everyone is dead silent to the point that the music blurs out in the background. We wait for an answer with bated breath, no one able to truly process what was just said.

No, Todd didn't ask. Neither did Sally. Those words came from my mouth and the bluenette was the sole receiver of that question.

I'm honestly a bit shocked by the question myself. I don't know what possessed me to ask him that. Is it curiosity? A desire for revenge? Why the fuck did I say that?

I can't see his face, but I can tell, without a shadow of a doubt, that Sally is hardcore gaping at me. It shows in the pink tint growing under his eyes and his wide, blown out pupils. I can't even see the edges of his eyebrows right now.

"E-Excuse me?" he squeaks out, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry, I won't take my prosthetic off," he gently says, surprising me.

My nose scrunches lightly as I force a smile onto my face despite my shock. Is he really this soft and bashful? He was incredibly confident with Lexi, then an ass to Vi and y/n. So what is going on here?

"You don't have to take your prosthetic off for me to kiss you. I won't do anything you aren't comfortable with. Would you be okay with that?" I ask him, taking a hesitant step forward.

Will my mouth ever stop? And can my feet pause? Please?

My brain is fighting a losing battle with my body. I scream at myself to stop, to walk away, but I can't. I can't stop everything that's happening and the longer it goes on, the more my mind... doesn't want to stop.

Sally's rings scratch across glass as he tightens his hand around his bottle, never breaking our tense eye contact. "U-Um." He blinks at me, cursing beneath his breath. "I mean, you-- you can do whatever you want, I guess."

I flinch, trying to hide the action as a shiver. But, in truth, I'm flabbergasted. Does he find me attractive? Is that why he's so nervous but open to a kiss regardless? I don't know what to think of this guy. I've met and experienced so many sides of him, but he ends up having more fucking sides.

Will these discoveries ever stop?

"Okay," I finally push out, pinching my lips together for a moment. "One condition. It's the same condition I gave Ash. Is there anyone on this earth that you would not want to kiss you?" I'm going to be fair with him. I'm not an asshole-- if he says he doesn't want VioletViolence to kiss him, then I'll keep my distance.

Honestly, he's probably going to spit my name out in a minute here. Even if we do have some sexual attraction to each other-- even if he owes me an orgasm-- I won't kiss him without consent.

"No, there's no one I wouldn't really want to kiss me. Not that I can think of." Sally surprises me with his words again, lightly shaking his head as he speaks, still staring into my eyes.

"Are you absolutely sure?" I ask again, trying to give him the hint. Maybe he'll catch on.

But all he does is nod, his gaze taking on a yearning glint that makes me want to turn and walk away. He wants this bad, and gosh, why does he want it so badly? I almost feel like I can hear his voice in my head, on his knees and begging me so prettily.

Why him? And why am I pushing to kiss him?

Dangerous as always.

My feet move on their own again, dragging me over to where Sally's seated until I'm staring down at him, his face just a few inches below mine. And he simply watches me, waiting patiently on the outside, but fidgeting and foaming at the mouth on the inside. I can see it in his captivating eyes. He's incredibly easy to read.

My breath comes out in shattered pants that I try to quiet down as I gently lift my hands, gaining the opportunity to slide one over the tattoo on his neck. My pulse is racing and I can feel it in every inch of my body. My heart thumps so aggressively that I'm afraid he'll feel it in my fingertips.

Sally's Adam's apple bobs as he gulps nervously, the action stealing my attention. I watch the way his throat moves, then take note of my fingers brushing over his tattoo. I can instantly feel heat pool between my legs, so I drag my thighs together to contain some of my dignity, if at all possible.

I look into Sal's eyes again, mapping out a scar in his left eyebrow and another directly under his eye. They aren't deep, but they were probably deep enough at some point if they're still here. I don't know the magnitude of his injury, but I'm an understanding person. I see why he chooses to cover himself, though I wish he wouldn't. He may be an aggravating prick, but I wouldn't miss a chance to admire his beauty.

I still ache to touch his skin and see what's hidden beneath the prosthetic just inches away from me. Part of me thinks I'll always ache this way.

I push one hand through his soft cerulean hair, nearly groaning at the contact. I thought this would be hard for him, but it's even harder for me. To contain myself even though I want to just sit on his lap and kiss him senseless-- when I want to steal his breath away so badly. He still has some restraint, but I'm holding onto mine by a worn thread.

My hand drags through his hair to the nape of his neck, then I pull gently. Sally closes his eyes momentarily, and when he opens them again, they're hooded-- like he's accepted his fate and is adjusting to the tense air around us. He's embracing our situation.

Cool hands brush over my thighs and I nearly jump in surprise, but I manage to keep myself rooted in place. I don't have to look down to know that Sally's weaving his fingers through the holes of my fishnets, his fingertips digging into my skin.

I take a deep, shuddering breath when he spreads his legs, using his grip on my thighs to pull me closer, letting me walk into the space he's created.

Sally's in control now, watching me confidently and lustfully, unassuming but expecting. He's ready, and I'm far from it. This is going to change everything for me, but I can't seem to stop myself. I can't make myself step away.

His painted fingernails scratch softly against my heated skin, a dull stinging feeling following the action. He squints his eyes, like he's trying to tell me to hurry up. That he doesn't want to wait anymore.

It's a snapping point for me. Just the little bit of skin-to-skin contact makes me lose all sensibility, though my ability to play the long game is still intact. Somehow.

I bring a hand up, running my palm over the rough material of his prosthetic. It doesn't feel how I imagined it would. It looks smooth, but feels more like plaster. So I use my hand to pull him toward me a bit, then I lean down the rest of the way.

I gently press my lips against his rough prosthetic lips and shut my eyes. They aren't his lips, but I'm close enough to him for now. I'm able to hear the deep, muffled breath he takes with our proximity.

Sally's fingers leave the holes of my fishnets and wrap around the back of my thighs instead, his full hand enveloping my skin tightly, making my heart race at an uncomfortable and slightly concerning rate.

His hands squeeze around my legs, the edge of his fingers brushing against the end of my skirt as he yanks me a little closer despite our lips never being able to touch. I suck in a breath through my nose at his actions, gently scratching at the tattoo on his neck.

Then, I pull away. I'm not entirely sure how I've managed to do it, but I find the willpower and separate my lips from his prosthetic ones.

He's still gripping onto my skin, my chest pressed to his-- when did that happen?-- and he's breathing hard, nearly panting. To think that I have such an effect on him. Then again, I'm in the same exact disheveled state that he's in. I can't say shit.

I release a shaky breath, looking into his intense icy eyes that stare back at me confidently, but still a bit shocked.

I bite my bottom lip. I need to put an end to this before things escalate and I put myself in a hole I can't dig my way out of. "You wouldn't even mind if the person you hated most in the world kissed you?" I breathe out, watching his brows furrow a bit.

"I don't hate anyone," Sally rasps in his deep voice. My heart skips a beat and I wish he'd squeeze me tighter. Touch me more. Run his hands over every inch of my body. I don't even care that we're on a rooftop full of people.

He smells like bergamot and leather-- just like the first time he and I met. And he must use some type of musky, masculine shampoo because I can't help but gravitate closer to him to try and drown in his scent.

"I think that's a lie, Sally," I say softly, watching him glance back and forth between my eyes and mouth. He looks like he's thinking what I'm thinking-- that he wants this prosthetic off and our lips to actually meet. "What about VioletViolence? Don't you hate her?"

Sally gulps again and I squeeze the side of his neck, running my thumb over the soft skin of his neck and wishing I could trace the outline of his dagger tattoo.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" he murmurs, his grip loosening on my thighs. Ah, he's catching onto the hints I'm giving off even if he doesn't understand them yet. He knows something's up, though.

I snap myself out of the spell I so desperately want to stay under. But, I do indulge in the opportunity a bit more.

My fingers drag from the side of his prosthetic and down the length of his neck-- over his Adam's apple and just under the collar of his shirt. "I'm not trying to piss you off. I'm trying to tell you something." I look into his eyes, practically screaming for him to read between the lines without words. "Put it together, Sal." His name falls from my lips like a carnal plea before I can even stop myself.

But his name seems to snap him to reality and he narrows his eyes at me.

My hands fall from his body as his pull away from my thighs. I don't move from between his legs though, I just watch the gears visibly turn in his head.

And I enjoy the moment he walks through each stage of grief. Fuck, it feels damn good.

I can see the second he suspects me, but thinks that it's not possible. Then, he physically grows angry at the audacity of VioletViolence thinking she can kiss him. After, he tries to think of ways he can escape this situation or get me away from him. Next, he's struggling to understand how he was able to fall victim to my vice-like, hypnotizing words. And finally, he accepts the fact that I'm standing before him.

It's gratifying to watch him regress to the anger stage. I witness the exact moment he snaps, his glaring eyes connecting with mine like a depraved animal breaking out of its cage and meeting its aggressor.

He jumps to his feet, beer bottle smashing to the ground beside us.

His face is mere centimeters from mine and I can hear his harsh, panting, angry breaths as he glares into my soul. Any normal person would be petrified, but I'm elated.

My smile makes him even angrier, especially since its wide and beaming and I can't contain it.

"What the fuck," Sally seethes, his hand slapping onto my wrist and gripping it like he's trying to strangle his most hated enemy.

Let's be honest, he's definitely imagining my arm being replaced with my neck.

Sally and I simply stare at each other for a moment, neither of us saying a word.

He's fuming to the point that I can see his red cheeks even with his prosthetic hiding his face from me. It makes no difference-- he wouldn't be able to hide this anger even if he was hidden by a wall of cement. It's in his stance, in his eyes, in his white knuckles flexing tighter around my wrist.

"How the fuck are you even here," he mutters quietly, tilting his head down as the words fall from his lips like the sweetest wine laced with venom.

In any other situation, I'd shudder, but I'm full of adrenaline. I just got to kiss the guy who's been driving me nuts (in a good and bad way) for at least two weeks now. And he's positively falling apart over my well-thought out, meticulous, and frankly, very last minute deception.

Sally Face is but a small, delicate, and fragile withered leaf in my hands right now. He's painfully aware of the fact that I could crush him immediately, but he's still fighting with all his might.

Part of me thinks he wouldn't mind being crushed by me to begin with.

"Simple," I reply to him, my voice airy and melodic just to rub in whatever shitty emotions are taking hold of him. "I was invited."

"Clearly," he sneers, slightly tilting his head to the side. He gives my wrist another tight squeeze, narrows his eyes, then rips his hand away from my arm so quickly that anyone else would think I'd stabbed him.

Which would be valid considering he stabbed me during that game a couple nights ago. I have yet to get my revenge.

Sally watches me, his slightly taller stature looming over me like some kind of demonic shadow. I never cower though, I simply stare into the eyes of personified evil and smile, relishing in the way his eye suddenly twitches. And what's more damning for him is that he doesn't say a word.

"Hm?" I hum, tilting my head menacingly, giving off the most impressive display of passive-aggressiveness. "Still can't talk to me?"

I can picture the moment Sally's reminded of the moment he betrayed his deepest desires with me two nights ago now. He blinks, eyebrows suddenly rising. If he didn't have the prosthetic, I just know his lips would be parted, trying to come up with something to say.

A choked sound leaves his throat before he quickly recovers and slaps the intimidating glare back onto the small percentage of his face that I can actually see.

Uh huh. Not your best moment, huh?

"I can speak perfectly well," Sally manages, taking a step away from me with malice practically radiating off of him. "The issue is that you can't. Hasn't anyone ever told you to use your words? You won't get anywhere without them."

I raise an eyebrow, a little offended by his claim. He doesn't know a single thing about me. Who is he to tell me that I don't talk enough? Does he have no recollection of the plethora of times he and I have bitched and bickered?

"Excuse me?" I force out, furrowing my brows. I want to know what he's trying to get at with that stupid phrase.

Sally shrugs, glancing around at the puddle of beer at his feet. "No one knows what you want if you can't communicate. It's an incredibly easy way to lose something you desire." His eyes connect with mine momentarily, the fairy lights above catching his irises and illuminating them in such a mesmerizing way. The unnatural blue of his eyes clashes with mine and I feel stuck for a moment, replaying his words in my mind and trying to deduce the meaning behind each syllable.

Once he looks away from me again, it finally clicks in my head.

I pinch my lips together and ponder over what facial expression I should make to mask the embarrassment coursing through my veins.

The audacity he has to hint that I'm on thin ice has me reeling. I don't know what to say, much less what to think.

To be as confident as he is in this moment suggests that there's a very clear reason as to why he hasn't brought up our little... adventure, of sorts, in two days. Why he hasn't spoken to me at all.

Not that I want to talk about it. But we have to work with each other for a while and based on how everyone else feels about me, this won't be that last time he and I have to meet or interact. I don't want shit to be awkward.

Hell, I don't even need him to handle up on the promise he made. I'll be perfectly happy with forgetting that it ever happened.

But, his words suggest that he's still up to honor the proposition he made that night. He hinted that he's ready to drop me and the thought of continuing whatever that was, but he hasn't yet. He made that very clear.

Suddenly, a bottle of Budweiser is shoved over my shoulder. I stare at it with wide eyes, looking up at Sally who looks from me, to the bottle, then over my shoulder.

"Here, man," It's Larry. "Ash and I went to grab you another beer. Thank Ash though, not me. I made her come with me because I have no more cash."

Ah, so that's why it's been so quiet. The two troublemakers ran off and left Todd to awkwardly watch Sally and I's showdown.

Sally snorts, unamused, simply performing the action for the sake of the moment. "Where's Ash?" he asks, his voice nowhere near as soft and kind as it was just a few minutes ago. He's completely changed tactic and even Larry raises his eyebrows at the attitude change when I look over my shoulder at him.

When Larry notices me, his eyes fall to mine and he fixes his expression, wiggling his eyebrows at me with a little grin on his pretty lips.

Oh no, look away.

I throw him a little smile before looking forward at Sally again. Yikes, gotta get used to how ridiculously hot Larry is.

Sally's watching me with a contemplative and suspicious look in his electric eyes. He reaches a hand up, his tattooed arm mere inches from my mask as he takes the bottle from Larry.

The sound of his rings clanking against glass makes me flinch and I lose a little bit of my resolve before I can think otherwise. I glance to the side, getting a close-up look at the ink on his skin. Each stroke is perfect, straight. Not a single error whether the markings are thin or straight.

I gulp down whatever feeling is clawing its way up my throat and make eye contact with Sally again.

It pains me to watch a smug look cross his stupidly pretty eyes. He watched me ogle his tattoos and I fucking hate that he knows that I'm interested in them in some way or another.

He pulls his hand away from beside my head just as quickly as he put it there. The beer dangles between Sally's fingertips as he watches me for another moment before looking up at Larry again.

"Lar?" He rasps in his sickeningly addictive voice. The sound nearly makes me choke and I have to remember to get used to attractive friends all over again. I cannot fucking stand this compromising position I've been put in.

"Huh?" Larry chirps from behind me. He throws his arms around my shoulders then leans a bit of his weight against my back, laying his head on his forearm beside my face. I swear I could vomit when his strong biceps flex around my neck, not tightly, but to the point where I can feel it. Then, his head lightly taps the side of mine and I hear an amused little hum leave his throat, the feeling of his chest vibrating against me making me want to run for the hills. He must be doing this on purpose.

He has a very specific scent. It mainly consists of some kind of musky note, but there's just a hint of cinnamon that would overpower the other smell had there been anymore added to it. It's a tantalizing combination that's enveloping me a bit too much considering the way I'm about to fling myself out of his grip like a catapult from hell.

Sally looks unimpressed as I gaze up. There's no doubt in my mind that my entire face is red. Even if most of it is hidden, it wouldn't take much for anyone to see my blush. It's quite obvious by the way Sally rolls his eyes. "I asked you where Ash was," he says, jutting his head up toward Larry who lazily sways us.

Larry's grip is unforgiving in the sense that I feel like I'm suffocating under the weight of all his hotness. Literally. There's no romantic feelings involved, nor are there any sexual ones, but it's just the fact that someone this hot is so comfortable with me. If Sal were to do this, I think I'd be reacting even worse.

Thank God I'll never have to worry about being placed in that position.

"Oh," Larry perks up a bit, nuzzling his cheek on the side of my mask like a cat would. The only thing missing is purring. "Kieran caught her, but she should be back any minute."

"She better hurry. I don't plan on staying much longer," Sally's eyes flicker to me again and I automatically glare at him, pursing my lips in a bit of a second nature response. All I ever do in his presence is glare, so I'm used to it. "And she's not coming," he continues, narrowing his eyes at me.

Larry groans behind me, the sound reverberating through my entire body. "So you've found out who she is?" Larry complains. I blink in response, trying to catch my breath as the man takes a step closer to me, his legs touching the back of my thighs. "We got here like an hour ago, man. We have to stay a little longer," Larry tries to reason. "And Vi's definitely coming with us. Leaving doesn't mean you'll escape."

The harsh look that Sally directs at Larry makes me want to shiver. It's cold, calculating, a little devilish. Poor guy. He really isn't in the mood-- but I couldn't care less.

"I came here just to see you, Sally. Why would I let you leave now?" I pout, batting my lashes at the slightly taller man who scowls.

"Fuck, you're so damn hard to be around," he nearly snarls in response, aggressively raking a hand through his fluffy hair and never taking his angry eyes off of me.

"Funny you say that," I say, excitement ripping my veins apart as I spit out a witty reply. "I'm a connoisseur of hard things. Wanna find out which ones?"

"Oooouuuu," Larry loudly pronounces the sound, seemingly impressed. I look toward him and he looks at me, his dark eyes shining with mirth and pride. "Good one," he snickers, poking my collarbone as he flashes his teeth in a sweet smile. "And yes, I would very much like to find out which hard things you are referring to." He raises his eyebrows almost as if he's offering me the opportunity to show him what I'm talking about.

I pinch my lips together to contain a grin as I turn away from him, scrunching my nose up in a nearly failed attempt to hold back a laugh. Larry is so awesome.

Sally grunts in front of me. "You could be a bit more inconspicuous about wanting to dick her down," he murmurs. "Don't know why you'd want to in the first place," he adds, but this time it's much quieter and I think I'm the only one who was able to hear.

I take a breath, hoping to quell the fire coursing through my body in response to Sally's words. Clearly, he doesn't even believe what he said about me, but I still feel the urge to prove him wrong regardless. Maybe it's just my mind trying to give me an excuse to have another moment with him. I don't really know.

"Why would I be inconspicuous?" Larry exclaims, his voice perfectly portraying how appalled he feels. And just like that, I feel much better about myself. "No one ever got laid by being inconspicuous, man. Not a single fucking person in history. I'd get on my knees and explain just how badly I need pussy to survive if it meant I'd be guaranteed a fuck." Larry snorts and nudges me with his forehead so I glance over at him, borderline shaking in his grip from trying to fight off the world's most ridiculous giggles. "Do you want me to get on my knees, Vi?"

I watch Larry's sharp eyebrows pinch together lightly, his chocolate eyes glinting in the low lighting as he suddenly turns serious, though the ghost of a smile still shows in the way his lips twitch.

It takes everything I've got to keep myself together as I lift a hand and pat his warm, toned forearm. My fingers wrap around his skin despite knowing that I should lay off the touching. After all, Larry did call me out on it earlier.

"You are such a fucking creature," I spit out, smiling goofily at the man hanging onto my shoulders. Larry can't fight off his grin anymore either as his gaze flits over my face before he looks into my eyes again.

"So..." he starts, slowly rolling his eyes to add a bit of dramatic flare. "you'd still fuck a creature then, right?"

A bellowing laugh leaves my lips and I have to close my eyes and look away from him. I don't know how he manages to come up with rebuttals like this, but it makes him dangerously hilarious. I'm honestly shocked he doesn't have a girlfriend.

"Get off of me, you fucking hooligan," I giggle, squirming in Larry's grip. He chuckles with me for a moment, squeezing me a bit tighter and laying his head on top of mine before finally releasing me from his clutches.

I stumble forward, nearly into Sally who flinches away like I'm some kind of infectious disease. The fun moment is cracked for a moment as I look up at the guarded and almost disgusted look in his eyes. But I force myself to stand up straight and take a step away from him.

The smile on my face never falls away as I spin on my heels, finally getting Sally out of my direct line of sight even though I'm standing beside him (with a good five foot distance between us, mind you).

Larry smiles with me, crossing his arms over his chest.

I look to the side, making quick eye contact with Todd who's smiling fondly at me. He winks discreetly and I wink back before looking past him and to Ash who's elatedly skipping over to our group.

A beaming smile envelops my face once Ash finally notices me. I watch her eyes grow as wide as saucers, then the way she nearly trips over her own feet while fighting to get over to the group faster.

She's so excited. I feel as though I could burst with joy and adrenaline that honestly hasn't died down even a bit since I finally made contact with The Faces.

"Ash," Sally calls from beside me, his deep voice attracting the attention of a few other party-goers around us.

I'm about to open my arms for a hug from Ash as she draws closer, answering Sally with a loud and piercing, "What!?" when my phone buzzes.

My eyebrows draw together as I struggle to pull my phone from the waistband of my skirt without dropping the drink in my other hand.

Normally, I'd let whatever message that just came in rot on my lock screen until I found the time and energy to reply, but I'm in another state and the text might be from dad.

I finally get my phone into my hands and try to maneuver it around until the screen is upright, using my hip as leverage. At some point, I can finally see who's messaged me and I huff out a relieved breath, blowing a strand of hair out of my face as I look over my phone.

Nate :P
im home.

Oh, shit. My fucking neighbor. I forgot about him and I know exactly why he's texting me.

Nathan lives next to dad and I-- he and I are the same age and we went to high school together, so we get along pretty well. The guy's nice and doesn't talk much-- he drops by to play Mario Kart sometimes or to share his homemade brownies. He's been gone for over a month, something about traveling for school. I think he went to Colorado?

Me
hey nate! glad to hear ur back :)

Nate :P
i want my screwdriver back.

I was genuinely hoping he'd forget.

With a little frown marring my features, I shift my cup so it's clutched between my ribs and my arm as I use both hands to try and explain my situation to my neighbor. I can hear Ash and Larry chirping back and forth to each other excitedly while Sally and Todd pitch in here and there. I'll get back to them in a moment.

Me
i figured as much :,)
i'm uhhhh not home rn

I use his damn screwdriver to fix my headphones from time to time. Yea, I should just get my own screwdriver or a new set of headphones, but why would I do that when I have an awesome neighbor who lends me his tools since I don't have the money to replace my things?

Nate :P
is that another excuse to keep
it for longer.

Wincing, I type out a reply quickly, feeling nervous over how quickly he was able to see through me. That's impressive, especially since he was able to do that over text.

Me
okay, yes, but i wasn't kidding
when i said i'm not home, i
swear :(( i'm literally in vegas
rn. i'll be back tomorrow!!

Nate :P
i'm holding you to that, y/n.
i want my tools back or no
more brownies. ever.

Me
okay, okay!!!!!!! gosh :((((((
you will have your screwdriver
back tomorrow night i SWEAR!

Nate doesn't answer immediately like he previously had been, so I chew on my lip anxiously as I wait. I really hope he doesn't take away my brownie privileges. I've never eaten one quite as yummy as his.

"Vi, you good over there?" Ash's sing-songish voice pulls my attention away for a moment and I look up, noting the way she's wrapped up in Larry's arms just like I was earlier. Except she's fighting it hard, scowling as he cackles.

I grin, nodding. "Yep, just handling up on some things back home."

My gaze gravitates to Sally who has the bottom of his prosthetic unbuckled and pulled up so he can drink his beer through a straw. The sight makes me want to giggle, but at the same time, I'm able to get a view of the scars on his chin which automatically quells any and all bubbly thoughts I previously had.

Fuck, I know he's hot under the prosthetic.

I peel my eyes away from him and look back at my phone one last time.

Nate :P
one chance. if i don't have the
screwdriver in my hands tmr
you can kiss the brownies
goodbye for a full month and
no less.

I can't help but smile and snort out a laugh at his response.

Me
gotcha. :P

With a shake of my head, I tuck my phone back into my skirt and focus in on my friends again, taking a quick sip of my fiery drink.

I watch as Ash throws an elbow into Larry's stomach, making him grunt in opposition before finally letting her go. Clearly it didn't hurt him at all, he just decided to let up for her sake. The man is built like a five layer brick wall. I don't even think I monster truck could lay him out.

Honestly, the only think that could bring Larry to his knees is a pretty girl. He said it himself-- he'd get on his knees and beg for pussy. Other than that, he's got every advantage in the world as far as I'm concerned.

With a faux frown, Larry leans down until his face is right in front of Ash's, which he didn't have to lean down much, by the way. "I just love hugs, Ash. Why won't you let me hug you?" he asks.

"Because you're you, you horny fuck!" Ash scoffs, shoving Larry away from her with a manicured hand to his face and a small, amused smile on her glossy lips. "Anyway," she continues, turning her head to me. "We're about to leave because Sal is being grouchy. You're coming with us, right?"

My lips part as I glance between my friends who silently wait for my answer-- aside from Sally.

"She's not coming anywhere with us," he instantly says, his tone biting. He never looks at me.

A smile grows on my face as I look back to Ash. "Of course I'll come with you guys," I say excitedly, completely ignoring the icy look that Sally throws me. "Where are we headed?"

Chapter Text

Ash and I walk down the sidewalk outside of the MGM Grand casino and hotel with our arms interlocked, a little skip in our step and huge smiles making our cheeks ache. But it's all worth it. It's love.

Music fills the air around us, the sounds so loud and mixed together that I feel as though I'm in the front row of three different concerts all at once. I think Nickelback is playing somewhere down the street and then Paramore somewhere next to us. It's a clusterfuck of so many amazing things. I'm not overwhelmed, I'm energetic for the first time all day since finally connecting with The Faces.

It's freeing. Refreshing even with the sizzling tension radiating between Sally and I. Said tension is a mix of sexual frustration and absolute raging hatred-- but I find that combination extremely invigorating. Situationships suck unless there's some kind of unique emotion to liven it up a bit, I think.

But for now, I'll ignore it. This trip is about visiting with my friends, even if it means having to kick Sally out of my general vicinity every once in a while.

The lights from casinos light up the air around us, reflecting off of Ash's pretty red dress. Every sound that could possibly be heard in the world all at once is revolving through the streets-- distant airplane engines, horror movie-worthy screaming, sizzling food, normal conversations and giggling, and my favorite: silence from a particular someone.

"So what's the plan?" I ask Ash, panting lightly as our skip picks up pace.

Ash has a beaming grin on her face, her pink cheeks flushed from our little excited hops. "I dunno," she chirps between breaths. "We'll probably just bar hop. I think that's a fun idea!"

I squeeze my arm around hers, watching her glorious side profile with stars in my eyes, no doubt. The world seems to slow down as I gaze upon her smiling face and the night-time world reflected in her viridian iris's.

She looks down at me, her smile impossibly widening before she turns her head over her shoulder to look at the guys.

"Hey, bar hopping cool with you guys?" she asks sweetly, giving them a pair of eyes on the down low that screams we're doing just as she wants regardless of what they say.

And all three men are quiet for a second before murmuring their agreements-- Sally and Todd's a bit forced whereas Larry seems more than happy to go and party a bit more.

I look over my shoulder too, my mask pressing into my cheek as I make quick eye contact with Sally who quickly looks off to the side, his neck tattoo glistening in all the LED lights.

My head is facing forward immediately. Better to not look at him-- if I can help it, that is.

I mind my business for a bit, just skipping alongside Ash who tells me all about her favorite drinks and how really hot girls always go to the shittiest bars to avoid preppy frat boys. I'm not quite sure how she learned this information, but I'm not one to hate on the game, so I just nod along and pitch in here and there.

Ash shocks me a bit with a sudden change in behavior when she leans over, pressing her cheek to mine. Her lips brush against the temple of my mask as she says a bit more quietly, "Hey, remember that time you declared you'd raise hell in Washington D.C. because of soda prices?"

My eyes widen a bit as I recall one of the many phone calls I had with Ash when we were teenagers. I was pissed because my high school had raised the vending machine prices to three dollars per soda and I was not having it. It wasn't that impressive to me, but I guess it left a mark on Ash.

I'm about to ask her why she's bringing that up when another weight lands on the other cheek of my mask, followed by, "Soda prices pissed you off that much, Vi?" from Larry. His voice purrs deeply beside me and I try not to shiver.

His hand grips onto my shoulder, enveloping so much skin that his thumb brushes along the base of my neck. He squeezes lightly then lifts his head, peeking around my form so he can look at me with his dark, mahogany eyes that are just as hard to look away from as they are to actually look at, simply because they're so entrancing. Why does Larry have to be hot?

I hum in response, tilting my head. "I guess," I murmur, "I'm still pretty pissed about finances in general. Who isn't?"

Ash giggles cutely, running a hand over my hair before resting her fingertips on my upper back. "Vi's an anarchist," she says matter-of-factly.

Larry cackles, backing away from me and falling back with Todd and Sal.

I pinch my lips together to contain a laugh of my own and nod once. "Fuck the patriarchy."

A grunt sounds behind me, followed by, "You two are problematic." The words are grumbled and Sally sounds like he's physically aggravated over our conversation-- or maybe he's aggravated with the fact that he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

It takes everything within me to not groan obnoxiously and tell him to shut the fuck up, but I do roll my eyes to let off some steam even if he can't see it. "Aw, come on, Sally," I say, glancing at him over my shoulder again. His gaze is settled on me, his ocean eyes clashing with mine as soon as he's in my view. "Be a feminist!" I smile at him.

I watch as his eyes narrow momentarily, frustration probably biting at his bones as he regards me quietly, fighting for a reply in the depths of his mind. Maybe it was a dirty trap on my part, but I don't care all that much.

"I am a feminist. And fuck the patriarchy," Sally replies gruffly, "I just don't think running up on the government would be your best decision."

"And why do you care?" I snort, turning my face forward again as Ash holds onto my arm. We're getting closer to a bar towards the end of the street. "Let me start an uprising in peace."

"By all means, don't confuse my worries. I couldn't care less about what happens to you, just trying to give a word of advice since you're full of bad decisions," Sally replies, a snarky lilt to his deep voice.

I chew on my bottom lip. He's formulating something in his mind by the sound of his voice. He's confident. "You act like you've never made a bad decision in your life. An asshole like you is dripping in stupidity," I retort, albeit weakly. I'm a bit afraid of whatever it is he has in mind.

"Maybe I'm stupid," Sally starts like this is exactly what he wanted me to say, "but at least I don't seek validity by bulldozing through anything that bites back."

"So, you're just talking about yourself, right?" I bite out too quickly. The words are in the air and I've taken his bait-- I reacted before I could think. I chew on the inside of my cheek upon realizing that I won't be able to correct myself in time.

"I am talking about myself, smart of you to notice," he chuckles lowly. "I bite back and you just can't handle that, can you?"

The sound of his voice makes my brain itch. His chuckle makes my skin tingle. It's a constant back and forth of aching to strangle this motherfucker and wanting to climb on top of him and see what he does. Regardless, it's his reaction that I want so bad and the fact that I'm failing while he's succeeding in milking me of reactions is filling me with an unquenchable rage.

I stay quiet for a moment while we trek on, the entire group remaining silent while Sally and I hash out our ridiculous problems.

He's too good at building up a quick defense. I need to work on that.

"You misunderstood me," I grit out, keeping my gaze set on the pavement under my feet. "You fight anything with a pulse. You're so meticulous and aggressive about self-protection that you might as well just fuck yourself already." The words keep flying out of my mouth. I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to. "You wouldn't get knocked up with that shitty attitude, but you may fucking get knocked out."

The silence around us is deafening and I feel like I've effectively made my point clear when Sally doesn't say a word. So I take a breath and relax my shoulders that are more tense than this fucking situation.

A hand clamps down around the back of my neck, cool fingertips squeezing my skin tightly before harshly yanking me back.

I trip over my lost balance, trying to regain my footing before I nearly slam into Sally who stops me with another hand on the small of my back.

The two of us stand in our odd, incomplete embrace for a moment, the shock of his touch shutting me down completely. I don't even take a breath as the feeling of his hand gripping my skin resonates within my mind. It's not much, but it feels good. And then his fingertips digging into my lower back through my thin shirt-- a warning to shut up now.

It's not hard to listen when his hands are on me, as much as I hate to admit it.

I'm acutely aware of his soft, azure hair brushing along the skin of my throat and the sound of his muffled breathing beside my face. He's close, very close. Closer than he and Lexi have ever gotten.

His unique scent envelops my senses just like it did the day I met him, every single note overpowering me in seconds. Sally has a good hold of me, which is dangerous considering he has me in a physical vice grip right now, alongside the fact that it doesn't take much for me to submit to him.

And that's starting to piss me off.

The side of Sally's prosthetic taps onto the cheek of my mask and I'm feeling major deja vu from earlier. Only this time, it's a lot more tense and breathtaking. No matter how hot Larry and Ash both are, it just doesn't compare to Sal.

"You know what this shitty attitude gets me, though?" He rasps quietly, his words short and aggressive.

I swallow thickly, blinking down at his shoes that lightly press against the back of mine. Wow, they match. Who would've thought.

My heart hammers against my ribcage, fighting a losing battle of desire and pride wherein I'm failing at getting both under control. I don't know what to say, what to do, or what to think with his skin on mine and just our close proximity in general.

I've always known he was attractive, but fuck, does he really have to silence me with his personality and looks?

"It gets me fucked," he says, his tone biting and hostile, even antagonistic like he's dangling another hook for me to latch onto. He continues, quieter this time but his words still slice at the walls of confidence I've built up. "I'm sure you know a thing or two about that, huh?"

He gives the back of my neck another tight squeeze, then shoves me away from him, ending the moment just as quickly as it began.

I stagger back toward Ash who grabs onto my arms to steady me. When I look up, she's glaring harshly at Sally. I don't think I've ever seen such a serious expression on her face in my twenty one years of being her friend... this is impressive.

She'd be freaked if she found out I thought the way he handled me just now was hot as fuck.

"Stop being a fucking cunt, Sal," Ash barks out, looking down at me with the glare ever-present on her face, though it softens just a bit for a moment. "You're really going to be like this?"

"It's fine, Ash," I stop her gently, offering her a little smile when she swings her head back to me. "I'm just as guilty. Sorry for making things awkward." The one thing I regret is putting my friends in a difficult position. Ash, Todd, and Larry don't deserve that.

Ash watches me with a hesitant expression for a moment before carefully letting go of my arms. "Fine," she murmurs quietly. "Both of you need to cut it out then."

Yea, she's right. I'm here to spend time with everyone even if Sally has to be involved. Whatever. It's worth it.

I nod my head with a tight smile that Ash returns as she boops the nose of my mask with her index finger. Then she turns to point at the bar that's beside us. We got here a lot quicker than expected. Arguments pass the time very well.

I turn my head slightly to the side, looking to Sally and muttering, "Sorry," just to keep the peace. It isn't that I mean it in any way, shape, or form-- and he can see that it's an empty apology-- but something to appease the two of us as well as the group for now.

He says nothing in return. I'll take that as a win.

I smile as the five of us walk into the bar, which is honestly so large and packed with people that it might as well be a fucking club. There are strobe lights, music so loud that I'm worried I'll get a headache, and sweaty bodies all packed together.

My smile drops immediately. I fucking hate places like this. I've been near people all day and I'm really tired of it.

Ash doesn't give me much time to regret following her to a bar though. She grabs onto my hand then yells back to me, "Grab someone!" so I lean back, glancing at Larry who clutches my hand with a grin on his face before grabbing onto whoever's behind him.

Ash drags me around like one of those kids with the backpack that doubles as leash-- like her grip on me is enough to keep me afloat when, really, I'm about to fucking take Larry down with me.

But she walks up to someone who undoubtedly works here, barks out a command with a hypnotizing smile on her face, and then she's dragging us back to a roped off area. The scene changes with a flip of a metaphorical switch and I can't really keep up, I'm only able to feel immense panic upon realizing that Ash just very easily got us into a VIP section of this bar-club thing.

And it must be emo night in here.

There's a range of old classics pumping in the building. Helena by My Chemical Romance ended a few seconds, and now we're on to Deftones. Ash picked a good place and I can't help but feel like she chose this specific bar on purpose.

Ash catapults me into a booth then crawls in beside me, Todd joining after her. Then Larry and Sally climb in on the opposite end of our table.

It's a nice, decent spot. We're away from the big crowd, but we're still able to see and interact with everything if we really want to get up and do something. It feels like finding that one unoccupied corner at a party.

"Okay, Vi," Ash says with a hefty sigh, slamming her hands onto the table with a happy grin on her face-- a stark contrast from her angry expression just a few moments go. "Here's the question I've personally been putting off."

I furrow my brows. "Okay," I say hesitantly. "Hit me."

Ash's smile drops a bit and she pinches her glossy lips together. "When..." she trails off and squints her eyes. "When are you leaving?"

Oh. Fuck. That's true. I have to leave in just a few hours now.

The look on my face must say a lot for her and her happy persona drops immediately. "Okay, how soon?" she mumbles softly.

I hum, checking the time on my phone. It's ten thirty. "In a few hours now," I admit, not daring to look back at my deflated best friend. "I have to be at the airport for six."

"Can you maybe take a different flight home?" Larry offers, a little frown marring his sharp and handsome features.

I purse my lips as I regard him with guilty eyes. "Either way, I only paid for one night at my hotel. There's not much I can do."

It hurts to think that I have to leave everyone so soon now. At the beginning of the day, I was just so elated to finally see everyone for the first time in years, but the clock is ticking and I'm only filling up with dread. I know I'll have to hug Ash, Larry, and Todd for the last time in a while tonight and it's going to suck. I'm going to sob on my flight back, I already know it.

My heart clenches in my chest and tears fill my eyes just from thinking about it. It doesn't matter that I'm in a club or that I'm surrounded by people. What matters is that I have to leave my friends. Again.

It was heartbreaking whenever I was ten years old, but now it feels like my world is about to crumble down around me.

"Well, Vi, hear me out," Todd says after a moment, a hand covering his lips and his brows furrowed as he looks down at the table.

I wait quietly, my eyes glued to his professional, put-together form. Please, Todd. Please give me a solution.

"If you can find an alternate flight home, you can just stay in our suite with us for the next couple days," he says a bit louder, his dark eyes finally meeting mine.

My brows bunch together. I couldn't possibly stay with them. That's unfair since they're paying for their room.

"Oh my gosh, that's a great idea, Todd!" Ash squeals, her hand clamping down onto my shoulder. "You can camp out with me! Bed's a queen. We can fit!" She beams excitedly, her jade eyes begging me to accept the invitation.

I gape momentarily. "I... I can't. It's unfair for me to not pitch in. And besides, I--" I cut myself off for a moment, wondering if I should leak a bit of my personal life. It's not like they can track me down if I'm vague. "I have a job. I told my boss I'd be back tomorrow."

"You work?" Larry asks, tilting his head curiously. "Actually, fuck your boss. We're more important."

As Sally once said, very inconspicuous.

But I still giggle at it regardless. "Yea, I told him I was sick. But, uh, I really need the money so I have to go back as soon as I get home tomorrow."

"You do know that the flu warrants a full five days at home, right?" Todd asks, his tone serious. I turn to him and he has so much confidence in his eyes. So much, in fact, that I suddenly feel like I could get away with being sick just a bit longer.

"I--" I pause again, trying to fight the guilt and desire that are beginning to mix into one in my mind. They're so close together that I can hardly distinguish the difference at this point. "Are you guys sure?"

"For fuck's sake," Sally groans, putting a hand onto his prosthetic. "Are we really about to do this?" I can hear the reluctance and disdain in his voice. He seems miserable behind his closed eyes and the shadow of that prosthetic.

Everything about him in that moment makes me feel a bit different.

"Yea, I'll stay with you guys," is what I say next, a giddy little smile forming on my face.

I have no regrets. Fuck Sally. Fuck whatever it is that he wants.

"Okay, so our first line of work then is to change your flight," Larry jumps into action, so energized that he bounces around in his seat for a second. He reminds me of a child, unable to contain his exhilaration. It's actually pretty cute.

"Oh, fuck," I groan, resigning a bit. I lean back in my seat beside Ash and chew my lip. "Do you think I can change it this late?"

Larry shrugs, looking off to the side. "We'll find a way. I'm cool with anarchy too," he glances back to me with a mischievous little grin and narrowed eyes.

My breath catches in my throat for a moment before I remember what he's said and then I giggle, nodding in agreement. I've always been able to tell that Larry's pretty chaotic. It shows in absolutely everything he does-- he's a shit stirrer, but I like that about him. Makes things fun.

I open my phone to pull up the app that tracks my plane tickets and travel time, but I notice a text before getting a chance to focus on my changed plans.

Simp for the Entire Male Population
i'm coming visit next week, ducks >:))))

Hm, this'll be fun. I haven't seen my cousin in a while, it's actually been a few years now, come to think of it.

Me
cool, i'm looking forward to it ;)

I click out of the message and move on to my plane tickets. Something I'm thankful for is the list of alternative flights that pops up as soon as I navigate my way to the ticket options setting.

"How long will you guys be here?" I murmur, scrolling through my three options that leave on different days.

"The next three days," Ash chirps, "Did you find anything?"

"Yep," I say excitedly, clicking on the plane ticket that has me leaving on the 23rd. I confirm my change and it results in an extra $45 charge, but it's worth it. "I leave in two days now."

The table cheers-- except for Sal though. But he doesn't exactly seem upset either. If anything, a bit annoyed, but not against this new situation. If I'm sleeping with Ash, I guess he assumes I'll be out of his hair for the most part.

"So are you coming over tonight?" Ash grabs onto my forearm and yanks me around a bit, her pretty teeth on display in the form of a grin.

"Erm, actually, I think I'll stay at my hotel since I spent money on it, but I'll move in with you guys tomorrow," I say, laughing lightly.

It feels as though a weight's been lifted from my shoulders. Even if it's just an excuse to avoid the pain for now, I don't care all that much. I have more time and that means the world and more to me in the moment.

"Cool, I'll just come sleep over with you then-- give the guys a night to themselves," Ash declares nonchalantly, a giddy little smile gracing her full lips. "We're gonna have so much fun tonight!"

Larry slides a hand over the table and between Ash and I, immediately stealing my attention. "Hold on, how much fun? Because if it's a lot then I'd really like to join. Please." His eyes are wide and lips parted as he waits for a response.

Before I can jump in and laugh at his inconspicuousness, for lack of a better word, Ash slaps his hand away and rolls her eyes. "Not that kind of fun, you horny little fiend," she scoffs. "Vi is off limits to all three of you."

"Oh, so you get to have her all to yourself?" Todd challenges, raising an amused eyebrow at Ash.

Everyone's favorite viridian-eyed beauty narrows her eyes playfully, a little smirk building in her expression. "You lot can all go fuck yourselves."

A few laughs pass between us before we go quiet, ordering a few drinks and just enjoying the music. It's clear that our entire group appreciates good sound. Sally's head is leaned against the back of his seat, his angular and scarred jaw on full display for me-- the best part of the view being the tattoo on his neck. Larry's bobbing his head to Slipknot and Todd's holding his head up by his hands, his elbows propped on the table as his feet tap the ground rhythmically. Ash has her eyes closed, a little smile on her face.

I really found a good group, even if things between Sally and I are complicated. I can appreciate some of the things he appreciates too.

A good song comes on, one that I discovered on Youtube a few years ago. It's a small band called Dark Autumn Complex. They have maybe a few thousand fans if anything. But they're good and the fact that their song is playing at a club in Vegas is pretty big.

I perk up at the same time Larry does, our wide eyes meeting momentarily. He doesn't break our eye contact as he jabs Sally in the ribs with his elbow.

Sally pops up with a resounding 'oof' his feet slamming against the ground. Honest to God, this is the first time I've seen him with an expression that wasn't anger or bashfulness. Impressive.

Larry murmurs something to Sal then turns to me, both of us mouthing the lyrics to the song. A grin splits across his face and he nearly jumps across the table to fangirl with me.

"Dude, you like these guys!?" he exclaims.

"Yes!" I laugh, "I found them when they only had like maybe five subscribers on Youtube. I've been a loyal fan."

Ash suddenly scoots toward us with a huge smile on her face, "You really like Dark Autumn Complex?" she asks, holding back whatever's next by a thread based on her expression. I nod in response and she jumps at my confirmation. "Well--"

"Well, you're just like us then, Vi," Larry interrupts Ash quickly, throwing her a tantalizing wink. "No worries, baby," he says to her. "I got you," Larry gushes a moment later, a little blush painting his cheeks as he looks back to me. "I know every single song of theirs."

"I can't lie," I admit, trying to contain my excited smile. Fuck, I want to tell Larry who I am so bad. We have so much in common. "Me too. They're not my all-time favorite, but they are on my list of top five favorites."

"I think they're my favorite, truth be told. They're just so good," he wiggles excitedly in his seat. "And get this, we're going see them live at their first concert tomorrow. It's perfect timing because you'll be with us. You have to come."

"Holy shit?" I say breathlessly, my smile falling due to the shock. I hadn't seen anything online about the band having a concert... but then again, if it was a concert out of reach, I wouldn't have paid it much mind. "Of course I'll come! I can't believe I got this lucky." And I really am excited. Dark Autumn Complex has been on my wishlist of concerts-to-see for about three yeas now.

"It's gonna be rad as shit," Larry says, eyes widening as he grabs my wrist. He shows his emotions through physical touch-- sweet of him, but dangerous for me and every other man and woman who has good taste in men. "Maybe we can get in back stage to meet them." he says, a knowing little smirk builds on his lips as he watches me, waiting for a reaction.

Sally quickly elbows Larry though, shutting the excited man up in a moment. Larry looks over at his cerulean haired friend who hisses out, "Shut up, dude."

I roll my eyes. This guy is such a fucking mood killer.

"That would be super cool," I say quickly, ignoring Sally's ridiculous attempts to get in the middle of my conversation with my friend. "But I don't want to bother them either. If we meet, it'll be by chance."

Larry shrugs unapologetically, claiming he'll climb on stage to meet his favorite band if that's what it takes.

The best and worst part is that I can tell he isn't exaggerating.

I appreciate the song playing. It's called "Wherein Christine Daaé Becomes Her Own Phantom." The lyrics are really deep, relatable, and captivating. The lead singer has such a hypnotizing voice and their bassist is so good with fuzzy riffs. I feel like I'm peacefully drowning every time I hear one of their songs, which is honestly insane considering those feelings are such a contradiction.

A fun little bit about the band, aside from their fantastic sound, is that no one knows what the members look like. There's the guitarist and singer (just one guy), their bassist, and then the drummer. They're a little group, but they're fantastic. Never filmed a music video before and have only ever posted a singular photo online of all of them wearing elaborate masks that cover their heads entirely. We haven't even seen their skin-- which makes seeing them live tomorrow even more exciting to think about. How will they present themselves?

Larry picks up our conversation again, asking my opinion. "How did you feel about the song they put out a month ago?" he asks.

"I thought it was awesome," I say happily, leaning my body against the table to be a bit closer to the man across from me.

Larry pushes a strong, inked hand through his hair then starts talking again, but my attention is suddenly and unfortunately stolen by a situation at the other end of our table.

The lyrics resonate through my mind as a ridiculous wave of jealousy washes over me.

"A ghost sending shivers down your spine;
Something you never see but always feel.
Some eerie tingle and a hidden shrine--
Every single layer of fear-- all of it I'll peel."

That is a disgustingly accurate way to describe my current feelings as a woman walks up to Sally, shyly tapping on his shoulder.

She has jet black hair that flows down her back in soft waves with a short, black dress to match. The fabric is tight around her slim body and she flaunts it beautifully. I can't see much of her other than that through the flashing lights and dark atmosphere, but I definitely notice the moment she sits right against Sally, nearly on top of his lap.

It's not that I'm jealous of them, it's that I'm jealous of her, I guess. Maybe I'm also jealous of the way he's so easygoing with her when he wouldn't even let me cum over our call, that bastard.

And not to mention, he's never been kind to me in any way. Never even gave me a chance. but here he is, happily conversing with this woman and being so sweet to her.

What did I ever even do?

"Pretty things are surface-level desire,
But does the same go for me?
Just quiet and sometimes a spit-fire,
And only desirous by a small degree.

Death is but a word,
Thus, elegance and pride will never die;
A choking little lie that terror simply purred--
A horror-stricken mind is a fatal design."

Am I pretty like she is? Hell, I'd kill to have her looks. I've never been confident in the way I look or present myself, even if I do try really hard. To me, I'm nothing compared to all the beauty walking amongst this earth. I'm nothing like them. And that's proof that my mind really is a fatal design.

Suddenly, I'm not too fond of this song anymore.

Why do I have to desire such trivial things like beauty? There's so much more in this world. I don't need to want to be pretty like this. It's a mood killer.

Why does Sally make me feel this way about myself?

When did I turn into this?

"Disgusting, foul creatures of lust--
Humanity is a wasteland of evil,
And the lack of a vendetta is unjust.
So, here I am, a captive of the people.

Warrior hearts and monstrous brains,
Murderous minds and devilish intentions--
All we amount to are thoughtless remains
Of a world once full of potentials."

Yea, I had potential at one point a guess. Lately, I've just been a shell of who I once was and I'm just trying to build myself up to what I used to be. Hanging out with The Faces has been helping, but watching Sally throw an arm around this beautiful girl and lean a bit closer to her with a smile in his eyes makes me feel nauseous.

I don't even really know if it's about him and her anymore. It's more of an internal thing. Could anyone ever be attracted to me that way? Does someone think I'm actually pretty? Could I pull off a dress like hers?

Thousands of questions and sickening emotions fly through my mind. The situation is unnecessary, especially since Sally means nothing to me in the first place. I've turned it into something personal-- I'm only hurting myself, but I can't help it.

"Humanity is a vicious influence on 'differents'--
To people like me,
Where purity is as damning as innocence;
Oh, how ignorant are we?

A little bunny cornered by a pack of foxes,
Coerced into following the crowd.
Poisoned by passive-aggressive toxins
Until I'm silenced and expected to be proud."

Today's strict beauty standards are fucked and this is proof that I'm trying to conform to them. It's not this poor woman's fault that I'm not confident in the way I look, it's society's fault. Just another reason to be a fucking anarchist, I suppose. I guess Larry would be proud of that thought.

The constant reminder that I don't look a certain way bothers me every single day. Just when I think I've been able to ignore it enough, it bites me during moments like this-- unwarranted and completely random. And I try to blame other people to make myself feel better. That isn't right. I can't even be angry with Sally for warming up to at least someone. If anything, it proves he isn't completely a cold person.

So why does it bother me so damn much?

"Christine has adopted the persona of Erik,
A phantom in her filthy world--
Traumatized, scared, and barbaric
Like a shredded dress still forced to be twirled."

Alright, that's enough with the song. I'm absolutely going to become barbaric if I don't distract myself.

Sally slowly runs his fingers down the woman's arm before turning the table, his azure eyes meeting mine. I pinch my lips together, instantly embarrassed about getting caught staring and begging myself to look away-- but he doesn't look away. That's... interesting.

So I keep looking at him. Some unknown emotion flashes across his pretty eyes and he pulls the woman a bit closer to him.

Is he trying to make me jealous? Funny. If he thinks I'm looking at them because of him then he's about to be really fucking disappointed. I refuse to let him get to me, even if a little bit of me wants to be held that way-- because it isn't that I want to be held by him. He has absolutely nothing to do with the negativity in my head right now.

Sally reaches a hand up, brushing a strand of hair away from the girl's face and raking his eyes over her pretty features. A raspy, deep chuckle reaches my ears and I feel like laughing too.

How pathetic. Of him and me.

I need to sort through my own insecurities and let whatever little situationship that existed between Sal and I a couple days ago die. I don't need it. And he very clearly doesn't need it either.

Whatever.

Chapter Text

"Y/n-- take that ridiculous fucking mask off right now!"

I pinch my lips together in an attempt to hide the giggle that gets caught in my throat.

Ash and I have just gotten back into my hotel room after splitting up with the guys for the night. We took a taxi here and Ash shoved me into an elevator, ripped my door open, and is now staring at me with the cutest little angry expression I've ever seen on her face.

"Can't I go shower first or something?" I ask, purposefully trying to rile her up a bit more. I just can't help it, especially when she's trying to force anger that just isn't there.

Ash's eyes narrow as she kicks off her shoes by the door. "No. Take it off now." Her manicured hand lifts and she points an accusatory finger at me. "Miss 'I-won't-show-you-my-face-for-six-years.' I literally have not seen you since you were in high school, and that was only a singular photo!"

I snort. "Be happy with that one picture. You can wait a bit longer."

Ash groans, tilting her head up to the ceiling. She even lightly stomps her foot on the ground then grabs at the air. "I absolutely cannot wait any longer! I need to see the face I kissed. It's driving me insane. I just know you're hot." Her screeches are wild and crazed at this point, so maybe it's time I put her out of her misery.

With a little giggle that I can't quite keep in, I put my hands on the cheeks of my mask and push it up my face, then ease the band that held it to my head out of my hair.

I look up at Ash, a spear of anxiety rushing through me. It's not like it matters-- this is my best friend-- but it still feels a bit scary. I'm not all that pretty and what if she expected someone better looking? I don't even come close to comparing to The Faces.

Ash doesn't have a physical reaction-- she just stares, mouth gaping a bit. Her eyes flit over every little inch of me. It makes my anxiety even worse to the point that I'm twiddling my thumbs and looking at anything but her... and my feet seem extremely entertaining right now.

I've never ever been confident in myself and that's something Ash knows well. Watching her watch me but not say a word makes me feel like she doesn't think I look very good. Which, honestly, I'd rather her tell me the truth instead of lie. So maybe her reaction is better-- Ash would never lie to me.

I peek at Ash through my lashes, watching her smack her lips together, lick them, then gape at me again. Well fuck. It must be bad.

So I grimace and tilt my head down again. I'm about to just go take a shower and call it a night. Try to ignore the embarrassment barreling through me in a never-ending wave of remorseless shame.

"Y/n," Ash says, and I pick my head up again. She's still blankly staring at me. "I have made out with so many women in my life, just so you know. But I have to say that you are, by far, the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of kissing. Wow. I want to brag about you."

I gulp, heat enveloping my cheeks immediately. I'm relieved, even a bit shy as Ash's eyes start to go wide and she blinks at me, eyes going in so many directions as she looks over me some more.

Truth be told, I'm seconds away from either breaking down over her words or cackling at her manic eyes.

"Holy-- wow." Ash squeals, taking quick steps toward me and grabbing my warm cheeks in her hands. "And your little blush just makes you so much prettier. Do you even exist?" Her eyebrows scrunch together, accentuating her wide, bright eyes. "Bellissima, principessa!"

She puts her face right up to mine and my heart skips a beat as our noses brush together. Her wide, crazed, beautiful eyes clash with my own wide ones. Her warm coconut scent fills my senses and I have to blink through the strong, hypnotizing smell.

"Dude," she murmurs. "I'm going to kiss you again. That cool?"

I blink at her, my breath catching in my throat and my hands growing clammy. "Are you sure?" I choke out, chewing on my bottom lip. "I mean I don't really mind," my mouth continues blabbing even though I'm completely okay with another kiss-- I'm just nervous. Maybe Ash thinks I'm the most beautiful woman she's ever kissed, but she's the only woman I've ever kissed. Not to mention, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Period.

Ash doesn't say a word, just brings her mouth to mine, the remnants of her strawberry lipgloss melding our lips together. I'm filled with deja vu, the memory of our kiss from earlier tonight bouncing around my head. Fuck, now I'm going to associate strawberry lipgloss with girl kisses and Vegas. I'm going to get sad every damn time.

Ash pulls away as quickly as she began our kiss, her eyes shining ecstatically. I stare at her, still mentally stuck with her lips on mine.

Then, she screams.

"Fuck, you are so amazing! You're my best friend for a fucking reason. Holy hell, I got so lucky, you beautiful little bitch!" My eyes go wide as she continues to loudly ramble on and curse about how great this moment is, nuzzling her forehead against mine the entire time.

I'm still in shock as she lets me go and skips off to the bathroom, muttering something about taking a shower. I simply nod, unable to comprehend much.

Does she really think I'm that pretty? How is that even possible?

Either way, I feel like a little school girl as I grab one of the shirts I packed and slide it under the door for Ash to change into. My heart's racing, my lips are a bit sticky from lipgloss (I don't dare wipe it off, by the way), my body is on fire and frozen all at the same time. Because someone thinks I'm so pretty that they just had to kiss me again. I feel... I feel happier than I've been in years. I didn't think anything could top reuniting with my old friends, but this really comes close.

I bite into my cheek, trying to contain the smile growing on my face, but then I have no reason to hide it in the first place. So I let a powerful grin envelop my lips as I skip over to my bed and pull my phone out of my pocket.

I text my boss about having the flu then call dad and give him an update on my plans. He's excited for me, basically fangirling over the phone with me.

But Ash walks out of the bathroom as I'm talking to dad.

Her flushed, makeup-free face is set in a confused expression as she notes my phone held up to my ear. Her hair is twisted into a towel that sits on top of her head and she's in the shirt I gave her with just underwear. No shame whatsoever-- all beauty, legs, and a little bit of really nice ass.

I smile at her, waving her over to my side of the bed. "Hey dad," I say into my phone, cutting my poor father off as he's talking about how I need to go to the Venetian tomorrow. "Ash is here. Want to say hey?"

Before dad can even answer me, Ash is ripping my phone out of my hands and slapping it against her face, her lips parted in a huge grin that falls into her voice as she squeals. She wiggles around on the bed as she tells dad hello, giggling and cradling the device against her like it's a lifeline.

So I shower in the meantime, only to walk out and find Ash tucked under the comforter of my bed. She's sleeping with her mouth open and her leg taking up the entire mattress, but that's okay. I push her leg over, put a finger under her chin to close her mouth, then tuck myself in beside her.

And when Ash and I both wake up the next morning, I think it's the best sleep I've ever gotten in my life. Yea, even though Ash had every single one of her limbs on me throughout the night, it truly was the best sleep.

"Y/n!" Ash squeaks in the morning, waking me with an immediate start. She's prancing around my room like a deer, still no pants on just like last night. But this time, with the curtains to the window wide open.

Even through my groggy, disoriented mind, I can see the little problem.

I jump from the warmth and comfort of Ash and I's shared bed and throw the curtains closed with one single leap across the room. No, I don't think gamer and online personality Ash Campbell needs a scandal. Not in Vegas, at least.

With a huff, I throw my head over my shoulder to glare at Ash who looks... too happy for me to be angry about anything regarding her at all. So I smile instead as she yanks her shirt off and throws last night's dress on instead.

It's quick, like this is something she's practiced-- which, I wouldn't be surprised if that was true-- and then she's urging me to get dressed.

"We have to take a taxi all the way to Caesar's Palace, ma'am," Ash tells me a few moments later, as I'm staring into the hotel mirror and brushing my teeth despite wanting to sleep a bit longer. It's so hard to even open my eyes again after blinking.

"Thaethar'th Palathe?" I try to say around the toothpaste frothing in every corner of my mouth. But the point is that my interest is piqued and my eyebrows are touching my hairline.

Ash giggles at me. She's sat criss-cross in front of another mirror in the room while she carefully and expertly applies winged eyeliner to her eyes. Like paint to an already perfect canvas of colors. "Yes, Caesar's Palace," she says matter-of-factly. "The guys are fucking obsessed with The Hangover and insisted that we get a suite there. They wouldn't have it any other way."

Her mouth falls open a bit, face going slack as she switches over to applying mascara to her lashes now.

I nod understandingly. The guys have good taste in movies. I've wanted to see Caesar's Palace just because of The Hangover too. But something about the situation tickles my brain so I turn back to Ash with furrowed brows and my toothbrush hanging from the corner of my mouth, watching as she starts lining her full lips with what looks like a dark red pencil.

And then it hits me.

"Ash," I ask slowly, hesitantly. "Where the hell did you get makeup?"

She glances at me through the mirror and shrugs. "I brought the eyeliner and mascara in my little purse, but I bought the liner and lipstick downstairs when you wouldn't wake up earlier." She smudges the liner with her little finger, frowning momentarily before filling in the spot again. "Turns out the shitty little convenience store in the lobby isn't too shitty. I even scored a pack of tampons."

Can't argue with that.

Ash continues to work on her makeup while I get dressed. I choose to put on one of my last outfits-- which was supposed to be my flying outfit-- and call it an L for myself. It's fine. Sure, I'm in my comfort sweatpants: a black pair of Twenty One Pilots Clique merch, in fact, that I've had since I was 15 (they're falling apart but I don't fucking care). And to go wonderfully with it is a plain, black Deftones shirt. I'll be comfy for the rest of my time in Las Vegas.

I try not to let my anxiety seep in as I stress over my appearance. I'm going to be the odd one out in a group-- a very LARGE group-- of city-goers who will be decked out to the nines.

Not to mention, I'll have to attend the Dark Autumn Complex concert like this tonight.

I sigh at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, tongue in cheek as I try to stuff down all of my insecurities. Seeing Sally and that woman fawning over each other last night did nothing to help me. And again, it's all about my lack of self-confidence. I'm not jealous of anyone-- only jealous that I'm unable to do anything without stopping myself because I don't feel like I'm good enough.

It's going to suck staying here two more days with just clothes from the past day.

But like the godsend Ash is, she pipes up from her makeup. "Oh, and we're gonna stop somewhere and get you some clothes. I know you probably need some," she says cheerily. But then she's not so much of a godsend, and more of something that makes my heart skip a beat because no. Just no. "I'll pay for anything you want, so pick out whatever!"

"Ash--" I start to shoot down that offer, but she shuts me up with an icy look instead.

"I won't take no for an answer. Consider this a..." she ponders, pursing her lips and glaring at the ceiling before she looks back to me with a sly grin. "A reconciliation gift."

I still don't like this and she can see it on my face. I know she can because she starts trying to appease me.

Ash puts her tube of blood red lipstick down and frowns at me. "Look," she says softly. "If it bothers you that much, we can stop and get you some clothes from someone working at a restaurant for all I care. We'll sneak into the back and peel the fabric right off their bodies if it makes you feel better. I just don't want you to feel like you don't have options. Plus, I'm seriously dying to style you."

That makes me giggle a bit, but that can't happen so I'm still nervous about it. I'm stubborn, I know.

"How about we go halfsies on the price?" I ask sheepishly. I know Ash is trying to be nice, but it... I don't know. I just don't like burdening others.

She rolls her eyes with a scoff to follow, but nods her head regardless. And that makes me smile because thank God. I don't know if I'd be able to recover if she paid for all of my stuff for me.

My last little touch is to put on my mask while Ash adds some finishing touches to her makeup, then I'm tying the shoelaces of my Vans and walking around the hotel room to make sure I haven't forgotten to pack anything.

Ash and I are in the clear moments later, so we check out of my room, stop by a Marshall's on our way down the Las Vegas strip (much to Ash's chagrin as we pass up a Gucci store which, again, no. Absolutely not). I grab some clothes, all of which are just two skirts since jeans are way too expensive nowadays, fishnets, and two shirts. Thankfully, humanity is starting to finally notice how amazing the rock genre is because this store is just dripping with band merch. I manage to snag a Guns 'n Roses shirt and a Nirvana shirt. One is white and the other is grey, but that works fine with me. I can make do.

Then Ash and I are hobbling into Caesar's Palace with tons of Marshall's bags and my suitcases in hand.

But the weight doesn't affect me for long.

When we're finally fully inside the hotel, the ceiling seems to stretch on for forever. It's all eggshell white, tall glass windows, intricate and golden chandeliers, and so many Greek statues.

I feel like I can't breathe as I look up at the giant feminine statues that are almost two stories tall. Such beautiful representations of femininity and womanly beauty taking over every single sense I have. And that's not counting the dome, glass ceiling surrounded by painted art on every other part of the roof. If it's not painted, it's carved. And then the spiral staircases and instrumentals filling the air around me... I've ever been around so much grandeur in all my life.

I wish I could see this for the first time again.

"Holy hell," I murmur as Ash takes in the beauty beside me.

"I know," she says breathlessly. "I've taken my time to walk through every bit of this hotel that I can get too, but it never gets any less beautiful. Crazy, right?"

"Beyond crazy," I reply. "I don't even need to go to Greece anymore. I think I've seen it all."

Ash laughs lightly, her head tilted back to stare at the gorgeous architecture before she sighs happily and juts her head toward the spiral staircases-- fuck yea-- and says, "We've gotta take those, honey. Then we'll head over to the elevators."

I eye her carefully. "Do we really have to take the stairs?"

She grins sheepishly. "No," she admits. "but I know you want to walk up them anyway."

I try to contain the rising bubble of excitement and appreciation in my belly, but it doesn't take much to have me bursting in moments. "Damn right I do," I finally say, skipping over to the stairs as Ash jogs over behind me.

Just before we start heading upstairs, someone calls Ash's name. Her smile goes from 100 kilowatts to 1,000 kilowatts in just a millisecond as she turns to a group of girls who are grinning ear-to-ear.

"That's my name!" My friend says cheerily, a little high-pitched squeal following as she rushes over to what I can tell are young fans. She hugs each of them then takes photos before politely dismissing them with some kind of excuse I don't quite hear. I assume it has something to do with the tons of people suddenly invested in the fact that strangers are taking pictures with another stranger. Any more time to think about it and they'll realize it's someone famous, so Ash takes the liberty of practically shoving me up the stairs before a herd can jump us.

So maybe I'm not able to look at the lobby too much with Ash rushing me away, but I'll have plenty of time later.

Ash and I scurry off to the elevators and pile in with at least five other people. It's a squished ride to the very top of the hotel, but we make it without anyone realizing that Ash is a popular streamer.

Thankfully.

Ash and I step out of the elevator on the top floor and she lets out a breath that she must have been holding in for a while.

"I love my fans," she suddenly says, looking over at me nervously. "I mean, really, I absolutely love seeing their smiles and I appreciate them so much. But in a place like this... I'd get completely swamped. And I don't think that's very safe or healthy." She worries a bit more, concern and guilt dancing in her jade eyes. "Is it bad of me to.. to feel that way?"

My stoic expression deflates a bit as I take a step closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Oh, Ash," I say softly. "No, that's not bad of you at all. It's your right as a human to have personal space and privacy. And your fans should understand that. Don't worry." I offer her a little smile even as I stress over the situation. If I ever end up with even half as many fans as Ash, I'll be panicking over this too, specifically because it's hard to take my own advice even though I know I should.

Life just sucks like that, I suppose.

But there are always upsides and we all have to remember that.

Ash smiles back at me and places her hand on top of mine, squeezing it just like I did her shoulder. Then, she takes a very dramatic and audible breath before walking a couple more doors down.

Three doors down, to be exact. And as Todd would say, laughing my ass off.

And she throws said door open, showing off all three boys who had way too much fun in the suite on their own.

Larry is on perched on the edge of a white couch with an Xbox controller in his hands, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration and wide eyes glancing every which way at the TV screen across the room from him.

He's dressed in a ridiculous black tank top. I say ridiculous because he's toned as shit and I can feel metaphorical drool drip down my chin from just looking at every muscle hiding beneath his smooth, tan, tatted skin. Other than that though, he's in slutty grey sweatpants and black socks with little cats dressed as Abraham Lincoln on them.

I peel my gaze away from him with a shake of my head and look at Sal instead-- who is practically the exact opposite of his friend.

Where Larry is tense and alert, Sal is relaxed and kicked back, leaned on the couch with his legs haphazardly spread apart. Xbox controller in his hand, focused but lax look in his eyes, and the bottom of his prosthetic unlatched.

I'm curious about that at first, but then a puff of smoke falls from under his prosthetic and my questions are answered. But to follow those answered questions is a throbbing deep in my soul. Why is he always so damn hot?

He's wearing black Playboy Bunny sweats and a black Atreyu hoodie to go with it. Then a pair of red socks with the same photo of an orange cat in several spots on them. It's a real cat, that's for sure. I just wonder who's cat he has on his feet.

But his outfit shows every bit of him and nothing at the same time, which leaves me incredibly frustrated. He's gorgeous even in comfy clothes-- pale skin on display, blue eyes shining in the sunlight. And do I have to talk about the tattoo peeking out of the collar of his hoodie?

A muffled laugh falls from Sally's lips as Larry groans, effectively pulling me out of my little trance.

Sal tosses his controller to the side before he lifts a hand under his prosthetic. When his hand reappears a moment later, a cigarette is perched between his middle and index fingers just as he swerves his head to the side, a grin in his eyes while Larry throws his controller onto Sally's lap.

Larry has a sour expression on his face. "Really, man?" he grumbles. "Mortal Combat is so not fun when you just button smash and hope for the best. You need some technique."

Sally lifts his hands in lazy what-do-you-want-from-me fashion before chuckling some more. "Button smashing is working perfectly for me. You're just pissed that I'm winning and you're not," his uncharacteristically happy, but very characteristically smug, raspy voice fills me with so much energy that I feel like I could somehow brave the crowded bottom floors of Caesar's Palace for a moment.

But then I think better of that spontaneous assumption.

Ash walks further into the room now that Sally and Larry's game is finished. She throws the two boys a little exasperated look before heading for Todd who's sitting at a dining table with his phone in his hands and a laptop in front of him.

That leaves me with four plastic Marshall's bags, a suitcase, and a my airplane carry-on bag. Which, by the way, are going to take me a few trips to get into Ash's room.

Well, it would take me that long, but I'm a strong and brave woman and I refuse to make more trips than I have to.

So I drop the bags in my hands, throw my hair into a ponytail in true Rambo fashion, then pile the Marshall's bags onto one arm, my carry-on onto the other, and then start dragging my suitcase behind me.

I march my way past Sally and Larry with my chin held high and my brain on overdrive as I think about how dumb I must look hauling all this into the suite by myself.

But, apparently, I must not look that dumb because a loud cat-calling whistle echoes around me followed by Larry's wild exclamation of, "Go, Vi! You look damn good in sweats."

I throw my head over my shoulder and grin at him-- a grin that he returns with a bright one of his own. But then I look past him and at Sally who watches me with calculating, wary, agitated eyes.

Maybe he just won a match in Mortal Combat, but I think I just won a point in our little unspoken game. I caught him off guard.

"Ash, where's your room?" I grunt out once I stop next to her.

She looks at me, surprised as she notices all the bags in my hands. "Oh, Vi," she says softly. "Don't worry about those, I'll grab them in a minute. Get Lar to take you on a tour of the suite though! We have a balcony." She wiggles her eyebrows then tacks on a few more words as she looks past me and her happy expression turns to the glare. "A balcony that Sal should be smoking on instead of on the white fucking couch."

I can just feel Sally rolling his eyes.

His problem, not mine.

So I drop my bags, choosing to listen to Ash once the weight becomes a bit uncomfortable, and I turn my back to her and Todd, walking a little closer to Larry and Sal. I don't get too close though-- not with Sally's unpredictable temper.

Larry stands up and meets me halfway to the couch, wrapping me up in a huge hug that sweeps me off my feet. He swings me around and I giggle wildly, a smile forming on my face even though I try to will it away. But then he sets me back on my feet and takes a step a way.

"Twirl for me," Larry says, eyes narrowing slyly.

My brows furrow as I tilt my head a bit. "I don't even have a skirt," I tell him warily.

"But you have a fantastic figure." He shrugs like it's common knowledge. "Just twirl for me."

I watch him, debating in my mind. I could twirl— I mean, it's just me spinning. That's all it is. No big deal. But, again with the anxiety, I absolutely cannot get myself to do that.

So I blink and follow up the action with a bland, "No."

Larry pouts at me, but doesn't take that as an answer. He simply walks closer to me, grabs my hand, and spins me around slowly. He nods appreciatively and I suddenly feel like some kind of doll on display. A mannequin, maybe.

"Mhm, mhm," he says contemplatively once the spin is over with and I've taken a quick and shy step away. I put my head down and pull at the end of my shirt, hoping this situation is over with soon. Larry is too hot and I'm way too damn not. "I can't believe you're walking out here with that thang thangin' like that," he adds.

My head snaps up to Larry and my jaw just about drops. Did I really hear that right?

"Motherfucker," comes Sal's exasperated voice. I turn my head over my shoulder, noting the smoke billowing around his face, and then his narrowed eyes that are zoned in on Larry. Then, he tilts his head back and groans.

When Sally sits up again, he gestures a hand over at Ash and Todd and nearly yells his next words. "This asshole is fucking twitterpated!"

The word 'twitterpated' leaving Sally Face's mouth makes me almost double over with laughter. Honestly, this entire situation is bound to put me on my knees at some point.

I look over at Larry again as a giggle slips past my lips.

But Larry isn't amused, at least, he isn't showing it. A frown is marring his features and his brows are set in an angry glare that's centered on Sally. "Hey!" He all but bellows, making me flinch. Damn, he's got a powerful voice. "You fucking leave Bambi out of this!"

What in the shit is going on?

I watch as Sal and Larry throw out random Disney inspired threats and insults at each other back and forth, all the way up until Todd and Ash start to lift their heads and glance this way. And meanwhile, I'm caught in the splash zone simply because Larry just needed me to twirl and Sally couldn't help but call him twitterpated because of it.

At this point, I'm glaring into the back of Ash's head and praying she assesses this situation or breaks it up or... fuck, just that she does something. I can't do anything. I don't have the balls to step in nor do I want to.

But as I wait some more and the situation between Larry and Sally grows a lot louder, I wonder if maybe something else has spurred this argument. Maybe it's not as shallow as it was made to be.

Because Larry is in Sally's face, towering over him with harsh words and a mean expression to go with it. And Sally matches him head on with crossed arms and a glare in his pretty blue eyes, waiting for the taller man to finish talking about how Mulan could've squared Sal's ass up easily.

I absolutely agree, but that's not the point.

Is there something going on between them? Why else would they argue so horrendously? Fuck, have they always been this way? Because this isn't what I've seen online. In fact, I've never seen them act this way. Ever.

My breath catches in my throat as I glance between Larry and Sally, wondering what on earth has them so on edge. I feel... I'm scared. No one's stepping in to split them up and if fists start flying or their friendship ends, I'm going to feel guilty. Not that I am guilty, but hell. Everyone's standing around and watching like this is normal. And I'm definitely not a fan of aggressive arguing. I watched Mom and Dad do that enough to last me a lifetime.

I watch as Sal takes a quick step forward, his chest bumping into Larry's stomach (since Larry is a giant). It was supposed to be intimidating, but he looks like a little kitten beneath Larry. I almost giggle, but then the smaller man speaks.

It's aggressive, it's frustrated, and it's rushed. "Tiana wants her fucking hands back," he screams, voice deeper than I've ever heard it.

"What hands!?" Larry claps back, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He looks appalled. "She's a fucking frog!"

"Exactly!" Sally exclaims, hands thrown up in exasperation.

And it makes no sense. I don't know what the guy was going for and I don't think Larry knows either. Truth be told, I think they're both a little shocked at the ridiculousness of that last, indecipherable Disney comeback.

"You know, her friend was pretty hot. The blonde one. Lottie," Larry murmurs softly after a moment, his face blank.

Seriously. What the fuck is going on between these two?

Sally's eyes light up as a muffled chuckle comes from his direction— his unmistakable, heart stuttering chuckle. "I know right?" He replies.

I'm stunned, lips parted and eyes wide as I watch both men launch into a discussion on why Lottie was the ultimate girlfriend, but how Tiana tops her all the way when it comes to taking charge, relationship equality, and moral support.

Should I even question anything at this point?

"Vi," I turn to Larry upon hearing my name and a spark of aggravation electrifies my body when Sally groans at the mention of me. "Lottie or Tiana?"

"Uh," I start, glancing between the two men. Do I have to watch what I say? I don't feel like getting dragged into an argument nor do I feel like taking my anger out in Sally. I'm just not in the mood... unless he gets me in the mood. That's different. "Can't I have both? Lottie and Tiana both have fantastic qualities."

"He asked for one or the other, not both." Sally replies, voice monotonous.

"You didn't specify that, so I asked," I snap, taking a breath to try and quell the brewing frustration in my bones. Why does he have to attach his dumb input on everything I say?

"Oh," Sally laughs humorlessly and tilts his head at me. "I get it now. So you're just an idiot then."

I swallow down the urge to gouge his eyes out for a moment, trying to get a grip on reality and the fact that gouging out his eyes would get me arrested. But the longer I look at his smug blue irises, the harder it is to resist temptation.

And then hands land on my shoulders from behind.

"I'm coming save the day since Todd and I have figured out our next two days," she says with a little breath. "Now leave my girl alone, will you?" she calls to the two men in front of us.

"Why can't she be everyone's girl?" Larry huffs, crossing his arms with a little pout on his lips.

Ash doesn't bother answering him, simply rolls her eyes and turns to me. "Are you hungry?" she asks, walking toward the little kitchenette in the suite. "We probably have some leftovers, snacks..." she trails off as she opens a mini fridge. "And we definitely have alcohol," she murmurs next. I can't help but giggle a bit at that.

"Um," I start, closing in on myself when a gust of never-ending air hits me dead in the face. That's some powerful air-conditioning but it's way to cold in this room for all that. "I don't want to eat anyone's leftovers. I'll just get something when we go out later."

"We don't care," Todd says from the dining table, so I turn to him while rubbing my arms. "Honestly. None of us are going to eat the rest, so take what you want."

"Are you sure--" I start to say, but then Sally cuts me off.

"Don't eat my shit," he yells from the sofa, watching me with narrowed eyes.

I purse my lips and hold back a really vile retort. "If y'all are housing macaroni and chicken strips, I don't care who it belongs to," I reply. "I'll eat it anyway." I add quietly, sucking in a breath as I walk toward Ash as the cool air starts to become unbearable.

I lean down next to Ash to look into the refrigerator when Sally's running up beside us and shoving me back. "What kind of freaky fuckery are you up to?" he scoffs, grabbing a to-go plate of... oh crap. "I said to leave my food alone, you damn hog," he all but sneers before kicking the fridge door closed behind him.

Okay, so it was freaky. I somehow managed to correctly predict his leftovers of macaroni and chicken strips... but how the fuck was I supposed to know that he was a fan of my favorite meal too?

"I'm not a hog, you mannerless mongrel," I snarl back, directing my glare at the asshat just as he sticks his leftovers into the microwave.

Sally punches in his time, then slowly turns his head to look at me. The meticulous way he moves his head makes me feel starstruck for a moment. His cerulean hair billowing in the strong air circulating in the room, his pretty fingers wrapped around a brand new can of Dr. Pepper that he grabbed with his food, and his neck tattoo on full, beautiful display.

He practically glows in any light, but when he's stuck up and far too confident, he glows most. He's also hella infuriating.

"You're the hoggiest hog I've ever seen," he says, like that's something he spits out every damn day. "And I'm absolutely a mannerless mongrel, but women dig that so I don't see the problem."

A ridiculous sound of disapproval leaves my throat as I glare at him. But Sally doesn't say a word or acknowledge me anymore. He just grabs his food, tips his can of Dr. Pepper towards me, then walks back to the sofa and proceeds to light another cigarette. It's hot. But I'll never admit that.

I'll ignore it for now. I'll let it go until I have the right moment to let out all my frustrations. Then he'll realize I am not to be fucked with--

--or he'll just fuck with me more.

With a sigh that's meant to try and calm me a bit, I bend down and reopen the refrigerator. I grab a plate of what looks like lemon pesto pasta and start piling it onto a plate to heat it up. "I'm eating someone's pasta," I announce, "Take it from me now or forever hold your peace."

"That's mine," Todd says. He raises a hand, never looking up from his laptop screen. "Please eat it. It'll just rot otherwise."

I hold up the plate in a bit of a salute before putting into the microwave. "Sounds good to me. I love leftovers." But then my arms grow cold again. My small argument with Sal heated me up for a moment, but it's over now and I'm freezing again.

"Ash," I murmur, leaning toward my friend. "Can I borrow a hoodie or something? It might as well be snowing in here. I know you're all hot, but I thought that stopped at looks."

Ash scrunches her brows together at my last comment, but I just grin, waiting for her to get it. And she does-- shows that she understands by pinching my cheeks and smiling widely. I giggle with her before she breaks away. "Yea, there's a hoodie around here somewhere, Vi," she says, walking toward Todd who holds up a black hoodie. "And that was the best pickup line I've ever heard. Where'd you get that one from?"

"My brain," I tell her with a shrug before pulling my food out of the microwave.

I look up just in time for Ash to chuck the hoodie toward me. I catch it, folding it over my arm for a second as I place my food on the cabinet.

I spread the hoodie out and look at the front of it. It's a Breaking Benjamin hoodie. One from their Phobia album. It takes everything in me to not start bouncing around with joy.

I don't ask any questions, I just happily put it on and try not to squeal when it fits me perfectly. Fuck, I might ask if I can take this home with me.

For most of the day, I lounge around in Ash and I's shared room. She and I get dressed and she does my make up (after locking the door to stop anyone from walking in and discovering me, of course).

At about 4:30 in the afternoon, the group of us are getting ready to head out to the concert and I can practically feel my soul shaking.

I'm in the most basic of outfits when I walk out of Ash's room to meet up with Larry, Sally, and Todd-- that grey Nirvana shirt, a black skirt, and fishnets underneath. But it works. I still have the hoodie on though. I might as well keep it on for the night.

I wait by the door as everyone gathers their things. They all look equally as lavish and delectable tonight, as always.

But Sally glances to me when he walks out of his room, then looks away. He's looking nice too-- not that I'm surprised. Black jeans and a white Ice Nine Kills shirt.

His gaze cuts to me quickly, eyes narrowed as he looks over me from head to toe. My fawning gets cut off by the wild look in his blue eyes and I hold my breath while red flags start floating around in my brain.

"Where the fuck," he growls out, shaking his head disbelievingly. "did you get my hoodie?" he finishes, voice high pitched and and full of anger.

My blood runs cold. This jacket will never be warm enough to melt the ice that forms in my veins once I realize what he's just said.

No wonder it fit so perfectly-- Sally is the only one that's anywhere close to my size in this room. What the fuck was I thinking? Why didn't I realize sooner? I--

I dip my head down and sniff the collar. Oh, hell. It even smells like him. And I enjoyed every stupid second.

Within just a millisecond of finally realizing the severity of this situation, I damn near rip the article of clothing off my body and fast-ball it at Sally who catches it out of instinct, but then immediately drops it like it's burning hot.

"It touched you!" he screams, looking up at me with wide eyes. "I don't want to fucking touch it!"

"Oh my-- Sally," I ground out from behind clenched teeth. "I don't have cooties. I don't have the fucking plague. Just take your hoodie back before I shove it down your damn throat."

His eyes narrow, animosity swimming in his bright irises. I automatically roll my own eyes. It's like his negative emotions can't take a fucking break.

"You're going to find out how much I'll be able to shove down your throat if you keep this shit up," he snarks. "How did you even get my damn hoodie?"

"It's not even my fault," I laugh bitterly, stretching my arms out in a come-at-me-bitch motion. "If you'd take a second and let me explain, you'd know that. But no, you're a damn wall and don't give a fuck about anyone other than yourself."

I hear him huff out a breath, and then he switches his stance-- goes straight into defense mode. "Oh, yea, bitch? Just who--"

"Can you two cut it out for, like, five seconds?" Ash asks as she walks out of our shared room, a sigh slipping past her glossy lips.

She's dressed in black ripped jeans and a Dark Autumn Complex merch shirt. She looks so dark and sweet-- such a contrast compared to her usual self.

I mentally count to five in my mind, and the fact that Sal and I have both gone quiet seems to sate Ash. She huffs then plasters a smile on her face.

"Alright, I think it's time to go now--"

But I've reached five and I whip my head to Sal. Shockingly, he does the same.

He and I both start throwing out random, unintelligible insults and I almost laugh over our dynamic. Because, somehow, we both had the same idea to appease Ash with five seconds of silence before jumping into a vocal brawl again.

"Fuck," Ash groans and grabs my hand. She effectively cuts me off by yanking me out the door and nearly dragging me through the hallway behind her. "I can't stand you two together."

"That's what I'm saying," I grumble, glaring at Sal who appears in the hallway next. He matches my glare, but we at least stay quiet now.

I'll absolutely get him again later. I have too much pent up rage to let him go this easy.

We take the elevator to the bottom floor— only to realize that we've ended up on the wrong side of the hotel.

Caesar's Palace is giant— so big and confusing that it's impossible to walk through the entire place in just one day. Ash stresses this as we realize we have to parade past the thousands of people littering the casino that separates us from where we need to be.

But it's easier to do it this way than to go around the behemoth building from the outside...

"Sal," Ash calls, head turning over her shoulder to look at the man behind me. "Please, if anyone stops you just let them know we have somewhere to be. Okay?"

I hear a grunt of disapproval from Sally— one that makes Ash frown.

"I can't do that," he grumbles, almost like he's embarrassed to say this. "You know I don't do that."

Ash simply sighs and looks ahead again. "I know," she says softly, sincerely. "It was wrong of me to ask that of you. If any of us get stopped, it's alright. We left early for a reason."

I know Ash is a bit insecure and nervous when it comes to interacting with fans. She loves them, but she's anxious about people flocking around her. She wants to blend in, show her love in a way that won't harm anyone. I get it, but... not everyone else does.

I wish there was a way for her to find a happy medium, but is there ever a way? Everyone's opinion is different. What matters to Ash won't matter to some of her fans. And you can't change a person's opinion. I can only hope that things will become easier for her with time.

Ash takes a breath, then starts walking forward— so the rest of us do too.

We move fast, watching the ceiling signs like hawks so we can navigate our way through this maze of a casino. It's not easy. We follow a direction only to find out we were led the wrong way, then we turn around and start the process all over again. But as we continue, any anxiety is absolutely stomped to hell and replaced with the most apparent disdain I have ever seen.

"Dude, the directions said this way. I don't know what to do," Larry says, completely flabbergasted as we meet a dead end disguised as a bar. Or the other way around. I'm not too sure.

"It wasn't a straight arrow," Sally huffs thoughtfully. "It was diagonal. We went the wrong way— which is what I've been trying to tell you guys." His voice isn't scolding. In fact, it's reassuring. "The signs are right, we're just terrible at reading directions."

Had I met this side of him— the side of Sally that's reassuring, thoughtful, intelligent, and not rolling his eyes at me all the time— our relationship would be much different right now.

But I lose the thought when he and I make eye contact. Because he rolls his eyes at me again and faces another direction, adding the harshness to his voice yet again as he says, "We need to go back to the center. Find the signs again."

"You know," Todd says with a sigh. "I could go ask the security guard right there. He'd tell us where to go."

Todd is on to something, as always. He's going to save the day—

"I absolutely fucking refuse," Larry's proud voice cuts off my thought, "to give into this labyrinth of alcoholic curiosities. This place will never consume me."

I blink. Is this motherfucker serious? "Fuck that," the words leave my mouth without my permission, so I just go with it. "Let's just ask someone."

"Hell no!" Ash exclaims, clapping a hand onto Larry's shoulder with a triumphant grin on her pretty lips. "I'm with Lord Lar on this one. Caesar's Palace will never eat me alive."

"I—" I start, unable to really understand the absurdity of this situation. I mean, come on. Who's this prideful? Not to mention, I've somehow managed to befriend two people who are this prideful. "We—"

"You're talking to a brick wall, dumbass," Sally murmurs behind me as I watch Larry and Ash turn to each other. They start speculating on what to do next.

I have the mindset to ignore Sally for once— my anxiety is a tripwire and I'm so close to hitting it right now. We need to find a way outside of this hotel or I'm going to flip the place upside down. But as I glance over to ask Todd what we should do, I see him conversing with the security guard he had previously mentioned.

Oh, thank God. He's handling the situation.

That means I can handle my lightweight as well.

I whirl around, facing Sally with my arms crossed over my chest. "So you must be the brick wall then, jackass. I can't recall a single time you've listened to me."

Sally scoffs, ring-clad fingers drumming against his biceps as he crosses his arms as well. "I can't recall you ever giving me any sound advice. More importantly, I can't recall ever asking you for advice. So I consider everything you say to be invalid and unworthy input."

Leave it to the hottest and most infuriating guy to piss me off when I think there isn't a single thing on this earth that can distract me from my nervousness. But in all honesty, I'd rather be angry than nervous.

And I'm angry now.

"Invalid and unworthy?" I ask, my words clipped and aggressive. I chew on the inside of my cheek for a moment as his eyes light up. It's like he wants these fights. "I've never heard such a precise description of you in all my life, Sally."

And just like that, the light in his eyes evaporates and gives way to a darkness, one that he doesn't try to fight for long.

He uncrosses his arms and takes a step closer to me. For just a second, my instinct is to cower away. He's looking over me like some kind of monster— something to fear. But then I remember that I can't be afraid of him. I mean, what's there to be afraid of in the first place? I've never seen someone bark so much and never bite.

"You say that as though you're worth so fucking much," he says coldly. "No one even knows your damn name."

"Yet." The word leaves my lips immediately. I don't even think about it; it was instinct. And it worked because Sally narrows his eyes.

But before he can clap back at my "invalid and unworthy input," I see a little hand tap his shoulder from behind. He feels it at the same exact time that I notice it, and our aggressive eye contact softens at the interruption— simply because we have to put on a game face. We don't know who's happened upon us in the middle of an argument.

He spins around and takes a step to the side, unintentionally giving me a view of the two women standing behind him.

Both are short, pretty, and wearing little sashes that say "Birthday Girl" and I can only imagine how much damn fun they're about to have tonight. One has beautiful, natural red hair, while the other has the prettiest, most luscious brown hair.

"Holy crap," one says, bending her knees like she's about to fall, but then she catches herself. She slaps her hands over her mouth and says, "It's Sally Face!"

Sally turns into something I haven't seen before in a moment's notice.

His normal defensive nature is flipped in an instant and I watch the most innocent look envelop his ocean eyes. His entire aura changes into something positively unique and, all over, nice.

His shoulders relax compared to their earlier tense state. His fingers aren't flexed or balled into fists, they're relaxed at his sides and his head is tilted to the side.

Fuck, he looks happy.

"Hey, yea that's me!" He says to the woman who addressed him before glancing over to the other woman with a smile in his eyes. "Happy birthday to the both of you." His words are cheery and sincere and, damn, am I going to get whiplash? No way is this the same guy I've been bickering with for weeks.

"Thank you!" The redhead says, flashing a gorgeous smile— dimples and all. "It's our 21st."

"Really?" Sal says, a tinge of excitement in his voice as he sticks his hands into his pockets. "That's so exciting, especially since you're celebrating in Las Vegas. You guys hit any good bars yet? I'm gonna need some recommendations."

Holy shit? Is this really the Sally Face I know and despise? He's kind right now. He's being so sweet. And he's fantastic at small talk. It feels like he's really interested in what they have to say. I'm not on the receiving end of his words, but his sweet persona makes me feel special. That's how powerful he is in this moment.

"Oh my gosh," the brunette says, resting a hand on Sally's shoulder in excitement. She's eager to give him a good recommendation and it shows in the way her automatic response is physical touch. Honestly, it's adorable. "Yes! There's this restaurant slash bar in Excalibur called 'Dick's.' It's so damn funny." She laughs, pulling her hand away from Sally and looking down at her feet before continuing. "The waiters and waitresses insult you. Like, she and I walked in," she points to herself then to her friend, "and once we were sat down, our waiter came up to us and literally said, 'What you hoes want?'"

Sally laughs, I mean a full on, bent over belly laugh that makes the girls giggle along with him. "Damn, that sounds like a fun place. I'm gonna have to check it out." He pushes a hand through his hair, an action that I pay way too much attention to. "Were the drinks any good?"

The redhead winces. "I mean... I had the most basic drink. It was just a strawberry daiquiri." She shrugs, then leans forward. "But it was really good."

"I had a cosmopolitan. I'm not... sure what's in it," the brunette says sheepishly. She runs her fingers through her hair, an anxiety thing I'm sure.

I want to comfort her— let her know that it's totally okay. None of us know anything the second we try alcohol for the first time. And it seems like this is truly both girls' first times drinking.

But I don't want to butt in on their time with someone they admire. That's just wrong.

"Ah, there's nothing wrong with that," Sally reassures. "I'll be honest, I fucking love daiquiris. They aren't basic. They're delicious. And Cosmopolitans are pretty good too! You both had great picks."

The girls beam excitedly, little blushes enveloping their cheeks. I know the feeling. To be praised and acknowledged and validated by your idol? Absolutely nothing compares to how empowering that is.

"Can you, like, give us a list of drinks to try?" The brunette asks bashfully, kicking the toe of her high-heels against the carpeted floor.

"Yea, absolutely! I don't drink all that much though, so I'm kind of a lousy recommender." He chuckles lightly. "Try a hurricane if you can. It's a daiquiri, just really tasty. Um... lemon drops are pretty good too. Blueberry lemon drops are my favorite. Moscato white wine... a sweet one preferably. Um..." he trails off, covering the mouth of his prosthetic with his hand as he thinks. And dammit, just dammit. I want to give the girls a recommendation too. I want them to have fun while they're here because if they're anything like me, it may be a while until they're able to come back.

The girls smile as Sally sits on his thoughts for a moment longer, and then the redhead glances at me. She still has a sweet smile on her face, but I can see confusion and curiosity there for a moment too. I mean, why am I hanging around there watching them talk to Sally? I just know that's what's going through her head.

And maybe it's shitty of me. I should keep my mouth shut, but I decide to throw in one more drink to the girls.

"Malibu and pineapple juice," I say softly, entwining my fingers together when an overwhelming wave of anxiety takes hold of me. Fuck, I can't believe I said that. They didn't ask for my recommendations.

Sally's head snaps up, his blue hair in his eyes. But it doesn't hide his eyes enough for me to miss the way they narrow in my direction. And upon noticing that is when a trickle of fear makes its way down my spine.

"Uh, what's Malibu?" The redhead asks me. She tilts her head, thinking about it.

I glance to Sally, note the way his eyes are drilling into me and not in a good way. But then I look back to the redhead who's focus is solely on me in the moment.

"It's coconut rum," I tell her happily, licking my suddenly dry lips. "It goes really well with pineapple juice. I mean, it's one of the best drinks I've ever had. It's like... the opposite of a Cosmopolitan but just as tasty, pretty much." I give them a little smile, wondering if I should apologize for interrupting their conversation.

But the brunette looks over at me with a hesitant smile. Then, she looks at Sally who's unwavering gaze (which is full of animosity) never leaves me. And gears start visibly turning in her area. Until she looks back at me with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"Holy crap," she says enthusiastically, shock sprawled across her freckled face. She's addressed me the same way she addressed Sally. "Don't tell me you're VioletViolence."

I gulp down my instant excitement as well as the nerves slowly building within me. No way this is happening.

After all the times I've been told that no one knows who I am, I started to believe it. But here I am, in the middle of Vegas, with a girl who's just spoken my name without me having to inform her of it.

I suddenly feel alive, like I can feel every little cell that makes up who I am thrumming with happiness and contentment. It's a battle of staying calm and throwing my arms around this poor girl who doesn't know how much she's just changed my life.

But I steel myself— force myself to hold my emotions at bay so I can have my first positive fan interaction.

Hopefully.

I smile at the girls. "Looks like we've got a Todd 2.0 on our hands," I say sweetly. "He guessed me right away too."

Suddenly, both girls flock to me and I nearly regret it. I just stole Sally's thunder... and he's definitely going to show me just how fucked this is later. For fuck's sake.

"Oh my gosh!" The brunette says, hanging off of my shoulder. "I can't believe you and Sally are both here-- and alone at that! But to be honest, I was really hoping the animosity between you two was a farce the whole time because I love both of you so much so this just makes the little arguments even better since I know they're fake now."

My mouth gapes as I look down at the girl wrapped around my arm excitedly. I should tell her the truth, she deserves to know that, even now, Sal and I are more than pissed about being stuck together. That every argument we've had thus far has been very real.

But the happy, glistening smile on her face makes me hesitate, and I only gape at her some more while the redhead hangs back a bit and bounces on her toes excitedly while watching my every move.

I can't make myself say it. I can't get the truth out.

Sally's next to me all of a sudden, and I look up at him. He has the world's most vicious glare in his eyes, but only I can tell-- because it quickly changes into a grinning gaze as he throws an arm around my shoulders and looks between both girls.

He gives my neck a squeeze, and somehow, I interpret that as a sign to keep my mouth shut on the truth behind this topic.

But his warm arm wrapped around me makes me tense up. No matter how angry he makes me, his skin on mine and any little bit of proximity we have makes me go crazy. Unintentional butterflies are making me nauseous, my cheeks are hot, and my heart is stuttering in my chest while my thoughts run rampant. It's a mix of confusion and questions and absolute anarchy.

Then he slams his other hand on top of my head and ruffles my hair.

"Yep, all a farce. I can very much stand this bitch," he says cheerily to the girls, tacking on a little giggle that makes me want to punch him in his prosthetic face so hard that it actually manages to somehow hurt him.

Fuck butterflies.

What the fuck is he trying to do? I can't tell. And all I'm getting out of this is extreme fucking anger. He really has the audacity to call me a bitch in front of both our fans?

The brunette's eyes light up and she backs away from me, grabbing onto her friend instead with exhilaration glittering in her eyes. They both squeal for a minute, then watch me expectantly.

So, how do I put my game face on? We're killing this situation with a mix of a lie and honesty-- so surely I can do the same.

I grab onto the jaw of Sal's prosthetic and jiggle his head around aggressively before putting my cheek against his. "This little shit eater is just so easy to be around. You have no idea," I chirp, going as far as to begrudgingly squeeze closer to him and shut my eyes as I slap a smile onto my face.

And then the rage is gone. I've gotten my revenge and I can already smell the way he's about to yank himself away from me and start screaming. It's going to be fucking epic.

But he doesn't pull away, just puts the hand that was resting on my shoulder onto the side of my face and uses it to keep me pressed to his side.

I didn't expect that.

The smile drops from my lips for a moment, but I quickly throw it back on, no matter how hard it is.

Sal's thumb is pressed against the corner of my lips, almost like the placement was thoughtful. Like he meant to put his finger there. But the contact also has me faltering a bit-- and the sudden tummy butterflies and excitement I convinced myself were misplaced feelings just moments ago nearly overpowers the instant anger taking over my body, but it doesn't. Thank God it doesn't.

"Aw, thanks Vi! So are you. You're constant bitching and chihuahua-like yapping just lights up the darkest of my days," he answers, but his voice is so happy that it seems more bitter than anything.

His thumb brushes over my bottom lip and I nearly topple over at the contact. His skin is soft and the way he touches such a sensitive, hyper-aware, and intimate part of me makes me wonder what it is he's trying to do again.

Clearly, he doesn't want our fans to know that our constant bickering and aggression is real, but then he's letting it slip through anyway. And he definitely did not need to touch me to make his excuses seem more plausible, and yet, he did.

Is he... is he trying to... fuck, is he trying to get clout off of this?

"You shouldn't have, Sally! Your shitty attitude and God's-gift-to-women persona is just so inspiring," I bite out, trying to keep positive sounding tones to my voice, though it's proving to be harder with each passing second. But this time, I try to separate myself from him. I don't want to be some publicity stunt for him because there's no way I'll be able to do this bullshit again for fans. I won't say a word about the truth of our weird relationship, but I'm not going to let him hang on me like we're besties because he thinks it'll gain some traction.

I really don't understand what's going on here. At all. And yea, I should expect everything when it comes to Sally, but this one hurts a bit.

I feel a bit better when Sally cuts his gaze to me, malice swirling in his icy irises. And then, he all but shoves me off of him.

I try not to stagger away from him with the girls standing right in front of us, so I catch myself quickly and stick close to his side-- still trying to sell this bullshit he's yanked me into.

"Would you guys like a picture or something?" Sally asks them, his sickly sweet voice nearly knocking me over again.

"Oh, yes, we'd love one with both of you if that's possible!" The redhead says, bounding a little closer to us, bouncing on her toes some more. She's adorable.

"Absolutely, it would be our pleasure," I say as kindly as possible. These two girls fill my heart with joy-- not so much Sally, but he doesn't matter all that much when these two sweet ladies have just changed my life.

The brunette turns to Sally while the redhead looks for someone to take the picture for her.

"Would you sign my phone case?" she asks sheepishly, wincing a bit. "It's about all I've got that's, like, sign-able."

Sally chuckles and takes her outstretched phone. "Of course. I'll sign anything," he tells her. It's so odd to see him acting this way.

But then I remember that he was this way with me once too. He was kind like this. He was gentle like this. He was actually enjoyable and even stole my heart for a moment or two.

Maybe he really isn't that bad. He and I just have some qualms-- and I don't know what those qualms are, but if we actually have a conversation, I think we could become friends. I'm willing to put everything aside.

Sally takes the small iPhone in his hands, flipping it over to show the clear case. His black fingernails are a contrast to the pastel yellow of the phone and his veiny hands are ridiculously noticeable in the low casino lighting. And not to mention, the light reflects off his metal rings and makes them glow-- it seems otherworldly, which only adds o the mystical, mysterious, and unique air about him.

I watch a light pink paint the brunette's cheeks just as I feel my own heat up. How embarrassing.

So I turn to look at my feet just as the redhead finds a couple to take our photo and has a quick chat with them, then they begin walking toward us.

"What's your name?" Sally mumbles as he fishes a random sharpie out of his pocket. Does he just carry that around everywhere? Holy hell, my heart is going to beat out of my chest-- he cares this much for his fans. I don't care how infuriating he is, that is just too adorable.

Okay, y/n. Don't lose sight of the truth. You hate Sal Fisher right now-- you hopefully won't in the future, but you definitely do right now. He can be hot, but you absolutely cannot fawn over him.

"Oh," The brunette perks up and glances at Sally's face for a moment. "My name's Lexi."

I stop breathing. My stomach falls straight out of my ass. And I suddenly feel like I'm going to vomit.

What are the damn chances?

I watch the moment the name resonates within Sal. I'm hoping he doesn't recognize it, just sees it as another name, but he actually flinches. A wave of recognition flits through his gaze as he snaps his head up to examine the girl closely.

"Shit," he breathes, the word so quiet that the girl, Lexi as we now fucking know, asks him what he just said.

Sally shakes his head and throws a smile on his face if the crinkling of his eyes tells me anything. But there's still some kind of lingering emotion, something that looks a lot like guilt.

"Sorry," he says to her then scribbles something else onto the phone case and hands it back to her. "Just recalling a friend I have. Her name is Lexi too." His voice comes out a little softer than usual, like he's reminiscing.

It's damn hard to keep my gaze directed past Sally and Lexi and not directly on them. I so desperately want to gauge his reaction and make sure he doesn't catch onto me. I'm scared. Horrified, really.

This is the first time I've heard him mention Lexi. I'm actually shocked that he's talking about her at all, and that terrifies me even more.

"Wow," Lexi says, moving in next to him as her friend finally reaches us. "What a coincidence," she continues as Sal tucks her into his side, putting an arm around her shoulder and holding her close.

Sally smiles down at her then motions over to the other girl, opening his free arm up for her.

She happily skips over to him, scooting in beside him like it's natural for her. And truth be told, just the sight of the three of them together makes me happy. Everyone is content in this little picture.

But then the redhead looks to me. And she smiles so brightly that my knees nearly buckle. "Come on," she says, but hesitates after a moment. "Well, unless you don't want to anymore. I'm sorry, that was--"

I launch into a speedwalk toward them and curse quietly. "Oh, no, sweetheart," I try to reassure her. "I was stuck in my head for a minute. I don't mind a picture at all." I smile at her then wrap my own arm around her shoulder.

The second my arm settles right on top of Sally's, we both look up at each other-- a mix of fury and shock mingling in the air between us. My skin tingles from the warmth of his arm and it takes every bit of my dignity to not grab onto Sal whenever he rips his arm away from me, switching sides with Lexi so both girls can be between us.

We take a picture with both girls. They suggest a couple different poses, and Sally and I manage to laugh together over some of the stuff we do, but then Lexi and her other sweet friend, who we've discovered is named Kennedy, are leaving us to what we were previously doing.

All of the sweet things I'd witnessed within the past few minutes, all of the kindness and loving embraces-- all of it is washed down the drain the second Lexi and Kennedy turn a corner and are no longer in our sight.

Todd is talking with Ash and Larry at a slot machine, but Sally's whirling on me with the most hate I've ever seen him bear.

"You fuck up absolutely everything," he snarls, taking a step toward me, and then another. Menacing, dangerous. And I nearly take a step back as terror sweeps through me, but I hold my own somehow. What helps is that I'm appalled at his claim that I fuck everything up. I've never done anything wrong.

He takes a deep breath, shuts is eyes in an attempt to calm himself, but then he groans frustratedly and looks into my eyes again. His gaze makes me flinch, and he notices, and fuck, he's got a lot against me right now and it's actually... I'm kind of scared.

"You can't just keep your mouth shut?" he whisper-yells, gesturing a hand out behind us. "Had you shut the fuck up for once, I wouldn't have had to lie. Clearly you don't know a thing about me-- but I will do everything I can for them. For my fans. Even if that means lying. But I don't want to fucking lie, and now you've made me do just that."

He's so angry and speaking so fast that his breath is coming out in pants and all I'm good for right now is sitting there and taking it. His words cut deeper than they should and I genuinely don't think I could stop him even if I wanted to. Lucky for both of us, I guess, I'm at a loss for words.

"And on top of forcing both of us into a lie," he continues, tilting his head in a threatening way. "I just remembered that you screwed up a lot for me and I'm only just realizing." He laughs humorlessly.

Is he talking about Lexi? Me? Because if he is, that's all his doing.

I'm about to say that, but I think better of it. That would give me away. Worse, I shouldn't interrupt his little temper tantrum right now. I'll hit him where it hurts later, but for now, this is what's best. Even if it physically pains me to shut my damn mouth.

So much for trying to become friends with him.

"I can't believe some of the things I've said and done with you. More specifically, the fact that I just about fucked you over a phone call," he takes another step. Sal is suddenly so close that the tips of our noses-- prosthetic and mask-- brush together for just a fraction of a second.

And then his cool fingers are gripping my chin tightly, almost painfully. But instead of scaring me like it's meant to, a wave of warmth rushes through me. And I have to gulp down whatever physical reaction I almost instinctually act on.

I can feel his rings against my skin, the anger seeping through his cold fingertips and into my body, the tips of his fingernails digging into my jaw.

I find myself holding my breath again at his words and our proximity. I know I claimed that I didn't care f he kept his word, but now that he's regretting our little nighttime call and actually touching me at this exact moment, I think I'm about to be a little disappointed.

He would've been a good hate fuck.

"So don't expect shit from me. Because I'm better than you. And I deserve better than whatever kind of half-assed pleasure I was looking for in you."

The words hit me straight in the gut, digging into me like a sharp sword that just keeps getting twisted. At the same exact time, he rips his hand away from me and takes a step away.

All of the insecurities I've been squashing down since last night rush to the surface. All of the hurt, all of the jealousy, all of the anxiety. Every single bit of it, even the parts I thought I managed to conquer.

I can't help but fold in on myself when Sally looks past me and then moves around my stunned body to reconvene with The Faces.

I stand there for a moment. I just stand with my arms wrapped around my middle, hugging myself since no one else can right now.

Sally and I's entire situation is less than ideal and we insult each other back to back with the intention of pissing each other off, but this is different. This wasn't him trying to make me angry, he was intentionally trying to beat me down. And now, I'm expected to stand around with him all night and act like what he just told me didn't tear me right open.

It's not him, it's just the words specifically. I couldn't care less about who said them to me. But they were said. And one of my beliefs that I've never given up is that everything that's spoken has some kind of truth to it.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, so I pull it out as I bite into my cheek, trying to calm my racing heart and numb limbs.

When I lift the screen to my face, I see an unknown number and immediately scrunch my eyebrows. That's weird.

But then I see the text.

Unknown
hey lexi, it's sal
i know i never texted
and i'm really sorry
could we talk later?

My breath catches in my throat and I can't help but spin around to where my friends are standing. And there's Sally, looking down at his phone and tapping his fingers against the back of it. But then he quickly shoves it into his pocket and turns back to Ash, Larry, and Todd.

I really don't understand with him.

He's forgotten about Lexi this entire time and blames me for it. Why?

There's something weird going on with him and I don't know if I want to find out what that is or not.

Chapter Text

Honestly, Dark Autumn Complex is doing it right. They aren't in a giant hotel/casino mashup where all of the big guys perform, they're in a little bar down the strip. Still enough room for tons of people, but it isn't crawling with bodies like bugs under my fucking skin.

And it's a really nice bar, by the way. Mostly an indoor venue, but they have a little patio right in front of New York, New York-- and also some really tasty looking chicken wings.

My only complaint is the copious and nauseating amount of liquid covering the floor. Yea, people are living it up in here, but I think they're living a little too hard. This is definitely a toxic mixture of vomit, alcohol, and urine-- but I'm not the one who's going to actually confirm that.

Todd, on the other hand...

"For fuck's sake," the man hisses, taking knee-to-chest steps through the nasty flood on the floor. "I shouldn't have come. It'll take me weeks to get this stench off of my shoes."

"Oh, come on Toddler. It's not that bad," Larry harumphs, elbowing an unamused Todd in the ribs.

I snort, shaking my foot out after passing through a particularly goopy substance. Is this even real? It has to be a fever dream. "Actually, it is that bad, Lar. Even The Hangover wasn't this over the top."

Larry rolls his eyes next to me. "You're just a bunch of weaklings. Right, Sal?"

My head drops down at the sound of his name. I'll only add to the mess on the floor if I so much as look at him. He really hurt my feelings, and it's embarrassing to admit that.

The man doesn't say a word, but then again, none of us should have expected him to. He's a little... no. I shouldn't be angry, I should be upset. He hurt my damn feelings. More importantly, I should be focused on why his words hurt so damn bad. It's not like I expect something better from him.

Why do I have expectations at all in regards to him?

Not to mention, there's the daunting fact that he's finally texted Lexi. I don't know what to do-- I don't even think I want to reply. But unfortunately, there's a part of me that would feel horrible for making Lexi ghost him when he clearly cares about her to some degree.

Too many questions, not enough answers, and way too many worries. I'll file this all away in my cabinet titled Later.

Our group continues to push through the crowd. We're about an hour early, as per request on behalf of Ash who's hoping to find hot girls. Can't hate on the game, I just hope I have a bed to sleep in tonight.

I watch my every move, all three boys trailing behind me as I walk along the sopping ground. The LED's flash across feet and skin, and more importantly, the slick floor makes the light reflections seem even brighter. That means I'm blinded the entire way with only a few moments of relief and clarity.

There's one step I take in which my foot catches against something, so I desperately grab onto Ash's forearm to keep myself steady. She doesn't even look back, just lets me hold onto her-- I guess she's used to having me around already. That's cute. So, I balance myself then let go, traipsing through this toxic quarry of sorts.

Something I've never learned, no matter how many times it's made itself known to me, is to never trust myself. Or my feet, for that matter. If there's an open opportunity for me to be clumsy, my body will absolutely break in two to ruin my day and everyone else's.

Our prime example tonight is when I slip on a meticulous placed slice of banana bread that has had a wonderful time soaking up all the liquids on the floor.

The entire ordeal mimics the classic banana peel take-down. I mean-- really. My hands fly up, my legs about damn near follow me as I start flying toward the ground, unable to catch myself with Ash's arm this time.

I'm bracing for impact and a nasty swim in the thick contents below when hands slide under my arms, catching me right before I can hit the ground.

There's an awkward beat of silence where I'm hanging from hands with my ass hovering over the ground. I take a breath and glance up. Another beat of silence when I see that it's Sally who caught me.

He's leaned over me, watching me with agitated, narrowed eyes and his fluffy hair falling around his face. His fingers are digging into the flesh of my arms, his rings cold against my skin. The way heat envelops me in a millisecond both pisses me off and has me fighting for a way to get out of this situation.

I huff out a frustrated breath, blowing my hair away from my mouth and slapping a glare onto my face that I know he'll be able to see in my gaze. And then those infuriatingly pretty eyes of his roll before he puts some weight onto my arms, helping me back into a standing position.

I bite the inside of my cheek when he pulls his hands away from me quickly. I hate how much I enjoy his touch, but I blame the accent. I blame the style. I blame the allure. I blame it all. Even the asshole personality.

And I sure as hell am not about to thank him after what he said to me earlier. So I dust off my skirt, making sure it didn't manage to touch the... secretions... on the floor. But as I'm double-checking myself, he grumbles out, "Careful."

My head snaps to the side to look at him so aggressively that I'm worried I've snapped my neck for a moment. Did he really just say that? Have the gates of hell opened up on earth? Is this the end of times? Because there's no fucking way he just told me to be careful.

"Damn, Vi," Larry breaks my stare-off with Sal for a moment as he walks around us. He claps a hand on my shoulder, a gorgeous grin plastered on his lips that distracts me for just a second, only a second. "Falling for me already?"

"If that was me falling for you, then this has to be a Stockholm Syndrome thing because there's no way I wasn't going to slip on this floor," I reply, cocking an eyebrow when his smile falls into a pout.

"Awe, c'mon. You wouldn't be complaining so much if you actually fell," he notes, tilting his head inquisitively. "In fact, you'd be doing a backstroke right about now had you hit the floor."

No wonder he and Sal are best friends.

Todd walks past Larry, cackling the entire way as he passes us up. And Larry knows he's won, so he raises his eyebrows, a sly smirk pulling his lips as he turns away to catch up with Ash.

And then it's just me and Sal again.

I watch him closely, waiting for him to say something since he's looking at me like he has words just on the tip of his tongue. And then I hear a syllable leave his undoubtedly pretty mouth and immediately cut him off with, "If you're going to be a cunt, you might as well shut the fuck up right now because I'm absolutely in the mood to punch you in the middle of all these people."

He looks confused, shocked for a moment. I can even see his eyebrows because they're scrunched together, but then he seems to understand my words and proceeds to roll his eyes so hard that it literally looks painful.

"Larry gave you enough hell," he says shortly, adjusting his stance as he regards me with those forever irritated blue eyes. "I was going to say, do you remember what I said to you? That shitty stuff?"

Is this some kind of trick question? Because who could possibly forget the shit he said to me? But then again-- he just acknowledged that it was shitty... what kind of Sal Fisher am I witnessing right now?

I watch him with wary eyes, too afraid to look into the angry facade of his because just beneath that facade is an actual drop of vulnerability. And I don't think I like seeing him this open and fucking... fucking understanding.

"I guess that's a stupid question," he mumbles to himself, never breaking our eye contact. But then he sighs and speaks yet again. "I saved you. That's all the apology you're going to get."

A weight so heavy lifts from my soul and I feel like I'll start floating any second now. The barbed wire around my heart loosens, the boulders bouncing around my brain shrink. And I'm left with feelings I don't want to have, but feelings that are welcomed either way. I feel like, for the first time, Sal and I are on even ground. We both know something was wrong, and he even apologized, even if that apology was saving me from social suicide and reminding me to be careful. He wanted to make up for the way he broke me earlier. And he did.

And I also want to say that finding common ground with Sal is fucking weird.

"This is weird," I voice, suddenly tensing up over the awkwardness floating around us.

Sally's eyes close with relief and he seems to relax just a bit. "It is fucking weird. So can we forget about today and just continue the way we have been?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. That's even weirder," I sputter out, taking a quick step away from him as my heart flutters over his words. I can't believe his willingness to let bygones be bygones is so fucking hot to me. Maybe it's because this is something I didn't think I'd ever get from him. I'm not sure. "Yes, fuck, anything to stop you from being sentimental. Please."

"Cool. Glad we agree," he grumbles, looking up and past me. Then he actually starts walking, intent on passing me.

But my eyes bug out of my head. "No, not cool! I don't fucking want us to agree-- just shut up. Stop fucking talking," I grit out as he passes me, turning to walk behind him.

Sal's head turns, eyes acknowledging me with disbelief. His voice is higher-pitched and filled with aggravation as he says, "How are you going to tell me to shut up when you fucking never do it yourself? Hypocrisy isn't cute."

"Oh, yea?" I retort, folding my arms against my chest as heat wells in my chest. He really is always fighting me, and he should be thanking me right now. I was just trying to end whatever weird shit was just happening. "Don't talk about hypocrisy Mr. I-Want-To-Fuck-You-But-I-Don't. Go try that one on for size."

"Didn't I just tell you to forget that?" he says exasperatedly. "Do you deliberately ignore every bit of sound advice you get?"

"If it's coming from you-- hell yea, I ignore it," I snort, stopping my walking when we finally catch up with Ash, Larry, and Todd who are standing in front of the stage.

Sal turns to me with fury burning in his eyes and I relish in it. This is normal. This is back to what we were doing just earlier today. No apologies, no forgiveness-- just going back to what we know.

"Wow, yea." He says, showing off dramatic jazz hands. "That sounds about right. Dumb bitch can't do anything but tear herself apart."

"Boo hoo," I answer, placing my hands on my hips. This is a good one. No one can hear us so we can just wail away on each other-- keeps me busy. It's pretty fun too. Exercises my funny bone. "Sounds like something the selfish prick would say. Assume that everyone's falling apart while he's so put-together, right?"

"You--" Sal starts, voice piercing straight through me with its sheer ferocity, but he cuts himself off with a frustrated groan, eyeing me with a sickening glare the entire time. "What fucking ever. Just shut up."

"Happy to know I won," I chirp, smiling sweetly at him.

I'm sure he's about to burst and reign hell on me, but a security guard approaches us. A flash of fear slams into me and I shrink in on myself when I realize this guy has probably been watching Sally and I yell back and forth at each other for a few minutes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Sally dip his head down too, a sign of nerves and shame. Hm. Serves him right.

The security guard, a huge and burly man that somehow stands a bit taller than Larry stops in front of Sally and I. He has an impenetrable glare in his eyes and a face so emotionless that it sickens me just thinking about how strong he must be.

And worse, he isn't looking at me. His grey eyes are dead set on Sally beside me.

I gulp, a chill running down my spine as the guard crosses his arms over his chest. Sal looks like he's about to literally start shaking and, hell, I don't blame him. I'm not far off from doing the same.

Sally's the type to put up a fight, clearly, but sometimes you have to know when fighting is no use. When fighting means you'll get thrown into a hospital. This is that time and I've never viewed this asshole as intellectual before, but I think he's making a good call by holding off right now.

Eyes still set on the bluenette, the security guard finally speaks in a deep, booming, authoritative voice. "I need you to come with me," he says to Sally and I feel like I'm going to shit myself.

Holy crap, I do not want to end my night on this type of scenario. With the fact that I got the notorious Sally Face arrested. I do not want that sitting on my conscience because the second this motherfucker gets out of jail, he's coming for me. Aw, fuck.

I watch the security guard with a gaping mouth, noting the way Sally's eyes widen. They're so big right now that I'm a tad worried they'll roll right out of his face, but I focus on getting out of dodge first.

"Um," I mumble shakily, shrinking back a bit more. I'm so going to throw up once this is done. "Is everything okay, sir? Are we in trouble?"

My main goal is to not die right now. And if the man who hates me most gets arrested or something tonight, I won't have a head in a few days. There's no doubt.

Okay, sure, I'm probably really overreacting but anyone would be in this situation. I mean this guy is huge and so, so intimidating.

The security guard looks down at me with aggravation and confusion flashing across his face. He raises a blonde eyebrow that could cut air and suddenly I think that vomit sesh I was saving for later is going to happen now.

"Who the hell are you?" He asks, looking down at me and squinting his eyes. "I'm here to grab the blue-haired kid in the mask and the really tall, super emo, questionably buff guy."

I blanch for a moment, staring up at the behemoth security guard that I just embarrassed myself in front of. What did Sal and Larry do? Are they both about to get arrested?

I glance over at Sally and he matches my gaze, shrugging subtly. His blue eyes are filled with wariness and concern as he turns his eyes back to the man.

And then the security guard looks like he's about to drop kick both of us, if his horrifyingly intimidating glare is a hint at anything, that is.

"Come on," he growls out, making me flinch in fear. "North wants you," he points to Sal, "and the really massive emo guy with the Dave Grohl hair. Can you hurry the fuck up?"

My eyes widen. Oh, for fuck's sake. Dark Autumn Complex's lead singer asked for Larry and Sal, which, hold on, how do they know that the boys are here? Is that even possible?

My eyes narrow as quickly as they previously widened. Something's weird about this.

I watch Sally from the corner of my eye, noting the relief that swamps his pretty azure irises. He puts a hand to his chest and breathes deep, throwing his head over his shoulder to call for Larry who turns to us with a raised eyebrow.

Larry sees the giant security guard and stiffens up like a Tom and Jerry character come to life. It's comical up until the guy gets into position to bolt out of dodge.

He crouches down and sets his right foot forward, ready to race through the crowd to escape the security guard. But right now, when North is asking for him, and with this freaky guy retrieving him-- that doesn't need to happen.

Sally groans and motions Larry over, shaking his head at the taller guy. "It's just North," Sal reassures. "He wants us for something. I don't know what."

Larry doesn't look convinced, but he walks over to our small group. "So he fucking sent the 'roid mall cop after us? Does he not know me and my history with the justice system?" He scoffs and glances over at the security guard who looks like he's barely holding back some unyielding rage. "I'm with Vi on this one man, I'm totally an anarchist."

"Larry," I hiss, heat enveloping my cheeks as a very real and very concerning tsunami of genuine fear for my life slams into me. Why would he say that in front of the justice system he supposedly has a bad relationship with? And why the hell did he have to rope me into it? "Shut the fuck up. Just go with the 'roid--" I cough, eyes close to flying out of my head because of my mistake. It's not my fault that the nickname stuck, but it's definitely damning. Fucking hell, Larry. "Just go with this nice security guard." I smile, wide and fake as fuck as I look over at said security guard who's hands are fisted at his sides. I grimace and glance back at Sal and Larry who look like deer caught in headlights. "Now," I grit out.

Both boys are clambering after the security guard in seconds. Larry may be a heathen and Sal may be clueless, but at least they were smart enough to read that play.

I heave a sigh of relief as both boys disappear into the crowd. I've never had trouble with police before in my life and I'd really like to keep it that way.

But as I walk forward to meet Ash and Todd, I think of a couple things.

My friends are standing right behind the barrier that separates us from the stage. We're as close as we can possibly get, and even that is way too close for me. Meeting my idols is something I sincerely don't want to do because I'll probably pass out. The thought of embarrassing myself in front of someone so amazing feels like a death sentence, so I'd like to avoid making eye contact with North, South, and/or East.

Maybe I haven't mentioned it before, but all three members of Dark Autumn Complex choose to go by one of the four main cardinal directions on a compass. The only member, or direction, they're missing is West. Whether they're looking for someone to fill the spot or just didn't want a member to be compared to Jade West, I'll never know. But why wouldn't someone want to be compared to Jade West?

To each their own, I suppose.

The point is that I don't know the reasoning behind their names, but the way it goes is: North is the singer and guitarist, East is the bassist, and South is the drummer. That's how it's always been.

I step up next to Ash, wrapping my fingers around the cool, metal barricade. Multiple neon colors flash around us as the crowd grows thicker. And as a result, the little swimming pool at our feet grows thicker too. You know, maybe I wouldn't let Ash buy me new clothes... but I think I'll let her buy me some new shoes after this fiasco. This is quite unique.

Our concert grows closer with each passing second. Ash and Todd meet some fans in the crowd while I hide away, trying to pretend I'm some random woman in a mask. Sally and Larry never return. I'm assuming they'll stay backstage... but then again, I still have some questions I'd like to have answered. And there are quite a few...

Do North, Larry, and Sally know each other? I mean, for the guys to be called backstage, they must be acquainted somehow. But since they are, why hadn't they mentioned that they knew Dark Autumn Complex personally?

Larry said that he could get me backstage, but I thought that was a farce. I still fucking think it's a farce. My spidey senses are tingling and there's something that just doesn't add up.

For example, again, no one mentioned that anyone was friends with Dark Autumn Complex. Another eyebrow raising detail is that Ash and Todd didn't get asked backstage. Why? Do Ash and Todd know about the connection too? Maybe they don't if they haven't brought up the friendship either...

I tap on Ash's shoulder once I notice a group of girls walk away from her. My gorgeous, jade-eyed and strawberry-lipped friend turns to me with a stunning smile gracing her angelic face. She looks down at me, tilting her head in question as she waits patiently for me to say something.

But I narrow my eyes. Everyone's a suspect in my non-murder mystery right now.

"Are Sal, Larry, and DAC friends or something?" I ask, pressing my lips into a thin line.

Ash's brows furrow and that's my first red flag. Why the hell is she doing that?

But then she says, "Didn't they tell you about that? We're all friends with Dark Autumn Complex." Her voice is just as sweet and tender as always. In fact, she seems a little shocked at the fact that I'm new to this information.

"Yea, no. I just thought you were all fans," I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating the friendship confirmation. "Well, why didn't North invite you and Todd backstage?"

Ash shrugs, not too worried about that apparently. "North and Sal are buddies because they both play guitar. North's been waiting for, like, ages to see what talent Sal has. And Larry has some history in music. That's why Sal brings him along for practice-- Lar has really good ears and can tune a guitar to fucking perfection. With all of those similar interests, North, Sal, and Larry naturally got closer than Todd or I were able to." A smile pulls at her lips again. "I'm good friends with East, but I have time to meet him later."

I raise my eyebrows at that last bit of information. After all, Ash answered all my questions so I feel much better. All the gaps are filled in and there are no more red flags.

"Oh?" I say suggestively. "And how close are you, exactly, to East?" My lips stretch into a little smirk when Ash rolls her eyes at my teasing. She's just so easy to offend.

"Not like that, you little slut," she jokes, winking at me.

"Oooouuu," I hum, leaning closer to her with a little grin. "Call me that again."

Poor Ash groans, rolling her eyes yet again as she throws an arm around my shoulders. "Shut up. I can't believe you're so into degradation." Her voice falls into a mumble as I look up at her with a smile, but her next words nearly make me choke. "Sal would love you." She shakes her head and looks down at me. I struggle to slap a stoic expression onto my face after hearing that. I have way too much information. I was hoping my new knowledge would stop after finding out that DAC and The Faces are buddies.

But, then again, my entire body warms at her words. While it's shocking information, it's also very interesting information.

"Anyway," Ash cuts off my thoughts. "It really isn't like that. I am so not into guys. Sometimes I find that one in a million, but, fuck, it's hard. I much prefer women."

I shrug, still reeling over whatever it was she let slip about Sally. I might as well just throw "Sally Face (Sal Fisher) has a degrading kink" into a file cabinet to save for later when I'll actually have the time and desire to mull over that.

"I don't blame you," I decide to tell Ash. "Men really suck sometimes."

Ash scoffs like she's just had an epiphany. "They really fucking do!" she exclaims, throwing her free arm up into the air.

I'm about to yap about the topic a bit more to distract myself when the neon lights over the crowd suddenly shut off. They're all pointing to the stage in front of us now.

When the hell did Dark Autumn Complex walk out here?

All three characters are set up on their respective sides of the stage and I suddenly feel like I'm going to throw up again. They all look so immaculate, so pretty, so mysterious.

My stomach turns with a mix of nervousness and excitement. A group I genuinely look up to is standing less than six feet away from me, doing some last minute checks on their equipment. My head feels fuzzy and I almost keel over with the way my heart repeatedly slams into my ribcage. I've never had this opportunity before in my life. I can't help but imagine if this is how I would have felt meeting The Faces for the first time if we were never friends.

I'm about to take in and observe their dark clothing when a screen lights up behind the band with HELLO written in big bold letters. This is interesting.

All I'm able to see before turning my attention to the screen is the striking, electric blue of North's guitar as the light catches it. Holy hell, that's a nice instrument.

North turns their body to the side, holding out a hand that gestures up to the screen. They glance at the crowd over their shoulder, then look back to the screen.

A booming voice is heard over a speaker and I almost shit myself for a second, the sound so loud that I have to cover my ears. But then, Ash, Todd, and I are all cackling. No fucking way.

"Hello Dark Autumn Complex bitches and cunts! My name is Larry Johnson. You may know me from the online streaming group called The Faces," Larry's stupid ass voice is full of confidence and pride as he snarkily opens up for the band. Wow. I don't even blame DAC for having him do this. If anyone could engage a crowd, it's definitely Larry. "If you'll all kindly turn your attention to the screen, I'm going to walk you through some rules that Dark Autumn Complex has set up for this little concert of theirs." Suddenly, Larry groans. "Ugh. Rules. Fucking boring, right?"

North drops their hand and shakes their head as the crowd starts to giggle. Like I said, Larry is perfect for this kind of job.

The screen changes from HELLO to some other stuff that Larry very sweetly explains with his adorably snarky gamer voice.

"So, first up, if you couldn't tell, no one from the band is going to talk. They want to keep their identity completely concealed, so as a precaution, you will only be hearing their instruments and singing." Larry's a bit more serious. I find myself admiring the way he knows when to be more tactful regarding sensitive or important information. It comes off as very genuine and so sweet. He cares. "They also want to say that they're extremely appreciative of your attendance tonight."

The crowd cheers and I do too. All of the screaming and clapping is infectious, even more so when North bows to the crowd, followed by East who waves at everyone, and finally South who puts a drum stick in the air.

"Next and finally," Larry begins again. "As you can see, there is a microphone in front of North who also, obviously has a mask on." The high self-esteem is reflected in Larry's voice again, an amused lilt in his tone. "The microphone is a fucking prop, you haters. Let that man pretend he's singing into it and not the little tiny microphone taped to his face under the mask, okay? He's a sensitive little guy and absolutely needed to have the prop or else it was going to, in his words, feel weird."

Okay, so North is a guy. Good to know.

North visibly cringes, throwing his arms up in exasperation as he turns back to the screen. I just know he's cursing Larry in his mind. No doubt about it.

Larry cackles a bit scarily before ending his opening segment. "But without further ado, I present to you, Dark Autumn Complex in all their might and glory."

The packed crowd around us cheers. Ash throws an arm around my shoulder and screams at the top of her lungs, so I join her. My eyes never stray from the stage filled with exceptionally hot looking musicians who are looking between each other as the audience quiets down.

They're all in black-- no other colors. Straight black clothing, which makes them all the more appealing. From what I can tell, based on where I am, East, the bassist, is exceptionally tall. But North and South are about average height. Other than that, there's nothing else of note other than their insanely elaborate masks.

It's clear that they have some other kind mask on to hide their hair-- probably black ski masks-- and then another mask on top of that. I can't see them all that well, but even from here the colors are gorgeous and it just feels like they must have been expensive.

North's mask is red, gold, and black. I can see some kind of drawing on part of it, but can't tell what it is exactly. The same goes for the other members-- East who's wearing a primarily black mask with white and gold, and finally South who's sporting dark blue with white and gold. Other than their colors, all three masks match.

We love hot people.

I feel like I'm going to happy vomit everywhere when East starts up a song with this sick riff on his bass. Even better, it's my favorite song by them. The same song, in fact, that made me so upset the other day. Wherein Christine Daaé Became Her Own Phantom.

I sing the lyrics as the rest of the band kicks up the song. It's crazy to see them live and realize they sound just as good in real life as they do in a recording. That's such a flex, considering so many people sound much different when they get out on stage. For their very first concert, they don't seem nervous about it at all and that helps the crowd become more immersed, makes the music so much better.

DAC goes through a few of their songs, some older and some newer, like the song they released about a month ago. I'm all jitters and a fluttering heart during the entire set, finding that my eyes never stray from the amazing band rocking about on the small stage.

They've gone through most of their songs after about forty-five minutes and at this point, I'm assuming that our concert is over. I'm already expecting the worst case of post-concert depression to hit me in a few seconds here, especially when the screen pops on behind all three band members again. And, naturally, this is followed by Larry's voice.

"Alrighty, sluts and whores," he starts happily. I roll my eyes but let a smile envelop my face anyway. "You're in luck tonight. While DAC may be ending this amazing fucking concert soon, they've decided to play a brand new song for you. From what I've heard, they've been working very hard on it. So be grateful, for fuck's sake!"

A new song? Really? Here, out in the middle of Vegas?

"The name of this new song, which also happens to be my favorite so far, is 'Actually Carrie Underwood Doesn't Like Me," Larry giggles a bit over the name. "Another insane title. I'm fucking pumped."

I look over at Ash who looks like she's about to have a brain orgasm. Then I look at Todd who probably couldn't care less, but he has a little light in his dark gaze that says he might be really excited about this.

I glance back up to the stage as my feet go numb. It might be excitement, or it might be from having to slosh around in liquid for nearly two hours. Maybe it could be both. But the point is that a shiver runs through my entire body, electrifying me in a way that's so addicting that I wish there were a way for me to make this concert last forever. It's going to hurt so bad to walk out of here and go back to the hotel later.

My attention and gaze are solely focused on North as he starts the song with a serene little melody on that gorgeous, electric blue guitar.

And almost immediately, before I can even take a moment to appreciate the short guitar solo, everything turns metal as fuck. And I'd go as far as to say that this is the hardest song the band has ever made. Yea, they're a rock band and they put out some really good and heavy hitting stuff, but this is different. This is angry.

"Look at what I've become--
My mother's careful knitting is undone.
Sixty stitches and a price never paid,
Might as well have sliced me with a blade.

All gaping wounds and pity,
Disgust has never looked so pretty.
My own disgust or theirs;
Or is it just hospital rooms and wheelchairs?"

I officially think I'm with Ash on the mind-jizz bit. This is good. It's deep, it's angry, it's got that hidden meaning that no one will ever understand. It's something that only the writer will only be able to fully comprehend. Even if they would tell someone else what it was about, it'll never compare to everything that goes on inside their head when they think of this song.

"Self-inflicted cuts and scars,
Just like the first which left me marred.
So sick of the metallic taste
Of the way I'm two-faced.

Bursting with hopes and regrets
Falling through like fingers in fishnets.
Regard myself as something to dispose of--
You think me a disgrace, don't you, my love?"

Leave it to DAC to fuck with my head again. As always.

I nearly crumble to the floor again-- this time with no one to catch me. The second North screams out the word 'fishnets' and grabs onto that prop microphone of his to get into the moment, I feel my heart skip a beat. My head is suddenly filled with memories of Sally weaving his fingers through my own fishnets just yesterday night. It feels silly to immediately remember that scene because of a song, but how couldn't I? The lyrics are literally the same as what happened to me.

And in the long run, that's the entire reason music exists. So it can resonate within those who find their own meaning in the lyrics. So others can create something from a pre-determined scenario. Make it their own.

But hell, I really don't want to think about that asshole while I'm trying to enjoy this new, really amazing song that one of my favorite bands just dropped. Live and in person.

"There's a monster in your bed,
In your head,
It's me--
Too bad I'm not dead.

Shove my face in a pillow case
And curse the human race.
Why'd I have to suffer?
Why the character development to make me tougher?"

Ash is gripping onto my wrist so tightly that my arm is starting to tingle. She's excited and so am I. What's there not to like about dark lyrics and angry riffs?

We all listen closely, literally everyone on the floor. East is standing in front of South and they watch each other, playing wonderfully and completely invested in the music they're making. Meanwhile, North walks languidly across the stage, ditching the prop microphone and singing into the one that actually works instead. It's a win-win-- he can still sing, but he can focus on playing his guitar rather than fucking around with something that doesn't even work.

I can't help but watch him, my gaze never falling away from North's every movement. His hands expertly playing his flashy guitar, his head tilted down to watch his finger movement, and his black dress shoes taking calculated steps. I've never seen a musician wear dress shoes in the middle of a concert before in my life, but I'm certainly not complaining.

Regardless, it's very interesting.

"Years of therapy couldn't fix me--
No llores por mi.
Such a futile attempt at a kill,
Was it really worth the thrill?"

No way did this suddenly hot individual just spit out Spanish in the middle of a song. Is he single? If so, I think I'd like to change that. Anyway--

"All I am is rage and revenge--
Every little bit of me is unhinged.
I'd say there's nothing to fear,
But I'm no Shakespeare.

There's a monster in your bed,
In your head,
Blood red,
Filled with dread.
It's me,
And you'll wish I was dead."

No. Nope. Absolutely not. I don't have some stupid celebrity crush on a person I've never met because they're openly not shallow and just as torn apart as I am. Not at all. Not a chance.

But the way North shuts his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling as he sing into the microphone again does something to me. Makes a little corner of my brain light up. Sends shivers through my body. And I really don't like any of it, but what can I do? The heart wants what it wants. It's all shallow feelings anyway. For all I know, North could be the complete opposite of what I want in a person. Not to mention, he's already way out of my league.

"Some things cease, others never end,
But my broken brain and diced up heart won't mend.
You needn't expect much--
I'll never get too close to touch.

It's over now;
Fatal words for your vow.
So sick, I don't know how...
Never anything more than thou."

I stare up at the stage with stars in my eyes, nearly jumping out of my skin when North makes eye contact with me for just a split second-- then he moves on and most likely makes eye contact with a ton of other fans too. It's nothing special. He's doing what all musicians do and looking out at his fans. Sudden eye contact is nothing rare. Just subtle.

The music calms down, just an eerily slow and melancholic mixture of notes that North and East meld together on their instruments. And then, the next lyrics are whispered. So soft, so terrifying, so angry-- but calm.

"There's a monster in my bed,
In my head,
Held together by a thread,
A fucked path I tread,
Memory of where I once bled.
It's me.
You better fucking hope I'm dead,
Before I slaughter the monster I once fled."

I nearly yelp when the LEDs suddenly shut off, leaving everyone in a pitch black room where only the bartenders have lights. And with the sea of people around me, those distant lights are just a speck of dust in this abyss.

But then, music starts playing on the speakers again-- The Misfits, I think-- and the LEDs snap back on. But the entire band is off-stage. They're gone. Disappeared without a fucking trace.

I blink at the empty stage, noting the perturbed sounds of confusion flitting about me from other fans. It sucks that they left so quickly, but at the same time, this adds to the mysterious air that the band carries. I want so badly to find them hiding in the crowd. I want to sneak backstage and get into their room. I want to run off to the bathroom and hope that, by some ridiculous chance, I bump into one of the members.

And more than anything, I'd love to see North again.

I turn to talk to Ash, finding her pretty glossed lips set in a frown. Bet she'd be shocked if I kissed that frown off her right now.

"What's with the disappearing act?" I ask her, watching as she turns to me, that frown of hers morphing into a quizzical look.

"I actually don't know," she murmurs, looking over her shoulder to see Todd talking to someone, probably another fan. "But something about that giant hunk of man heading this way tells me that we might be able to find out," she continues, voice dropping to a seductive little whisper. I look over her shoulder with her, noting that the same intimidating security guard that scooped up Sal and Larry earlier is headed this way.

I grimace. Okay, so yea, I wanted to disappear and find Dark Autumn Complex two seconds ago but if this guy brings us backstage to actually meet them, I'm going to spontaneously combust. I can't meet a famous person. I can't meet someone I look up to like this. I'm going to make a damn fool of myself.

The security guard reaches Ash, Todd, and I. And he sighs. Fucking sighs upon making eye contact with me.

"Do I have to explain why I'm here again?" he asks, nodding over at me with a blonde eyebrow cocked. It's definitely a warning. If I want to test him right now, he's just going to fuck off and maybe throw me out of the function too.

"Nope," I tell him, my voice quiet and reserved. Very close to shaking. Fuck, someone's going to have to drag me back there because I won't be able to willingly walk backstage on my own.

My heart is pumping a thousand miles a second. At least, that's what it feels like when Ash grabs my hand with a beaming smile on her face.

Todd points behind him, saying something I can't hear to the security guard. He sends Ash and I a little wave then literally melts into the crowd.

No. No, did Todd actually just ditch us? Oh my gosh I'd much rather take a swim in this disgusting ocean at my feet.

I don't really have time to contemplate on the situation anymore as Ash gives my arm a yank, dragging me into the sea of people around us.

She and I are led through a bustling crowd, bodies crowding our every shift and turn. Lights flash all around us, Ash's hand grips tightly on mine, and it hurts too much to watch the floor crawl beneath me. It feels like I'm walking on quicksand and the solid, shadowy strangers slamming into every inch of me-- even into parts of me I didn't know I fucking had-- is making me panic.

I tilt my head up, staring at the wooden, planked ceiling above the crowd and the balcony that's left empty for people who pay for VIP seats. Must be nice.

The lights suddenly change color-- going from a normal white to red and, thus, adding an eerie touch to the already terrifying atmosphere.

Finally, Ash yanks me through a doorway, said door slamming closed me with a loud thud-- courtesy of the guard who led us back here.

"Damn," Ash breathes, so I turn to her, noting her flushed cheeks and euphoric expression. "Doesn't that just give you a rush?" she asks, looking down to me with a grin as she momentarily squints her jade irises.

I stare at her blankly. "No," I reply bluntly. "Actually, that freaks me the fuck out," I continue, squeezing my eyes shut. I want to scream. "I want to scream."

"Then do it. Not like anyone out there's gonna hear you," Ash's nonchalant response resonates in my brain and I open my eyes again, looking at her with a flabbergasted expression.

"Are you serious?" I murmur, "I can't do that here, That's social suicide."

"Just do it, Vi!" Ash happily exclaims, trying to convince me with her stare alone. "It's just us right now. Us and these guards and I fucking promise you they've seen worse than two women screaming at absolutely nothing."

I just look at her, waiting for her to say she was only kidding. But she only looks back at me, that ever-present smile on her lips and ecstatic emotions flashing through her viridian eyes.

Fuck it. It's a good way to get rid of nerves and it's just us.

"Okay," I whisper, tilting my head down a bit. "Anxiety scream on three?"

Bold of me to assume that Ash could reach peak excitement.

Ash's smile widens into a grin and I watch her eyes fill with so much excitement that I'm afraid she'll go crazy for a moment. "Anxiety scream on three."

I nod, confirming yet again as I say, "One."

"Two."

I gulp. "Three."

Ash and I both let out the most banshee-like, horror movie-worthy, tortured person screams we can possibly muster up. Not a single person flinches around us, no doubt having expected this based on our conversation. But that makes it ten times better because then it's like there's no one else there in the first place. Just me and Ash.

At some point, I need to breathe and I'm shocked Ash is still going by the time I keel over and cough up half a lung.

It's a mix of laughs and gagging over our sore and dry throats once Ash finally stops her scream. My hands are on my knees, tears in my eyes as I fight for my life to actually take a good, deep breath.

Ash has her face angled toward the ceiling as she coughs out bellowing laughs-- they're cackles, really.

I stand after a moment, pushing a hand under my mask to wipe at my wet cheeks. But then I look past Ash and notice the three people in all black standing off in a corner of the room-- all of them with three matching masks.

I sober up immediately, clearing my throat and straightening my posture. Fuck, when did they walk in?

Shit, I don't know how to react. I feel so embarrassed to have been caught recovering from a vulnerable moment. And hell, maybe they walked in while we were screaming. Fuck, that's even worse. But at the same time, I'm elated to almost nearly be face-to-face with one of my favorite bands. They don't beat Breaking Benjamin, but damn, they're so close.

It feels like falling in love. Especially when North and I's gazes connect.

Butterflies erupt from the depths of my stomach like a volcano overdue for an explosion. My cheeks heat up as I wonder if I look good enough. My hands grow clammy and my fingers begin to shake, and a very specific type of fuzziness in my head accompanies my racing heart.

I don't know what to say. I suddenly would rather walk out of the room and brave thousands of bodies than actually accept this chance to meet one of my favorite bands. I mean, they aren't going to talk to me anyway. They'll probably just watch me as I babble. Yea, it's better to just leave. I'm five feet away from them-- that's close enough to meeting to me. Time to go.

As I take a single step back, all three band members eyes on me, Ash grabs my hand and keeps me rooted in place. I look up to her, fear holding me still before I can ask her to let me go. But she doesn't let me get a chance to speak either.

"Hi, boys!" Ash chirps, waving a hand at the group. "Nice to finally meet you!"

All three are men?

My gaze travels back over to the group. The singer and guitarist, North, dressed in black slacks, black dress shoes, a black turtleneck, and black leather gloves. His mask is red with gold and black accents, the top portion a sheet of music. Very fascinating.

Then there's East, wearing a black mask with white, silver, and gold accents. He's in black jeans, a black Deftones shirt, black converse, and a leather jacket to top off the look. He also has the black leather gloves to match his outfit.

Finally, South has a blue mask with gold and white accents. He's wearing a black sweater, a white collar peaking out of the top. Black jeans, very fancy black boots, and, of course, black leather gloves.

Damn, they are so fucking cool. I really need to know what the gloves are about though. Everyone saw their hands earlier, what's the point?

"Vi," Ash says, forcing me back to the real world and away from ogling. "Say hi."

"Hi," tumbles from my lips like involuntary and unplanned vomit after a night of multiple screwdrivers that were mainly vodka (yep, that explanation is coming from an experience that will never leave my soul).

It's awkward, and even South rears his head back like he smelled three day old sardines. North simply tilts his head a bit. East is stock still. Worse, they're all still looking at me.

I cough, clearing my throat a bit. Okay, so I can't avoid this. Great. We love it here.

My feet move forward as I bite down my anxiety and bashfulness. I walk until I'm just a foot away from the three men and raise a hand in a pathetically awkward wave. "Hi," I murmur. "My name's VioletViolence. If you can't tell, I may or may not be, like, a big fan." I try to add some humor to the situation, but it's weak and it shows. I can hear Ash hiss awkwardly behind me. "Sorry," I decide to tack on, wincing lightly. "I don't know how to do this."

They all continue to stare at me. I'm considering just saying thanks for the eye contact before walking out.

But then North decides to take pity on me and sticks a hand out, his black glove on full display for me. He's so close that I can see the small bit of pale skin that shows-- the bit of skin where his shirt sleeve and glove don't quite meet. I try not to pay too much mind since the entire band prefers to be anonymous and faceless.

I hesitantly grab onto his hand, my heart pounding at a speed that should probably pronounce me as dead by this point.

His hand is warm and envelops mine fully, his fingers gently wrapping around the back of my hand. I can hardly even feel the cool, smooth leather of the glove because his hand is just that warm underneath. It's calming, intoxicating even.

I pull away before he can, offering a hand to both East and South who shake my hand immediately.

Once I shake hands with the three, I stand directly before North again-- the head of the small pack. He watches my every move, but I can't even make out the color of his eyes due to how incredibly concealed he is. It's almost frustrating. I want to know what he looks like.

I don't ponder. It's not my place to wonder who they are. After all, why should I be a hypocrite? I'd shit if anyone figured me out.

"You guys did so awesome," I say, grinning as Ash walks up beside me and envelops East in a big hug, droning on about how she's so excited to finally meet her favorite bassist after talking to him online for so long. Her voice is so insanely obnoxious that I start wondering what her motive is.

I look back to North who nods at me in thanks. But then it goes quiet. What the hell is supposed to happen here? Maybe Ash is good at rambling, but I'm not and I don't want to ramble. Especially when I won't even get a response back.

North glances over my shoulder, then looks over his own shoulder before turning back to me. Is he looking for something?

He pats his pocket, but his hand pauses mid air before he can pull anything out, and he motions over to one of the guards instead, pointing at something on a table full of snacks. The guard walks over and picks up a clipboard for North to see, and the masked man nods in response, using his hand to mimic writing.

Next thing I know, North has a clipboard and a pen in his hands. He looks at the contents of the clipboard-- a back stage guest list with all The Faces names written on it, as well as mine. But he rips the paper off the board and flips it over to the blank back and starts writing.

I listen to the quiet scribbles, trying not to sweat in anticipation and anxiousness.

Finally, after what feels like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, North hands me the clipboard and the pen.

I flip it around to look, my insides twisting about as I nervously glance at the scrawled handwriting. All caps, but small.

'ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ?'

A little smile quirks my lips. How funny. Me and the lead singer of an amazing band having to communicate through a pen and paper. It just feels silly.

"Sal and Larry?" I ask, glancing up at North who nods, then holds a hand up with his pointer finger as a symbol of the number one. I think about that-- one? What does that mean? Hm... "Oh," I voice, thinking I know what he's trying to say. "Another one? Todd?"

North nods again.

I shrug, holding the clipboard between my arm and side as I flip the pen around my fingers. "Honestly, I'm not sure about Sal and Larry. I figured you guys would know. They've been back here since before the show." I frown a bit. Where could they be? "As for Todd," I continue, "he dipped into the crowd. I don't know if he'll be showing up."

North lifts his head in kind of an 'ah' way, like he understands now that I've explained. Then he motions for the clipboard again, so I hand it back along with the pen.

He scribbles again before handing everything back to me. I look down, scrunching my eyebrows at the message.

'ɪ'ᴠᴇ ꜱᴇᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴀʟʟʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ᴄʜᴇᴍɪꜱᴛʀʏ'

Holy fuck, what part of this do I address first? I ask myself this, but the first reaction I have is a raging blush on my cheeks. "You watch my videos?" I squeak out embarrassingly. I haven't even made another video yet and it's been nearly three days now...

North hesitates for a moment before nodding, so I continue. Albeit, I continue with a racing heart and the clammiest hands on this planet. "And you think Sal and I have chemistry?" I can't help but giggle at that. North just shrugs in response.

I smile at him, feeling a bit calmer with this topic as a distraction. "I'd beg to differ, but if that's what it looks like online, I won't complain. I'd rather everyone think we were just... that we just have a weird friendship. I don't want them to know that things are actually just as tough as we make it seem."

Why am I blabbing so much? Imagine if Sal walked in and heard this. He'd peel my scalp from my fucking skull.

North motions for the clipboard yet again so I struggle to get it back to him as quickly as I can. More awkward scribbling, then he holds the clipboard up to me instead of handing it back. I guess he anticipates having to write more.

I lean a bit closer, squinting my eyes to read what's written-- curse my shitty vision and contact prices.

'ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴇɴ, ɪ ꜱᴜᴘᴘᴏꜱᴇ.'

I suck in a breath. "Well, he's definitely hard to be around. But he hasn't done all that much to make me say I dislike him." I think about it. I mean he's rude to me, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. And either way, I don't have to mention that I borderline hate the guy... "He's aggravating and rude, but I'm starting to get used to that. Maybe that's just how he is." I trail off toward the end because I've seen Sally in other social settings. He really isn't like this with anyone else. It's just me. It's always me.

But then something more important resonates in my mind. I'm literally telling Sal Fisher's friend about how awful of a person he is.

My eyes widen and I look up, noting North's stoic eyes that hide any and all emotion he could be feeling. I start to panic, waving my hands at my sides as my mouth works silently, trying to find words to say. My stomach churns and I struggle to hold down all the fear that wants to break through my skin.

"Ah, fuck. I'm sorry," I say shakily, bringing my hands in front of me to crack my knuckles. "I don't mean to bad mouth your friend. He really isn't all that bad, I just..." I trail off and shake my head. "I'm just making this so much worse."

I hear what sounds like a muffled snort come from North. The sound makes my insides go still while I wait for his response that's currently being written.

He holds the clipboard up to me, settling into a very nonchalant stance.

"ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴏᴋᴀʏ. ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴅɪᴄᴋ."

My mouth gapes, but then I look into his slightly squinted eyes and can't help but grin. Well, at least we agree somewhere and he isn't angry with me. That helps a lot.

Suddenly, the little connection between us is interrupted. A woman walks into the room and she motions over to Dark Autumn Complex with the most outlandish expression I've seen all day.

"What the hell are you three doing?" she asks, voice falling off into a scoff. "I told you we have shit to cover. You can come hang out with everyone later. Can't any of you listen?"

My eyes widen as I watch the band members all glance to each other. That's one scary manager-- if she is their manager.

North looks back to me, gives me a quick wave, then walks off with the other two members. And they disappear as quickly as they came. I almost feel like the interaction never even happened.

Ash and I shrug at each other, then have a fuck it moment and pick through the snack table.

For a full two uninterrupted minutes, I sit there, snack on chocolate-covered strawberries, and ponder whatever the hell just happened. I think about my own feelings as well.

North was ridiculously nice, especially compared to some of the people I've met before (*cough* Sal Fisher *cough*). He was easy to talk to, even with our speech barrier. We still found a way to communicate, and I'm glad we did. I enjoyed getting to converse with him, however short the moment may have been. Do I have more of a viable reason to crush on him? Yea, absolutely. maybe he isn't as out of my league as I thought. He knows who I am. He watches my videos. And he's nice? That's, like, twenty extra points in my book.

I won't get too ahead of myself though, not when there's this stupid thing going on with Sally. I really need to figure that out first.

And like I specifically said-- I had just two minutes of silence. And after those two minutes are up, the giant metal door that Ash and I walked through a few minutes ago swings open and bounces off of the cement wall beside it.

Lo and behold, in walks Larry and Sal. They're both out of breath, carrying at least four bags in both their hands. Larry's face is red, though he still has that signature grin. Sal's neck is covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

And suddenly, a thread of an idea begins to weave itself through my mind. The thread quickly turns into a full, fleshed out, and calculatingly mapped theory that I'm almost 75% sure about.

And it scares me. Deeply.

Fishnets. Masks. Height. No talking. The sudden disappearance. Sal and Larry's perfectly timed arrival.

I watch the boys with terror in my eyes. I track every step they take toward the snack table. My gaze follows each little treat that they lay out. My ears zone in on their mumbled story about missing the new DAC song to pick up some of their favorite snacks.

But I don't believe any of it. Not a word.

Because I wholeheartedly think that Sally Face and Larry Johnson are two of three members of Dark Autumn Complex.

There are too many coincidences. Honestly the timing of Sal and Larry walking in and the lyrics about fishnets are what set me off the most. There's no way someone can nail an event so closely without having experienced it. And there's just no way Sal and Larry can walk in here like it's nothing after having enough time to quickly change their clothes and grab some random bags of snacks on their run back over here.

It's genius, but it fills me up with dread all the same. No fucking way. I keep getting shocked, but each time, the discovery is so much worse.

Larry randomly boasts about in front of me, wiggling his eyebrows as he skips up to me with that sexy smirk. It has no affect on me right now though. I'm contemplating, I'm theorizing, and I'm genuinely horrified.

He grabs my hands and brings me a little closer to him. I swallow thickly, watching him and waiting. Ideas are running through my head, driving me up the fucking wall. I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm right on the cusp of confirming this unfortunate discovery.

I refuse to have a crush on Sal Fisher.

"Quiero comerte viva," Larry suddenly drawls, pulling my attention away from my desperation for a second. I don't know what he said, but it was random enough to confuse me. But, I at least know the language.

"You speak Spanish?" I decide to ask him, clearing my oddly hoarse voice.

He chuckles, winking at me. "No, but I am an intellectual in the art of romance. I know how to woo the ladies."

I pinch my lips together and give him a pitiful look. "It's not a very good wooing if no one even knows what you're saying."

Larry frowns at me, seemingly thinking about that. But before he or I can say anything more, Sally walks past us and toward Ash. And he says, "It means, 'I want to eat you alive.'"

I choke on air, struggling to take a breath in. Sal just said that to my face and it was hot as fuck. Not to mention, Larry said that to me in another language. That's really hot too.

My head snaps to Larry who looks impressed. "Oh," he says thoughtfully, tilting his head. "So that's what it means."

And now I have to think about how ridiculous Larry is. About why and how Sally just happened to know what that Spanish phrase translated to. And on top of that-- their hidden identities as member of DAC.

But the doors that I believe they disappeared into just a couple minutes ago reopens, and a fresh wave of utter confusion and shock rocks my body all over again.

North, East, and South walk back out, facing us. But they also come face-to-face with Larry and Sal, which means... I was wrong. And I don't know if I'm disappointed or extremely fucking relieved.

Sal, Larry, and Ash talk animatedly to Dark Autumn Complex who simply listens to them without answering. All the while, I stand behind, watching.

Maybe I assumed that Sal and Larry were part of the band because I was desperate to find someone like me. Searching for someone, anyone who was hiding behind another identity. Hoping I wasn't the only selfish person with more than one name. Because I feel guilty about it.

I know I feel guilty-- deep down, I genuinely feel bad for lying to Larry and Todd. Even Sal. He may be a dick, but he and Lexi seemed to really connect. And I didn't have the guts to even tell him who I really am. I still don't.

And so I thought I discovered something in this fucked up situation that I created. Discovered something that never existed in the first place.

Chapter Text

Me and The Faces made it home hours ago. I still haven't texted Sal back and I don't plan to. Not now at least-- I'm going to have to let it marinate. He's still a dick and I'm exhausted from the hellhole that was the Dark Autumn Complex concert.

Don't get me wrong, the music itself and meeting North, East, and South was fucking amazing. But I learned way more than I ever wanted to.

Ash and I took quick showers earlier then climbed into bed, ditching all three of the other boys.

It's about two in the morning. Ash is snoring softly behind me and I haven't been able to fall asleep at all yet. I've just been sitting here, staring up at the ceiling and feeling sorry for myself. And worse, I've had to pee really bad for the past fifteen minutes.

But I'm afraid to get up-- I really don't want to disturb Ash. At the same time though, if I don't run to the bathroom, I'm just going to be miserable all night.

Todd was the pampered prince in this living situation. He got the one room in the suite that has a bathroom inside. Meanwhile, the rest of us have to venture out of our bedrooms to go do whatever we need to do.

After a minute of cursing my stupid bladder, I slowly scoot out of bed. I can't afford many expensive things, but I'm really fucking thankful that The Faces can because it's so nice to be able to sneak out without the floor or bed squeaking. My trip out of Ash's bed is so simple and quiet.

Before I slip out of the room, I grab my mask. I can't risk getting caught without it.

I walk toward the bathroom, mask haphazardly wrapped around my face just because I honestly couldn't care less. I'm tired and I need to pee-- no one can see my face even if I just threw this thing on half assed.

I drag my feet, smacking my lips and rubbing my eyes as I turn the corner into the kitchenette where our bathroom lies just beyond.

Moonlight glitters into the small kitchen, illuminating the cold, tiled flooring with a pale blue sheen. It lights up my path, making it seem as though it's almost glowing. If I weren't particularly groggy and exhausted tonight, I'd admire it a bit. But at the moment, I'm more than ready to crawl back into bed with Ash and snuggle into her warmth.

I pass the kitchen, walking right up to the bathroom door and leaving the hypnotizing moon behind.

I lick my lips and slap a hand onto the light switch, hearing a resounding grunt in response that has a shriek building in my throat. Since when do light switches grunt? And since when do light switches feel like skin?

A hand slaps onto my mouth and the building scream catches before it can leave my mouth. I just watch ahead of me, trying to see through the dark.

A bare, pale chest finally makes it's way into my line of vision and I blink, squinting my eyes as my gaze travels up until I'm looking into two prosthetic eyeholes.

Relief and anger simultaneously swell within me as I shove Sal's hand off of my face. "For fuck's sake," I hiss out, taking a step toward him. An intimidation tactic, I guess? "What is wrong with you!? I was about to drop kick you, dick-head."

"As if you could," he grumbles back, eyes midnight black with the lack of lighting. But the itching at the back of my brain says he's staring right at me.

"Oh, yea?" I bite back. "Wanna find out?"

I don't wait for answer, just shove past him and into the bathroom, finally switching on the light I was so desperately seeking. But as I go to close the door, Sal's hand catches it, his long, pale fingers wrapping around the side of the wood and keeping it in place even though I try to put more pressure into closing it.

Sal just meets my force with some force of his own, easily getting the door to open again until he's standing in front of me in all his... bare chest... toned tummy perfection.

I huff out a sigh, thankful that my mask can hide the sudden blush on my cheeks, though it can't do a single thing for the way my eyes immediately trail down his body. Still, I manage to force out the words, "What do you want?"

Once I finally peel my gaze away from his body and look at his face, Sal looks stuck for a moment. Something about his slightly wide eyes and risen eyebrows hints that he may be gaping under that damn prosthetic of his.

So, I tilt my head, waiting for a response through the mild shock of seeing him not so confident and all lost for words. It's... it feels really weird to see him like this.

But then his eyes relax, as do his eyebrows, and he steps into the bathroom. Crosses the threshold. And shuts the door behind him.

He's either here to bitch at me, or...

I gulp down the wave of expectations and emotions that rushes through me all at once. Part of me is warm, wondering if he's here to honor the promise I'd given up on. The other part of me-- a bigger part-- is on guard. This is not like Sal. In fact, this is a bit concerning.

I don't know. Maybe he's going to kill me. I wouldn't be all that surprised with how much he seems to despise me. Just as I despise him in some cases.

He still says nothing. And I'm tired of waiting.

I take a shaky breath and take a little step back. "Look, if you have nothing to say, can you let me pee in peace? Argue with me later."

"Do you have to go that bad?" He finally speaks. But his words are stupid as shit.

I stare at him, dumbfounded as awkwardness pulses between us. "What-- I-- why would you even fucking ask me that?"

Sal narrows his eyes and bends his head down, a tinge of aggravation flashing in his eyes. "Just answer the question."

"Holy fuck," I groan out, shoving a hand into his chest until he takes a staggering step back. "Yes. I actually do have to go that bad. Now fuck off."

Sal turns without a word and leaves the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Okay. He must be on drugs. There's no damn way that interaction just happened with both of us sober. Something has to be making him act all weird. I'm so... I'm so weirded out that I'm considering saying fuck it and just running back to Ash's room.

But I use the restroom instead, just so I'm not miserable through the night, wash my hands, then open the door and flick of the light.

Only to get shoved back into the bathroom.

Rage consumes me. This guy is starting to tick me off. Something weird is up with him tonight and I genuinely don't want to stick around to find out. "Sal, what the fuck are you--"

"I'm trying to keep my word and I don't know about you, but this seems like a perfect opportunity to me," his deep voice rasps at least an octave lower. Barely hidden desire is reflected in his tone that only grows quieter and closer as I find my breath catching in my throat.

I look every which way, trying to catch a glimpse of him in the darkness as my heart thumps wildly in my chest.

Is this really about to happen? Do I want him to honor his promise? Am I ready to do this-- here, with all of our friends just a door or two away?

Honestly... yes I am. Weird or not, I have this ridiculously frustrating attraction to Sally Face.

Still...

I'm about to tell him he doesn't have to do this. That our friends are too close and it doesn't matter anyway. But his fingertips brush over the shirt covering my waist. Desperately and hesitantly. But I don't move, and he pauses, assessing my reaction or waiting for one.

When I simply stand there and hold my breath, listening to my wildly pounding heart in my ears, Sal drags his fingertips farther across my waist until his entire hand is under the hem of my shirt and gripping onto my skin, pulling me a step closer.

This feels... it feels funny. Though, I suppose when any two people who have, for example, in our case, bickered so often and are now trying to appease some stomped down desires... I guess it's understandable to be awkward. I just hope that Sal can squash out the odd tension because I don't have the gall too.

Even weirder is how things are going to progress if I can't even kiss him.

As clueless as I may be on occasion (or more so, often), I'm not dumb enough to think that Sal is just going to miraculously pull off his prosthetic and kiss me willingly. He's not some emo knight in shining armor and his prosthetic isn't his weapon. It's a barrier. Everything about him is a barrier. The most impenetrable one that I've ever seen.

I push past the awkward bit just a little, wondering how he'll do this without either of us being able to use anything above our necks. It's incredibly intriguing, especially since, overall, he's pretty confident.

At least, I would assume he's confident considering his hand just moves lower, his fingertips brushing over the waistband of my shorts.

I lick my lips as electricity courses through my body at just the whereabouts of his skin on mine. As frustrating as he is, he manages to make up for his shit personality by being hot in everything he does.

Sal is meticulous. He makes everything he does personal, intimate. It always shows even if he tries to hide it. Shows in his blue hair that brushes my cheek as he leans a bit closer to me. Shows in the curling of his fingers against the fabric of my shorts. Shows in just the sound of his slow breathing. All confidence. All focus.

I wish I could see him more than anything-- even if I'd be looking into his prosthetic. Just to see his outline, his body, his eyes on me.

The odd tension is all but gone as Sal and I stand quietly, his one hand on me and anticipation of what happens next rippling in the air around us. My body is growing warmer by the second, my heart picking up speed and my fingers shaking just a bit.

"Do you remember what I told you that night?" Sal whispers, his otherwise monotone, but raspy voice holding back all of his emotions. But I can see through him. I know he's struggling to move slow. But like I said, he's meticulous. He wants to turn this into something that will resonate with him just as much as it will resonate with me.

And that's something I'm starting to like about him, especially when it comes to moments like this.

"Which part?" I ask in return, my voice coming out soft and shaky despite how hard I try to keep everything together.

The condition of my words must give Sal the last bit of confidence he needs to do something more. The way I nervously put my words together, regardless of how short, tell him that my walls are down for now. And he's him. Of course he'll openly take that opportunity.

Sal's other hand, previously at his side, trails along my other side, skimming over my torso then up the length of my arm. Leaves a trail of fire the entire way. It takes him a frustratingly long time to tease me, just with his hands on such a seemingly uninteresting part of my body. It's aggravating how easily he's able to turn something innocent into something sinful.

His fingers finally run up the side of my neck until they brush along my jaw. I take a quick breath, all of the air in my body stolen at just small, fleeting touches. Fuck, I hate the way I like this so much.

I look up to where I assume his face would be, but I still see nothing. In a way, that makes things ten times more tense. I can't see him-- I can only feel him. Every other sense is heightened and I can feel him, smell him, hear him everywhere.

Sal's hand moves farther, his palm enveloping my ass and squeezing roughly. The feeling shocks me and excites me all at once. I stagger toward him, which is what he wanted, and gasp as I stop myself from knocking both of us over with a hand on his bare chest.

"There you go," he purrs quietly. So that was his game. To get me to touch him too. "And I'm talking about a very specific part. I need you to remember what it is." His voice is thickly coated in lust that he's given up on hiding from me. He's felt how I'm reacting to him. He doesn't have to keep anything at bay when I'm not either.

"Are you--" my voice fails and I clear my throat quietly, trying to will my fingers to stop trembling as I flatten my palm against his chest. It's crazy to think that I'm finally touching him after all this time, even crazier to feel his soft, cool skin beneath mine. "Are you talking about... you wanted me to wait until you were-- until we were--" I can't seem to spit it out. I don't have the confidence to actually say it.

"Speak, Vi," he says, voice dark with warning. "Remember what I told you about using words."

A shiver runs through my body and Sal grips onto my ass even tighter, only heightening my emotions and senses and my nerves. Fuck.

I choke over my own breath, trying to stop myself from having such obvious reactions to every little thing he does. But I can't fucking help it. He's too good. Too good at this.

I swallow thickly over my anxiety. I need this to happen more than my fear needs to control me. So even if it makes me cringe slightly, I whisper, "The part where you told me not to cum until you had me in your hands."

Sal's fluffy hair brushes along the top of my shoulders as he leans closer-- close enough for the tip of his prosthetic nose to tap against the nose of my mask. I hold my breath, eyes wide when his hand moves from my butt to the small of my back, his arm wrapping around me. "That's definitely an important part," he rasps, "but not what I'm talking about."

My heart skips a beat as a rush of air passes through my lips. I'm not sure if it's because I'm relieved or disappointed, but if he doesn't want to make me cum, then what the hell is he here for?

"I--" Damn me and my faltering brain. Why can't I just fucking speak? "I don't know what you're talking about." There we go. Even as I finally speak the words, I feel my heartbeat thrumming throughout my entire body, just under my skin. It's so evident that I'm afraid Sal's going to feel it, but that's impossible, I'm just letting fear get to me again.

His fingers press into the side of my neck a bit harder and he hums, the sound one of satisfaction and a lot of pride. I swallow again, blinking into the darkness.

"Your pulse is impressive," he whispers. "Makes me pretty pissed about taking so long to approach you when you're so open to me already."

Fuck, maybe it wasn't just fear. I failed to realize that his fingers were perfectly placed over my pulse. I tried to warn myself and I just didn't even listen. Welcome to a day in my life.

"Fuck off," I bite out shakily, cursing quietly upon realizing I still have no control over my trembling voice. "Just tell me what you're getting at," I say quietly, the words barely registering in the darkness around us.

Sal breathes deeply, almost like an obnoxious sigh while his fingers play with the edge of my shirt at my back. "Careful with what you say. I want you to speak, but not like that," he grunts, forehead pressing into mine.

I take a deep breath of my own, almost choking on the sudden influx of fresh air into my body after I'd hardly been getting any for a good couple minutes. "Then say it," I hiss. "You're so worried about me using my words, why don't you use yours too?"

"Because I'm in charge," his rough voice holds so much edge, so little patience, and never-ending anticipation as his hand that barely brushes along my neck moves quickly until his fingers are gripping my jaw, forcing my face closer to his.

Sals fingers dig into my cheeks as my lips skim along his prosthetic. We're so close now, and all the breath I'd just taken in is lost on me again. "Maybe I don't want to tell you," he rasps out, fingers squeezing a little tighter.

A shaky breath falls from my lips and suddenly I can't look anywhere near him s as my palms grow clammy and my knees begin to tremble. I'm so close to... I don't know what I'm close to doing, but I really want to do something. It's killing me to sit here with his hands on me this way and play the submissive bit.

"You were the one who told me to speak more," I whisper, glancing from where I think his eyes are to the rest of his prosthetic-- all of which are, unfortunately, invisible to me in the darkness. "The same should go for you."

He's quiet, fingers still gripping at my side and my jaw. But after a moment, his hold loosens and then he's trailing his fingertips across my chin. His touch is featherlight, tickling every inch of skin that he touches until he stops at the middle of my neck. And he pauses for a moment, makes me wait with bated breath and a pounding heart.

Then, the breath gets knocked out of me when he quickly and aggressively wraps his hand around my throat. Sal squeezes, causing a rush of air to push past my lips-- a last bit I didn't know I had. "This seem familiar?" he rasps.

I blink through the shock, listening as Sal grunts quietly, waiting for me to do or say something. I gulp as best as I can with his restricting hand on my neck.

His fingers flex around my skin and he takes a step closer, causing butterflies to form in my stomach. They invade my mind, clouding all rational sense that I once thought I had. The butterflies are dark and carry around all the sinful feelings I've tried so hard to ignore, to push aside.

But the truth is that no matter how hard I try to hide it, I'm attracted to Sally Face and it's probably time I do something about it. It's time to get him out of my system. Once will do.

With a raspy breath, I drag my hand farther up his bare chest and all the way to his shoulder to wrap it around the back of his neck.

My heart pounds relentlessly against my ribcage, fighting to try and tell Sal to have his way with me itself. It's sickening, really, how far I've fallen into the depths of this ridiculous attraction toward him. And now I'm trying not to wrap myself around him. Trying to calm my racing heart. Trying to stop my quaking hands. Trying to prevent my legs from giving out.

With the last bit of confidence I have at the moment, I use my hand to bring Sal's face to mine. His prosthetic forehead meets my mask with a little clack that echoes around the small bathroom. He huffs out a laugh in response and it takes everything in me not to slap him fucking silly. "Yes," I try to say against his tight grip.

It's one word. One syllable. But it's all it takes. All it takes for just one of us to snap. And the snap is beautiful.

Sal takes a deep breath, like he's either preparing himself or trying to calm down. Either way, something in him loses whatever fight he was in the middle of. He wraps one arm around my back, tightens his hold on my neck, and walks me backward until I'm roughly smashed against the wall.

He loosens his grip just a bit so I can catch the breath that fell from me upon hitting the wall, but then he's using the hand he had around my back to trail it down the outside of my thigh. His fingers are cool against my sensitive skin as he grabs onto my knee and lifts it, wrapping my leg around his hips.

Neither of us make a sound. My heart continues to yell for Sal to do more. I'm starting to think he may hear my internal pleas because he answers them each and every time.

With my leg securely placed around him, he wraps his arm around my waist again. Then, he slides his hand past the waistband of my short and into my underwear until he's gripping onto my bare ass.

My mouth drops open and I shut my eyes. No words pass between us for a minute as he massages my butt, getting a good grip on it to yank me closer to him.

And then our hips meet. His sweatpants do absolutely nothing to hide his hard cock as it slams against my clothed pussy, creating such delicious friction that I nearly cry out at the feeling. And he knows.

His hand falls from my throat and is soon replaced by his prosthetic face, his nose running along the length of my neck. Just knowing he's so close, alongside the rough surface of his prosthetic leaving a trail of goosebumps on each inch of skin he touches, makes me push myself closer to him.

He hums, satisfied when I bring my other hand to the side of his throat. I can't see his tattoo, but I can imagine it there. Covering the warm side of his neck, just below my fingertips.

"Listen to me," he says against my neck, bringing his face up so that his nose is brushing mine again. His voice is shaky, deep, raspy. Dangerous. "I'm going to show you how to use your words. Okay?"

I nod softly against him, breathing deeply. "Okay," I whisper back, my voice betraying whatever front I was hoping to keep up. It almost sounds like a whine.

He nods back, running a veiny hand through my hair. He starts at my forehead, dragging his fingers through the tendrils until he hits the base of my neck, cupping it and tilting my head up a bit more. "Good."

"Here's what I'm going to do to you," he starts off, breathing deeply. He tilts his head and the only reason I can tell is because his nose is at an angle now, still brushing mine. And then his prosthetic lips gently touch mine again. "I'm going to slide my hand into the front of your shorts, under your panties, and I'm going to fuck you with my fingers." His voice is ragged and his hand squeezes my ass tighter. Meanwhile, my own breath catches in my throat and the panties he was just talking about grow wet. No way is he able to say shit like that and not feel nervous about it... but at the same time, his words definitively broke the last bit of that awkward barrier between us.

"And all you have to do," he continues, pulling his hand away from my butt and out of my shorts, bringing it up and between us. His tone is casual and a bit sprightly-- desire swirling around underneath, hardly hidden at all. "is take it like a good girl. That sound good?" Then his index finger boops the tip of my nose.

I'm so sure my stomach has dropped out of my ass and I'm thrust onto the cusp of cumming just because of his dirty words. It happens so quickly that I'm holding him tighter and mentally cursing myself when a low, quiet groan escapes my throat.

Sal chuckles in response. But it almost sounds like a childish, excited, dark little giggle. "Eager, are we?" he asks, using the same hand he booped my nose with to grab my chin, bringing me just a tad closer to him. "You need to tell me if that plan is okay. If you don't say anything, we'll sit here like this all night. Consent is key."

I couldn't speak right now even if I wanted to. There's no oxygen left in me. I lost it all when he told me this plan he formulated in the depths of his salacious mind. But I want him to implement that plan too. And it won't happen if I just continue to sit here, breathless with my leg around his hips and his hand buried in my hair.

"I can hold out, Vi," he decides to say, voice biting in a way that's meant to push me along. "But can you?"

No. I absolutely fucking can't. My pussy is aching and he hasn't even touched it yet. My underwear is uncomfortably wet and my legs are quaking like a leaf-- I'm sure he can feel it.

So I take a breath and prepare myself for the hell that is to come. "Sounds like a plan," I force out quietly, trying to keep the background mewl to minimum. I'm not a fucking cat and this guy isn't going to make me purr for him... though, he does have potential.

"It better," he replies to me, voice suddenly much deeper and dangerous compared to the last thing he said to me. The sound sends a jolt of electricity through my veins and suddenly, I think my expectations of this aren't set too high. If anything, my expectations aren't high enough. All this time, I assumed he'd never actually be able to do as well as I was hoping he would, but I'm starting to see that he may be better than I could ever comprehend.

Sal is desperate as he slides the hand on my chin down my body. Between my breasts, over my stomach, and all the way to the top of my shorts. He waits there, seeing what I'll do. But I'm breathless, shivering from his light touch and about to kick off my shorts myself because of how ridiculous soaked my underwear is.

A man can be good in bed, but a man who's good with words is ten times better. The two together? I didn't know it was possible. But I'm pretty sure this combination could cure the world of depression.

I hold my breath, pushing my hips a bit closer to him when he drags his fingertips along the waistband of my shorts. I can feel my heart pounding in every inch of my body and it's starting to make me feel insane. All I can hear is my rapid, pitiful heart waiting for something that... honestly, something that he's probably teasing me about. I doubt he'll actually do anything. He probably just wants to humiliate me, use this as leverage. Tell everyone that I tried to fuck him and he had to reject me.

This fear works through me quickly-- so quickly that the lust I was just feeling freezes and gets replaced with embarrassment. I'm about to pull my leg away from him and push him back, get him away from me. But he must sense something because he finally pushes his cold hand into my shorts and immediately under my panties, slowly inching closer to my swollen, aching clit that's skipped the anxiety and gone straight to wanting.

Where I was just about to get him away from me, I arch my back off the wall instead, hoping and wishing his hand would travel faster and relieve me of the ache slowly building in my abdomen. He's the only one who can do it now-- I wouldn't be able to finish myself off after this scene.

And as always, regarding tonight at least, he listens in on my thoughts. His cold fingers gently brush over my needy clit. It's a light touch full of meaning and unspoken promises. That alone has me tipping over the edge that I had to ignore the past few nights after Sal told me to wait for him over our phone call.

I swallow down a moan that so desperately wants to escape and hold onto him a little tighter, using my free hand to reach over his shoulder and grab onto his back.

He hums lustfully, rubbing his nose against the cheek of my mask. He's so close. I can smell the musky scent of his cologne and shampoo, the fresh rain-like scent of his body wash. I can feel his hair tickling my neck and shoulders. I can feel his heart slam against his chest-- and that's when I realize that maybe the quick pace of my heart isn't the only heartbeat I've been feeling this entire time. His embrace is all-consuming; makes my head spin.

"You're being so good and quiet," he whispers to me. "Keep doing that." He applies more pressure to my clit with his index and middle finger, moving them in a slow circular motion that drives me up the damn wall. "Such an obedient slut."

I'm about to pass out.

It turns out he's smart. Before he puts anymore focus on my clit, he moves his hand down and slides his fingers against my wet folds, breathing deeply upon feeling me. "Fuck, you're soaked," he acknowledges, voice shaking with what I would assume is barely held back consideration for what I want. But I really don't care-- I'll take whatever he'll give me. And right now, I'm desperate to feel his fingers sink inside me. And for some ridiculous reason he doesn't do it, just teases my folds and soaks up whatever little bit of my juices that he can.

He presses me farther into the wall, a groan following his movements. I think he's as desperate as I am now.

He finally does something more with his hand again, bringing it back up. Just as his now wet fingers touch my clit, a startlingly loud knock sounds on the door.

The spell that had captured us ruptures as Sal practically jumps out of his skin, fingers digging into the base of my neck as his other hand disappears from my shorts.

I swear my heart stops for a moment upon hearing who knocked on the door.

"Sally, is that you, man?" Larry's sleepy but frantic voice says from the other side of the door. I hold my breath, and Sal holds me. "I need to piss so bad that I swear my uterus is about to burst."

I can hear Sal audibly gulp and that's how I know that the situation is bad.

At any other time, I'd be cackling over Larry's claim. But right now, I'm horrified because Sal and I are about to get caught in the bathroom together.

Suddenly, I'm yanked away from the wall and pulled in another direction. I almost stumble over Sal's quick pace, but follow him anyway. But when my calves hit the edge of the bathtub and a gentle shove on my shoulder makes me lean back, I grab onto his wrist because no. Fucking. Way.

"Sal," I hiss quietly. "Are you insane? I'm not hiding in the fucking bathtub!"

"Just shut up, it's only for maybe three minutes, okay?" he whispers back, agitation tinging his voice-- as per usual.

"No! This is even more incriminating than you and I doing the walk of shame out of this damn bathroom together," I reply to him, squeezing his wrist tighter.

Sal makes an aggravated sound then grabs onto the back of my knees. He forces them to bend, holding me up with his weight as I fall back toward the bathtub. I want to scream. No way is this about to happen-- no way did he literally just force me into this tub.

My ass hits the bottom of the tub with a little thump that automatically makes Larry start banging on the door.

I look up to where I imagine Sal is, leaning over me as I curl up onto the ceramic floor. "Wait," he says. "Don't say a word. All you have to do is exactly what I told you, 'kay? Take it like a good girl. Sit there and be quiet. Don't even breathe if you think it'll be too loud."

He pulls his arms away from me and I feel like I'm going to vomit. "I'll reward you for this." I don't want a damn reward. I want to disappear. But before I can object, his fingers gently grip onto my chin. I'm shocked by the his soft touch, especially by his next quiet words that send a wave of heat through my body. "Don't worry, little lamb. I won't lead you to the slaughter," he adds that sweet promise of guiding me correctly, but I've never trusted him before. Why should I put my faith in him now just because he used that oddly adorable pet name?

But the curtain is slowly being closed and I find myself doing as he said-- curling up on my side and holding my stupid fucking breath. It's the only option I have left. Fuck, this is humiliating.

I hear his soft footsteps grow quiet, and then the door opens. My heart races and my entire body tenses up.

"Lar," Sal's raspy voice starts, tinged with equal amounts of amusement and frustration. "You'd be shitting out babies left and right if you had a uterus."

The light flicks on and my eyes widen. Oh, fuck.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Larry retorts, not even bothering to close the door as he moves closer to the toilet and, consequently, closer to me. My eyes are about to pop out of my damn head. "You don't know that."

"Actually, I do. You fuck so often that you'd have to have been pregnant a couple times by now," Sal immediately responds. I can just imagine him leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Larry.

And the Larry in question has pulled his dick out at this point because I'm suddenly able to hear a relieved groan. And then he's pissing. Larry fucking Johnson is peeing right next to me and his best friend was just about to finger fuck me. What the hell kind of situation is this?

"Yea well, maybe I'm immune to children then. I don't know," Larry mumbles. I'm trying so hard to keep it together right now. I don't know if I want to cry or laugh, but neither of them are a good idea.

"You better hope you are," Sal says in response. "I don't need more of you running around here. Not to mention, those children would have to be pushed out of your dick so... not sure you'd want that." His tone screams disgust and pain and just thinking about it makes me shiver a bit too. Sounds painful. But other people go through childbirth all the damn time too. It's a painful thing all around, I'd bet.

I hear Larry hiss as he flushes the toilet then turns on the water in the faucet, washing his hands. "Yea, I think you're right then," he says, pretending to gag over the thought. "I definitely don't have a uterus. I can't imagine birthing a kid from my dick."

"Other people do it all the time. Respect the birth," Sal says nonchalantly. "Now get out. I need to take a shower."

"What?" Larry asks, clearly confused. "You took a shower earlier. Oh-- wait," his tone changes into something more playful, knowing. And then, his voice goes quieter "Did you have another wet dream about Vi?"

I bite down onto my bottom lip to contain my betraying throat that suddenly wants to choke on that little bit of information.

Nah, no way. Larry's just fucking with him.

I hear a smack and then a giggle and "Ouch!" that sounds a lot like Larry. And then Sal grinds out, "Shut the fuck up. I've never had a wet dream before in my life, especially not about Vi."

"Ah, you're so in denial!" Larry laughs viciously. "You can't hide it now. You literally begrudgingly admitted it to me two days ago. You dreamt that you and Vi fucked. I'd call that a wet dream, man."

"You're fucking delusional, Larry," Sal grunts out ferociously. Oh, he's so pissed. And I'm about to piss myself in this tub. I'm so going to give him shit for this later.

"Um, I'm not delulu, dude," Larry says matter-of-factly. "That term is reserved for you. So, come on. Admit it."

"I'm going to punch you, dude," Sal says, and he's concerningly calm. Which, if anything, should be a warning sign for Larry.

But Larry doesn't heed that warning. He only continues. "Admit it or I won't leave," he says, giggling all the while.

I flinch upon hearing a loud thud followed by the bathroom door slamming against the wall. Larry starts throwing out whispered profanities. "Fuck, sorry!" he says, still managing to laugh. Did Sal actually punch him?

"I told you I'd do it," Sal says nonchalantly.

These two are going to be the reason I get caught. They need to end this shit before I actually start laughing.

"I'm not even worried about the punch. You've got a mean ass right hook. I bet you fuck bitches good with that hand," Larry says suggestively.

Sal scoffs, likely in disgust at Larry's words-- but I'm tuning in because hopefully he does fuck bitches good with that hand, especially since I'm currently considered one of the bitches in question.

"So I've been told," Sal says snarkily. "Now get out. Please."

Larry barks out a laugh that could very possibly wake everyone up. "Test that theory out on Vi."

"Okay, Larry. Seriously, fuck off." Sal's growing agitated again and he throws every bit of it into his voice.

"Fine, man. Fine," Larry says cooly, his voice moving farther away from me. "Respect the birth." Another cackle, and then the door slowly shuts.

I wait silently, too afraid to move. One sound might send Larry right back over here.

But Sal moves, and this time the light stays on.

He throws the shower curtain open and looks down at me with his stupidly pretty blue eyes. Right now, they hold a ton of agitation, but some very surface-level lust, too. I can see it so well.

He watches me as I move into a sitting position, both of us just staring at each other. I don't want this to be awkward. He's literally already had his hand on my pussy-- that's more than enough. I'm perfectly fine with calling it a night and heading back to bed.

Sal, on the other hand, has other ideas. He looks over at the shower curtain, grabs it, then hops into the bathtub with me, crouching down in front of me. He closes the curtain again, then looks to me.

It's so frustratingly nice to see him with the lights on now. Even though it's cramped with both of us in the tub together, he looks so pretty. Messy cerulean hair brushing his shoulders, azure eyes alight with curiosity and barely veiled desire. Pale, toned tummy on full display for me. His tattoos darkened by the obscurity of the curtain. While his dagger tattoo is hidden, I can see the other beautiful tattoos on both his arms.

My breath catches in my throat. Sal is nowhere near Larry's level, but he has some muscle on him. I've always assumed that his biceps came from playing guitar so much, but abs are a different story. And he definitely has those.

And that shirtless photo of him that Larry sent me a while back? The one where I could see part of a tattoo peeking out from the top of his pants? Oh yea, I can see it again and I'm about to start foaming at the mouth. Somehow, I knew deep in my soul that getting to see him during this entire ordeal we've created would make everything feel so much better.

And my claim still stands as Sal bends his head forward a bit, making a shadow cross his face. It darkens his pretty blue eyes and fills me with exhilaration.

"I'm not done with you," he says darkly, eyes raking over me. He leaves a trail of heat on every inch of skin that his eyes observe and I find my self scooting backward toward the other end of the bathtub. But, I still nod my head at him, watching his eyes narrow upon noticing my nonverbal response.

My brain is on overdrive as Sal follows me, crawling my way until he's hovering over me. Both of his hands are resting on the floor beside my bare thighs. He keeps his gaze on mine, watching me like a hawk. I feel like I can't breathe. Everything is so tense but... I like it.

"You don't have to speak," he says, tilting his head to the side. "I'll let it go for now. That's your reward."

That makes me furrow my brows even if he can't see it. "That's the reward?" I ask softly, still more than nervous with him leaning over me like this, knowing he had his hand in my shorts just a minute or two ago. "I expected something better," I add, sucking in a quick breath.

His eyes slowly squint, like he's smiling beneath that prosthetic. "Yea?" he says seductively, trailing his eyes over me yet again. "I don't think I need to say this, but you shouldn't expect shit from me. Ever." His eyes meet mine again and my heart stutters over the heat in his gaze. "But I'll humor you for once. Only once," he warns. "So, let's see if I can do better that."

He leans back a bit to distribute his weight, pulls my knees apart, then grabs onto my hips, yanking me toward him suddenly. I gasp quietly when my hips collide with his, creating that same friction between my pussy and his hardened cock just like earlier.

A little mewl echoes off the ceramic around us and Sal closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and seems to relish in the sound. He groans then looks down at me again, devilish intentions swimming around in his sapphire eyes.

My underwear never dried in the first place, but that sudden heat is back. I don't want to run away like I previously did. I'd much rather sit here and see what he has to offer.

I shimmy my hips a bit, rubbing over the bulge in his sweats. Sal groans again, gripping my hips tighter.

"Enough of that," he rasps huskily. "I'm not fucking you in this small ass tub."

I roll my eyes as if to say whatever, but he doesn't comment on it. Only narrows his eyes before letting go of my sides to lean over me again.

He puts one hand down beside my hips then uses the other to tap on my waist. "Take them off," he says quietly.

I gulp down my nerves. I don't have to be nervous. He probably won't even look down to see what he's doing, and even if he does, he'll literally be touching me so it doesn't matter.

With a quick breath, I lean down a bit and grab onto my shorts. I push them down as far as I can, then kick them off the rest of the way.

Sal nods once I'm finished and then that free hand of his brushes over my stomach, pushing my shirt up. His fingertips drag over my bare skin, and then he travels lower to meet the top of my underwear. My breath catches in my throat again, and even more so when he pauses. He gives me a sideways look that makes me cock an eyebrow in response.

"I meant these too," he says, hooking a finger into my really pretty and really expensive black lace underwear. And to my utter horror, he twirls his finger into the fabric, bunches it up in his hand, and then with a little grunt of effort, effectively rips it apart.

I'm gaping now. Lace isn't hard to tear, but I didn't fucking want him to rip my underwear off of me.

But the little smile in his eyes says that he wants to make me mad, and somehow, he just knew that my lace panties were the perfect way to get the reaction he wanted.

He pulls the broken fabric out from under me and I can't help but brood a bit as he does so.

It all falls away as he cups my pussy in his now warm hand though. It was cold earlier, but after fighting with my underwear, it's warmed up a bit and the feeling makes heat rush through my body in response.

I squeeze my eyes shut, whimpering pathetically beneath him. Sal breathes deeply, a satisfied little hum leaving him just like it did earlier.

He moves his hand, dragging two digits between my folds to wet his fingertips, and then he's rubbing slow circles on my clit.

Every circle he draws against my bundle of nerves is thought-out, methodical, and borderline painful. It's just the same movement over and over again, but it feels amazing. I can't help but wonder how much he's practiced to be able to get me with the simplest form of pleasure, but I don't care. He's touching me and it feels better than I ever could have imagined. That's what matters.

I let out a shaky breath, finally opening my eyes to see him nearly glaring at me. It's not something out of anger, more so intense focus. And he's watching me so closely, mapping out the way my lips part. Glancing to my chest as I take a deep, shaky breath.

"That feels good?" he says softly but darkly, blinking up at me.

I nod, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. He applies more pressure to my clit, nodding back at me as his slow circles pick up speed.

I shiver beneath him, gulping down sounds that so desperately want to be out in the open air.

"Do what you want," Sal says, seeing my obvious struggle. "As long as you're quiet, I don't care. Whore out all you want, I certainly won't stop you."

I keep my eyes on him, contemplating his words. I'm not sure that's a great idea. Larry could still be up. Ash could wake up. Todd could come out to look for food. It's too dangerous.

But Sal doesn't seem to like my reluctance. He uses his knees to spread my thighs, giving him more space to move his fingers quicker and to keep me pinned beneath him.

I sigh, leaning my head back against the back of the tub. Pleasure is rolling through me in waves. All the frustrating, desirous pain I felt earlier is slowly building up into what I'm sure is going to be an amazing orgasm.

I buck my hips up to force his hand to put more pressure on my sensitive pussy. Sal answers by leaning back a bit and using his free hand to push my hips back down to the floor. I open my eyes again, my breathing growing quicker the longer he teases my clit.

A lustful moan finally breaches the seal of my lips and that seems to sate Sal quite a bit. He finally answers my unspoken request, pressing into my clit harder and rubbing faster. I can't help but arch my back, nearly writhing beneath him.

Despite the initial fear I felt about being bare beneath him, I glance down at the space between us, noting the way his fingers work me so prettily-- chipped black nail polish, bracelets, and all. But, no rings.

I note that little observation in my head, my panting breaths catching in my throat when I realize he has all the opportunity in the world to make me cum like he originally promised.

The sight and the new knowledge makes me gulp and I look up again, trailing my eyes over his torso, over his tattooed arms, up his neck, and back to his prosthetic face. He watches me ogle him, taking me in as well.

But just this focus on one part of me isn't enough anymore. I'm in the clear for more and I know that now. So without breaking eye contact, I murmur, "More."

Sal breathes deeply, using his free hand to gently brush over my boobs. It's a gentle touch, but without a bra on, I feel so much especially when his fingers rub over my hardened nipple.

And then, I'm mewling like the kitten I swore I wasn't earlier. I can't help it and he knows that well enough.

Sal holds me still as I twitch and shake beneath him, calming me with a soothing, "Shh. You're okay. Stay still for me."

I try to follow his command, attempting to stop the way my thighs instinctively clamp around his legs. He doesn't seem to mind that bit all that much. But he keeps that free hand on the inside of my thigh, pressing it down and leaving me shaking.

Finally, his fingers move from my clit back down to my folds. But instead of sinking into my pussy, he teases me yet again, simply rubbing his soaked fingers up and down while watching my facial reactions.

"Do you want my fingers?" he asks, voice raspy and serious. So different compared to the usual icy tone he uses with me.

"I want your dick," I answer breathlessly, moaning out softly when his fingers dip just a bit into my dripping cunt. "But yes. Your fingers will suffice."

Sal laughs, finally obliging me by plunging two fingers into my sopping pussy. I cry out, wincing at the sound just as he slaps a hand over my mouth.

"Be good," he says gruffly, breath heavy as he glares into my eyes. He pulls his fingers out then shoves them back in, making my eyes squeeze shut. "And yea, they'll suffice," he continues, carefully pulling his hand away from my mouth as he curls his two fingers within me. A whimper fights past my lips at the sweet, carnal feeling he gives me. And then he whispers, "For now."

My eyes fly open and I stare at him in shock. For now? So, this isn't the end?

He seems to see the words dancing in my head, so Sal squints his eyes at me and starts relentlessly pounding his fingers into my pussy to shut me up. My head flies back, nearly slamming into the back of the tub. My lips part and the sound I'm about to make is going to be awfully loud, but Sal probably predicts that too.

He shoves two fingers into my mouth, pushing them back as far as my throat allows.

I moan against his fingers, quaking as his brutal pace never lets up. He continuously thrusts his digits into me quickly, pausing only to curl his fingers. Which only elicits more muffled and unintelligible pleas from me.

I don't even know what I'm begging for anymore-- for him to finish me off or to make this last even longer.

He pushes his fingers deeper into me even though he's reached the top of his hand and can't possibly go any farther. Doesn't stop him from trying though. He grunts, slamming his fingers deeper and harder. Curling his digits, using his thumb to rub quick circles onto my clit. Doing all he can to push me over the edge.

I suck on the fingers he shoved into my mouth, grabbing onto his wrist to keep him there.

Sal's breath hitches in his throat and he seems to choke for a second, but then he gathers his wits and continues to fuck me good just like he promised. His fingers curl again, hitting a spot that I didn't know existed before. I cry out, squeezing his wrist in my hand and grabbing onto his shoulder with my other hand. Fuck, that felt good. I could cry.

Sal repositions his legs between mine, bending a bit lower as he slams his digits into me, hitting that beautifully delicious spot again. "There?" he rasps out breathlessly upon hearing my dirty groan. I nod my head vigorously, silently begging him to stay right where he is.

I watch him with tears in my eyes and note the second his eyes widen a bit, never-ending focus and dedication dancing in his cerulean gaze. "Got it," he says darkly, "Give me thirty seconds."

Just as quickly as he says this, Sal pulls his fingers out of my mouth and wraps them around my neck instead, squeezing tightly. My quiet mewl is broken up from the lack of air, but I don't fight him. I hold on tighter and let him do his work because he hasn't led me astray at all. I trust his thirty second claim.

Sal pulls his fingers nearly all the way out of my pussy and I open my eyes, groaning at the loss of his digits that filled me up. But then he's pushing three fingers into me. They squeeze against my restricting pussy, but he still manages to hit that same spot that made my vision blur after about two seconds.

My mouth falls open and my chest rises and falls quickly with my panting breaths. I close my eyes, tilt my head up to the ceiling, and let the shivers and quakes take over my body as Sal's fingers pound into my sopping cunt with no hesitance. His movements are so fast, so deep, so filling that it's just enough to push me over the edge within the allotted time that he promised.

My orgasm hits me like a brick wall, making the building ache fall away and leave only the most mouthwatering debauchery I've ever experienced in my life. My ears ring, I lose all feeling in my limbs, my vision blurs again, and so many unintelligible words tumble out of my mouth. Words that he nor I can hear or comprehend because of the hand restricting my airways.

I cum all over his fingers and he rides me through every second of it. He slows his pace and his hand loosens around my neck, letting me breathe a bit easier.

I huff over the pounding in my chest, letting my body go limp against the bathtub floor.

I breathe heavily, still panting like I just ran a marathon when Sal slowly pulls his hand out of my soaked, worn-out cunt. But he keeps his hand languidly wrapped around my throat, praising me with a light squeeze followed by a purred, "Good girl."

After a moment of catching my breath after that ridiculously mind-blowing orgasm, I open my eyes to see Sal hovering over me with a refreshed look in his eyes.

Neither of us say a word. And I'm more than satisfied. I got far more than I expected from him and that's both awesome and a problem. Because I definitely don't want this to be the last time we do this. It was too fucking good.

I take a breath, watching Sal fully sit up from the corner of my eyes. He wrings his hand, tilting his head as he look down at it. "I did a fucking number on you, didn't I?" he proudly states, blue eyes glancing up at me. "I never took you for a dirty whore. But you're a good one."

His words make my cheeks turn a dark shade of pink while my heart slams into my ribs. Anyone else would think he's insulted me, but I know he doesn't mean it that way. If anything, this is more praise. This is common knowledge to me after finding out that he has a degrading kink. Shit, I guess I have one too, then.

I decide to sit up, face-to-face with him. My mask's nose brushing against his prosthetic nose. And I look him dead in the eye, watching and waiting for his reaction as I trail a hand up his leg, over his thigh.

I hear his sharp intake of breath and he leans away from me, getting into a position similar to the one I was just in moments ago. So now I hover over him, meaningfully passing my hand over the impressive bulge in his sweats. That's a nice size.

His eyes flutter shut and a wave of heat hits me again. He's really going to let me do this and I'm all in for it.

I grab the waistband of his sweatpants and work them over his hips and down his thighs. He does much like I did earlier, kicks them off and on top of my shorts. Sal groans when there's less restriction against his hard cock, his sweatpants quickly replaced by my hand as I palm him through his boxers.

Sal hisses, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I should rip these off of you too," I say softly, sweetly. His eyes snap open again and he glares down at me, though that glare is clouded by the lust swimming around in those pretty eyes.

"Don't you fucking dare," he huskily replies, squirming a bit when I squeeze his dick.

"And why shouldn't I?" I ask him, tilting my head inquisitively. "Give me one good reason."

He grunts disapprovingly, glare turning into something more ferocious. "Do it and I won't let you touch me at all."

I shrug. "That's not too bad. After all, you honored your promise. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have to return the favor at all." I say this all while rubbing his dick, watching excitedly as he twitches with each stroke of my hand.

"So what, is this a pity job?" he says between breaths, gasping lightly.

"No," I answer him, squeezing his cock again. "This is me giving in."

His glare morphs, turning into a lustful gaze. He just stares at me, gulping. His hair falls behind him, giving me a perfect view of his dagger tattoo. I can't help but reach my free hand up to trace it, still keeping my hand over his dick that flexes here and there.

Suddenly, it's clear he's had enough of my teasing. He clamps both hands onto my hips, fingers still slick from my liquids. He growls out dangerously, "Come here." Then, he's yanking me toward him. I stumble over his spread legs and clamber on top of his cock-- and he stops me there. I'm tethered onto him, his biceps flexing as I try to move off of him, but he doesn't let me.

"Really?" I say shakily. "You can't let me have your dick? You said 'for now' earlier." I'm not sure where the words or the confidence is coming from, but it's here.

Sal scoffs, shuddering despite his conflicting emotions. "Who says you can't have it?" he grumbles. "Stop being a fucking brat."

"Don't tell me to stop the impossible," I tell him, placing a hand onto his chest to stabilize myself. Don't get this confused, I'm losing my shit on the inside. I didn't expect to be sitting on my arch nemesis's dick with just a thin piece of fabric between us tonight.

"You're gonna be like that? Really? You just came all over me. Be grateful and fucking behave for once," he says, gasping as I move my hips to try and get off of him again.

Our gazes connect when I realize what I've done. And that gives Sal the opportunity to do exactly what he had in mind when he pulled me on top of him.

He squeezes my sides and shimmies his body a little lower. Then, he uses his grip on me to grind my hips down on top of him.

It's a nice feeling, the friction against his swollen cock and my still needy clit. We both groan quietly, the combined sounds so dirty that they become pretty. And I guess that's the way all sexual things work.

I grab onto his shoulders and grind down onto his dick again, biting my bottom lip. Sal groans at the feeling, fingers digging into my hips. I don't mind this at all. In fact, I've decided that I won't be moving. But that doesn't mean I'm about to let go of what he just said.

"You're the one who should be grateful," I whimper, sucking in a breath through my teeth as I push myself onto him again. "I doubt you get cummed on every day, huh? I've behaved long enough tonight. That ship has sailed," I bite out, wrapping a strand of his hair around my index finger as I rut against him.

Sal guides my hips, pushing me to move faster against his throbbing cock. I mewl in response, digging my fingernails into his pale skin.

"That's not a good excuse," he says, his voice grated as he forces the words out through his undoubtedly clenched teeth. "You don't have to be a bitch all the fucking time. Give me a break."

"Never," I tell him immediately, grinding even faster against him as I feel myself working up to another orgasm. It's quick, seeing as I'm still sensitive from the orgasm I had just seconds.

A mind-boggling, erotic, and downright lewd moan leaves Sal's mouth when I thrust particularly hard against him. He sucks in a quick breath and throws his head back, staring up at the ceiling as ragged breaths make his body shake.

I repeat the motion, rubbing myself harshly against him just to hear him make that sound again. It was so unexpected but so welcomed. I felt it in my soul, felt it in my stomach. It was everywhere.

But when I do it a third time, Sal pauses our movements with a hand on my hips. "Vi, stop," he hisses. "We can't be loud. And if you keep doing that, that's what we're both going to be."

I look at him like he's stupid, though I'm reeling on the inside over his admittance of being pretty vocal. That'll be good info to utilize in the future. "How do you expect to cum if I can't make you feel good?" I ask him dumbly, shoving his hands off of me so I can grind my hips into his yet again.

He doesn't seem to like my blatant ignorance of what he just told me. He sits up, looking me dead in the eye with a nasty glare. I guess he expects himself to be intimidating enough to make me stop, but if that's the case, he's got another thing coming.

Even in this position, I slide a bit between his legs and rut myself against him again. Sal's glaring eyes quickly widen in surprise and he watches me for a moment, just lets me pleasure myself against him.

I guess he decides on the fuck-it option eventually because he soon joins me, meeting each little thrust I put out.

He groans out again, wrapping an arm around my waist and the other around my shoulders, holding me close against him. His head drops onto my shoulder as he pushes his hips up to meet mine, his cock brushing my clit so perfectly.

"So good," he whimpers breathlessly, holding me tight against him. I release a shaky sigh chewing on my bottom lip as I throw an arm around his neck, burying my hands in his soft azure hair. "Fucking slut."

My eyes squeeze shut and we're both feeling fucking amazing for the time being. He's decided to ignore me, which means I win, especially if that degrading pet name is anything to go by. And I'm going to cum for a second time. This is damn wonderful.

"I'm close," Sal warns, a whimper falling past his lips as he grips onto me tighter. Holy hell, it didn't take him too long. That's so flattering. "Say something," he breathes.

Say something? What does he want me to say? Does he want permission to cum or something? That's nothing like him. Doesn't feel right.

But then I think back to that phone call we had, when he told me to tell him how much I hated him.

I gulp, scratching a hand up his back. "You're such an asshole," I whine, burying my face into his hair. "You make me feel so dirty, disgusting. And what's even worse about it-- what's worse about you-- is that I fucking crave it."

He groans, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. I yelp quietly, opening my eyes as he takes control, thrusting his hips against me. The yelp quickly turns into a dirty moan that makes him grip me even tighter.

"Going to cum for me again?" he says between quick breaths and erotic grunts. "What a good bitch."

A shuddering breath falls from my lips as addictive pleasure works its way through me again. I want to tell him to shut up, but I really fucking enjoy when he says things like this. It's so damn nice, makes everything else we're both feeling ten times better.

"Please," I rasp out. "Faster."

Sal obliges, running his prosthetic nose down the length of my neck as we grind harder and faster against each other, the head of his cock rubbing my clit in all the right ways.

And suddenly, I'm thrown into my second orgasm of the night and fighting to stay sitting upright. What helps is Sal's strong grip around me. He lets out a primal grunt of his own before shuddering and moaning deeply, and the warmth that grows beneath me makes my own orgasm last even longer.

When it's all said and done, Sal and I are a mess of bodily fluids and heavy breathing, wrapped up in each other like it's natural.

But as we come down from our highs, the problem with this situation is that this isn't a natural thing for us. What's natural is anger, contempt, frustration. Hate.

So when I've finally caught my breath, I look into Sal's tired, glazed eyes. He looks back at me, no emotions visible as far as I can tell.

"I want a new pair of underwear," I whisper, watching and waiting for what happens next.

Sal takes a deep breath, eyes glancing over my face for a second before he lets the arm around my shoulders fall away. But his arm around my waist doesn't fall, only loosens. Then he shrugs. "Sucks to suck."

Well, it wasn't too hard to put us back right where we were all day. "Oh, you're such a dick," I huff out angrily.

"And you just rode mine," he says proudly, tapping his fingers against my side and tilting his head.

"Not by technicality," I inform him, rolling my eyes as I clamber off of him. I quickly turn around as I fetch my shorts off the tub floor behind me. I'd rather him see my ass over my still throbbing cunt. For fuck's sake. I can't believe I did this.

I step into my shorts and pull them up to my hips then grab the remnants of my lace panties and frown at them.

I turn back to Sal who's still sitting up, looking down at his boxers that are covered in his and my cum. "And what do you expect me to do about this?" He scoffs. "I'm a mess."

"Don't ask me," I tell him, opening the shower curtain and stepping onto the tiled bathroom floor. Sal looks up at me with glaring eyes. I smile slyly at him. "Sucks to suck."

He rolls his eyes and stands up, grimacing at the sheer amount of fluids on his underwear. I bet that's starting to get cold. "Don't be a bitch about it," Sal bites out.

I pinch my lips together and cross my arms over my chest. "I'm not being a bitch," I say. "I'm just... returning the favor."

Sal's head snaps up, that aggravation back in his eyes. That's what I'm used to.

"Get the fuck out," he says darkly. But this time, it's not in a sensual way. It's a warning.

So I turn my back to him and head toward the door, forcing my mind to go numb. This was our moment and that's it. It's smarter to keep this as a one time thing even if I'll still crave him for a while.

I twist the door numb. "Gladly."

Chapter Text

Fingers threading through my hair, gentle and soft, summons me back to life. Seconds ago, I was consumed by the deepest sleep I've had in weeks. Months, really. I mean I really slept good. I didn't have a single dream. It was just bliss.

I blink my eyes open and glance at Ash who's staring down at me with a grin that's holding back a series of laughs. Mirth dances in her jade eyes and I'm really curious as to why she looks like she's about to laugh at me.

I take a deep breath through my nose then sit up, closing my tired eyes while I do a long and well-deserved cat stretch. "What's wrong?" I murmur, my voice hoarse.

"Nothing," Ash whispers, standing to her full height. She's still in her pajamas, which consists of a pair of Hello Kitty sweatpants and a black sports bra. The epitome of comfy, basically. "You were snoring, for one. And I mean it sounded like you were choking on some really good dick. Sorry if I interrupted any kind of-- hehehehe-- dream, but I wanted to make sure you were alright." While she obviously couldn't help but giggle, she does seem a bit concerned.

I grimace. Was I really snoring? That hard?

"I'm fine," I rasp, shrugging while trying to keep my eyes open. "I wasn't even dreaming. Was just in a deep sleep." I smack my lips, swallowing thickly over the heavy cloud of exhaustion that hovers over me.

"Okay, hun," Ash says softly, pushing a strand of hair out of my face. She tucks it behind my ear then cups my chin in her dainty, cold hand. "You can go back to sleep. It's only nine in the morning. I'll be moving to the living room, so you can have the bed to yourself."

I shake my head. No way am I going to sleep my day away-- it's my last day in Las Vegas. I want to spend it with my friends. "No," I tell her, trying to perk up a bit. "It's my last day. I want to spend it with you guys. I just need some coffee, or something."

Ash giggles. "Whatever you want, sweetness." Then, she stands with a little sigh, stretching her arms out. "I'll send Larry to go downstairs and get us a few cups of coffee then."

"That sounds wonderful," I reply, yawning loud and proud. No matter how hard I try, I can't jump over this sleepy hurdle. I've gotten about six hours of sleep so I shouldn't be this tired.

Ash puts on some slippers and I secure my mask onto my face before we walk out. I stop by the bathroom to brush my teeth quickly, only to nearly choke on the toothpaste frothing in my mouth upon seeing the half open shower curtain.

I have to face Sal Fisher soon.

Oh, boy. I genuinely don't know how this is going to go. I want to act like nothing even happened-- that feels like the safest route. But if he acts awkward around me, then how am I supposed to work around that?

I rinse the toothpaste out of my mouth and stand there with my hands on my head for a moment, reeling over the situation I've put myself in. I don't regret any of it. Sal really did show me a good time and I slept good as fuck afterward. If I'm being completely honest, I'd do it again.

His touch was so addictive. I've never had such a visceral reaction like that in my life. Just a brush of his fingertips had my brain practically vibrating.

He's special, talented. That's for sure.

I'll figure something out, but I'll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I'm in the clear because, as far as I know, Sal is still sleeping in his and Larry's shared room.

I finally decide to rid myself of the memories for now and walk back out into the living room.

Ash and Todd are sitting beside each other at the dining table, seemingly reviewing the rest of their work plans for this trip. I know that they didn't just come here to party, based on what Ash told me a few days ago. Apparently they had some things to do.

I walk up behind Ash and lean over the table, holding myself up with a hand on the back of her chair. "What's going on?" I ask, attempting to stop myself from yawning yet again after the last syllable falls from my lips.

Ash turns her head, her hair brushing the back of my fingers. She smiles gently at me, her eyes flitting across my undoubtedly sleepy face before looking forward again.

Todd glances up at my intrusion, giving me a nod and a smile. I return both, following up with, "Morning, Todd."

"We're trying to figure out which time is the correct time to go to a meeting later. It's just Todd and I going. Sal and Larry did theirs already. One email says that it's at 10:30am, the other says 11:30am," Ash informs me, voice slowing with confusion as she talks.

I tilt my head curiously. "Huh," I voice. "That's weird. Did the email say anything about a time change?"

"No, that's the most frustrating part," Todd answers, turning the laptop back to him. "And I emailed to ask for a correct time confirmation, but I haven't gotten anything back."

"That's awful," I admit, frowning at my two friends. I'm stressed for them. "I mean, I'd hate for you two to have to sit there and wait for the meeting, but it wouldn't hurt to go at the earliest time, you know, in case. Just a suggestion."

Todd sighs in response, pinching his lips together as his eyes glance back and forth across the screen in front of him. "Yea. If I don't hear back before 9:45, that's what we're going to have to do. It's just extremely frustrating. I like to be punctual and this is entirely unprofessional on their end."

A little amused smirk quirks my lips. Todd has so many admirable qualities. One of them is that he hardly ever gets mad-- so seeing him on the border of it is just a bit goofy to me. I'm witnessing the impossible. Either way, I really do feel bad about the time mix-up and he's right-- it is unprofessional.

"I get it. They need to be on top of their shit," I say matter-of-factly, moving over to the white couch that Sal and Larry were gaming on yesterday. I sprawl out on my stomach, stretching my legs out until they can't anymore. Damn, this feels nice.

Ash and Todd get back to talking, so I grab the TV remote and switch it on. Hopefully there's something good playing.

I scroll through channels, humming softly to myself when all I see are soaps. I really don't feel like sitting through The Young and the Restless.

Eventually, I settle on a rerun of Two and a Half Men (which isn't bad at all, I was excited to see it) and lay my head on my arms. It's hard to get into a comfy position with the mask, so at least my arms acting as a stand prevent my mask from pressing into my face.

But as I lay there, exhaustion lulls me into more sleep. I try to hold it off, and I will. I'm stronger than this. It won't hurt to shut my eyes for just a second though. Not at all.

Within what feels like mere seconds, I feel my legs being lifted then gently placed back down on top of someone else's thighs. It takes a moment for me to realize that I actually managed to betray myself and fall back asleep, but I don't even have the strength to open my eyes, so I let myself fall back into a deep sleep.

But again, it feels like hardly anytime has passed when I feel my phone vibrating beneath me followed by the piercing sound of a ringtone. It shocks me awake, much to my disappointment.

Without opening my eyes, I yank my phone out from under me and somehow manage to accept the call.

I slap the device to my ear and grumble out a raspy, "What do you want?" I couldn't care less about who it is.

"I don't see my screwdriver."

My eyes fly open and my heart seems to pause. I throw my upper body forward so I can get my face out of the sofa, using my arms to keep me upright as panic grips me in its ugly vices.

"Okay," I squeak out. "Wait, I can explain--"

"I told you what my conditions were," Nate replies, cutting me off. His deep, monotonous voice turns my blood to ice.

I whimper disappointedly, frowning at the empty dining table next to the kitchenette. "Nate, please," I say sadly, trying to make him feel bad. Anything to convince him to forgive me. "I'll have your screwdriver back tomorrow, it's a promise."

"It's too late. You told me I'd have it back..." he trails off thoughtfully, "Oh, yea. Yesterday." His reply is so snarky that I wince.

"Please don't take away my brownie privileges!" I say quickly, my voice high pitched as I scrunch my eyes shut. "I mean no harm, I swear. I just... decided to stay in Vegas longer."

"Your problem, not mine," he says nonchalantly, deep voice rumbling through the call. Fuck. No mercy, I guess. "No brownie's for a month. Oh, and your dad's the one who sold you out."

"Of course he sold me out," I hiss, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth while shaking my head. "Dammit dad," I murmur. "You're really taking the brownie's away?"

"Yes. Bring me my screwdriver and then we can talk about maybe lessening the punishment."

I groan, plopping my head onto the couch under me. "Wait. Nate--"

But he's hung up.

I sigh, shoving my face into fabric and letting my arm fall off the side of the couch. My phone slips from my hand and clatters to the floor. Well, that was a wake up call if I've ever heard one.

"Who the hell is Nate and why is he taking your brownies away?"

My head flies up again, eyes wide as I look behind me and see Larry sitting at the other end of the couch with my legs thrown on top of his. Ah, so that's who sat beneath me.

He has an Xbox controller in his hands, gaze focused on the TV in front of him. No shirt on, red sweatpants. My eyes almost roll into the back of my head. These men need to stop walking around shirtless. I'm going to combust if I'm subjected to this much hotness any longer.

I take a deep breath, keeping my eyes on his handsome profile. "Nate is my neighbor. He makes the best brownies I've ever had. Unfortunately, I won't have them for a while because I was supposed to return his screwdriver yesterday," I answer Larry's question, blinking the remnants of sleep away.

"Well that's just rude," Larry scoffs, eyebrows furrowing for just a moment. Then he places his controller down and looks to me, a grin forming on his pretty lips immediately. He puts a hand on my bare calf and squeezes gently. I'm going to evaporate. "I'll make brownies for you."

That makes me giggle lightly. "Thanks, Lar. Very appreciated."

It's time for me to get up. I didn't even mean to fall back asleep in the first place.

I sit up, grabbing my phone to glance at the time. 10:45am.

With an obnoxiously loud yawn, I pull my legs off of Larry who pouts. "I liked those there, you know," he grumbles.

"Sorry," I laugh. "I need to get up and eat something. It's almost lunch time."

"But you didn't have to move those gorgeous, silky legs, dude. Sal would have gotten up to grab you some food," Larry complains, frowning at me when I turn to look at him.

"No I wouldn't have." Sal's nonchalant and uncaring reply makes me flinch. Has he been here the entire time?

I swing my head to the side, noting his presence. Sal's laying on a chair, his legs hanging over the arm. And, for fuck's sake, he's also shirtless.

"Have any of you heard of shirts?" I breathe, unable to help myself as I turn back to Larry.

He throws a sexy smirk my way in response. "Shirts suck. They take the attention away from our hotness."

I pinch my lips together and roll my eyes to pull the attention away from my damn blush. Fuck this. I can't stand this bullshit.

"By the way, though," Larry says, turning back to whatever game he and Sally are playing. "I grabbed a chocolate croissant and a caramel macchiato for you when I went down for breakfast this morning. Ash told me your order."

I hope Ash gets her titties sucked. I'll do it for her if she can't find someone-- but she really deserves it.

"Thank you tons," I say happily, rolling off the couch and hissing at the cold tile flooring beneath my feet.

Just going to ignore Sal's presence in the room for as long as I possibly can. If I acknowledge him or the reminder of last night I'll probably have a panic attack.

Larry grunts, grabbing my wrist before I can even take a single step away from the couch. His warm fingers yank me toward him a bit, so I turn around and watch him with what I hope is a questioning look.

He tilts his head in a way that beckons me over, so I walk closer to him, wondering what on earth he stopped me for. I'm hungry.

Once he leads me to a stop directly in front of him, he releases me and scoots closer to the edge of the white sofa. His long, tanned legs cage me in and he looks up at me with lightly furrowed brows. I gulp, a wave of heat enveloping my face.

"Lean down," Larry whispers so seriously and softly that his voice goes raspy, eyes flitting across my face the entire time.

Oh, holy hell. "Wait, Lar," I say, moving to back away, but the serious expression on his face suddenly makes way for an eye roll.

"Just lean down, Vi. I'm not trying to pull you onto my lap or something. Just trying to fix your hair," then he raises one perfectly arched eyebrow and waits for me to move back to where I was.

I gulp. I'm not sure if I can handle that. Not only is Larry obnoxiously hot, but hair-fixing is a little too intimate to me. It may not be intimate to him, but even the thought makes little pink butterflies seep into my peripheral vision. I don't need confusion when I sat on top of Sally Face Fisher's dick last night.

But as I stand there and stare at Larry with wide, hesitant eyes, he seems to look a little wounded. So with a metaphorical knife pointed at my chest, a take a quick step toward him and lean down so that we're eye-level.

I don't have to lean much, and it thankfully appeases Larry. The hurt expression leaves his face immediately as he lifts his hands and runs them through my strands, shaking my hair out and untangling where he can.

My eyes are glued to his. They're such a dark, gorgeous brown. The sunlight hits them directly right now, making them just a bit brighter than they normally seem. Melted dark chocolate. Autumn leaves scattered on top of the Earth. Fresh soil. Clay molded to absolute perfection.

Larry sighs and pulls away from me with a content smile. I blink at him, my eyes still trapped in his pretty irises. How does this man not have a girlfriend?

Thankfully, I'm not fluttering into oblivion. I'm honored and blushing, but I don't love him any more or any less than I did before. That's good.

"Go ahead and get your brekky, Vi," Larry tells me, manspreading right in front of me as he picks up his Xbox controller to start playing with Sal again. Well, okay then.

I purse my lips to contain an amused grin and walk toward the little kitchenette thingy majigg that's going on in the suite. I mean it's really just a small cabinet with a mini fridge, microwave, and a sink with a couple plates, cups, and utensils. Then right next to it is a giant dining room table that's way too large and elaborate for the lack of normal kitchen-required things.

But yea, right on top of the behemoth table that could totally be Larry in furniture form is a little bag and a cup of coffee.

I pop the top off the cup then mix my macchiato with the straw, lazily looking around the room that's contributed to Larry and Sally's The Hangover lifestyle. It's nowhere near as large or gorgeous as the suite from the movie. It's lacking the Grecian architecture, lavish furniture, statues, and fun floors. It's way too fucking white, a bit plain for my taste, but it's still beautiful in its own way.

White fabric furniture and walls, birch tables, marble cabinets and flooring. The only real intricate part to this room is the carvings on the ceiling-- and even that isn't extensive. Maybe I'm just too dark to truly admire this setting, I'm not sure. I have a love/hate relationship with it right now.

I take a sip of my heavenly coffee and break my croissant in half. It's the largest I've ever seen and chocolatey as all hell. I can already tell I'm going to love it.

But I also have some matters to tend to. And I hate that I have to handle anything at all right now, but the truth is that I owe Sal something. He apologized to me in his own way and made me cum twice, the least I can do is give him a bit of closure right?

I open up my phone and pull up the unknown number that I don't have the balls to save. I think about my message-- I just want to let him down easy, keep him away from Lexi. Make him hate her or something, I don't know. Just something to make him not pursue her anymore.

Me:
hey sally! sorry for the late reply
but i'm really in kind of a weird
spot in life right now... i owe it to
you to at least give you a reason
why i haven't replied. i shouldn't
get into any relationships for my
health and honestly yours too.
i'm sorry to let you down, but it's
the best i can do for both of us :(

I feel borderline terrified as I reread the message over and over again. This will probably crush him and I'm going to feel terrible. But I just... I need him off my back, especially since he's going crazy with VioletViolence right now. Actually, I'm really not sure what any of this means. He texted Lexi and we did a lot last night-- maybe he's a fuckboy.

With that thought in mind, I send the text and wait.

With half my breakfast in one hand and the cold cup of coffee in my other, I finally and anxiously return my attention to the boys occupying the rest of this large suite with me. Sal's still perched on the love seat like he hasn't a care in the world. Meanwhile, Larry's got a mean glare on his face as he aims his controller at Sal.

"Hey, fuckhead," Larry grinds out, leaning his arm back.

I puff out my cheeks as I watch Sal turn to acknowledge the other man in the room. The second his prosthetic comes into view, Larry launches the controller at him.

I hold my breath, my entire body going stiff as the entire scene plays out in slow motion. My eyes widen just as Sal's head rears back to avoid impending doom.

Oh, fuck. It's going to hit him in the face. His fake face is about to get pummeled and for once I actually feel bad. Maybe I feel bad because I know my text might crack his tiny little heart.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth and cower a bit. He's going to be pissed for the rest of the day and we all know I'm constantly on the receiving end of his bad moods.

But just as the controller is inches away from his face, Sal's hand slaps the plastic, altering its trajectory entirely.

The entire room is still while Sally shakes his hand out, no doubt feeling some pain from it. The controller has clattered to the floor and Larry's groaning at his miss. And I can't understand why he threw the controller to begin with.

Why am I colluding with the enemy?

My brows furrow and I wait. No more thinking about who was wrong or right.

"Do you feel better now?" Sal asks condescendingly. "Do you ever feel better after chucking a hunk of plastic at me?"

"No and I'm starting think I never will," Larry grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. "You effectively block it every time. What are you? A cyborg?"

"Wouldn't that be nice," Sal mutters tastelessly before turning back to the TV. "Least I'd have a face."

Ooookay, this is getting a little... too deep.

Sal looks down at his phone and suddenly scrambled to grab it, knocking his own controller to the floor. I feel my heart skip a beat as his eyes flit across the screen, and then his fingers fly across the keyboard.

I'm shocked for a second, he had almost no reaction other than urgency. No sad expression, no pause. What?

My phone vibrates in my hand but I wait a couple seconds to look down at it. I don't need Sal sniffing me out already just because I checked my phone at the wrong time.

When I feel that I've waited long enough, I lift my phone to my face again.

Unknown:
yea, no. that's perfectly fine, lexi
i was actually going to say the
same thing. I just feel bad for
insinuating that i wanted a
relationship a couple weeks ago
just for me to text you now and
say that i've changed my mind.
i feel a lot better knowing that
you feel the same way though.
would you still want to be
friends?

Well, this outcome is much better than I expected it would be. And maybe he's not going to go fuck a bunch of other girls while he and I have this going on. I mean he obviously is interested in Lexi, but still decided not to pursue anything with her. Is it because he and I are...

But now I have to slowly distance myself from him as Lexi because I'm way too fucking nice to just outright say, "No, fuck you, I don't want to be your friend." even though he would absolutely say that to me...

With a quiet sigh, I type out a message.

Me:
sure! :) glad we're on the same page!

It feels so odd to be nice to him, and for him to be nice to me. Honestly, that text message he sent is one of the few nice things he's done and/or said to me. Like, one of five instances, I think.

But I'm going to block it all out for now. I got the big worry out of the way.

I take quick steps over to the couch that Larry's sitting on again, smiling awkwardly at him. "Hey," I say, hopefully distracting both boys from whatever's going on between them and pulling myself away from the text conversation I just had with Sal.

I'm not sure if what I witnessed between Sal and Larry is typical step-brother behavior or if they have some kind of feud that hasn't been directly acknowledged. Either way, it's hard to be a spectator. "The croissant is really good. Wanna try?"

Larry raises a perfectly arched, amused eyebrow at me, lips pulling into a little smirk. "Yes I do wanna try, thank you, ma'am," he chuckles, leaning forward and pulling off a piece of the pastry. He pops it into his mouth then stands up with a satisfied little groan-- knees cracking and all-- then starts walking toward Sal.

A little flash of anxiety pulses within me as I turn to watch the two. Are they actually going to keep this up?

"By the way, Vi," Larry says, his voice a bit monotone. "I wouldn't do anything to hurt Sally. Sorry if that left you freaked, but it's been a little thing of ours-- as crazy as it may seem." He takes the controller from Sal's outstretched hand. "This dude can block anything that comes his way. You'd be shocked."

My eye twitches. A little thing of theirs? Is the little thing to give everyone around them a fucking heart attack?

"Anyway," Larry continues, ruffling Sally's hair. The bluenette grunts frustratedly in response, kicking his dumpling sock-clad foot into Larry's knee. Lord Metal Head himself cackles wildly as he stumbles over to me. "Take my spot, I'm gonna force Mr. Angy to practice since he can't seem to do it himself today." Larry's voice turns into a sarcastically taunting baby voice as he hands me the controller.

I watch my friend with wide eyes. Surely he must know that Sal is going to either metaphorically or physically kick his ass. But Larry simply sends me a sly wink and waits for his brother's response.

"I hope you choke on that fucking croissant, cunt," comes Sal's timely response, aggressive and filled with malice as per usual.

Larry snickers, nudging me with his elbow. He wiggles his eyebrows at me as if to say 'watch this.' And while I'm terrified to watch, I'm also very intrigued.

"It's moist, I think I'll be fine. Ever had anything moist before, Salamander?" Larry asks, shit-eating grin plastered on his face despite his faux-innocent tone.

It's official, Larry is literally insane. I've always suspected it, but he's genuinely a shit stirrer. I don't now if that's fun or damning.

"Had something moist last night," Sal murmurs.

I curl in on myself like a fucking dead spider. Ever seen the first season of American Horror Story? I'm Violet's dead body.

Did he have to say that? How the fuck is he going to play that off because if he's expecting me to get into defense mode, he's never been more wrong. Such a damn idiot. He's obviously trying to spook me, but he's going to get us caught in the process.

"You know," I start, scooting into their tense conversation. "Speaking of moist, I had a wild dream last night." I'm hoping this distracts them enough to the point that Larry drops the subject. I really can't do this today.

But Larry whirls on me, an animalistic type of excitement on his face. He sends me a terrifyingly pretty smile, eyes widening significantly. "Oh? Did you?" He asks, intrigued. "You know, Sal has some pretty interesting dreams too. You'd be shocked."

My own eyes widen, but this time it's in a good way. Larry's reminded me of the conversation I heard last night while hiding in the tub... and the way Sal's head snaps towards us shows me that he knows he's in for deep shit.

I've been wanting to quiz his ass about this ever since I heard Larry bring up Sal's supposed wet dreams about me. Key letter: S.

I smile at Larry, tilting my head as a rush of exhilaration runs through me. Sal watches us, sitting up quickly once he realizes the exchange isn't going to die off. "That's interesting," I chirp, turning my attention to Sally who looks like he might flip his shit in a moment here. "Why don't you tell us about those dreams? Are they fun? Are they moist? Because wet dreams are fun. Ever had one of those? I can't imagine you wouldn't." I turn back to Larry, unable to keep the maniacal grin from enveloping my face. "Does he have wet dreams?" I whisper loudly, leaning a bit closer to the giant man.

Larry's jaw drops in psychotic delight. "How'd you know!?" He bellows, voice caught between a holler and a giggle.

"Why am I the target today? Can you two fuck off?" Sal grounds out from behind clenched teeth. I turn to watch him just as he stands up, taking a slightly intimidating step toward us with his arms crossed over his chest.

My eyes follow his that are aimed at Larry. It's sad to say, but even with Sal's smaller stature, his presence is still just as overwhelming and intimidating as Larry's. I guess it doesn't really help that both men are taller than me. I'm just unlucky.

Sal's gaze cuts to me and when our eyes meet, his narrow in silent warning. I throw my hands up in surrender-- not that I mean it in any way. He had this coming and I'm really relishing in the karma of it all.

"Fucking diabolical dicks," Sal seethes, sending Larry another look before he pushes past us.

I shrug at Larry, looking to Sal who trudges off to his room. "That's what she said!" I yell, which ultimately causes Larry to let out a resounding guffaw.

One of the best parts about whatever's going on in this group we have is that I get to connect with Larry and piss off the one man who's ever managed to make me feel like I'll commit mass homicide. I know he heard what I said, but he's so wounded right now that he ignored it. That's another point in my book, thank you very much.

I leave Larry as close to a sobbing mess as he can possibly get, giggling as I walk over to his previous spot on the couch. I flop onto the plush fabric and take a quick sip of my macchiato then start a new game of Dead By Daylight. I'm going in solo-- I'm in the mood to kill.

And unfortunately, Sal resurfaces in the dining room mere moments later which makes me turn to look at him despite my brain yelling for me not to. He's bearing that gorgeous, shiny, blood red guitar that makes me take pause. That same guitar in the picture that Larry was shitty enough to send in Discord.

Sal is the epitome of aggression and frustration right now. The strap is around his neck-- one hand is wrapped around the middle of the neck of the guitar while the other hangs over the body. He taps the red coat with his black nails-- an action that's probably the only thing preventing him from blowing up.

And he still doesn't have a fucking shirt on. I feel like I'm watching that photo in real time.

Now that he's standing up and I can see all of him, I get a good glimpse of that tattoo peeking out of the waistband of his sweatpants. I still don't know what it is, but it's hot regardless. He has tattoos on his arms and neck, but other than that he's bare-- I think. After all, I haven't seen his legs yet and based on the tattoo hiding on his hip, maybe there's more.

When I look back to his face, his striking blue eyes meet mine rather suddenly. They only seem to hold even more aggravation than they did a couple seconds ago. My guess is that he's pretty salty over the way I brought up his wet dreams about me. But, hey, I'm flattered! Really, I am. But the memory alone makes a grin work its way onto my face and I have no doubt that he can feel how smug I am from across the room.

With a click of my tongue, I snap my head back to the TV screen and hope that I can fight the urge to ogle his hotness.

"Awe, I'm so proud of you for listening, little guy," Larry coos. I snort almost immediately, only taking a second to wonder if I heard him right. Larry knows every little pet peeve of Sal's and that's blindingly clear now that I've been around both men long enough.

"Shut the fuck up," Sal hisses out, "Do you want me to practice or not? I was going to wait until we got back to Nockfell and I'm close as hell to reverting back to that plan." Poor guy, he's not pleased.

I don't feel bad, by the way.

"I'm sorry, kitten," Larry's voice is extra pouty and I really need to know how he's keeping it together right now. I'm about to burst at the seams-- I can't even get a single kill on DBD right now. "Lord Lar didn't mean to upset you."

"Now it's really just fucking weird," Sal grumbles, taking a few steps toward the chair he was perched on when I woke up earlier. A quick glance in his direction shows me tense shoulders and clenched, veiny hands as he plops onto the furniture. "Save your BDSM talk for someone else, that shit's disgusting."

Okay, so, sure. It's disgusting in the sense that they're step-brothers-- but what a fucking hypocrite. Like Sal wasn't handling me in a similar way last night.

"Weird would be actual BDSM talk, dude," Larry says, voice turning into something more thoughtful. "What, do you want me call you a dirty little slut? That's when things take a funny turn."

I don't even bother to pause my game. My head turns to Larry so quickly that I'm a little worried I may have given myself whiplash. My eyes are wide to the point that it hurts. I can't not give the man a look though. Did he really just say that?

"Dude..." Sal whispers. I can't see him, his head is turned to Larry so I'm only able to see the back of his head, but the desperate concern in his voice is enough for my jaw to drop.

Larry, on the other hand, grins satisfactorily. "Too far?" he asks, narrowing his eyes curiously. He's proud of himself for that one.

I blink at the situation, but ultimately decide it's probably time for me to return to my game and pretend I never witnessed that interaction. Just the thought gives me giggly shivers.

But just as I'm going to turn my head back to the television, Larry averts his gaze to me. He tilts his head, grin spreading. "Vi, are you blushing?" he says teasingly.

I flinch backwards. What? No, I can't be. "How would that even be possible? You can't see my cheeks," I remind him.

"But I can see your ears and your neck," he informs me, taking a couple steps toward the couch I'm on. "So why don't you tell me what the fuck kind of freaky shit you're into."

Hell no. "Sorry, I don't know what you mean. I'm killing people," I grumble, trying to focus on my game yet again. It feels like I've been more focused on focus rather than actually playing. Not only that, I'm fighting for my life right now. Larry is about to scratch the surface of a little secret. A secret I would prefer to stay a secret.

"Oh, no." Larry takes quick steps toward me and Sally starts snickering as the giant man grows closer in my peripheral vision. I'm so going to get back at Sal for this later. "I was just fucking with Sal but now it's getting personal."

"I refuse to speak," I tell him shortly, growing distracted by the poor soul I'm chasing in my game.

"Awe," Larry says, not a single amount of remorse in his deep voice. "Sucks to suck."

The loudest and most obnoxious guffaw I've ever heard echoes through the room. I don't have to look, but Larry throws his head over his shoulder to look at Sal. The bastard is giggling on his chair, running his fingers along the strings of his guitar.

He must consider this to be good payback for the way Larry and I ganged up on him earlier. He's getting a good little ha-ha out of Larry's regurgitation of the same words Sal and I exchanged last night. And really, I know I can't blame Sally. I deserved this. But fuck does it make me angry, and most of all, I'm really fucking embarrassed. If Larry looks at me again, he's going to really start wondering why I'm so red.

"I didn't think it was that funny," Larry mumbles to himself, watching Sal as he quickly tunes his guitar then starts running through a few chords.

Sally simply shakes his head at Larry's words, choosing to ignore him as his chuckling dies down. He repositions his hands on the neck and body of his guitar, probably getting ready to play something.

I bite into my bottom lip and hang someone up in-game, effectively killing them within the next few seconds. It's my first kill of the game, but I'm not even excited about it. I'm more worried about the shirtless men using me as a metaphorical punching bag right now.

I feel cornered and I don't like it much. I didn't think too hard about getting into this situationship with Sal, but I should have. I really should've thought about why I should stay away from him-- I'm hiding from my friends and suffering from embarrassment that no one understands. Is this even really worth it?

My conscious was flooded with possibilities at the time, I had no regard for the consequences. And here I am, caught between a rock (Larry's teasing) and a hard place (Sal who is a walking red flag).

Larry's still watching Sal. He hasn't returned to heckling me about why I was supposedly blushing-- I still think he's lying about that-- but he's watching the guitar closely.

"I'm gonna try 'Carrion' again," Sal murmurs quietly, glancing up at Larry.

Larry nods in response, all seriousness as he says, "Alright. I'll stop you if you hit a wrong note."

"No," Sally cuts him off with a short shake of his head. "Don't stop me, I'll know. I can't learn if I can't catch it myself."

Good point.

I mindlessly continue my game, failing to catch and kill players even if I am genuinely trying. I'm more focused on Sal's gorgeous introduction to 'Carrion' by Parkway Drive. It's good, it's perfect, and it takes every little nerve and all the pride I have to not watch him play. Because I know he looks good. I know he's playing that guitar so professionally that it just looks incredibly hot. I've never seen him play, and I don't want to. I think I'd spontaneously combust almost instantly.

There's a kind of euphoric bliss that I get from hearing really good music. It's a type of stagnant and continual happiness that I've only felt either while listening to or making music. I feel it now, listening to Sal makes goosebumps rise on every inch of my skin. There's a hum that passes through my body, a vibration of sorts. It's not happiness or excitement, just contentment. It's beautiful.

The one thing I've always regretted about having to move to the little apartment that dad and I are in now is that I can't practice music anymore. The drum set I used during my time in band in high school followed me around for a while, but I had to pack it up for good last year. I haven't felt the cathartic release that comes with creating unique sounds in months. I miss it so incredibly much. I can't play guitar, but I'd steal that instrument from Sal just to feel that relief again.

As I'm reminiscing, I unfortunately lose my game and also unfortunately, Sal hasn't finished his song.

My eyes nearly water while I try to fight off the painful urge to steal just one glance. There's an unignorable weight on my chest that will only be relieved if I get just a little glimpse of him. A yearning in my soul that won't be appeased until I watch him.

Refrain, refrain, refrain.

But my eyes go to him either way. His fingers move so quickly, expertly along the neck of the guitar, his other hand copying the movements on the body. The red coat on the instrument glistens in the sunlight, casting a pink glow on his pale, bare chest. HIs eyes move quickly to keep up with the notes he's playing.

I suddenly feel like I can't breathe. There's so much happening in my mind that I can't get a good breath of air in and part of me doesn't want to. I just want to sit here and watch him play forever. To watch his intense focus, his fingers, the way he moves his entire body with each note he plays.

This type of feeling is unhealthy-- for me, at least. There's a fluttering in my chest that doesn't work well with whatever's going on between us. Of course, I'm interested in finding pleasure in Sal, but I don't want a relationship. He's the shittiest person I've ever met. I absolutely refuse to get butterflies over someone who called me a slut yesterday... no, it doesn't matter if I enjoyed being called that.

As I'm watching, his electric blue gaze slides up to meet mine and I feel my heart stutter. The light catches the bright color of his eyes so well, captures the hue and imbeds it into my memory forever. I feel caught, stuck. The exchange was so short that I'm not even sure if it was real, but that cerulean color will never leave my mind. It had to have happened.

He's getting to the end of song, mainly just replaying the same few notes since the song kind of just fades out, but there's a slam on the front door that causes him to play a wrong note. His soul nearly leaves his body too if the sudden flinch tells me anything-- but he stops, glaring at the door.

Not going to lie, it scared the crap out of me too. Sal can be mad about not finishing his song, but I'm more worried about dying within the next second.

The sound had to have been a boot against the thick wood keeping us safe in this room. The door has the equivalent to fucking four-factor authentication but that doesn't matter if someone has an ax or some shit right?

The bang comes again, this time with three more to follow. I flinch into the back of the sofa, watching the door with furrowed brows and a pounding heart.

None of us say a word. We just watch and wait as silence ensues yet again.

I glance at Larry, he glances at me. Larry glances at Sal, Sal glances back. I glance at Sal, regret it when he glances back at me.

The silence is so loud that I can hear my rapid heartbeat. At some point, I start to wonder if it's mine or someone else freaking out just as hard as I am. There's just so much quiet that the little voice in my head sounds like a whisper beside me-- and that only fuels the panic, truth be told.

I let out a little yelp when I hear, "Can you dumb motherfucker's get the door? Please?"

It's Ash. Ash was the one banging on our front door like the fucking police.

I can't help but sigh in relief and start walking over to the front door with quick steps. All that worry for nothing. I undo the locks and then throw said door open, glancing up at a disgruntled looking Ash and an agitated Todd.

Thankfully, Ash's expression changes when she sees me. She brightens up a bit and smiles, grabs the sides of my mask, and plants a quick kiss onto the plastic protecting my forehead. "Hey there, lovebug," she says cheekily. It feels like all the anxiety and embarrassment I felt just a couple minutes ago washes away. With just a simple touch-- it's all gone.

"I wish I got that kind of greeting from everyone," I tell her, smiling back as a little giggle falls from my lips.

"I bet," Ash says, scrunching her nose up cutely. She's adorable. "You're just my exception. Ask the boys-- I'm a bitch!"

Ash looks past me, scooting over a bit to let Todd in. Her face instantly turns to stone, so I follow her and notice the way Larry instantly changes his stance. He goes from calm and collected to on guard, wary, and with the most hilarious horrified look on his face. "What?" he asks, voice monotonous like he's expecting the worst. "I swear I was gonna get the door."

I hear Ash sigh, so I look over and catch the way she rolls her eyes tiredly. "It's no one's fault," she says. "It's just that Todd and I couldn't shoot down this offer. You all need to go get dressed. Now. Vi included because we aren't just going to leave her here on her last day in Vegas."

I'm shocked when Sal only narrows his eyes at Ash's command. I expected him to fight tooth and nail to keep me cooped up here while they go do whatever it is they need to do, but he stays quiet.

"What's changed?" Larry asks, relaxing his posture now that he knows he isn't in trouble. He does have a serious expression though-- eyebrows bunched together and a little frown pulling at his full lips.

"You guys won't believe it." Ash takes a big breath then puffs out her cheeks as she lets it go. "Just put your shirts on," She pauses, her mouth suddenly dropping open. "Actually, why are you two shirtless while we have a guest in the house?" There's a little bite in her tone that has Larry immediately turning on his heel.

A guilty grin forms on my lips when Larry disappears into his room without a word. He really is terrified of Ash, and I mean I would be too. She's nearly his size in height and has already thrown me around like a rag doll on multiple occasions. She could totally bring Larry down.

Sal's eyes are still on Ash. There's a look in his blue irises that spells out concern and intrigue, but it all mixes up to create a scary little glare.

His gaze meets mine without warning and I choke on my own spit-- joy. I try to hold in a cough, tears springing to my eyes as Sal's brows furrow just a bit more. He examines me, pretty eyes flitting across my face quickly before he turns around and walks off to join Larry.

The way he looks at me, that angry and predatory look in his eyes, makes my body warm. I can't quite explain it. He communicates so much without words, but then again, I can never get a good read on him either. It's like the only emotions he can express are negativity or desire. No in-between-- I've never seen a happy face on him.

Well, there was that time when he was talking with his fans. Other than that though, he's only been the equivalent to a really hot gripe. And that doesn't even make sense.

I huff out a breath, trying to recover from the buzzing in my brain thanks to mere eye contact with Sally. It's a little pathetic at this point. The only thing holding me back is the intense disdain I feel for him. Maybe it's the same for him, too.

The group of us get dressed quickly. Ash pushes us to move quickly, so I end up in her Dark Autumn Complex shirt that she wore to the concert yesterday and pair it with the last clean skirt I have. I have limited options.

I throw on my Vans just as everyone's beginning to walk out of the door. I hop toward the entryway, yanking on my last shoe and trying to tie it with each step I take.

I pass Sally with a little grunt as I finish tying my laces. He shuts the door behind me and murmurs, "You're just a walking piece of caution tape, aren't you?"

My teeth clinch. I still have so much against him right now for earlier. And what's worse is that I seem to be a constant target for him. I don't understand why, but he isn't going to get lucky by being a prick all the time. "Says the jogging-- no, running-- actually, flying red flag," I grit out, throwing him a look as he walks up next to me.

There's a nasty, disapproving glare in his eyes that only fuels the argumentative fire in my soul. "And you think you aren't a red flag?" he asks. "You call yourself an anarchist."

"And I wasn't fucking lying," I inform him confidently, finally standing up straight once I'm comfortable with the way my shoes are tied. He gets me heated so quickly. At least his attempts to make me upset or turn me on are effective-- the process is good for him but, fuck, it only manages to piss me off.

A flat look develops in his eyes, one that calls me a dumbass without words. I match that gaze with a little sneer, but he only tilts his head. "Oh, really?" he says, voice intrigued in the way a professor finds it funny when their student thinks they know more than their instructor does. It's a 'try me' type of intrigued. "Anarchy's going to kick your ass."

"It hasn't yet, so I'll stick to it," I tell him, prepared to walk past him and move to the front of the group with Todd. I know he has it out for me right now, courtesy of my teasing earlier, so I want to stay as far away from him as I possibly can.

Sal has other plans, as always.

I take one more step forward only to be met by a pair of Doc Martens meeting my leg really aggressively-- kind of like he was attempting to sweep me off my feet, but definitely not in a romantic way. A yelp is ripped from my larynx as I stumble forward, tripping over Sal's boot again with my other foot.

I somehow manage to catch myself before I fall, holding my hands out for balance while I try to come to terms with the fact that Sal actually just tripped me out of spite.

He thinks he has so much audacity, doesn't he? I may have deserved a good verbal battle, but this shrimp dicked fuck nugget actually tripped me without an ounce of concern for my wellbeing.

He's beauty, he's grace, and apparently he'll kick you in the shin when he doesn't get his fucking way. Little bitch. Can't belive I was worried about crushing on him earlier.

Sal walks up beside me just as I'm beginning to recover. He leans down, his azure hair brushing against the top of my head. I feel a spike of pure, unadulterated anger grip my soul and I genuinely have to hold myself back from punching him into the backrooms. "Another one bites the dust," he whispers in that raspy voice of his. "Sucks that my little foot fucked up your path, right? Anarchy's going to get you in much worse predicaments." He stands to his full height and I look up at him, trying to communicate just how much malice I'm feeling through my gaze. He only meets my eyes with amused cerulean irises.

"If you were so worried about my life choices," I hiss, "You wouldn't have tripped me."

"Your mistake is thinking that I'm worried about you in general." Sal shrugs and passes me up. We're piling into the elevator now. "Only giving you an unfriendly word of advice. Stop fucking with me."

"Is that a threat?" I ask, knowing he won't answer me because he probably didn't even hear me in the first place. That, or he's going to ignore me regardless. His last statement was comprised of parting words.

Fucking dick.

Why did I decide it was a good idea to get into this situation with him? He's such an asshole and such a waste of my time, but he's good at what he does. That's the most I can give him, but I can't even remember how good he was to me last night-- I'm that pissed off. Leave it to him to cloud my judgement and my memories all at the same time.

We travel through the lobby and catch a taxi in the parking lot. Everyone was silent the entire way through Caesar's Palace, except for Larry who was bothering Ash with questions. I don't blame him, I've been curious about what's going on too.

"Okay," Ash huffs as we settle into the back of a taxi that's really just a suburban that could fit a family of eight. It's like a fancy, black, soccer mom van. "We have a couple minutes to talk about this now. But basically, we're heading to The Venetian--" Oh, hell yea. Dad wanted me to go there. "--for a photoshoot."

Larry groans, rolling his eyes. Sal doesn't have a reaction.

"Another one?" Larry asks, exasperated. "I hated the first one, why a second?"

"Wait," I cut in, my mind blazing with surprise. "You guys have done a photoshoot before?"

"We went to one earlier this week. It was just something for a magazine," Todd tells me, blinking his inky eyes at me, face emotionless. He has that little curl falling onto his forehead again while the rest of his hair is set perfectly into place on the sides and back of his head. How does he get it so perfect? "This is different though. This isn't for a magazine."

"What is it then?" Sal speaks up, seemingly tired of the way everyone's beating around the bush.

Ash pinches her lips together, a little flash of nervousness flitting across her features. "Don't freak out," she starts with, holding a hand out in a stop motion. "But, Treyarch wants us. Something about promoting Modern Warfare III."

Oh. My friends are about to model for Call of Duty.

I think that fact has to sit on all of us for a minute because both Sal and Larry are completely silent. Totally still. It feels impossible. This is probably the biggest thing to happen to The Faces since they first started streaming. This is exciting-- it's unbelievable. And it's all happening rather suddenly. Ash, Todd, Larry, and Sally must be incredibly surprised right now.

I'm starting to think that the rest of our little three minute drive is going to be spent in shocked silence, but Larry and Sal turn to each other just as we're pulling into the parking lot at The Venetian and they start yelling. All ecstatic and exhilarated for this opportunity. I can't tell what they're telling each other-- I don't even think they know what they're telling each other. But it's kind of adorable to see them so excited. Their words are incoherent and rushed, but they're gripping each other's hands and bouncing around in their seats like children who were just told they were going to Disney World.

Picture two men, both of which have at least decently defined or completely ripped muscles with tattoos covering every inch of their skin. Now put classic, long, emo hair and dark clothes on top of that. Finally, complete the image with a side by side of the men and puppies being presented with bacon. That's exactly what's happening right now.

I look over at Ash and she smiles softly at me, a sweet look in her eyes-- admiration. "They've been waiting for this for years," she says quietly. "They became friends because of metal and Call of Duty. Getting to work with the company is, like, the ultimate accomplishment right now."

My attention returns to the boys again. They're both squished in beside Todd who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than here, but he doesn't interrupt Sal and Larry's excited banter.

Soon, we're all piling out of the taxi and fighting our way through The Venetian which is as beautiful as it is absolutely packed to the brim. It's gorgeous with all kinds of art and statues, but there are way too many people for my taste. We're hardly even able to get to the reception desk.

Ash takes the reins and talks to everyone for us, all up until we're escorted to some room that's hidden away from the main part of the building. When we walk in, it's a basic, dark cement room that's filled with a ton of photography equipment-- cameras, backgrounds, lights. The works.

I feel like I'm floating when a photographer drops a handful of clothes into everyone's hands-- except for me-- and sends them into another room to change. I nearly salivate upon realizing that The Faces are going to walk back out here in full tactical gear. Yummy, yummy. I'm getting fed well today.

I can't help but bounce on my toes while I wait for my friends to come back. I spend the few minutes of loneliness watching the photographers move things around and set up specific scenes. I couldn't explain how much is going on even if I wanted to, but it's a lot for sure.

But as I'm starting to get a little anxious, Ash and Todd walk back into the room.

Ash is in camo cargo pants and a black turtle neck with a black armor plate over her chest. It shows off all her curves and expresses her femininity in a way that makes metaphorical drool drip from my mouth. There are straps around her thighs, one that holds a knife and another that holds a fake hand gun. She looks really good. And Todd is in almost the same getup, but with a camo jacket hanging over his shoulders and a little hat on top of his head. It's clear that the photographers are going for a Captain Price look for Todd. The issue is that he's absolutely not having it.

"The hat stays off," he tells a photographer who walks over to adjust the belt at his hips. There's a little frown on his lips that says he's less than pleased. I'm used to expressionless and unfeeling Todd, not actually upset Todd. The idea makes me grimace.

The door to the next room opens again and I look over, noting Larry who walks out with the biggest grin I've ever seen.

He's also wearing camo cargo pants, but he has a black cargo jacket to go with it. All the clothing skin tight on him, accentuating all of his unearthly muscles. Still can't believe Larry's jacked to hell. Anyway, he's wearing a tan armor plate with a bunch of ammo and other gear planted around it. I don't want to call that cargo too, but let's be honest. Then there's knee pads and elbow pads. To put it simply, he's decked out and he looks damn good.

I shake my head at Larry, unable to take my eyes off of him as he skips over to us.

"Dude," he says, looking at Ash and Todd. he puts a hand on my shoulder and jiggles me around in excitement. The action makes me laugh, he just can't contain himself. "Sal fucking looks like Ghost. I can't stress it enough."

"You do know they've got you dressed up like König, right?" Todd asks nonchalantly, folding his hands over his chest.

Larry grins, doing a little dance before he answers. "Damn right they do," he says, twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers. "They know I'm hot. I'm hot, right, Vi?" Larry turns to me with that ever-present grin of his.

"Yes, Larry," I say happily, smiling brightly at my dear friend. "You're hot."

"Fuck yes," Larry yells, fist bumping the air, wrapping his free arm around my shoulders. "The one and only VioletViolence approves of my look."

Heads suddenly start turning to address the commotion and I sink in on myself just a bit. I don't like having attention-- unless it's from The Faces, I guess.

I'm a little nervous when a photographer walks up to us again because her eyes on me. And she has a pile of clothes in her hand. My heart starts to race and my palms grow clammy. I don't want to get my hopes up and think that I'll get to participate in the photoshoot, but why else would she be walking over here like that?

"He just said your name right?" The woman asks me upon finally reaching us. "VioletViolence?"

I swallow thickly over the nerves, nodding quickly at the lady. My heart is about to sprint out of my chest. Holy crap.

"Good. Get changed," she says, dumping the clothes she was just carrying into my arms and instantly turning away. Okay?

I struggle to keep all the gear in my arms, looking at each of my friends with wide eyes. I don't know what to do and there's an obsessive kind of urgency and exhilaration building up inside me. I'll bet that this is exactly how Sal and Larry felt earlier.

Ash squeals, patting my head since she can't exactly hug me with all of these clothes in my arms. "Go, babygirl!" she says excitedly, giving me a little shove toward the door she came out of just a couple minutes ago. "The changing room is just down the hall. And don't be too afraid of the creepiness, the room you'll get to is a lot better than the freaky hallway."

I nod to myself thoughtlessly, taking quick steps to the door that will lead me just a step closer to the event that's going to change my life. I haven't been online in days, but Treyarch still wants me to model for them? I am so going to explode.

I slip past the double doors, a little guilty grin on my face. I've got an entire pile of tactical gear in my hands and I'm more than happy to have the opportunity to wear it. Who knew I'd get so lucky?

The hallway is dim. The walls on either side of me are cement blocks stacked on top of each other, painted white. There are little chips in the paint, showing off the grey color of the stone beneath the thin coat. The floor is shamelessly cement. The two rectangular lights above me flicker in time with one another. It's a bit eerie, but I don't have to be here long.

My feet tap against the ground. I'm used to the sound of my steps against hollow ground, with a room beneath me. But here, the sound is a high pitched echo around me. The sheer creepiness of it makes me pause for a moment.

Ash did warn me, but I wasn't expecting to be this spooked. This feels like a scene straight out of Resident Evil.

I've got this though. The changing room is literally just ten or so steps ahead of me. I see the door to my left. I'm brave, I'm strong, I am the epitome of feminism. I can do this. I lived in Addison Apartments, for fuck's sake-- of course, I can do this.

I puff out my chest a bit, all an ineffectual ploy to trick myself into feeling confident. It doesn't work at all. But I take a step forward anyway.

Before my foot can touch the ground again, the door I was just talking about opens. The metal squeaks on its hinges, mimicking some kind of heart-stopping siren.

I'm crouching in fear for a moment, but then Sal steps out of the room. Unfortunately, I only feel relief for half a second.

He stops just outside the door, letting it swing shut with a resounding, hollow thunk. The man shakes his blue hair out of his eyes, examining the fingerless gloves adorning his veiny hands. He pulls the straps around his wrists loose, fixes them, then flexes his fingers out in front of him.

And I watch. Oh, I shamelessly watch. I watch while he drags that hand through his pretty hair, setting it into place atop his head. He stands straighter, giving me a better view of the black jacket he's wearing with an armor plate on his chest, then his black cargo pants. There are straps around his thighs to hold up all the gear that goes with the costume. And then the black fucking combat boots.

I shake my head in disbelief. He was already hot enough, this didn't need to happen.

Sal lifts his head and his ocean gaze clashes with mine. His eyes seem wary and so much brighter and I quickly deduce that the reason for the change is because of the eyeliner around his eyes-- the black brings out the harsh blue of his irises.

He breaks our short stare, looks off to both of his sides. But when he tilts his head to the left, I get an unfortunate glance at the damn tattoo on his neck. It's something about the neck specifically, I don't know what it is-- truly.

His eyes meet mine again. This time, his gaze is a bit calmer, a tad predatory. I know that look.

"I know that look."

I flinch at his words. What a mind reader.

Swallowing thickly, I readjust my standing position and try to hold his gaze. "What?" I ask, pathetically trying to keep my voice monotone. It comes out too forced though and he can see it-- it shows in the amused tilt of his head.

Instead of standing there and keeping things as PG as it can possibly get for both of us, Sal sighs a little obnoxiously and starts walking toward me.

The way his gear moves with his body has me at a loss for words. The holsters on his hips quietly clank against the belt holding his pants up. Every little sound and movement attracts my gaze and I don't know where to look first-- I'm stuck, panicked.

Sal is gorgeous in this moment, I mean he always is, but there's something about him obviously being in his element with the perfect style to suit him that makes him glow. Makes him look like he's walking toward me in slow motion.

"I know that look," Sal repeats, pulling me out of whatever admirable trance I previously found myself in. Must remember he's a total ass. "It's a look full of slutty intentions." His voice is suggestive, teasing. I recognize it as part of the act he plays when we're alone. When we have room to do-- in his words-- slutty things.

I keep my mouth shut. If I speak, too much will leak. I didn't think it was possible for him to be even hotter, but he constantly proves me wrong.

My brows furrow as my gaze travels down his body before I can stop myself. I quickly look into his black-lined eyes again, but they narrow in my direction. The silence he greeted me with for a moment is gone as soon as it came.

"Words, Vi." Dark, raspy. He changes the tone of his voice so well, so easily. How could I possibly disobey him?

Haha, kidding.

My lips remain sealed until the toes of his boots are brushing my shoes. Even then, I try to refrain from letting my damning thoughts become vocal. I can't give into him, especially since it's so fun when disobedience seems to rile him up.

I was way too compliant with him last night.

Sal tilts his head up, making him seem even taller than he normally would be. I can tell he's thinking, wondering, waiting.

Then his gloved hand grips onto my wrist. The coolness of his fingertips is a stark contrast to the warmth of the fabric covering his palm. His digits trail along my skin— up my arm. Slowly in a way that makes me shiver.

I can't stay silent much longer.

A quiet huff can be heard from him just as he gently grabs onto my chin, his thumb caressing the underside of my jaw. My heart thumps wildly against my rib cage and a chill erupts along my skin. His gentle, warning touch is so, so good.

"Tell me why you're looking at me like that," he says lowly, eyes dancing across every inch of my face.

I run my tongue across the front of my teeth, doing my best not to give into him so quickly. He's being gentle— he must think that'll coerce me into behaving, but it won't. It never will. But his tone is a bit mouthwatering, that's the only thing I'm worried about for now.

Neither of us move— I don't even breathe while we look at each other, still waiting.

There's no visual difference when Sal decides he's done playing nice, but I can practically feel it radiating between us. The sudden change in energy, the way the coolness of his touch fills me with excitement instead of little butterflies.

The gentle touch on my jaw does a complete three sixty. He moves his hand, getting a good grip on my jaw. His fingers dig into my cheeks and he pulls me closer, then leans down just a tad.

Sal's cerulean hair brushes my chin and neck, and he watches me closely.

"I don't see why you're still standing."

Chapter Text

"I don't see why you're still standing."

Sal's dark tone and breathless voice catches me off guard. What's that supposed to mean? My gaze snaps up to his and our eyes meet. His are slightly narrowed as though his brows are furrowed behind his prosthetic.

His hand suddenly wraps around me and presses into the small of my back, his nails digging into my too-warm flesh. The stinging sensation pushes me over the edge and I suck in a breath, still looking up at him inquisitively. What does he want me to do if not stand?

His free, gloved hand reaches up and aggressively latches onto my jaw, setting my face right before his. The rough surface of his prosthetic nose scratches against my mask as his eyes glare into mine. I feel exposed to him, all my thoughts, feelings, as well as my entire body completely bare to him.

The edges of his fingerless gloves brush over my chin, making me gulp down any visceral reaction I may have because of the light touch. It's teasing, almost. A soft, barely noticeable touch makes me feel more than a complete, full enveloping touch does. Because no matter how ridiculous it may seem to someone else, a fleeting touch has so much withheld intention. There's a difference between wanting to do something and actually doing it-- the prospect of someone holding back makes every nerve-ending in my body light up. I could power an entire city right now.

Sal's head tilts slightly to the left. His fingertips dig into the hollows of my cheeks, his breaths are a bit ragged and muffled, his knee is propped between both of legs with reason. His combat pants rub against the inside of my bare thighs, creating a friction so delicious that it's nearly painful. He moved us into a compromising position before I could even really notice.

"I said," he starts, voice low. So low that it carries off into the air around us to the point that I almost miss it. "I don't see why you're still standing."

I blink up at him and he squeezes my face. So I suck in a breath that's been deprived of me for the past couple minutes and lick my dry lips. He makes me nervous in an exhilarating way. "What do you--" my voice cracks and I quietly clear my throat, casting my gaze off to the side. "What do you want me.. to do?"

As if my head began to lean away from him, he readjusts his grip on my jaw, gripping it so tightly that I'm forced to look into his eyes yet again. His ocean eyes that seem more like the depths of a dark sea rather than clear water once you're near the surface, just about to breach.

"If your knees aren't bruised by the end of the night, then there's a problem," he rasps out, dark eyes capturing the image of my parted lips before our gazes clash again. "So bruise them."

I swallow thickly over the sudden shiver that passes through my body. Sal notices my light tremor, his fingers loosening around my face.

We stare at each other for a moment or two longer as I replay his words in my head. He obviously wants his dick in my mouth, and honoring up on our bickering that I thought was merely some harsh jokes a few weeks ago feels a bit horrifying now that the opportunity is being presented to me. Obviously I want to do it, but if it's anything like what I felt last night, I'm not sure I'll be able to do such a great job at taking all of him into my mouth. There's no way.

"Hey." Sal regains my attention again, his eyes blazing as he stares at me. His voice is just as serious as it's been since we ran into each other, but the underlying lust is filtered out for a moment. "Are you uncomfortable?"

I gulp, shaking my head vigorously to let him know that I'm fine. I guess my silence made him feel the need to make sure that I'm cool to do this. That's... uncommonly kind of him.

Sal relaxes a bit, his shoulders dropping as the tenseness falls away and he moves his fingers from my jaw. To replace that bit of control, he slaps my cheek gently and holds my chin up with two fingers, tilting my face toward him. "Good," he breathes. "Then don't fucking make me say it again."

My lips are uncomfortably dry, so I lick them again and nod once at him. I swallow down all of the surface level fears I've developed in the past second and grab onto the waistband of his cargo pants. I'm so glad the photographers put him in this getup because I've never seen him look more drool-worthy in all my life.

"You--" I say quietly, looking down the empty hallway that we're occupying. I slowly pull my fingers from the fabric of his pants and crack my knuckles. "Here?" I ask.

"C'mon," he taunts suddenly, taking a little step closer to me. His combat boots scuff the cement ground at our feet and his eyes squint. "You always have so much to say. Where's that dirty mouth of yours now? You nervous over the possibility of getting caught?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out as a rush of heat filters through my veins. He's not wrong. I'd hate to get caught sucking him off in a fucking hallway. I can't be vulnerable like that.

But Sal's on a warpath today and he isn't showing me any mercy. But then again, when does he ever show me any mercy?

His eyes drop to my mouth again and he snickers beneath his breath. "That doesn't turn you on? The prospect of someone finding us while I'm buried in your throat? You're such a little slut, I'm shocked you're not into that."

There he goes again with the degrading. His voice alone is enough to sway me, but his words are manipulative too and suddenly his desires are my own. Maybe the looming threat of someone walking in on such an obscene act is pretty invigorating...

Sal's calloused thumb rubs along my wet bottom lip, pulling it forward. "So soft," he mumbles, eyes never straying from where his fingers touch. His hand wraps further around my back just as he dips his thumb between the seam of my lips, the digit barely brushing over the surface of my teeth. "They'd look so pretty wrapped around my cock."

My breath catches in my throat and I effectively pause everything-- my thoughts, my breathing, my movements, even my fucking heartbeat. Sal seems to notice the moment I've reconsidered his offer. Just as he releases my lip, I drop the tactical gear in my hands, grab his biceps, and reverse our positions. I back him up with shaky breaths until he's pressed against the wall, then I drop to my knees right in front of him.

"Good girl," he purrs, praising me prettily as he drags his fingers over the underside of my jaw. I waste no time after his words shoot through me. I trail my hands up the sides of his legs and keep eye contact with him the entire time before finding my way into the top of his pants again.

I hook my fingers into the fabric and give a light yank, watching as Sal's pale hips come into view. His boxers are just barely visible, hardly hanging onto him at all. I brush my thumb over his warm skin and swipe my tongue over my bottom lip when Sal sucks in a sharp breath. He's sensitive.

I pull his pants down the rest of the way, which didn't take much effort on my part since they're pretty loose. They pool around his ankles and then the only thing in my way is the thin fabric of his underwear. Even with that covering him, his member is incredibly apparent and there isn't a single thing that could hide him right now.

And then there's that tattoo on his hip. Earlier today, mere hours ago, I still couldn't make out what it was. I have so many opportunities now, I can rip his underwear off him and finally answer the question I've had since Larry sent me that damned picture of him over Discord.

His shirt is covering the very top of the tattoo from me, so I'm only able to see a set of vertical curves and lines along his skin that never connect at the top that's hidden from my view.

My fingers carefully trail along his bare leg until I reach his boxers, crossing over to the front to palm his thick cock through the fabric all while looking into his mesmerizing blue eyes.

Sal's breath stutters as I rub my hand along his length, teasing him until he cracks-- hopefully. He was rough with me last night, deliciously so, and that's the type of attitude I'm looking for again.

I squeeze his dick lightly, not enough to set this scene in motion, but it's enough for him to shut his eyes in ecstasy. "Vi," he says darkly, a grating edge to his voice. "If you don't start choking on my dick in the next second, I'm going to do it for you."

My hand tightens around his member again and I tilt my head up at him. His eyes are still closed. "I don't think you'd be able to choke on your own dick, Sal," I say softly, sensually.

His head snaps down to look at me, eyes blazing with lustful rage. Within the next second, as promised, he's shoved his boxers down with one hand and buried his hand into my hair. His fingers wrap around the strands and he yanks my head back roughly so I'm looking up at him. He doesn't give me a single chance to finally find out what kind of tattoo he has on his hip. "It's about damn time I shut that dirty mouth of yours, you fucking brat," he barks out, nearly sneering down at me with that impressive fire in his eyes and the tantalizing grip he has on my hair. Then he pulls me back a bit more, tilts my head down just a tad, and taps my chin. "Open the fuck up. Now."

My mouth willingly falls open and before I can fully prepare myself, Sal drags my face forward and bucks his hips up at the same exact time. His dick slams into the back of my throat and my immediate reaction is to choke.

Thankfully, he doesn't move. He sits there for a second while I gather my wits and adjust to something so large intruding my airways. But I quickly close my lips around his length and blink over the tears that brim my eyes.

"You're going to cry?" He says through pants, letting out a single laugh. "Pathetic. You can do better than that."

With his cock filling up every inch of my open mouth, I can't make a sound no matter how badly I want to. I simply blink up at him quickly, relishing in the way he gazes down at me with glazed eyes that drink me in so devilishly.

So instead, I moan around his length and shut my eyes again, hollowing my cheeks as I suck on the part of him that's in my mouth. I lift a hand and wrap it around the rest of his cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. My other hand moves to his bare thigh. As soon as my fingers brush his skin though, Sal uses his free hand to slap mine away. "No touching unless it's my dick. Got it?" he breathes, fingers tight around my wrist.

Fuck it, whatever. If that's what he's into then fine. It's not going to stop me.

Sal drags his fingers through the strands of my hair until he reaches the end, then he wraps it around his hand, holding on close to my scalp. He pulls my head back then pushes his dick further into my mouth.

And then he's thrusting into my throat, pushing my head forward to meet him halfway. I'm just the added pleasure-- he has no patience, doesn't want me to help him at all.

I do everything I can to use my tongue, licking under his shaft and using my leftover saliva to pump the rest of him with my hand. But Sal fucks my mouth rough and quick-- so much so that this is simply so he can cum as fast as possible. It's not about a slow build up, it's about using me to chase his high.

Too bad he chose the wrong bitch for the job.

Tears threaten to stream down my cheeks as his head repeatedly slams into the back of my throat. I choke on his cock multiple times and it has to be music to his ears. Sal's a whimpering, groaning mess above me, bucking his hips into my face and tilting his head to the ceiling.

Sal's hand is still clutching my wrist, but I want to drag this out for as long as I can, especially if he orgasms quickly like he did last night.

I tug on my wrist a bit and Sal pauses his rough thrusts, taking a breath. "What?" he asks, shockingly a tad concerned. "Are you okay? We can stop?"

He's let go of my arm and that's what I wanted. Instead of answering, I glance up at him and pull back so just the tip of his dick is between my lips. Then I suck gently, swirling my tongue around him to lick up all the pre-cum that had leaked. Sal shivers, a deep groan following the action. The sound forces my thighs together either to hide the evidence of my own arousal or to provide some relief for myself-- I'm not sure which one.

I wrap my hand around his velvety cock to give him a tight, slow pump, all while looking into his eyes. I want to watch him squirm.

He lets out a quivering breath when I separate my mouth from him with a reverberating pop that makes him flinch. He moans quietly and my eyes catch the way his hand squeezes into a fist then slowly stretches out beside him. That's hot. Mr. Darcy who?

I use my hand as leverage, placing my tongue at the base of his cock to slowly lick a stripe all the way back to his tip. Then I suck the head of his dick into my mouth again, my tongue wrapping around his throbbing member and eliciting a pretty little whimper from him.

Finally, I start bobbing my head along his length, sucking and licking up as much of him as I can. The salty taste of him coats my tongue deliciously, making me eager for the moment he finally climaxes.

Sal lets out a deep, trembling breath as I repeatedly take him in and out of my mouth, going as deep as I possibly can to force him into making some kind of sound again. He pushes a hand through my hair, gently massaging my scalp with his long fingers. It's almost intimate, but I know better. This is praise for doing well.

"You can take more than that, Vi," he says, voice audibly shaking. "Keep going, pretty girl. Don't make me take the reins again."

I know he'd love to take control and shove his dick down my throat again, but hopefully I can get him to cum on my own. I just know he'd cry for me. I want that bad.

I pull him out of my mouth and use my hand to pump the entirety of his pretty, soaked cock that I'm finally able to lay my eyes. He's definitely a good size. Gorgeous, pink, and so incredibly sensitive.

And there's the tattoo. My eyes were pinned to it as soon as I had a moment to admire his cock. It's faded, something he must have gotten years ago compared to the newer, darker marks on his arm and neck.

A crescent moon and stars around it. Fitting for him, actually. I find myself admiring it while I take my time to pleasure him. It's detailed, pretty. If there were any perfect words to describe him, this perfect little tattoo says it all. Dark, night, a little bright, definitely a dreamer. A hoper. It's him, more personal to him than any of his other tattoos.

I'm brought back to reality, heart thumping affectionately in my chest when Sal twitches in my hand. I look up at him, panting heavily since I'm finally able to get a good breath of air in. Saliva and pre-cum is smeared across my face and Sal seems drunk off of the image when he glances down at me again.

His fingers stop their gentle caress and tighten around my hair again, quickly using that grip to keep my head still as he shoves his throbbing dick back into the depths of my throat.

He doesn't say a word as he repeatedly thrusts in and out of mouth, making more tears flow down my cheeks. He doesn't have to say anything-- I took my mouth off of his cock for too long and right after he warned me. This is his nonverbal way of telling me that karma's taking control.

No matter how many attempts I make to bring him closer to climax with my tongue, by sucking every inch of him I can, it means nothing. All he cares about is making me crumble beneath him. All he craves is the sound of me gagging on him. All he wants to see is his cock filling up my mouth and the tears that have begun to paint my cheeks.

"Just like that," he moans out pathetically, beautifully. "You're doing so good." I'm hardly doing anything other than acting as his fucktoy, but if that's what he wants then I'm more than happy to oblige. Watching him fall apart, pleasure himself, and show this vulnerable side is enough to satisfy me. I don't even need to cum if it means he'll do it for both of us.

"I'm about to cum," he rasps out, still pounding into my throat roughly. I might not be able to speak after this, not with the way he's fucking my throat raw. "Swallow every drop or you'll fucking regret it--" his voice falls into a sinful whimper and he shudders, his fingers tightening impossibly around the strands of my hair.

I moan against him, squeezing my eyes shut as he picks up the pace, his dick roughly pumping into my mouth. It's brutal and I love every second. He feels good, he tastes good, he sounds good. I'm obsessed with the way he falls apart so viscerally. It's intoxicating.

For just a second, I'm thinking I might actually orgasm over the sound of his salacious moans alone. He's so vocal and so dirty about it-- how could I not? But he bursts into my mouth before I can think harder about it. The salty flavor and warmth of his cum envelops my tongue so quickly and I try to keep it all contained, but he continues thrusting into my throat. A bit of the liquid seeps from the corners of my lips, dripping onto the floor.

I don't care and Sal doesn't either for the moment. He simply whimpers between breaths above me, sucking in as much air as he can before he looks down at me and begins to pull his cock from my mouth.

I suck on him to lick up whatever cum I can. He jolts at the feeling of my tongue on him, hissing as his head tilts down to look at me.

I run my free hands up his thighs, absolutely reveling in his post-orgasm bliss with him. He's so pretty-- takes his hand out of my hair to run it through his, pulling strands away from his sweaty forehead. And now that the moment is over, he's not stopping me from touching him.

But as I'm feeling his skin, I notice something. A row of thin, raised lines. Not just one, multiple.

I try to rationalize it in my mind. There's no way-- but what if there was a way?

My heart thumps wildly in my chest and I flatten my palm on his thigh, rubbing my thumb gently over the protrusions. I swallow the remnants of Sal's orgasm and watch him with a renewed mind. He looks down at me and wipes his cum off of my chin, sticking his thumb into my mouth to slather the liquid onto my tongue.

He's still glowing right now-- he must not realize what I've discovered and I can't even fully wrap my head around it myself. I know what this is. How do I bring this up? I don't know if these are from two months ago or from years ago and if he's not happy... I can't just act like I haven't noticed anything.

I gulp down my nerves. It's going to be uncomfortable for both of us but I'd rather help him. I know I would have appreciated it when I was going through a tough time. Whether I hate him or not, I don't hate him enough to let him suffer alone.

"Sally," I say hoarsely, clearing my throat. "Are these..." my voice is barely audible from the way he abused the inside of my throat, but I rub my fingertips along the lines on his thighs again and Sal suddenly returns to the land of the living.

He roughly shoves my hands off of him, nearly pushing me onto my haunches. His boxers are back on before I can even regain my balance. "What?" he asks, taking a breath to recover from the marathon-like orgasm he just had. My heart thumps in my chest, an overwhelming mix of anxiety and shock taking hold of me. "I have a lot of scars, Vi. If that's going to gross you out then let's just stop this now."

My head rears back at his sneer and accusation. He's deeply offended and I can't help but feel like he's acting this way because someone's turned him away because of the scars before. That's not my intention-- I'd never do that.

"No, they don't--" I gape up at him, brows furrowing. "I'm the last person who's going to be grossed out by scars, Sal. I'm just..." I pinch my lips together as a wave of fear washes over me. He's going to think I'm insane for actually worrying over him. "Fuck, this sounds crazy," I warn. "But I'm just worried."

I watch him with wary eyes, but Sal scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Don't be worried about scars from my delinquent past with Larry. If anything, I deserved these," he grumbles, looking down and grabbing his pants. He shimmies them up his legs just before I can get a look at the scars that I felt. And I don't believe him. Those are too meticulously placed.

"Deserved? Delinquent?" I ask softly. "These are--"

"Yea. Delinquent. Larry and I hopped a barbed wire fence and my unlucky ass got caught on it. That's what those scars are. I broke laws, karma broke me. That's the circle of life." He says this all so nonchalantly, all the while swiping another drop of cum from my lips.

No one would be able to lie so efficiently. Not even I could. Something's still sketchy about this and I want to question him more. But that's invading his privacy and I can already tell that he's on edge. One wrong move-- which is the direction I'm heading in-- and he'll never open up about this regardless.

But what if he's telling the truth? Maybe I'm just bringing up past trauma. I didn't get to look at the scars on his thighs anyway.

I should keep asking anyway though. If he needs help...

I'm driving myself insane. I want to pester him, beg him to be honest with me just because I know how desperate I was at one point for help with my mental. I couldn't leave anyone to stay silent when I suspect that there's something wrong, even my enemy. It's just not--

"Now, I remember saying something about you having to regret not swallowing everything," his voice suddenly turns sinister in a very pleasurable way. He pulls me back to reality quickly, and I find my heart racing for a different reason. The truth always comes out. Obviously he wouldn't trust me enough now, but maybe he will in the future. I will find out.

For now, there's nothing more I can do. I tried.

Sal tilts his head down to the floor between us, so I follow his gaze to notice the various drops of milky white on the floor.

I gulp, swallowing the remnants of what was left in my mouth. The salty taste begins to die away-- I can hardly taste anything, in fact, as anticipation takes hold of my entire body. My mind goes blank in an instant, my worries replaced with expectations.

My eyes instinctually look back up at Sal who's already gazing at me. I'm guessing he's waiting on some kind of reaction from me.

Half of me wants to let him do whatever it is he's undoubtedly planning, but the other half of me is hyper-focused on the clothes I'm supposed to be changing into. And what I discovered just seconds ago. This doesn't feel right, not when there's so much else to focus on. But memories of last night have plagued me all day. What to do, what to do...

I really should just get dressed and start heading back to the other room. If Sal and I are away for too long, it's going to look really suspicious. And I mean, if anything, we can find another time to continue this. If he's adamant on punishing me, so to speak, he'll make time to do it. That'll give me time to figure out a plan on how to get the truth out of him too.

With that thought in mind, I grab the pile of clothes and push myself off my knees, standing to my full height. I take a breath and then a step back, all while Sal watches me closely. His eyes are so bright right now-- they look like they're glowing. The hardly contained desire swimming around in his cerulean irises does nothing to help.

I open my mouth with the intention of telling him that we'll figure something out later, but I don't even get a chance to say a syllable-- I only squeak out in surprise when Sal lunges toward me, sweeping me off my feet with no effort.

My hands automatically latch onto his shoulders once he wraps my legs around his waist with a little grunt. My eyes widen significantly when Sal turns on his heel and starts heading for the room that he just came out of. The clothes that were previously in my grasp are pressed between him and I-- they miraculously stuck around during whatever just happened.

Sal's hands grip my ass tightly, his fingertips digging into my flesh as he quickly walks us closer to the changing room. "You're lucky I don't make you lick that off the floor like a fucking dog," he bites out, a short chuckle following.

I have too many responsibilities for him to be talking like this.

My legs tighten around his waist and I squeeze my eyes shut. My lips pinch together as I try to remind myself why I can't just let him tear me apart in the room that he's carrying me into. My thoughts are clouded-- rational mind is completely missing because Sal is in tactical gear, I just sucked his dick, and he has his hands on me. How could anyone think?

Sal moves one hand to grab the heavy metal door leading to the changing room. He rips it open like it weighs nothing, but the way it scrapes across the cement floor says different. Maybe it only makes a scary sound, but it's actually pretty light? Who knows.

As soon as he crosses the threshold into the room, the door slams shut behind us. Then, Sal's unwrapping my legs from around him and dropping me to my feet. The sound of my shoes hitting the ground echoes in the room-- cement floors again.

I swallow thickly as my clothes drop to the ground. They're going to be so dirty. My hands slide from Sal's shoulders to the top of his chest due to the sudden height difference. The same goes for him; his hands move from my ass to my waist, my shirt riding up from the contact. His cool fingertips press into the skin of my hips, and he uses that as leverage to yank me even closer to him.

"You have to be quieter than you were last night, Vi," Sal breathes, leaning his head down to rest on my shoulder. His prosthetic nose runs along the length of my neck, causing shivers to erupt along my spine. As those words roll off his tongue, one of his hands crosses over to my stomach.

I have two options: get pleasure and get caught or wait it out and play it safe. Either way, I'll see to it that he makes up for this later. I have no doubt that he'll make extra sure to handle me later too.

"Wait," I say, wincing over the fact that I'm not going to go through with this. Truly, it hurts to push him away for now.

I can always count on Sal to listen to me when it comes to our situationship. He doesn't listen regarding absolutely anything else, but he at least takes this seriously.

His hands pause instantly and he pulls his head away from my neck, looking into my eyes. He's wary, concerned, alert. "What?" he asks. "We don't have to."

I lick my lips and take a deep breath. "Don't get me wrong," I tell him. "I want to, but everyone's expecting both of us to come back any minute now."

Sal looks off to the side, his hands slowly dropping from my waist. The loss of contact makes me want to whimper. There's a far-away look in his eyes as he seems to think. "Oh," he murmurs. "That's true," he whispers to himself.

I gape at him. How could he forget? He's literally clueless. I've said it once and apparently I have to fucking say it again. I place my hands on my hips and roll my eyes. "Really?" I scoff. "You forgot that you're supposed to be modeling right now? You're working for Treyarch but you let pussy blind you?"

Sal's eyes meet mine again and his eyebrows furrow, a glare taking over what little features I can see on him. "You don't have room to talk. You're not even supposed to be modeling with us so why do you have clothes?" There's that snarky, aggressive tone again.

"You never fail to prove how self-centered you are," I sigh, taking a step back and leaning down to grab my clothes from the floor. "Larry mentioned me and the photographers heard. They asked me-- well, more like told me to go change." Just thinking back on what happened a few minutes ago brings a smile to my lips and a fluttering to my heart.

Sal snorts, "Tasteless," he says in regard to the photographers choosing me. He turns away from me and moves to a corner of the room. The corner has a fancy chair with a pile of clothes on it-- if I had to guess, those clothes are for Sal. And then a vanity with a mirror and table with makeup and other essentials. Those probably all belong to Ash.

They're tasteless for choosing me when he chooses to hang around gothic beauties like the one from the bar the other night?

"Says the man with a preference for emo barbies," I murmur halfheartedly. I'm too focused on ingesting the room. My words were a mistake though-- I'd gone back to the night that woman sat with him at the bar and I let the argument get to me. I really shouldn't have said that because it shows that it bothers me. But, it doesn't actually bother me.

A wave of anxiety slams into me like twenty puppies running to a newcomer at a daycare. Fuck, he's going to attack me for that one. It's so obvious that the woman bothered me.

Sal tilts his head at my words. "Is that what you're calling yourself now?" he says and I perk up a bit. I don't know how I should react to that. He didn't realize I was talking about his lady friend, but he also just admitted that I'm part of his preference in women. "I think bratty little bitch sounds better."

I lick my lips and try to contain the smug smirk that so desperately wants to take over my face. He's so preoccupied, I doubt he even realizes what just came out of his mouth.

I glance around the room. There's not much in here-- some ugly orange rug on the floor, a black leather couch with Todd and Larry's clothes on it. Todd's clothes are neatly folded whereas Larry's are just thrown into a pile-- that's how I was able to distinguish who's were for who.

Then there's a little folding screen. Ash's clothes are hanging over the edges. Besides that, there's a mini fridge in the corner adjacent to Sal. That's pretty much it.

"I wouldn't have to be a bitch so often if you weren't such a dick," I finally respond to his words after letting them percolate in the air for a short while. "Fix your attitude and then I'll fix mine."

Sal glances over his shoulder, black-lined eyes meeting mine. "Fix yours first and then we can talk," he says disinterestedly.

I shake my head. "Guess we'll never agree then."

I walk over to the folding screen and step behind it, laying my clothes on a little stool that the photographers were gracious enough to place back here. I start pulling my shoes off with a little grunt, moving onto my socks afterward.

Arguing with Sal comes so naturally now. It's mildly aggravating, but it isn't making me want to retrieve heads on pikes like it usually does. Maybe it's because we're both distracted right now.

"You're only well-behaved when you're being a whore," Sal says, and I look up because his voice is a lot closer to me now than it was before. And now, his slightly monotone voice is replaced with a nagging, agitated tone.

My head snaps up as I'm shimmying my skirt down my thighs and I make unexpected eye contact with Sal who's standing right in front of the folding screen.

I pause my movements, heat enveloping my cheeks at the same moment that Sal realizes I'm almost half naked. His eyes latch onto my thighs and then he takes a step back, then another until he can't peek over the top of the screen anymore.

I release a sigh of relief. "Do you watch all your women change or something?" I grunt out, watching him with a raised eyebrow-- not like he can see it. I know it doesn't really matter-- he's seen a lot of me so far. This is innocent compared to what he saw last night, but it still feels awkward and it seems he feels the same way.

"I didn't mean to," he snaps, crossing his arms over the armor plate on his chest. "I actually had pure intentions for fucking once. Don't make me out to be the bad guy."

"Funny," I respond, pulling my shirt over my head. "You always play the villain so I never expect anything else from you."

"Wow," he sarcastically says. "High praise. Considering me a villain is the nicest thing you've done for me."

I glance up at him while pulling on black cargo pants. He looks so proud and smug. What an ass. "It wasn't a compliment," I grit out.

"And that's exactly why I took it as a compliment. It pissed you off."

I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to changing. The entire reason his fingers aren't in me right now is because we have somewhere to be, so I don't understand why the hell he's sticking around and pestering me.

Then something slaps me in the face. Well, my mask.

I blink, shocked at the audacity of Sal to throw something at me, but when I look down to where the unknown object dropped, I see a little rectangular piece of foil. I tilt my head, wondering if I'm seeing right.

I lean down and grab it. Yea, this is gum.

I stand up again and eye Sal curiously, warily. Did he poison this?

Sal must see the contemplative look in my eyes because he scoffs in disbelief. "It's just fucking gum, dick breath. I'm doing you a favor."

I cringe at what he just said. "Oh my fucking--" I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "Get out of here, Fisher. There is absolutely no reason for you to be hanging around with me. I literally cannot stand you." The more I think about what just happened, the words that came out of my mouth, the more I want to jump over this folding screen and choke him out.

Sal cackles evilly, backing over to the metal door with his hands in his pockets. "You're just upset because I'm right, like I always am."

"Fuck off, asshat," I fire back. It's a weak comeback but it's all I've got. Of course this would happen after I thought about how mild our argument was earlier.

Sal's laughs die off when he opens the door, but then he calls me. "Vi," he says and I hesitate to look up. But when I meet his bright, cerulean eyes, I see determination. "We'll continue where we left off later. Okay?"

I watch him. Those are good words. Those are expectations. So I nod gently. "Okay."

And then he's gone. Completely disappeared from my view in the blink of an eye.

Every inch of malice and aggravation I felt just seconds ago melts away like candle wax. It'll reform all over again later, but for now, it's just replaced by butterflies making my stomach turn excitedly. So there's something for me to look forward to later. Absolutely wonderful.

I pull off my shirt and replace it with the long sleeved grey one that I was given. It's a little big on me, but no one has my body proportions either so I expect as much. My chest plate is adjustable, which helps tremendously. It makes the loose shirt stick to me like glue and because of that, it's hardly noticeable that the clothing isn't even my size. Said chest plate is much like Larry's-- camo and cargo. If anything, it's more like an armored vest with gun magazines and extra storage.

I secure it over my arms and to my chest then move on to the belt that holds a couple holsters for what I presume will be prop guns that I get later.

All that's left is for me to tug on the tan combat boots, which I lace up fairly quickly, and from there I'm home free. The issue now is walking up to my friends like I didn't just have their friend's dick I'm my mouth. I have to face Larry and pretend that I didn't suck the soul out of his step-brother's cock.

Simple. Easy job.

I take a breath and watch the door, begrudgingly unwrapping the spearmint gum that Sal was oh, so generous enough to give me. I want to be mad at him— I am mad— but he did help me out, even if it was only because he didn't want everyone else to smell the clear evidence of whatever happened in the hallway.

My feet trudge toward the big metal door while I chew on the stupid fucking gum. This couldn't be any worse... but no regrets.

My hand fits around the handle easily, but when I push it down to open the door, a little tug does absolutely nothing. I pause and stare at the door, bewildered. Sal threw this thing open earlier? One-handed? No way.

I give another tug, this one a bit more forceful. The door squeaks on its hinges, slowly moving to follow my weight. It's not extremely heavy, but I have to put some weight behind it and physically walk with the door. Am I tripping or am I just pitifully weak? Both?

I'm finally able to get the door open enough to squeeze my body through. Even then, the door gives me a little shove in the right direction, hitting me as it slams shut before I can move out of the threshold. My glare pierces through the inanimate metal while I rub my abused back. I did not ask to be the target of everyone's hostility today.

The hallway isn't nearly as eerie to me now as it was a few minutes ago. I walk through it quickly, the buzzing lights on my mental back-burner once I reach the door that separates me from reality.

I purse my lips, blowing out a sigh. Ash, Larry, Todd, and Sally Face Fisher are on the other side of this door. I am not going to fuck up. I am going to be brave. And I'm not sure why I'm so nervous— maybe it's because any one of them could have very easily walked in on Sal filling up my throat like it was a common occurrence. Yea, probably that. But, we didn't get caught, so there's really nothing for me to worry about.

I guess my fantastic, trauma-induced ability to lie is a plus here. Not like it's fed me all too well in the past. Seriously, I'm playing three different people right now and all it's doing is tangling me up in a sick mess that I created. There's Vi, who no one knows, there's y/n who everyone loves— except Sally-- and then there's Lexi who just so happens to be the object of Sal's affection.

Things literally couldn't my be any worse. But damn if I do, damn if I don't. I'll lie my ass off when I leave this hallway if I have to.

With my little pep talk finished, I pull this much lighter door at the opposite end of the hallway open and cast my gaze upon the darkened room. The Faces are perched in front of a large, stretched out tapestry being used as a background. It's this dusty looking city scene from what I can tell. And my friends are just milling about, talking with each other. Well, most of them. Todd is in the corner stuffing his fishing hat under a pile of prop rubble. I guess the photographers tried to make him keep it.

I amble toward them, a little unsure of how to address anyone after what I just did. I actually got to sleep on the knowledge of Sal and I last night, but now I have no time to recover.

Relax, y/n. Everything's fine. No one's going to suspect a thing.

Upon finally reaching my friends, Larry's the first to acknowledge me. His eyes glance over me appreciatively and he nods his head, furrowing his brows as a little smirk pulls at his full lips. "You look delicious. But you always do," he chuckles. Then he walks over and claps a hand onto my back. "So what took you so long, Vivi? Found some good dick to munch on?"

There's no way to describe the way my stomach suddenly drops out of my ass. I've seen this scene so many times. It's like when Jim gets caught flirting with Pam in The Office— that initial reaction of fucking book-it or use the worst excuse known to man while awkwardly looking around.

So I intellectually hit my friend with, "Yea. Why else would I be chewing gum?"

I make a face akin to the expression that anyone would pull after sucking a lemon or taking a shot of tequila. I genuinely want to disappear. This is going terribly.

Even Todd turns his head toward Larry and I, raising an eyebrow in my direction. Ash and Sal are just out of my direct line of sight and they can fucking stay there. If I meet any more judgemental gazes, I'll probably vomit.

But Larry's a giggly mess, something I didn't take note of because I'd panicked. His hand is squeezing my shoulder while he bends over and wipes a fake tear from his eyes. "See?" He says, giving me a wide, gap-toothed grin. Cutie. "You get it. That's humor, baby!"

I giggle nervously, slowly letting go of the nauseating bout of anxiety that just swam through me. "Mhm," I hum. "Don't worry, Lar. I'll always take good care of your jokes." I cannot form good, coherent responses for the life of me right now.

Larry can't answer me in time because there's suddenly a huge prop gun shoved into his arms. I step away from him, baffled when the weapon clatters loudly in his unprepared hands. It's a shock to my system and the same goes for Larry who juggles the hunk of— metal? plastic?— with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

"This shit is heavy," he gasps out, finally getting a good hold of it. "These— these aren't real, right?" He asks, looking up at the photographer who's currently holding out a big Resident Evil-esque gun toward me. Assault rifle, maybe? I know nothing other than Leon Kennedy when it comes to those games.

I take the weapon carefully after Larry's nervous remark. He's not kidding— it's heavy as hell, definitely metal. They wouldn't give us actual weapons right? There's a serious issue going on in the world with these things and the last thing I want to do is hold a real one.

I look up to the photographer, my gaze questioning, hoping to get an explanation for Larry's question.

"No," the photographer says, snickering. "Well, they were once." I cock my head to the side. Were?

I watch the photographer drop a hand gun into Ash's awaiting arms, then a shot gun goes to Sal. They both look pretty shocked by the weight too.

"Hold on," Ash says. "We didn't come here to fuck around with real guns. Fake ones, fine. No one can get hurt. This is different—"

"I said they were real at one point," the photographer cuts her off, heading toward Todd. "They aren't real anymore." Todd trades in his fishing hat for a gun similar to mine and the photographer rolls his eyes. "Our crew found these on eBay. They're refurbished military-grade guns, basically. They were either damaged or deemed as duds. But someone bought all of them and got creative, took them all apart and put them back together as paint-ball guns. So no, they can't hurt anyone. Plus, since they're remade and no longer used for horrendous shit, they come pretty cheap."

My lips form into a little "o" at the explanation. See, this is more acceptable. Perfectly explains why they seem so real.

"That's actually pretty interesting," Todd murmurs, turning his weapon over in his hands. "Sounds like something I'd be into."

"Leave the Super Gear Boy in seventh grade, Todd," Sal pipes up, sighing at his scientific friend.

I roll my eyes. He always has to kill the mood, and for what? I think this is a good way to kill off guns instead of letting someone fix them up to resell as actual weapons. Todd would thrive in the paint-ball industry.

"What's paint-ball even like?" Larry asks, completely mystified if when putting the sound of his voice into account. I glance to him, noting the way he looks into the barrel of the gun. Even if it's not real, that shit still makes me nervous.

I close an eye, recalling my limited paint-ball experience. If I wasn't doing something band related or reading in bed, I was playing paint-ball, truth be told. I grew up in two of California's— no, America's— major city's. If you weren't old enough to hit the bars or clubs in town, there was virtually nothing for you to do, period. That left me with dad's favorite little hobby and a run down storage building for me and my two or three friends to go rip open the gates of complete chaos. It was fun.

"I don't quite know how to explain it," I tell Larry, shrugging. I hold my gun at my side, gripping it by the handle. "Think Call of Duty. You load it, then you shoot it basically."

"And how do you know?" Ash asks, scrunching her nose up at me when I turn to acknowledge her. I love her little nose scrunch. It has to be the cutest thing I've ever seen.

"I had a lot of free time as a kid. So I used some of that time to play paint-ball," I tell her with a smile.

"You'll definitely have to teach me one day," she grins, viridian eyes twinkling in the bright white lights.

The photographers move us into place mere moments after Ash's request. I'm not used to photoshoots— so I do my best to follow the directions aimed at me. Move here, step there, pose like so.

There's a lot of straight faces and eye work. "Look angry," "look determined," "look scared but in a way that doesn't show it." None of it makes much sense to me, but I do my best, aiming my gun in random places and trying to keep the awkward grin off my face.

It's tedious work if anything. I'm stuck changing positions second after second or having to hold a pose with this heavy ass gun for ten minutes at a time. I agree with The Faces now— it isn't half as fun as models make it seem.

"My arm is killing me," Sal grumbles to himself, but I catch his words and Larry seems to as well. Sal is positioned behind me, one of his elbows on my shoulder and the other aiming his gun forward. If it's not already obvious, he fought like hell to convince the photographers to put him with someone else for this shot.

I've been trying to smoosh down all of the excitement I feel because his knee is positioned between both of my legs. His chest is pressed into my back. I can feel every breath he takes, I can smell his shampoo, I can hear every word he speaks before he even says it. Every single syllable that leaves his throat. It consumes me, leaves me a drunken mess below him.

But I try to hold onto my sanity and I do that through negativity.

"Yea," I grunt, discreetly rotating my arm. "Well, you're killing my shoulder with that bony ass elbow of yours."

Sal doesn't respond immediately, only presses his elbow even harder into my shoulder. I bite down a gasp, sneering at the photographer in front of us.

"Hold that expression, VioletViolence— perfect, beautiful!"

I want to roll my eyes. Maybe they put Sal and I together for a reason. Somehow they know we bring the worst out of each other, and thus, the angry facial expressions.

"Stay strong, broski," Larry calls out from beside me. Yea, right. He's one to talk. He's laying on his stomach with his gun propped on the ground, all he has to do is put his hands on it. "Free style match!" He suddenly yells. I furrow my eyebrows, confusion swallowing me whole. "I'll go first," Larry continues in a sing-song voice.

"Okay, so... actually, someone give me a topic." I shake my head at Larry's request. He went back on his word immediately.

But Ash is quick to jump in. She's positioned to mine and Sal's left. "Ooo!" She says. I can't look up at her or I'll get scolded for moving. "How about cake?" I almost snort and break character. Cake, of all things. It had to be Ash.

A sudden flash blinds me for a second, but I blink through it, trying to hold my angry gaze.

"Cake?" Todd mutters, huffing out a quick laugh. "That's all you could come up with?"

"Hey," Ash snaps, disappointment evident in her sweet voice. "I think it's a good topic. It's definitely going to be hard for Larry to—"

"Got something," Larry says, an evil chuckle following his statement. My eyes widen— that's a concerning laugh and he actually managed to come up with something in, what, half a second?

I need to fear this man. This buff daddy, tactical gear-wearing, snarky, humorous, emo man.

"Alright," Sal sighs from above me, finally pulling some of the weight off of my shoulder. I groan at the instant relief. I'm definitely going to get back at him for this later. "Please, do go on," Sal continues sarcastically. My guess is that he doesn't believe Larry could come up with something like that on the fly. I hate to say it, but I'm with him.

"Okay, alright," Larry whispers. "Prepare for absolutely malarkey."

I guilty grin quirks my lips and I truly struggle to hold back a couple giggles. Larry is ridiculous.

"Do you like watching people eat cake too?" Larry asks and I glance down at him, noting the shit-eating smile taking up his entire expression. He's going to get in trouble for that. And why is he asking about cake? I thought he was going to bust a few free style rhymes.

And bust some rhymes he does, taking me by complete surprise.

"Nah, I prefer watching them eat my dick.
When she sucks my soul like a motherfuckin' tick.
Love it when she goes in lick for lick— errrrrrr.
Resident Evil, baby, I know those zombies would pick herrrrr.
Got her lips around me, getting stifferrrrrr
Getting kinda goofy like Stiflerrrrr."

I snap my head down to Larry, eyes wide and a cackle working it's way up my throat. Did I hear all of that right? Is this motherfucker kidding me right now?

Every single one of us breaks character— Sal snorts as soon as Larry ends his verse, Todd actual smiles and pats a giggling Larry on the back, and Ash is in tears. Her gun has clattered to the floor and she's fighting to regain control of her emotions.

I join them, giggling with Ash who's borderline moaning in humorous pain on the ground beside me, on her hands and knees. The photographers have given up on us for now— all four of them moving away to chat about the pictures, no doubt.

"Honestly, should I say that?" Larry asks, taking a deep breath and swiping a hand over his face as he calms down from his insane laughter. "That was a little much."

Sal hums next to him, so I look up. The man looks like he's holding onto his sanity by the thinnest piece of string known to humanity. All of that just to drop his own free style continuation of Larry's monstrosity.

"It's never too much, she can never get enough.
She's always barking at me like a dog, ruff ruff.
She's a fucking baddie, you know she likes it rough.
My girl's all pretty like Hilary Duff.
She begs and she pleads, she likes that kinda stuff.
Transformers Megan Fox vibes, I feel like Shia LeBeouf."

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Todd bites out, voice wavering with barely held back amusement.

Ash grabs onto me for moral support and I look toward her, tears building in my eyes while I try to contain the laughter that so desperately wants to be released. How on earth could both boys come up with something like this?

When I finally see Ash, she's got a permanent gaping mouth with her eyes squeezed shut in that awesome silent laugh that tells everyone something really funny just happened.

It's a wonderful, core memory moment where everyone's keeled over, giggling or crying their guts out. Sal and I aren't angry with each other, Larry isn't flirting with anything that has a pulse, Todd isn't stoney-faced, Ash isn't plagued by constant worry. We're all just friends being goofy and enjoying our time together. I hate to say it, but this is something we don't get very often.

I look around at my friends as they recover. Larry finally takes his hands off the floor, kneeling on the ground with tears streaming down his cheeks. He swipes a hand over his face as Sal walks toward him. They do a quick fist bump, praising each other for the perfect lyric session. Sal is still bent over, his eyes scrunched together with glee to accompany his horrible attempts to contain giggles that tumble out from behind his prosthetic.

I wish he looked this happy all the time. I wish he was this happy all the time. No matter what, I can't help but imagine what it would be like if we were different people in different universes. Maybe we would have met sooner. Maybe I wouldn't feel so guilty for wanting him like I do. We could have been friends. We could have been lovers. We could have been more-- more than whatever this is. Fucking around when we feel like it because we both clearly have issues, both personal and regarding each other.

But I guess it doesn't really matter now because none of those universes are achievable. I can't unlock upgrades in life-- I just have to hope and assume that things will get better between us. To do that, I have to stop being so angry with him all the time too though. And that might be hard to do.

"She can't hear you bro," I hear Sal say. My kidney twitches at the sound of his voice. I'm being overdramatic, but that's how keen I am when it comes to his voice. I instantly tune in and feel frustration build up in me. I just know he's talking about me. "Vi's just mad she isn't Hilary Duff." I turn away from Ash, narrowing my eyes at Sal who then turns to me with malice veiled by amusement in his pretty gaze. "She isn't Megan Fox either. Must suck."

"What point are you trying to make? That I'm not successful? That I'm not pretty?" I sneer, tilting my head in question. Anyone would find that offensive. I don't know what he'll say to that, but I'm prepared for anything. If he wants a verbal battle, I'm absolutely down.

Sal shrugs, hands readjusting their grip on his gun. "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you're not as successful or pretty as them."

I can't believe I put my everything into a blowjob for this absolute, complete, stuck up, and disrespectful cunt.

Tongue in cheek, I spin on my heel and look down at the ground. I can't tell if the flame of rage is growing in me, or if the embarrassed, insecure pin is about to officially pop my ego balloon.

Ash looks up at me, finally getting to her feet again, but she isn't laughing anymore. She isn't smiling either.

"Ash," I say shakily with failed attempts to hide my shaking hands. "I'm going to fucking strangle him," I bite out.

It seems like every time I try to look at him in a positive light, Sal's able to tell. Like he's a mind reader. And he jumps in every single time to completely obliterate any chance I was willing to give him. Even just a sliver of hope gets thrown back three miles the very moment he detects it. And now, we're ten steps back compared to the half step we had taken forward.

I can put up with most things he shoots my way, but shots to my insecurities really tear me down.

"Sweetheart, no one's going to strangle anyone, okay?" Ash says, bringing her small, cool hands to my cheeks. She lifts my face, forcing me to look into her eyes. When I do meet her gaze, those viridian irises are filled with the big R's-- regret and revenge. "Not until I do it first," she continues sweetly, her voice sugary like melted chocolate. To anyone else, it would seem like a joke, but that look in her eyes is real.

I feel a little better now.

"Ash," Sally spits out quickly, voice panicked. "I was kidding. Don't strangle me." How very pathetic of him to be scared now.

"Yea," Larry cuts in, chuckling. "He'll moan if you do."

Larry's barely able to finish his statement when a loud thwack echoes in the big room, followed by a resounding "Fuck! I'm sorry!" from emo buff daddy himself.

Ash looks off to the side, fuming with grace-- something only she can achieve. "You're lucky, Sal," she says coldly. "Larry handled you well enough, I think." She lets go of my face, so I finally chew down my anxiety and embarrassment and turn to the two boys again. Sal's looking like he's caught between contrition and anger, like he can't tell which emotion he should feel. "You need to cut this shit out, Sal. Vi didn't provoke you, there was no reason for you to say that. There's never a good, viable reason for you to target someone's looks. That was low, even for you."

I watch him with a glare, staying silent. Ash handled him better than I could. She said everything I wanted to and more.

Sal scoffs, "I wasn't serious. I'll even give Vi a compliment if that fucking helps. A real one." I don't believe him. There's nothing he could say or do that would make up for the damage he just did. Hearing his attempt at appeasement makes infuriation boil in me again, and his stupid blue eyes glancing my way only make that worse. It doesn't matter if he looks good in all that tactical gear.

"Actually," Ash chirps, "I think that's a great idea. Both of you give each other one compliment. And be serious. Don't be generic either, say something that sticks out about the other person."

Is Ash on fucking drugs? Did she smoke too much again because there's no way she dragged me into this.

"Okay, cool, fine," Sal grunts, looking to me again with a gaze that spell out the most genuine form of nonchalance. He couldn't care less about me. "I'll go first. Vi," he starts, tilting his head down. The light illuminates his azure irises, trapping me in that gilded cage I repeatedly find myself in upon simply looking at him. I hate this. "I think you have gorgeous eyes. They go with almost any color I've seen you in."

I gulp. Not only did he steal my compliment for him, he also hit me with the same compliment he gave Lexi. Does he know that we're the same person? Was that him trying to discreetly tell me that he knows my secret? But, then again, why would he go out of his way to fight me about Lexi and even text her?

Well, I've done that too, actually. But he's not like that-- so did he really mean that then? That's the only thing I can really think of.

I gape at him like a fish for a couple moments, blinking quickly while I try to come up with something to say. Blush on my cheek, fingers dipping into the pockets on my vest, boots toeing at the cement beneath me all while my heart races and my insides tremble. I shouldn't react like this after he said I wasn't as successful or pretty as famous women. I'm being ridiculous.

"I--" I say, voice barely a whisper. "You--" I try to speak a bit louder, but my voice cracks so I clear my throat, tilting my head down. What kind of compliment can I give him? "You..."

"What? Nothing you can think of?" He snaps, crossing his arms, gun still in hand. His tone blazes with fury. "You're such a hypocrite. You can get mad at my joke, but then you can't find a compliment for me even after I gave you an honest one."

I pinch my lips together. He's so fucking aggravating. "Shut up," I seethe, "I'm trying to pick one." The truth falls from my lips before I can think better of it. Please don't say anything-- please don't say the obvious. Please don't point out that there's actually things I can't help but admire about you, Sal. There's a lot that I hate, but there's a few attributes that I respect too. "You have pretty and talented hands," I finally say, lifting my left hand to gesture toward him. But that sounds like I'm referring to his expert ability to make me cum. "You're really, um, a talented guitarist," I tack on, wincing. I'm trying so hard to keep the heat off of me that I may very well be attracting it instead.

I take a quick, quivering breath as true terror grips my mind and body. Anyone would be able to tell how hard that was for me, how shameful it was. This is awful, this entire day has turned into a mess.

I pull a mag from my vest, inspecting it to pass the time and ignore my surroundings. But when I look into the cartridge, expecting it to be empty, I'm pleasantly surprised to see it completely filled with neon blue and green paint-balls.

Surely these photographers aren't that dumb. They can't be, right?

A satisfying shiver runs through my body, making goosebumps rise along my skin. This is just the distraction I was looking for. Everyone's had more than enough time to think over the compliment I gave Sal, but I won't let them get a chance to say anything about it.

"Hey, Ángel," I call loudly, glancing up to survey the room and find the photographer who told us about these guns in the first place. I finally catch his confused gaze and nudge my chin in his direction. "Do you guys have extra tactical gear?" Come up with something, y/n. No one can suspect anything. "I'd love to bring this home if I can," I lie smoothly, offering up a shy smile. "You know, for... memories."

Ángel shrugs, giving me a look that screams that he thinks I'm a little crazy. "I mean, we always have extras but you can't take it home. Activision spent money on all of this."

"Ah," I hum, returning to examining the weapon of mental destruction in my hands-- a fully loaded magazine of paint-balls. "Bummer," I mumble.

With an energetic grin on my face, I shove the mag into the holder right in front of the trigger. This is unlike any paint-ball gun I've ever seen, so I'm taking a guess-- but it clicks into place easily, so I assume I'm doing something right.

"Well," Ash says softly, awkwardly. "That was a... nice compliment, Vi." I can tell she's trying to make me feel better, but she's struggling too. I don't blame her. What I said was so sad, really.

But I have this paint-ball gun to make me feel better.

"Yea," I murmur distractedly. "Hey," I ask her, looking up for a moment. "Does this thing have a safety? Does it work?" Using what very little knowledge I know of weapons here. I'm a fan of knives for a reason.

"Um," Ash purses her lips, leaning over my shoulder. She turns my gun over and flips a little switch, showing a red dot. "Yea, look," she continues. "When red shows, safety's off." Then she switches it again.

I nod my head, letting that information go in through one ear and out the other as soon as I flip the switch again, taking the gun off of safety. I'll never need that knowledge anyway.

"Thanks, Ashy," I chirp, grabbing onto the barrel of the gun with one hand and the handle with the other, lifting it up so I can look through the scope. It's one little red line line at the end of the glass so I move the weapon, glancing around the room until Sal is in my sight.

"Nothing's better than revenge, my dear friend," I mumble to Ash as I close my left eye to get better focus on my target. I lick my lips, waiting for Sal to acknowledge me, finger hovering over the trigger. Energy reverberates through my body, hitting the top of my skull and bouncing back down to my toes, only to repeat the process over and over again.

Ash gasps and I really wish I could see her expression right now. "Vi," she hisses excitedly," Are you really--"

Before she can even finish her sentence, Sal turns his head, blue eyes flashing when he notices me. I see panic fill him for a brief second, right before I turn my aim to the armor plate on his chest and press down on the trigger before I can give myself time to change my mind-- or give Sal time to talk me out of this.

There's a loud thunk that comes from the gun as soon as the paint-ball flies out of the barrel. Then the splat heard around the fucking world the exact second that Sal's armor plate gets hit with neon green.

Paint gets everywhere. It's on the bottom half of his prosthetic, all over his chest and black shirt, spilling down his pale arms.

Sal staggers on his feet, taking a step back to catch himself from the velocity and force of the paint-ball. It didn't hurt him-- he didn't make a painful sound, plus the armor plate protected him. But he's a mess now which makes this evil plan of mine so worth it.

I lower the gun, opening my left eye to get a good look at the damage. Todd's jaw is dropped, his eyes wide. He caught a bit of the paint too, a couple green dots littering his freckled face. Larry starts laughing as soon as he gets a good look at Sal too, tears streaming down his cheeks for the second time today as he drops to his knees again.

Ash giggles beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "This is why I love you," she tells me confidently. My smile widens. "Great minds think alike."

Sal looks down at himself, lifting his arms up to examine his now neon green chemical spill. All that black polish on his nails is covered in green. His shirt sleeves: green. Veiny, guitar playing hands-- you guessed it, green. It's a beautiful catastrophe in my opinion.

And then he looks up, absolutely murderous blue eyes locking onto mine. Now he feels just like I felt earlier-- ready to attack at any second.

I grin at him, putting my arms in a comfier position over my body so I can hold onto my gun. "What a shame," I say, feigning disappointment. "I ruined those pretty, guitar playing hands of yours." I stick out my bottom lip in a fake pout. "I guess my compliment to you is obsolete now."

Chapter Text

Hey everyone! So I just have to bring up this kind of serious note for a second and I’m sincerely sorry for making it into a chapter, but I’m just trying to let everyone know about this on all platforms that I post on. It KILLS me to make this decision, but for my sake and for all of my readers’ sake, I’ve decided to change the title of Motherf*cker to something different. I have no idea what it’s going to be yet, but what led me to make this decision was an issue I had with Wattpad this morning. I logged onto my account to see that the entire title was censored, I’m just really lucky that the entire story didn’t get taken down. So to avoid any repeats of this circumstance in the future, I just think it’s safer to go with a new name. If any of you guys have any ideas for the new title, please let me know because I have zero clue on what to change it to! Thank you so so much for following me on this journey and I appreciate all of you. I’m so sorry again, but I’m doing everything I can to make this story as accessible as it can be to all of you🩷🫂

Chapter Text

Sal's Lore (Part One)

—————

Sal was a bitter, revenge-driven soul by the time he turned eighteen. He had fought off his wrathful demons for years, but he could only keep them at bay for so long. In fact, to this day, he remembers the turning point for him like it was yesterday. The day he stopped the war being waged in his mind.

It was cool in Nockfell, a bit chilly. October. Halloween was just around the corner. The city was just like it always was and is-- trapped in an eternal autumn where the trees are always dead, the leaves are always crunchy, the air is always crisp, and the unique scent of Granny Smith's mixed with freshly carved pumpkins was a constant.

Nockfell was stagnant. It never changed. It wasn't much and the population was so small that it was technically Nockfell Village, but one thing that no one could deny was that it was beautiful and had its interesting points.

Sal had just finished his classes for the day-- it was nearly three in the afternoon on a Friday. There was supposed to be a bonfire down at Wendigo Lake once the sun went down. The bonfire happened on this day every year. It was a Nockfell tradition to ring in the official start of their pumpkin harvest.

Pumpkins were an important part of Nockfell's rich history. Just as sugarcane harvests are something to celebrate in Louisiana and California has their lemon festivals, pumpkins were Nockfell's thing. Wendigo Lake's Annual Pre-Harvest Bonfire was important; always happened the night before the city's Pumpkin Festival.

Everyone was prepared with pumpkins littering every inch of open space possible, so the afternoon was a breath of fresh air to Sal. It was nostalgic. It was the part of his childhood he preferred, the part that wasn't so tragic.

Sal trudged home in his new pair of cornflower blue-colored Converse. His original pair had long worn away by this point, but he found another pair to replace them.

He was alone, gaze glued to the world of orange and yellow around him. All the big white houses with their wide porches looking like props from horror movies. He half expected Michael Myers to pop out of a bush. The Halloween decorations on display only helped to liven up his imagination. What he wouldn't give to have a moment with Michael Myers over their shared masks.

Children were beginning to return home now, too. They would shoot off of their buses and run straight to leaf piles that were freshly raked up by their busy fathers. Sal watched a pair of twins scatter the dead leaves all over the ground again, only for a man to stomp around the corner of his home to yell at his children for pushing his work back.

But again, Sal was alone and he couldn't have been more aware of it. It wasn't unusual. Ash went home in her car, Larry dropped by Mr. Addison's recently purchased grocery store to collect his weekly work check, and Todd went to Neil's house for the weekends.

It was just Sal on Friday afternoons. Him and his constantly raging thoughts. And his feet crunching leaves and pine needles that littered the sidewalk. And his shoulder-length azure hair billowing in the soft breeze. His fingers pulling at the straps of his backpack.

Most importantly about this particular day's scene was that Sal felt numb. He was tired-- exhausted. Completely drained and so sick of acting like he had forgiven the person who tore his life apart before it had even really begun.

Everyone always said the right thing to do was forgive, but Sal didn't understand why that was the solution. He would write down the things he wanted to say to the person who ripped him apart. He cried about how disheartened he was, screamed at his ceiling while he showered, begging for the pain to go away. Forgiveness had done nothing to heal him, and he was absolutely sure that his forgiveness didn't matter to his mother's murderer.

For far too long, he had held back every single emotion and reaction that he should've gotten out. He was starting to wonder why he ever did that in the first place. In the way shaking a bottle of soda would cause it to burst, Sal was doing the same with his own feelings. He was constantly being shaken up and he knew he would blow any second at that point. He kept trying to push it down, but on that day, walking along Nockfell's near empty streets, Sal suspected his moment was right around the corner.

Cutting away at his skin offered only little relief at one point, but now it did nothing. He itched for emotional release, for catharsis-- but he was too afraid to look for it and didn't know how to achieve it. He was stuck. At a dark, twisted standstill with himself.

All he ever felt deep down at that time was envy and anger. He constantly craved the lives his friends lived. They were able to show off their faces in peace. They slept well at night, and for eight full hours he begrudgingly presumed. They had their parents, their families. Sal had his dad and he had his friends-- he was grateful for them, but it was just never enough. No matter how badly he wanted what he already had to be enough. He was always yearning for something, but he could never really figure out what it was that he wanted.

Did he want someone to love? Someone to love him? A face? His mother? A good night's sleep?

Sal was disgusted with himself, with his indecisive and ungrateful shit. With his horrible luck. He was his own personal pity party. How pathetic.

He couldn't do a single thing. Sal was just doomed to suffer forever.

He was starting to feel restless, like a zip-tie pulled too tight, just seconds away from snapping. And the sudden howl from beside him only tightened that tie. He went rigid in his stance, one foot caught mid-step. His head snapped up, blue hair falling into the eyeholes of his prosthetic, tickling his eyelashes.

Sal brushed his hair away from his face when a little giggle followed the scream he'd just heard-- he wasn't about to be attacked. He didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

He blinked at two teenagers running around someone's front lawn. They looked happy, energetic. Unbothered by the terrors of the world around them. He felt jealous, but he felt like scoffing at their ignorance too. Didn't they know that people were suffering somewhere in the world? How could they be so carefree-- how could they be happy?

Sal had to remind himself every single day that he couldn't actually think that way about other people. Everyone was allowed to be happy at some point, he was allowed some relief too. He just didn't get it often enough for it to really... matter.

But one little splash of joy in his deadened life was curled up in his bed at home and waiting for his afternoon snack. So Sal turned his attention away from the happy kids, focused on getting home yet again. But when his head swerved to look back to the placement of his feet, he noticed a pair of shoes a few steps away from him.

Sal's gaze traveled up the person's body, his blood going ice cold once he realized that it was Travis standing before him. Not to mention, the horrified expression on the bully's face was a bit startling to the bluenette.

Travis's face was always bruised or scratched in some form or another. Sal felt a bit morbid when thinking that Travis's abused skin just so happened to bring out the mahogany shade of his dark eyes. And the bully's hair was in a purposefully messy state that was just so exemplary to Sal. Even if the dark roots of his bleached hair needed to be dyed again, he still managed to make it into something attractive. Sal was, again, envious. But more prominent than his envy was his rage and his fear.

Sal stood there, assessing Travis's fearful figure with wide, wary eyes, even if only one of them worked anymore.

A wave of disdain cursed Sal. Every single day, he had to find a way around Travis and that afternoon he had to do it again. He should have been free of his bully for the rest of the weekend, so what business did Travis have there?

Whether their interactions were verbal or bloody, Sal still despised having to so much as be in the blonde asshole's vicinity. He didn't mind watching Travis-- watching him was simple, noninvasive, and even interesting at times. But actually having to be near him and listen to his insults? Sal would rather avoid that.

So he tried to go for the ignorance route-- sidestep Travis and pretend he never saw him. But as soon as Sal took a single step forward, Travis barked out his name. It was so frantic and desperate that Sal couldn't help but flinch. And despite his better judgement, Sal stopped moving. He couldn't help it, the pause was instinctual. He stared at Travis, wide-eyed and trying to hold up a half decent glare.

Travis and Sal had one singular moment of understanding years ago-- their freshman year of high school. The bully's vulnerability now reminded Sal of their one moment. The bluenette had always been too empathetic to ignore someone in need-- even if it was Travis who bothered him to no end when Sal happened upon him crying in the bathroom one day.

But that didn't matter anymore, or it shouldn't at least because the day after that moment, Travis reverted back to his well-known asshole persona. Sal had been so disappointed in himself for wasting his time that day a few years back. He thought he had finally made a friend of the closed-off bully, but it turned out that nothing changed.

On the sidewalk, standing before Travis, Sal was reminded of the day a stall door separated the two young men. Watching the more grown up version of Travis made Sal feel like he was just going to waste his time again by assuming that the blonde had changed. Sal shouldn't keep hoping for change, but he couldn't help it.

Sal continued to wait to hear him out anyway. Watched a fidgety, red-faced Travis who looked like he was about to have a panic attack.

"I'm moving," Travis finally spoke, his voice was quivering. "Away from Nockfell."

That was news to Sal. Not like it mattered much-- this just meant that he could finally be at peace with his not-so-normal, every day life. If anything, Sal was actually elated.

"And I'll probably never see you again," Travis continued, looking off to the side. "So I wanted to tell you something. Before I go." The boy frequently paused, unable to really look Sal in the eye or keep the tremor from his deep voice.

Sal chewed on his scarred bottom lip, trying to ignore the way it felt like biting on ripped leather. "If it's to call me a freak like you've done for the past four years, you can just leave now," he snapped, his tone soft like it always was because God forbid he release all the pent up rage and aggression. Losing his filter in front of Travis was never on Sal's list of things to accomplish.

Sal could hear Travis audibly gulp at the cold words directed at him. "No," Travis squeaked, "I-- I never meant any of that."

Sal scrunched his face up at such a sad attempt at a lie. The tip of his nose brushed the inside of his prosthetic, teeth bared as he snorted tastelessly, "Could have fooled me." Just like he thought-- a waste of time.

Without a moment of hesitation, the bluenette stepped onto the curb of the street, passing up Travis. He didn't look at him, didn't acknowledge his presence anymore. He was done dealing with this asshole. He had a date with Gizmo, Travis didn't matter.

Sal resurfaced on the opposite side of Travis, their backs to each other. He tried to clear his mind, to ignore the burning rage scratching at his spine. Travis was leaving, things were going to be better. He just had to remember that. He had to hold onto that.

"I'm in love with you!" A soft, almost inaudible whimper followed that declaration. "I always have been..."

Sal's mind turned to mush. He suddenly couldn't think, couldn't form words or comprehend what was just said. He simply took pause-- his steps and thoughts simultaneously ceasing. He was at a standstill with the rest of the world around him. Where was he even supposed to start in dissecting what Travis had just said?

Sal's heart thrummed wildly inside his chest. He was enraptured by the prospect of being loved-- didn't matter who loved him. It was the fact that maybe just one person loved him romantically. But then again, how could anyone love him? Especially homophobic, ableist Travis of all people. What was going on here? Obviously Travis was lying, but why would he drag himself down with Sal? What was the purpose?

Sal didn't know how to calm his mind, he didn't know how to pick a side. He wanted to be excited so badly, but he knew better. He knew that this was just another one of Travis's devious plots in stomping him into his grave. Sal grew increasingly disappointed in himself. Every. Single. Day. But hoping for Travis to love him? Trusting it even if just for a moment? Getting excited over it? That was breaking boundaries. He needed to draw the line for himself.

But the issue was that he had already crossed that line he was struggling to build last minute. All of the build up over the past few years was coming to a breaking point and he could feel it. He could smell it. He could taste it. The numbness traveled throughout his entire body-- it was in his blood, in his bones, in his DNA by this point and he was going to snap. There was no holding it back anymore.

Sal turned his head over his shoulder to address Travis, hands clenching into fists as he fought for clarification, for just a moment of relief. His fingernails bit into his palms, a sweet little stinging sensation following the sudden puncture. "What?" He snapped at Travis.

Travis took a breath, his entire body rising with the intake. Sal's gaze was caught in a snare-- eyes glued to the bully's red cheeks and watery eyes. "Do you remember when you found me crying all those years ago?" He asked Sal, voice cracking and quivering. Had Sal not been so pissed off and confused and saddened and every other emotion in the world, he'd have been intoxicated by the sound of Travis tripping over himself. "I was just beginning to acknowledge my feelings for you that day," he continued, swiping a hand over his bruised cheek. Travis' lips trembled, effectively showing off the healing cut on his bottom lip.

"I wrote it all down to try and get the thoughts out of my head, but it only got worse. I couldn't--" Travis stopped, clutching his shaky hands to his chest. "It was hard for me. I shouldn't be gay, I can't be. But... I've learned over the past three years that I am. And I've loved you from the start, no matter how much I hate to admit it."

Sal's head began shaking immediately. He was in disbelief for multiple reasons. The audacity of Travis to-- to... the audacity. There was no way Sal was going through this right now. He couldn't believe it. He refused to-- for his own sake. But that damn expression on Travis's face struck fear and relief in Sal's heart. And he fucking hated it.

It was relief for himself. Maybe he wasn't unloveable. And apparently Travis didn't hate him, he was just struggling with his sexual orientation. Relief for Travis for finally accepting himself and his feelings-- for being brave enough to be honest about it. Sal didn't want to be relieved though, he wanted to be angry. Which is exactly why he didn't want to hold back anymore. He couldn't keep doing it. Fuck everyone else, he had to ride or die for himself. He was the only one who ever would.

Travis might have been gay, but there was no way he could love Sal. It was impossible. The devil and angel battling on his shoulders was finally chipping away at the last bit of resolve that Sal had held up all those years. It was a cave in the trunk of a tree, and that tree was starting to tip over. This was the end.

He was tired of the lies. Tired of the excuses. Tired of the tip-toeing-- either to protect him or at his expense. Sal didn't need protecting and he sure as hell didn't want it to begin with. He didn't need someone trying to convince him that he was a freak either. Because he was a freak. And, right then, with his blood pumping and rage consuming his very essence, maybe being a freak wasn't such a bad thing.

Sal's fists squeezed even tighter, his fingertips smeared with his own blood by that point. He was done in every sense of the word. In every meaning. Completely and utterly finished. The days where he once wasted his time and bowed down to everyone were over.

He blinked past the red sheen in his vision, eyes locked on Travis who looked like he was about to faint, cry, piss himself-- he wasn't sure but it was something.

And again though, Sal couldn't care less about anyone else's feelings, let alone Travis's.

"F--" Sal seethed behind his prosthetic, instinctually biting into his tongue while his lips pulled back in a frustrated, angry snarl. His vocal cords were betraying him, trying to stop him from saying what he really wanted to say. Wanted to remind him of his calm exterior and to hold up his good reputation. That was old Sal, though. New Sal said what he thought-- what he felt.

"Fuck you."

The seal was broken. Sal's last ledge of hope disappeared, leaving the young man to free fall in his own rage and revenge-driven vices. The fight was over. The war was won. Wrath had prevailed.

"Fuck you," Sal spat out again, voice so aggressive that it nearly turned into a yell. "I'm fucking tired of your manipulation. Don't you know how pathetic you are? You're a waste. Such a waste of space, a waste of time. What was the point of torturing me for years just to come spew some bullshit about love at me? You don't love me-- you don't even fucking love yourself."

Travis flinched, falling a step or two away from the monster Sal had suddenly become. The tears that had been building in the bully's eyes finally spilled over his flushed cheeks. His mouth worked wordlessly while he stared at Sal for a bit. He bent over to hide his face, furiously wiping at his wet skin.

He took a quick breath then lifted his head again, a deadly glare quickly being directed at Sal. It was the same expression the bully wore every day. And Sal matched it with his own. He was ready, prepared for everything and anything. He'd beat Travis into the ground if he had to. Honestly, he'd feel better if he was able to get his frustrations out. Adding another pretty bruise to Travis's face felt like the best way to do just that.

Neither boy said a word, they only glared at each other for two beats of silence, and an extra beat of contemplation.

Then Travis started stomping over to Sal who was only four or so steps away, his bruised fingers squeezing into fists. Sal recognized that stance, that walk, so he prepared himself with one foot in front of the other and dropped his backpack to the ground.

"You're right. I don't love myself," Travis murmured, voice condescending. Sal held his ground confidently.

Travis hadn't seen that from Sal before. The bluenette would usually just step away and try to leave the scene— but Sal's confidence didn't deter the bully either.

"I'm sorry," Travis ground out behind clenched teeth. "I don't know how to prove it to you."

"What?" Sal laughed humorlessly, breath growing rapid to match his racing heart as Travis trekked closer. "Fighting me is how you'll prove it?"

Travis's brows bunched together in confusion for a fraction of a second. He stopped right in front of Sal, the toes of their shoes brushing and their chests just a hairsbreadth away from each other. "No," Travis breathed in disbelief, shaking his head lightly.

The bully could see everything in Sal's pretty blue eyes. The baby blue of a clear day's sky. The brightest stars in the universe captured in his irises, showing him a world of opportunity. A world of dreams. Everything he wanted. But he could also see the desperate anger in those pretty eyes that he seemed to love so much.

And Sal couldn't quite comprehend what was going on in Travis's head, didn't understand when he leaned down and pressed his lips to his prosthetic either. But the pressure was there, he could see the top of Travis's head and marveled at how impossibly close he was. And then the little kiss to his lips.

Sal's real lips parted, absolute bewilderment taking hold of him. His heart fluttered with thousands of cruel butterflies, his stomach churned with wildflowers and warm sunshine. He couldn't understand how a meaningless, fake kiss could light him up like a carnival but there he was.

Travis separated himself from Sal, wary and watery eyes watching the boy he loved through two little holes.

Sal simply looked back at him, eyes wide and his entire body trembling with adrenaline.

There was a second snap in Sal's mind that day. A snap that allowed him to see that while he loathed Travis with all his being, he felt connected to him too. He didn't by any means love the bully, but the surprise affection awakened him to something he didn't know existed within him.

And later that night, Ash, Todd, and Larry got an excuse that Sal wasn't feeling well and that he'd be skipping the bonfire.

In reality, he and Travis were hidden somewhere in Nockfell's forest, spending Travis's last day together. Sal had his first real kiss, one that went past the surface of his prosthetic. He had many other kisses that night too. He had a lot of desperate moments, Travis had a lot of desperate moments too. They were desperate together.

They found serenity, peace, and the depths of desperation in each other. They found anger, they found depression, they found secrets. They created secrets and they carried them well, kept them hidden for a long time. With certain exceptions on Travis's part— unknown to Sal, of course.

Sal will never forget the moment he pulled off his prosthetic in the darkened woods. Travis had looked over him, smiled, and kissed him again.

They stayed out well past midnight and Sal hoped Gizmo would forgive him for not making it back in time for their afternoon cuddle session, but this was too important. Sal hadn't known how, but it mattered. It mattered a lot.

It changed him. And when he and Travis parted ways that night, both boys knew it was the start and end to whatever little opportunity was there. They wouldn't try for more. They got their hours and that was enough.

Sal went back to Addison Apartments, Travis went back to his parents yelling at their near empty home.

And they never spoke again.

Chapter Text

I'm crouched behind the one piece of protection I was able to find in this abyss of unspoken horrors. This battle ground of malice and revenge.

My heart pounds against my ribcage, a war drum thrumming within my own body. My chest is splattered with the lost hopes and dreams of my enemies. My veins are filled with the icy bite of fear-- fear that strikes with the accuracy of a viper.

This is a wasteland. What once was is nothing anymore. The ground beneath me held up opportunity mere minutes ago, all for it to be stripped away in a moments notice. And it's all my fault.

The surface beyond my safe space is riddled with the neon blood of my foe. Synthetic shotgun shells cover the floor, acting as hell's very own field of bones. The desert scene that earlier reflected a symbol of goals I never thought I'd achieve now mimics Vlad the Impaler's wet dream.

I take a shaky breath, adrenaline pumping through every millimeter of my being as I listen to the war waging behind me. I don't spare even a simple glance over the box I'm hiding behind. This box is the stone that Arthur's sword once resided in-- this bitch will never break as long as I believe in it.

My fingers flex around the weapon in my arms, my muscles tense and my mind alert. If I'm not on edge at all times right now, I'll get caught. And getting caught means death. All hell has broken loose amidst the cloud of contentment that blinded me just minutes ago. I should have know that karma and revenge go hand-in-hand. They're best friends. They are a repeated process and know each other good and well.

I acted on revenge, and karma was quick to collect my debt.

"You've been hit by..." my heart stops upon hearing that deep, sultry, amused voice. He's having the time of his life, relishing in the screams of his victims. "You've been struck by..." I hear the barrel of his gun snap, releasing a plague of venom upon the person at his mercy. And the sufferer bellows in agony, spreading their unfortunate and horrific fate to me. I sympathize, my heart skipping a beat. I'm trapped in the clutches of hesitance, of terror. I squeeze my eyes shut. "A smooooth Larry Johnson!"

I swallow thickly, a guilty grin quirking my lips. Everyone's fair game to Larry right now. We aren't his friends at the moment, we're pawns in his chaotic chess game.

I set my gun on my knee, wiping my clammy palm against my chest. My hand comes up sticky though, so I look down at it, grimacing at my neon orange skin. I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating the memory of how I became covered in paint.

The issue with my win against Sal earlier is that I expected him to silently fume over his loss. I wasn't prepared for him to throw paintballs into his mag and pelt me with three almost immediately. I was too confident. Overzealous. And... I guess I had it coming.

I can't wipe the image of that moment out of my head, when I finally looked up at Sal to see him stalking over to me with a fire in his pretty blue eyes. As soon as our gazes clashed, he launched into fighting position with his gun up, aimed at me, and at the ready. His finger slammed on the trigger with no regret, effectively slathering me in the ugliest colors I've ever seen. What's worse is that he came at me short-range, so my gut and chest are throbbing in pain. Probably have some bruising, but hey, that's game. This is war.

What I want to know is how the hell Sal and Larry know how to work a paint ball gun. I underestimated my enemies.

First rule of gaming and life: never, under any circumstances, underestimate the enemy. And for fucks sake, double tap! Don't be like me, apparently.

Larry very thankfully moves away from me, probably laying his mayhem upon Ash somewhere else in this tumultuous room.

No one has found me yet, and it's already been about a full five minutes since the metaphorical shit hit the fan. I guess physical shit too, seeing as we've completely wrecked this photoshoot set. I kind of feel bad for The Faces; no one's ever going to give them this opportunity again.

I hear Todd yelp somewhere in the distance and my body stiffens up automatically. I can't afford to feel false security in such a dangerous situation. This box of props isn't my savior, nor will it ever be. I have to be prepared no matter what.

I feel a brush against my leg, so I whip my head to the side half expecting a threat and half expecting me to just have been stupid and hit the wall. Preparation can work or it can backfire, but it's better than walking through the unknown.

But seeing Sal crouched beside me makes me want to bolt into the crossfire that Larry's creating.

And Sal hasn't noticed me yet either. He's simply hiding from Larry too, trying to escape the fiend his step-brother has become. His gun is propped on his knee, his finger hovering over the trigger in fear of being found. His sapphire colored hair is stringy from sweat, sticking to his neck and prosthetic. Dots of neon green and orange are littered along the long strands, his fringe much the same. He pants heavily, probably from bolting across the room as quickly as he could. His chest rises and falls quickly, the action attracting my gaze. And then his eyes that map out the battle ground behind the box we're both hidden behind-- his cerulean gaze that swallows me whole no matter when or how I get to see them. And those beautiful, veiny, bruised hands of his that handle the weapon in his arms like he has the strength and confidence of all the mightiest men in this world.

He glances down at his gun, using his hand to swipe a patch of neon green off of his black gun. But when he looks down, he also spots my boot.

I gulp, the viper of fear sinking its venomous fangs into my skin. It was only a matter of time-- I should have snuck away while he was still distracted. But as I said, karma and revenge work hand-in-hand.

Sal's head snaps up, shocked gaze meeting my own. As soon as he realizes who he's looking at, the emotion in his eyes flips completely, turning into a horrendous glare. And there's nothing I can really do but wait for him to probably shoot me again. It's better than risking an onslaught from Larry-- I'm actually scared of him. Kinda relieved that Ash and Todd have to face him instead of me.

"Bitch," Sal bites out quietly, trying to make sure that Larry doesn't find him. "Fuck you."

My lips quirk into some kind of sneer and grin. If this is all he'll do then maybe it's time to repeat the karma-revenge process. I'm about ready to get back at him for bruising my ribs earlier. "Yea," I whisper back harshly, "I bet you want to."

Sal's piercing eyes narrow and a wave of impending doom and ferocity carves away at my insides. I can feel the sting of murderous intent like flames licking at my skin. Maybe I need to reevaluate my life choices.

He doesn't say a word-- doesn't drone about how much he hates me or how I'm nothing compared to him. He just lifts one hand from his gun and slams it into my throat, his fingers gripping my skin tightly and robbing me of fresh air.

I choke on the sudden pressure on my airways, leaning forward to try and relieve myself even if just a bit, but Sal doesn't let up. He only yanks me closer to him. It's almost embarrassing that he knows what turns me into putty in his hands-- we've only been doing this for two days. But it seems that anger and aggression is his go-to when it comes to me, whether he truly feels it or he's just trying to wrap me around his finger.

I swallow, taking quick and raspy breaths as I look into his eyes that are mere centimeters away from mine. His bright blue irises hold so much intrigue, so much contempt. Every shade of blue, every fleck of golden stardust in his gaze resents me. I'm borderline obsessed with the way he hates me at this point. It's such a strong emotion, to be loathed so deeply by anyone at all. It isn't love, but I don't need love.

Maybe this is why I didn't move when I realized he was next to me. Because I craved to fall victim to the indignation that constantly radiates between us. He just hates me so good.

I wrap my hand around his wrist, tears starting to form in my eyes as I do my best to hold his gaze. I won't bend to him-- that would be too easy. Nothing about this is easy, and it shouldn't be. He and I both know it.

"You don't want to fuck me," he says condescendingly, raspy voice full of veiled fascination. He hides most of it with his anger, but I know he enjoys the way I react. It's painfully obvious. "You couldn't handle me."

I snort as best as I can with my airways blocked off, a little smile pulling at my lips. Is he really trying to scare me? He should know by now that trying to freak me out only makes me want to show him how wrong he is. "Wanna bet?" I challenge with a scratchy, barely audible voice.

His eyes glance over my face, soaking up the position he has me in appreciatively. "I'll rip you apart," he warns, pretty gaze snapping up to meet mine again.

"Wasn't that always the plan?"

Sal takes a slow, deep breath before cocking his head to the side in an admonishing way. Then he drops his hand and a rush of air abuses my lungs. I choke on the oxygen invading my body and scoot away from him as quickly as possible. He looks away from me, peeking over the top of the box. "If it wasn't the plan before, then it is now. Someone needs to set you straight."

Oh, that's nice. So when are we fucking? "I don't want to be set straight," I scoff, taking the opportunity to glance around the side of the box too. Larry's been pulled aside by the photographers. And holy fuck, it looks like a neon tornado tore up this entire room. We're in so much trouble. "I want to be reminded of why I want this to begin with."

"No," Sal bites out. "You just need to fucking go to therapy. Bratty bitch-- I'll scare you out of this stupid BDSM fantasy you have."

I turn my head to him, eyes wide. Did he really just blindly read me and guess correctly? "How fucking dare you?" I seethe quietly. "Who are you to tell me I need to go to therapy? What does that say about you, huh? Hypocritical cunt."

Sal looks down at me in return, gaze as wrathful and irritated as usual when it comes to me. "Only delusional people like you think they want to be tied up and fucked into stupidity. But since you won't stop lying to yourself like a dumbass, I'll just have to be a good Samaritan and show you, I fucking guess."

"Ah, yea," I hum, feigning disappointment while excitement rushes through me. "Such a shame that you have to go out of your way to fuck me hard enough that I lose the last few braincells I have left." Sal rolls his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath. "You're such a hypocrite. You're judging me for being a freak when you're one too," I continue.

"Because it fits me. I've been a freak from the start, why not make it into something I can actually utilize?" He counters, voice still laced with agitation that only continues to grow.

"So no one else can have the same desires that you do? Are you really gatekeeping your sexuality right now?" I hiss at him, adjusting my stance to face him-- anything to be more intimidating than I already am. He's such an asshole involving absolutely everything. Who does he think he is? The bouncer of BDSM? Be fucking for real.

"Only you would take a warning as gatekeeping." Sal runs his paint-covered hand over his prosthetic, realizing too late that his face is slathered in neon. This only fuels his obvious vexation. He grumbles quietly to himself before saying. "You're such a simpleminded moron. Think with your head instead of your pussy. I mean, really think."

Rage suffocates me like I'm swimming in a sea of way-too-fluffy bunnies. I might be attracted to him in a way that's so down horrendous it makes me question myself sometimes, but that does absolutely nothing to distract me from how awful his personality actually is. I've never wanted to punch someone the way I want to punch him. Every single second I spend with him-- sucking him off or arguing with him-- fills me with some of the most potent emotions I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing in my entire life.

"Sal," I say calmly, turning away from him to watch as Larry turns around and starts calling out all of us. His gun has been revoked. "I say this honestly, and for your own good," I tell the man beside me. I could pistol-whip his ass right now. I'm so pissed. "I think I'll be the one to rip you apart."

That makes him laugh humorlessly, but I don't dare look down to see it happen. If I see him right now, my boot is going to be somewhere on him and it's going to hurt. "I'd like to see you try," he rasps out.

I scrunch my face up, trying to control the anger that radiates off of me in toxic waves. I'm innocent in all of this. Someone needs to set him straight. Not me.

"Try to wipe my handprint off your neck," Sal mumbles, standing up and walking around the box. "If anyone gets any ideas, I'm blaming you."

Asshole. I sneer at his back as he walks over to Larry. I bend down, swiping at my neck and only being able to smear the paint since it's starting to dry. But whatever-- if someone thinks it's a handprint, I'll just pass it off as my own.

"Yea, man," Larry says as I finally start to make my way over to him and Sal. "They aren't pressing charges because they got good pics out of the whole mess, but they are kicking us out. So..." Larry says in a serious tone, one that I don't hear all too often. He almost seems a little timid. "Ash got to talk with them while they stripped me of my fun stick. Thank God she's the bargainer because I would've landed us in jail." Emo buff daddy snorts, trying to smoosh down a little smirk.

So we're given a good reprimanding. I hate this part of getting into trouble because I always feel bad. Mainly since I'm usually the one who was the bad influence and started everything. Some things just never change and Ash can attest to that.

So many times in my life, I've done things that have landed me in situations where I definitely could have gotten a juvenile record. I've just been lucky all this time-- I need to stay lucky because I don't qualify for juvie anymore.

There was one time my band buddies and I had the bright idea to carve out the batter head of a school-owned bass drum and trick this asshole kid into crawling into it. Duck-taped him to it in record time and also got caught immediately. We were going to roll him outside of the building. This paint-ball situation reminds me of that time. It's literally almost the same situation-- defacing property, basically.

I need to stop doing this to myself.

The Faces and I do the walk of shame out of The Venetian, catching a taxi over to Excalibur since they apparently have these giant sword-shaped daiquiris and we all need a drink after what just went down. The one downside is that we're all in tactical gear and covered in neon paint. But, whatever. It's Vegas.

We all stand in line at the daiquiri stand, waiting for our turn to order. It's pretty cool in here, set up like a castle with life size chess pieces lining the front walkway. Not to mention, male strippers are taking pictures with old ladies beside us and, holy hell, no matter the time or day that is just a glorious sight to behold.

Ash and I stand beside each other, giggling over the horny old ladies beside us when a group of people walk around the corner. They're all dressed in old, medieval clothing. All men. Kings, in fact. I think back to what Ash told me earlier about there being jousting tournaments in this casino. I didn't think they dressed up though-- they all look so cool.

But then there's a straggler-- a man dressed as some kind of dark, medieval knight. His hair is long and curly and he has face make-up on. Black around his eyes. He's hot as fuck and Ash and I both quiet down while he walks by, strutting like he owns the place. He's tall as hell too. Larry's height.

The group of actors crawl into line behind us. I lick my lips, trying to get a glimpse of the dark knight, but Sal's stupid head is in my way.

Ash leans over, whispering not-so-quietly to me. "Did you see that hunk of walking fucking sex? Damn," she says, voice starstruck and eyes filled with hearts. "Men don't affect me all that often but imagine if I could sneak him into bed."

I suck in a breath, standing on my tiptoes to look between Todd and Sal's heads. All I can see is the right side of the knight's face, but that alone is satisfying to me. "I'd sleep on the couch so long as at least one of us got to get with that. He's beautiful," I admit, sending Ash a sideways glance. She giggles, nodding her head in agreement.

"Who's got you two twitterpated?" Larry asks, winking at me when I look over. Good use of new vocabulary, Lar.

I nod to the men behind Larry. "If you look behind us, there's an actor dressed as an emo knight, so to speak. He's pretty hot," I tell him.

I could slap men. They live off of one singular, shared braincell. I'll even include Todd in this statement because all three guys turn so hard that anyone else would think they'd all snapped their necks. Keep in mind, all of these actors are just a couple feet behind us so the staring is painfully obvious.

Ash and I fold in on ourselves, turning to face the daiquiri stand and grumbling to each other about how stupid they all are. Oh, this is terrible. So bad, in fact, that I'm blushing profusely. Yuck.

Sal's the first to speak, shamelessly saying, "Fuck. He's hot as shit."

"I'm not into guys," Larry says, "But he is pretty."

Todd hums in agreement, deciding to stay quiet since he has a boyfriend, of course.

"Just pretty?" Sal hisses, clearly offended by Larry's response to the knight. "Ash is right. That's walking sex."

Apparently I have to compete with men now too for a fuck. I can't tell if that's a tad disappointing or fascinating.

"Then go get his number or something if you're so shocked by my taste in sex partners," Larry hums. "You're the eternal rizz master. You get any woman and man you set your eyes on. Might as well bag the dark knight."

"Stop it with the Batman references, Larry," Todd says, giggling shortly after.

Larry groans. "Come on! Stop hating on the game, Todd. That was a perfect opportunity."

I hope this line moves quicker. The longer they talk right in front of the topic of discussion, the more horrified I feel. Ash isn't any better either. She's chewing on her bottom lip, face red as a beet as she finally gets an opportunity to run up to the counter and order us all a daiquiri.

The five of us start walking past the group of actors with giant daiquiri swords hanging around our necks. It's almost comical having to do the walk of shame again, but I'm more terrified of the fact that this poor man probably knows that we were all fawning over him.

We're almost out of dodge but someone calls out to The Faces. We all simultaneously turn, quaking like leaves on dead tress because that definitely came from the group of actors.

And there's Mr. Emo Knight, walking toward us in all his glory with an excited little grin on his handsome face.

I'm going to vomit.

He walks up to Sal and Larry and shakes their hands, sharing quick introductions. Then the knight looks past them and at Ash, Todd, and me. My heart skips a beat in childlike elation when his gaze lingers on me.

"Oh, hey," he says in a surprised tone. "VioletViolence! I've seen pictures of you online for the past couple days. You're even prettier in person."

My entire body tenses up with excitement and I struggle to hold back the huge smile that wants to rip my face apart. This is phenomenal. Good job, y/n. I don't know what I did to deserve the compliment, but I'm glad I did it.

"Oh, thanks!" I tell him. In a stroke of confidence, I say, "You're pretty, too."

I want to rip up the floorboards and make a shrine for this guy when a light blush paints his cheeks. To think that I've done absolutely nothing but stand for a picture and he's already blushing over a compliment from me. That's incredibly encouraging.

"Thank you," he says bashfully, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Could I get a picture with all of you? If you don't mind, of course."

"We don't mind at all," Sal jumps in to say, already moving closer. "You look cool as hell, man."

I narrow my eyes at Sally Face. How do I read this play? Is he jealous or is he trying to steal this guy from me? I can't tell.

"Thanks," the knight says, scooting in beside Sal so we can all take a picture with him. One of the other actors does the honors, snapping a few quick photos.

We separate after a moment and Sal breaks the silence by saying, "We should grab a drink so you can tell me about those tournaments. I was thinking about trying out some new things and maybe horses are the way to go."

It's almost fool proof. So good that I choke on the sip of strawberry daiquiri that's halfway down my throat. Larry wasn't kidding. Obviously I'm unfortunate proof of it, but Sal really can pull anyone he wants.

"Ah, I wish I could," the knight says a bit awkwardly. "We have another tournament coming up in about fifteen minutes though."

Oh, that's a burn. I wince over the rejection simply because it's so obvious that the knight is lying. If they had another tournament, they wouldn't be buying heaps of alcohol.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as Ash's eyes go wide. Larry turns around to face Ash, Todd and I while trying to hold back a laugh, his face perfectly mimicking the red shade of his daiquiri. Todd wiggles his nose, sniffing quietly. That's funny to see-- he's trying to hold back his reaction too.

Sal's lucky he wears a prosthetic because it can hide anything he's feeling. That is, as long as he's able to keep his emotions out of his eyes.

"Yea, that's no problem!" Sal responds, shaking off the rejection like a pro. "You guys have a good night."

Larry's already snickering as we continue our walk out of Excalibur, and as soon as we cross the threshold of the front door, he and Todd burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"That was bad, bro," Larry cackles, ruffling Sal's hair. The bluenette shoves his step-brother away from him in response, sending him a pair of aggravated eyes.

"It was worth a try," Sal grumbles. "Hop off my dick. It's not the first time I've been shot down and it won't be the last. No pun intended."

I don't quite understand what the no-pun part is about, but the entire group gasps through giggles that they desperately try to squash down into the depths of their soul.

"The worst part about him rejecting you was that he would've absolutely gone out with Vi. He was so into her," Todd says after a moment, trying to deflect Sal's most recent comment.

"He only called her pretty. Doesn't mean he wants to dick her down or anything," Sal says in response. Poor guy, he's so jealous that I pulled the hot knight.

We're all walking side-by-side along the entrance to Excalibur, making our way down to the strip instead of catching another taxi. It's evening, fun city lights are on as the sky darkens, and we need to pick up dinner. Not to mention, we have loads of alcohol so why not make our trip back to Caesar's palace eventful?

I tip my head forward to get a glimpse of Sal-- more importantly, to meet his gaze so he can see my smug expression. I want nothing more than to bask in his rejection.

I see the side of his prosthetic instead-- the bottom half of it is lifted slightly as he sips from his transparent pink straw. It's likely stained from the strawberry daiquiri he has in his hands. His pale, scarred jaw and chin are visible to me, but dark from the shadow of night and his prosthetic. No matter how little I see, I still feel a fluttering in my chest because this is the most I've ever seen of his face. It gives me some kind of theoretical rush-- sets me into a daydream.

His lips are probably tinted red from his drink. His tongue must taste like an inebriating mix of vodka and artificial strawberries. And the shape of his lips, if his teeth are straight or crooked, what kind of nose he has, the curve of his eyebrows. What it would be like to taste him, to feel him in ways that I haven't yet. I could go on forever.

But I shouldn't go on because wanting more from a man who's only willing to give me the bare minimum is setting me up for disaster. He told me himself that I shouldn't expect anything from him. One thing he's failed to do is lie to me, so I'll take his word for it and consider Sal-centered expectations to be detrimental.

This entire time, I haven't wondered about what he looks like beneath his prosthetic-- not even once. It's like a delayed reaction; now I'm overcome with this horrifying yearning to rip the hunk of plaster off of his face and get a glimpse of the real thing. I was fine literally two hours ago, so what's changed? It's not because he's been kind to me because he hasn't shown any emotion that could resemble kindness at all.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm leaving Las Vegas tomorrow and my brain is just subconsciously reminding me of my dwindling time here.

"So anyway, since Sal's butt-hurt," Larry says, interrupting the silence that had overtaken the group. And it was never truly quiet, just felt like it. Cars were still zooming beneath the walkways under our feet, people were still bustling about, music still swelled in the air around us-- but we were all caught up in our own heads. "Let's play a game. Vi is the victim since we virtually still know nothing about her."

I swallow, leaning back so that Sal is out of my view before he can turn to look at me with those evil eyes of his. I don't need to be pining after him anyway-- this is just a nice agreement he and I have. That's all this will ever amount to and that's perfectly fine. No strings, no attachments. Just casual sex, hopefully. If we ever fucking get there.

I turn my attention to Larry. "There isn't much to know," I murmur. I have to be worried about this, not Sal. Larry's trying to quiz me because he thinks this is our first time meeting. I have to be careful. "What kind of game do you want to play?"

Larry slurps his daiquiri loudly, gaining the attention of a few people around us. "Got any weird kinks? Guilty pleasures? Fun scars? Creepy interests?"

My eyebrows raise of their own accord. I'm not sure if these questions are an opportunity for him to relate and feel better about his own odd interests, but I'm a little shocked. Where do I start and what do I keep to myself?

"Um, no weird kinks that I know of--" I start to say, but Ash holds a hand up to my face and slaps her palm against my mouth.

"Liar," she proudly yells. "You are such a degradee."

Heat envelops my entire body. Why did she have to say anything? Keep it in the fucking bag or something-- anything.

"Come on, Ash," Todd huffs. Oh, thank you, sweet angel. If anyone has my back, of course it would be Todd. "We already know Vi's into degradation."

My gaze snaps to Todd and my mouth falls open. So much for trust.

The situation is hilarious, honestly, but also mildly concerning. Am I so submissive that I wordlessly scream it to everyone? Since when have I become this people-pleasing monster?

I choke on an embarrassed laugh, staring at my feet as we walk. My cheeks are flaming and I really just want Thanos to snap his fucking fingers right now.

"Fuck all of you," I sniffle, eyeing my giggly friends. I can't be mad-- this is all in good fun. Still can't wait to get back to the hotel and disappear until I have to leave tomorrow though... "And Larry, the best I've got for you is that I got my finger stuck in the lock of my classroom door in fifth grade," I proclaim bashfully leaning over and holding up my hand.

Larry's eyes light up, much like a cat's pupils dilate when they're focused. He grabs my hand and exams it. "Which finger?" he asks, all focused and adorable as he takes a quick sip from his daiquiri.

"This one," I chirp, lifting my middle finger with no shame.

Larry's smile drops immediately. Then his eyes slowly lift to meet mine, absolute numbness in their chocolatey depths. The nonchalance in his pretty gaze makes a little shiver trickle down my spine. It's both scary and entrancing-- he's just... he's hot...

Larry pinches his lips together then yanks me toward him. My eyes mimic saucers when I trip over my own feet before stumbling into the behemoth of a man. My weight slamming into him pushes him into Sal who snaps at both of us, but I couldn't care less about him when I'm trying not to peel cement with my fucking teeth.

Larry stabilizes us, holding himself up with Sal-- who's still grumbling-- and grabbing onto my waist to keep me upright.

I take a breath, gripping onto Larry's thick biceps for dear life. And you know what? I hold onto the moment (his biceps) for a good couple seconds and appreciate it because at least I have an excuse to touch the build that this man has going on.

So after a second of squeezing this poor mans arms and pretending that I'm recovering instead of literally copping a feel, I furrow my brows and look up at emo buff daddy. He's grinning down at me nervously.

"I swear I just wanted to intimidate you a bit," he snickers, finally releasing me from his hold.

I say a silent, solemn farewell to Larry's arms then huff. "By throwing us into oncoming traffic?" I snort. "That's not intimidation. That's a literal trip to the pearly gates, my brother in Christ."

Larry looks off to the side, upside down smile on his faces as he hides his hands in his pockets. He knows he's guilty.

"But... do you actually have a cool scar then?" Larry asks after a moment, finally falling into step with the rest of us who walk the strip.

I purse my lips. "Not really. I have scars, just not cool ones," I admit. If I've ever gotten a cut or gash, it's always healed pretty quickly. Most of my childhood scars faded years ago and the ones that stayed have no interesting meaning. "Do you?" I ask, leaning forward to send him a smile. I'm able to see Sal again, but he looks aggravated now. Daiquiri dangling from his fingers as he looks out at the city.

I lick my lips before looking back up at Larry. Ignore the brooding little bitch, y/n.

"Um," Larry trails off, sucking on the straw of his daiquiri in an almost suggestive way. Even Todd looks over to raise an eyebrow. "Me and Sal have matching scars."

My eyebrows raise. That's interesting. "What, was it like a brothers pact?" I giggle.

Sal looks over now, his eyes meeting mine. He looks angry though, much angrier than he did just seconds ago. Something tells me this is a story that he never wanted out for prying ears. That makes it all the more intriguing.

"No, it was actually pretty stupid," Larry swipes at his nose and looks off to the side. "Sal hates this story so much because it landed both of us in the hospital."

Hm, hospital tales with The Faces. Sal's reaction was fishy up until Larry mentioned that it was just a stupid little thing in general. I'm a little desperate at this point-- I need to know more. "Tell me about it," I chirp, looking out at the city lights around us. We're walking up to The Venetian now. I have some strange feeling that we're all going to try to sneak past this building pretty quickly after what happened earlier-- especially since we're still in paint-covered tactical gear.

"Hold on," Ash jumps into the conversation, pointing at an Irish Pub a little further down the street. "We're grabbing dinner there. Take out. All the same order. No if's, and's, or but's. I'm ready to get home." She leans over and snatches Todd's wrist. "And fruit roll-up is coming with me."

I watch Larry turn his attention to Ash. "Just as long as you get me some kind of alcohol," he says, grinning all the while. He's going to get so slammed.

Larry is an odd specimen. Of course, we all know that, but he has this kind of aura about him that's so different from the rest of The Faces. He's such a welcoming person-- you look at him and want to trust him with everything. But it's also incredibly obvious that he's devious and chaotic to the core. He'll keep everyone's secrets safe, but he'd probably commit homicide too, I think.

Larry turns to me as Ash rushes ahead of us. There's this gleam in his eyes that screams excitement and focus.

"So I'm gonna spare you the confusing details because Nockfell is just... in a state of sin constantly. You'd be so lost if I told you why exactly this happened," the man waves me off, smacking his lips and looking off to the side. I look up at him with raised eyebrows, patiently waiting. If I'm being honest though, I want to know the confusing details. What was going on in Nockfell?

"Larry, can you not?" Sal bites out. "You tell this story constantly. Just give it a rest. Not everyone wants to talk about scars."

"Sir," Larry scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks down at Sal beside him, giving the blue-haired gremlin a 'try-me-bitch' look. "You can go and be insecure somewhere else because I fucking love telling this story. And Vi wants to hear about it, obviously." He turns to me and grins, showing off his sweet, little gap-toothed smile. "Look at that precious face. It's so eager." Larry grips onto my masked cheeks and drags me toward him.

My heart jumps into my throat when Mr. Metal-Head himself winks at me before dipping his head down to kiss the nose of mask. I can't feel his lips, but just the fact that he's so close to me and showing me this type of care through physical touch makes my cheeks heat up. Makes my fingers go numb. Makes my thoughts race out of my body, skittering along the pavement in excitement-- all with love hearts littered about them. If romantic love were a thing between him and I, things would be much different right now. But this feels more like... I'm a princess and he's my devoted, caring knight. Instead of kissing my hand, he brought his feelings to the very tip of my nose.

This is twitterpated.

Sal and Larry start bickering as soon as the little peck is done and over with. While they do their step-brother thing, I mull over Larry's small token of affection. That kiss meant so much even though our skin never touched. Did Sal feel the same way even though our lips were still separated by his prosthetic? Did he feel like he was cared for, loved? Was he high off the prospect of someone actually wanting to kiss him, innocently or lovingly, just like I am right now?

I almost feel bad. To have all of that mental opportunity ripped away from him the moment it was revealed that I was VioletViolence. Sal must have felt terrible. Maybe... maybe he's actually justified in hating me.

"So anyway," Larry grips my shoulder, making me flinch in surprise. I turn my gaze up to him, meeting Sal's frustrated, glaring blue eyes for just a moment in the process. I'm going to think about how bad I must have made him feel all the time now.

"Sal and I were running, right." Larry leans forward, swiping his hand horizontally before us. I follow his pretty hand that's littered with patchwork tattoos. "Midnight, pitch black outside." Larry tilts his head, pinches his lips to exemplify these points. I simply nod. "Nockfell has this giant forest that's super thick, 'kay, thicker than your juicy thighs, in fact." His eyes snap to me and I have to turn away while my mind runs rampant again. I can't stand Larry, but in the best way.

"Before you get to the forest though," he continues. "There's this old fence that's lined with barbed wire. My guess is to protect old farms from predators and whatever. But Sal and I were young and thought we could simultaneously clear this six foot fence like fuckin' track stars." Oh. I kind of get where this is going-- they were idiots, basically. This story also lines up perfectly well with what Sal told me earlier. I'm incredibly relieved to hear that his scar story was true. This also means that I have no unnecessary stress regarding him and his well-being. Not that I should worry about that to begin with.

"So next thing you know, Sal and I are hooked by our calfs and ankles on the top of this fence. Ripped us up. We couldn't get free, so we were just kinda hanging upside down on this fence for like thirty minutes until Henry came to pick us up." Larry breaks off into scattered giggles while trying to finish the story, meanwhile my stomach threatens to leap out of my body. I feel sick.

"Larry, shut up," Sal mumbles again. "You don't have to give so much detail."

He's so fucking guilty and it shows.

"Come on, bro," Larry chortles, giving Sal a light shove. "It was so stupid, I still laugh about it every time. Look," the man turns back to me and stops walking. He bends down and grabs the edge of his black cargo pants. He yanks them up over his knee and shows off this gnarly, jagged scar on the back of his calf. It's a couple inches long for sure-- must have been deep. "Sal's is on his ankle. We were actually pretty worried he might have sliced his tendon. I remember screaming and yelling at him about how he would never walk again," Larry snickers, pushing his pant leg back down.

I gulp, forcing a smile onto my face. I don't have it in me to laugh at the story. Not when I know that Sal lied to my face about the scars on his thigh earlier.

I'm battling myself. Sal and I aren't close-- he doesn't have to tell me at all if he wants. His mental health and his scars are his business, not mine. It's my fault for feeling so torn up about it. I feel like it's my job to save everyone, but I forget that not everyone wants saving. That, and I just can't save everyone in general.

I don't have a God complex, I just have this unbeatable savior complex that I'm still at war with to this day. I need to get over myself-- not everyone is going to trust me with their secrets. Not everyone needs me. Not everyone will like me. Literally, this tracks with Sal and I's timeline. And besides, if he's ever having mental struggles, I'm sure he trusts Larry, Todd, and Ash enough to seek them if he needs help. I don't have to worry.

I catch Ash rushing toward us with her arms full and Todd trailing behind her with a bag full of God knows what.

"That's a silly story," I finally speak up, smiling up at Larry who gives me this devious little grin. I really just need to ignore the conversation I had with Sal earlier. It was never my business in the first place. "I don't have any cool scars, but I did have something similar happen." I shrug, patting the side of my hip. "Got a fish hook stuck in my side. Pulled it out on my own because I was afraid to get in trouble."

I'll actually never forget the day I yoinked my dads fishing pole with the intention of developing my rad fishing skills all to accidentally yoink myself in the end. I'm just lucky the hook was unused prior to getting stabbed into me. The story is mainly to help me forget about Larry's right now though.

"Perfect timing," Larry whispers excitedly. He crosses over to stand in front of me and my brows furrow in confusion. "I can finally get on my knees for you."

"Nope," I spit out immediately, taking a step away. I'm too insecure and timid for that-- his sweet nose kiss was more than enough. This man needs to have mercy on my hopelessly romantic and decrepit soul.

Larry rolls his eyes. "Fine. But I do want to see. Plus, it's an excuse to finally see your tattoo."

I purse my lips. That's risky. I'll have to lift up the edge of my bra strap for that and I'm a little nervous about being so open.

Ash pops up beside me though. "I just bought, like, thirty jello shots. You fuckers better start throwing some back while I throw this ass back and get laid by a pretty bitch." These words come out in one breath and Ash never breaks her nonchalant facade as she holds a bag out to me.

"Can I be the pretty bitch?" I ask with a smile, sidetracked as I look into the bag to find a plethora of multi-colored plastic containers full of alcoholic jello.

"I thought that was the plan from the start, beautiful," Ash purrs, stealing my attention. I glance up at her, noting the playful little gleam in her bright green eyes and the smirk playing on her full, glossy lips.

I swallow thickly, frowning at how easily I end up falling into these traps that my friends set out. They're too attractive.

"Give me one of those," I murmur, fishing out a handful of shots from the bag to distract myself, and hopefully everyone else, from how shy I've suddenly gotten over a little bit of Ash's shameless and effective flirting.

"Yea, share-- but fuck off, Ash," Larry sneers. "Vi's mine. Stay away." He grabs both of my shoulders and walks me a step closer to his chest. I cannot be fucking doing this right now. I feel like I'm snorting coke just from being stuck between two of the hottest people I know-- and I've never even done drugs.

I open the top of an orange flavored jello shot then very quickly down the contents. Sal's hiding behind Larry right now, but I'm still able to see half of him. And he watches me go through all five stages of grief as soon as the flavor settles on my tongue.

I swallow quickly then choke on the leftovers, making the most disgusted face possible. It burns, and it tastes awful. So not worth it. That was a good reminder as to why I shouldn't consume alcohol in the first place.

"Ash," I splutter, traumatized and betrayed. "These are terrible. I'm sorry but... it's bad. Try one," I say, popping the lid off another and shoving it toward her. This one's green.

Ash doesn't say a word, just wraps her pretty fingers around the container and takes the shot like a pro. She doesn't even flinch. All she does is contemplate it for a moment then shrug at me "Tastes like alcohol."

I roll my eyes. At least she doesn't care all that much-- the shots won't go to waste.

I turn to Larry, intent on finally pulling up my shirt for him as we start preparing to walk again. But when he finally enters my field of vision, his arms having left my shoulders a few moments ago, I notice five empty containers stacked in his palm. If pregaming was a person, it would be Larry.

I blink at the man, then look up to see him quite literally tonguing a very clearly empty container. I don't know what more he's looking to get out of it, but at least he has some good work ethic.

Larry catches my eyes and pauses, tongue buried in the plastic like he's looking for water after going days without it. It's pretty comical.

He quickly pulls the plastic away from his face and swipes his hand along his mouth. I press my lips together to hold back giggles.

"Here," I say, lifting the edge of my shirt and bringing it up to right under my armpit before I can think harder about it. The one shot I had isn't even enough to give me a buzz, but assuming it'll have some kind of affect on me later gives me false confidence. I'll walk this fear off like a pro.

I lean over to look at my side, noting the small and uneven crescent shaped scar right under my ribs. Then I grab the very edge of my bra strap and move it, revealing the top half of my tattoo so everyone can get a good look at everything if they so wish.

Larry bends over, hands on his knees as he inspects my bare side. "Nice to know we officially aren't being catfished," he murmurs, eyes glancing over every inch of my skin. He's way too close.

I gape down at him. "Did you really think I was someone else all this time?" I ask, swallowing down that statement when I realize how much of a hypocrite I am. Because I am someone else.

Now that I'm leaving tomorrow, I just suddenly feel so guilty for tricking and deceiving everyone.

I run my tongue along the surface of my teeth, looking at anything but Larry as he lightly rubs his fingertips over the words engraved into my skin. His touch tickles, but I try not to pay any mind to it-- especially when Sal's eyes are glued to my waist from a couple feet away too. He watches me shamelessly, all while I fall apart on the inside.

"You're bruised here, Vi," Larry murmurs to himself, pressing on another part of my skin that makes me wince. It's sore, for sure. I try to see if Sal has some kind of reaction because we all know it's his fault.

His bright eyes look emotionless from over here. The splashes of neon orange and green on his black tactical gear brings out the cerulean color of his hair and the midnight blue of his irises. He's so pretty in such a unique way. Watching him look at me feels like I'm gazing at something forbidden, like I'm not supposed to catch him with his focus directed at me. It feels secretive.

But all of him feels like this one, giant secret that I'm not supposed to figure out. His prosthetic, his scars, his life story. I don't know any of it and I shouldn't. My brain is hardwired to understand things that confuse me, and Sal really confuses me. He also really pisses me off, but there has to be some kind of reason as to why he's so angry with me to begin with.

I have so much I want to figure out and so little time, so little trust. So little self-confidence. Things are fine right now-- Sally Face is silent, Todd is too. Larry is running his fingers over my skin and Ash is resting her chin on my shoulder, watching Larry. I should be enjoying my time. So why am I regretting my decisions and worrying about someone who couldn't care less about me?

Chapter Text

Ash throws a cold, soggy fry into her mouth, stumbling around with her arm linked through Larry's. The two look like they're about to start line-dancing through Caesar's Palace. They kick their legs up with each step, giggling about nothing and everything all at the same time.

And that leaves Todd, Sal, and me to scramble around and try to cover their tracks.

Between the two of them, Larry and Ash managed to kill all three dozen jello shots. When you slap those on top of the giant daiquiris they both drank earlier, and then the screwdrivers they grabbed somewhere on the way back to the hotel-- they're pretty sloshed.

"Let's take the stairs," Ash gasps, squeezing Larry's toned arm. She points up at the spiral staircase that she and I climbed just two days ago.

"This is why I love you," Larry whispers, leaning toward the woman with his best, award-winning smile. In reality, he looks deeply pained... but he's trying, I guess. "You have the best ideas," he praises, booping Ash's nose with his index finger.

Ash scrunches her nose and closes her eyes, pushing her face closer to emo buff daddy.

"Yea," Sal says nonchalantly from beside me. I glance over at him-- his hands are stuffed into the pockets of his black cargo pants, cerulean gaze focused on our mutual friends milling about in front of us. "So that's what we're not gonna do," he continues, shifting his stance and tilting his head. "It's time to head up to our room."

For once, I'm inclined to agree with him. Have pigs started flying? Did Sal miraculously become a nice person in some alternate universe? The world is spinning off its axis.

Ash turns her head over her shoulder, her hair slapping Larry in the face. She's wearing a pretty pout, eyebrows furrowed and lips puckered in disappointment. "But I want to go gamble and walk around. Larry wants to, too. Right, Lar?"

When she looks back at Larry, he's too busy pulling strands of Ash's hair out of his mouth to even realize he's been brought into the conversation.

Sal and Todd simultaneously sigh.

"Do they... do this often?" I ask no one in particular, staring at the pair that start bickering. It's kind of wholesome, actually. Ash is fussing at Larry for not moving out of the way when her hair swung around and Larry's just telling her about how pretty and soft each little strand is.

Todd casts me a glance. "Every time we go out somewhere. Every single time." He bites into his cheek, turning his attention back to Larry and Ash to keep an eye on them. "Sal and I have to parent them. We're just lucky that they somehow have some common sense packed into their brains even when they're drunk."

"Larry is even more of an issue when he has alcohol in his system though," Sal murmurs, adding on to Todd's overview of drunk nights with The Faces. "His actions are already questionable when he's sober, but when he's drunk, there's nothing holding him back."

Yea, I watched him decimate the entirety of today's photoshoot so I have no doubt that he's capable of some pretty bad things when the consequences don't matter.

Wincing, I nod subtly. Maybe letting Ash and Larry wander around, even with the three of us watching them, isn't such a great idea. This wouldn't be a good look for them online, especially if they would end up getting involved in some risky (cough, illegal) business.

"Hey, Larry," Ash whispers loudly. "Do you still have weed? Or like... something better?"

"Hell yea, I do!" Larry chirps back to the beauty, squeezing her arm closer to him. "We're in Vegas, baby, it's time to live it up!"

I dip my head down, pursing my lips. Todd flinches and Sal jumps into action, walking up to the two and grabbing their arms. It's definitely time to bring them up to the room. "Hey," Sal snaps, but ultimately lowers his voice after checking to see if anyone was watching us. "Let's not do this right now. Come on, you two can do whatever the fuck you want in our room, but not here."

Watching Sal take on the authoritative role for Ash and Larry is... something. He's obviously worried for them, trying to keep their reputations intact. He's handling them with care too, tactfully gaining their attention with physical touch. Keeping eye contact while he talks to them. He really must do this often.

We somehow manage to convince Ash and Larry to get into the elevators. I think what really got them to comply was our promise to let them be once we finally get to the suite. Right now, they're planning this slumber party. Where they're going to do it-- I have no idea. But Todd and I are carrying everyone's leftover food and clothes. Sal has a good grip on both of our drunk friends, his pale fingertips digging into their skin.

Poor little Sally Face does not seem impressed.

I don't really have an opinion on the current matter. Ash and Larry just want to have fun, but I can also understand why its stressful for Sal and Todd. Having to take care of them when they can't do it themselves. They're the designated dads. Not drivers-- dads.

Our ride up to the suite doesn't take too long and we don't run into many people, thankfully. I guess since it's evening, everyone's either in bed or getting lit in the casinos. No issue there. Makes things much easier for us.

By the time we burst through the doors of our suite, Ash has tears running down her face and Larry's a giggly-gaggly mess. They're on two opposite ends of the drunk spectrum. Ash is reminiscing on her past and Larry's just vibing.

I let out a quiet groan when I finally put the bags of leftover food and clothing down on the dining table. Todd's right next to me, pulling boxes from the plastic bags.

"Help Sally," he says, opening one of the boxes to see what's inside. "I've got this."

"Are you sure?" I ask, brows furrowing as I take a hesitant step away. Putting me and Sal together with a task to complete isn't exactly the best idea to exist.

Todd just hums, focused on his job. Okay then, that's fine. I'll just help Ash get ready for bed and Sal can take Larry to their room. It's not like I have to be stuck with the sexual bane of my existence.

Still, as I walk over to where Sal has corralled our friends into one section of the couch, I feel this nauseating sense of destruction slowly climbing up my spine. It's like a knife in the back, utter betrayal. It's a bit humorous given that I'm the one with the own knife to my back. I chose this.

Had I just never created this online persona, Sal and I never would have become this. The topic of y/n would have died with that one Youtube video. Nothing would have come of it-- I would be back in LA going to work and paying bills like I always have.

I don't think I regret making this decision, I just think I should have gone about this differently. Of course, I don't regret it-- just the thought of getting a second alone with Sal fills me with a kind of giddiness I've never experienced. But the fact that I'm still stuck arguing with this man constantly makes it all seem... not so worth it sometimes.

Ash suddenly looks up at me with her watery green eyes and I find that my depressing internal monologue is replaced with mind-numbing love almost instantly.

Things with Sal are weird and they kind of suck, but this was worth it. If I didn't start streaming, Ash and I would have gone much longer without seeing each other. And she's someone that will always be worth any struggle of mine.

"I don't feel good," Ash mumbles to me, her words slurred and her arms wrapped around her tummy.

I gulp. Okay, so that's not too good. I should have expected it too.

I grab onto Ash's wrists carefully. "I know, honey," I tell her softly, looking into those forest green eyes of hers. She's on the brink of tears. "Look, let's go to the bathroom. We'll sit in there for a while until you feel better." I try to keep my voice as light and comforting as possible. Feeling sick while you're drunk alters the mood so quickly and it sucks. All the freedom and happiness gets replaced by shackling anxiety and fear in a moment's notice.

"No," Ash yanks her hands away from me and curls in on herself. I glance at Sal who's watching the ordeal, sitting between Ash and his step-brother with his hand on Larry's back, trying to get him to sit up. And poor Larry looks like he's just about to fall asleep right here. "I don't want to throw up. I really don't wanna," Ash speaks again, pulling my attention away from our one-man audience.

I frown at my friend. Poor thing, I know that fear.

Instead of trying to force her to stand up, I scoot in beside Sal. It's not ideal, but I don't really care. If he has a problem with my thighs squished against his, which I doubt he does, he can just move.

I wrap my arm around Ash and pull her into my side. Her head plops onto my shoulder, a soft whimper leaving her lips the moment we touch. "I didn't say anything about throwing up, sweetheart," I coo, setting my head on top of hers. I run my hand over her hair, gently threading my fingers through her slightly tangled hair. "We can just go sit in there until you feel better. And if you do end up feeling so bad that you have to use the bathroom, we'll already be there. You can take a shower if you want."

She's quiet for a moment. I sit there, staring ahead at Todd who's opening his laptop on the dining table. At the same time, Sal sighs softly and uses his hip to forcefully push himself away from me and closer to Larry. It takes quite a lot to not roll my eyes.

One second he wants to fuck me, or something akin to that, and the next moment I'm carrying the bubonic plague, measles, and various other diseases. This guy needs to pick a struggle and go with it.

I feel Ash's head move up and down against my shoulder, so I glance down at her and frown at her quivering bottom lip. Sweet thing. I know she's just drunk, but seeing her so upset and feeling sick really pulls at my heartstrings.

"C'mon then," I murmur, rubbing my hand over her back before slowly standing up. Ash struggles to follow me, so I grab onto her elbows and shoulder most of her weight with a grunt.

With her tall stature, the force of her falling into me makes me stumble a bit. I blink through my struggle and keep a good grip on her, looking up at her as she purses her lips and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Okay, she's up. Now we just have to take the short walk to the restroom.

I tilt my head back down, making quick eye contact with Sal. He's bearing dead eyes and that forever numb-projecting prosthetic. But our gazes turn opposite ways in a moments notice. Not like I really care to begin with. I'm more worried about Ash than anything else.

Ash drags her feet to the bathroom, her arms latched around my neck as she voices unintelligible pleas to help her feel better. I feel like my heart is about to snap in two. It's hard to remind myself that she's okay when she seems so miserable like this.

After a couple seconds, I gently kick the bathroom door open and flick on the light. My eyes squint against the sudden brightness, but I still lead Ash into the room and shut the door behind us.

Sighing, I help lower Ash to the floor. Her legs are spread out in front of her and her pretty head is leaned against the wall behind her. "I feel so icky, Vi," she mumbles, the words slurred as they tumble from her lips.

I shrug halfheartedly. "At least 'Vi' is a default now," I whisper to myself. I'd have been fucked hours ago if she hadn't been calling me Vi all this time. "I know you feel yucky, love," I tell her, my voice a little louder for her to hear. I squat down in front of her, running a finger over her forehead to push a strand of hair away from her face.

Ash's vibrant green eyes open to glance over my face quickly, then they close again as a soft, pained moan falls from her pale lips. In fact, her entire face is a bit paler than it was moments ago.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. She needs to be closer to the toilet.

I gently grab onto her dainty hand and pull her over to the toilet, squatting beside her again. "Tell me if you feel sick, Ash," I say, pushing her hair behind her ears again. "You might feel better if you get it out."

She groans again, but her arms grab onto the back of the toilet almost instinctually. "I know, but it sucks so much," Ash admits.

I pinch my lips together, smiling tightly at her. "Trust me, I know," I reply, moving to stand behind her. I can't do much for her right now. She can't take any medicine with alcohol still in her system and I don't want to leave her to get a bottle of water. I'd hate to not be here for her if she does get sick. So I do the only thing I can do and gather her hair into my hands. I pull a ponytail from my wrist with the intention of wrapping it around her hair, but she cuts me off.

"Play with my hair," Ash whispers, head lolling to the side.

I smile a bit at that and let the band fall onto my wrist again. So Ash and I sit in silence while I run my fingers through her hair. I braid it, then undo it, twist it around my hands, then braid it again. It's a back and forth motion in loud quietude. But only for a few minutes.

The bathroom door flies open, the wood hitting the wall with a deja vu-like thunk. I can almost hear my dad running through the house to check out what happened in my memories.

Mine and Ash's heads both snap to observe whatever the hell is happening, but all I get to see is a blur of blue and brown. I hear the squeaking of quick footsteps, and then "Bathtub, bathtub, tub!"

My eyebrows scrunch together as I assess the situation. Not Larry too...

I swivel my head around like an owl to look at the tub just in time to watch Larry drunkenly dive into it like it's some kind of pool. Then the sickening sound of vomiting follows immediately after.

I suck in a breath, turning my gaze up to Sal. He's leaning over the ledge of the bathtub, his hands holding Larry's long hair away from his face.

"Oh, fuck," Ash groans, her voice shaky. My attention leaves Sal quickly upon hearing the inconspicuous alert she gives me. I gather her hair in my hands again and rub her back as she mimics Larry.

It's a mess and it sucks for all four of us.

After a couple minutes of what feels like a never-ending rendition of The Exorcist-style vomiting, but in double, both Larry and Ash are finally in the hard relaxation phase of their drunkenness. And hopefully it'll stay this way.

I sigh to myself, feeling relieved now that the worst part of this is over.

Ash is moaning and groaning about how gross she feels, and about how her teeth feel like fresh cement. Sal just leapt to his feet and bolted out of the bathroom, likely to get something for Larry.

"Here," I murmur to my friend, helping her to her feet. My hands are gently pushing on her arms, giving her some leverage to stand. She and I stumble over to the counter in the bathroom and I start looking for necessities. Because, oh, Ash, I understand. "What color is your toothbrush?" I ask her.

"Purple," she sighs. "For VioletViolence."

I blink, my gaze cutting to my friend who smiles gently. I can't help the smile that grows on my face either, or the way my cheeks warm up a bit.

"You're so silly," I giggle, opening up a drawer where... apparently all members of The Faces keep their toothbrushes? I just pack mine up in my suitcase every night. I guess they feel like family.

But I find the purple toothbrush pretty easily. It's glittery and a deep, dark purple. Just my style, in fact.

I put a bit of toothpaste onto the bristles, wet it (because what psychopath doesn't wet the toothbrush before brushing?) and then turn to my friend. "Open up," I chirp. "I'm playing dentist today."

Ash frowns at me. "But I hate the dentist," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. "And what if I throw up on you?"

"Then I'll take a shower," I reply with a tilt of my head, trying to ease her worries. She seems to think of everything while drunk. Who stresses when they're drunk?-- well, Ash does, apparently.

At that moment, Sal walks into the bathroom again. He has a frantic, exhausted look in his bright blue eyes when they meet mine. For a moment, I'm wondering why he's even acknowledging me, but then he holds out a hand, gesturing to me. I narrow my eyes then look down, noting the bottle of cold water in his grip.

"For Ash," he says quietly, pushing the bottle closer to me.

"Oh." I snap myself out of my confused state and take the bottle from him, nodding. "Thanks."

I get nothing in response, but I expected as much. Sal simply turns his head back to poor Larry who's sitting on the edge of the bathtub and rushes over to give him some water.

The bathroom actually smells horrid, but I power through just like the other three people in the room are doing. Sal's getting Larry ready for bed and I'm doing the same with Ash. Both of us silently and simultaneously prep our friends for a good night's sleep. Hopefully. Even though I know they're both going to wake up with the worst case of acid reflux known to man-- headaches and body aches too. But they'll be fine.

It doesn't take me long to brush Ash's teeth. The time consuming part was trying to stop her from biting down on the toothbrush-- and my fingers.

At long last, which is only five minutes later, I rinse Ash's toothbrush and hand her the bottle of water that Sal so graciously brought.

"I'm going to go grab some clothes for you, 'kay?" I inform Ash, putting her toothbrush back into the drawer near the sink. I help move her over to sit on the floor so Larry can brush his teeth or use some mouthwash-- I don't know. Something.

Ash sleepily grumbles in acknowledgement of my statement. I'll just take that as an 'okay.'

I grab onto the doorknob with the intention of slipping out then quickly slipping back in, but Sal calls to me.

I pause, turning my head over my shoulder to look at him. He's holding Larry up with one arm and digging in the same drawer I just returned Ash's toothbrush to with the other. He glances up at me, hair falling into his eyes and forming a halo around his forever expressionless prosthetic. "Can you get Larry some clothes too?" He asks, looking down at the drawer again. "He's sleeping farthest from the door. Stay away from my shit," he tacks on.

I roll my eyes. Typical Sal behavior. But I reply with a quick, "Sure." It's not about Sal and I fighting right now, it's about making sure that our mutual friends are safe and comfortable.

My heart beats a little faster when I slip out of the bathroom and quickly grab a change of clothes for Ash in our shared room. She already had her pajamas laid out and ready to go, so I didn't even have to go looking. But walking to Sal and Larry's room puts me on edge. Something about being in a place that Sal would never even allow me to get a glimpse of in any other situation is both invigorating and terrifying. Imagine I still pick the wrong bed by accident? Suppose I knock over his guitar or something? These are high stakes.

I swallow the anxiety building in my belly and throw open the bedroom door, trying to keep my eyes downcast as I walk to the bed occupying the far end of the spacious room. Todd must have gone to bed by now, that or he's doing work in his room. He wasn't in the dining room when I passed it. Somehow, that makes being in here feel criminal.

If I snooped, no one would know.

But I'm not a fucking idiot, so that's not even on my bucket list of things to do in Vegas. I'm already on Sal's shit-list. I don't want him to put me even higher on it-- though, maybe working my way up that list might make for a good hate-fuck or something...

A side-tracked mind results in borrowed time. And my borrowed time is probably going to end up with Sal murdering me in my sleep if I take any longer.

I still can't help but look up though. Just to see something. To keep my knowledge of this room a secret forever.

My eyes glaze over the entirety of the room as I reach Larry's bed. The mattress itself is cleared, but all of his clothes are thrown on top of his suitcase that's hiding beside his bed. My guess is that Sal told him to clean up the place and this was Larry's definition of "clean."

I sink to my knees and dig under Larry's pile of clothes. There's a couple pairs of shirts and shorts still folded way at the bottom of his suitcase, so I grab those and then pinch the waistband of a pair of boxers between my index and thumb. I have no idea if they're clean and I have no desire to find out if they're dirty.

I fold the clothes under my arm then acknowledge the room once more. It's pasty white, as are the beds. But I pay closer attention to Sal's side of the room for... reasons.

There's a glass of water on his bedside table. I have no idea what it's there for. Maybe he gets thirsty at night. But there's also a guitar case leaning up against his bed. His suitcase rests neatly on top of the white comforter on his bed, all his clothes folded to perfection and stacked inside. He's so much more organized than Larry. In fact, he'd have been better off rooming with Todd.

It's so... normal. And I didn't think his belongings would be normal. I didn't think his room would look so domestic. I half-expected to find a blue wig hanging off the bed post, or taxidermy animals, or furniture made from skin-- inspired by Ed Gein, of course.

But he's normal. Hell, he seems more normal to me right now than Larry given the different states of each half of this room.

I swallow down the odd feeling of having different results than I'd originally expected. It's not saddening, it's just... weird.

My time here is done though, so I quickly skitter out of the bedroom, shut the door behind me, and speed-walk back to the bathroom.

When I walk in, I happen upon another thing I didn't originally expect to see tonight. Or ever, for that matter.

Sal's standing on the toilet seat, all focus and dedication as he carefully brushes Larry's teeth for him. Much like I did for Ash earlier. I don't even know how to react upon seeing the scenario because Larry's even holding onto Sal's waist. It makes me want to laugh my ass off, but it's also kinda cute. Seeing them work together and not caring about how others perceive it is just sweet. But it's still fucking hilarious.

My eyes tear up a bit as I try to hold in the laughter bubbling up my throat. For God's sake, I need to get out of here before I lose it.

I put Larry's clothes onto the bathroom counter then drag Ash into a standing position. "Larry's clothes are near the sink," I say, my voice wavering as I try to bite down the giggle that so desperately wants to be released.

Sal answers me with a nonchalant, emotionless, "'kay."

I puff out my cheeks as I help Ash over to her room, biting my lips to hold in my little giggles. But once I finally get us both inside and shut the door, I let the giggles flow. Not like anyone but Ash can hear me anyway.

"What are you laughing at?" Ash asks, her words drawn out and so, so soft. I lift her shirt over her head and push her arms through the new shirt I'd grabbed for her. "Do I look ugly?"

"No, no. You're gorgeous, as always," I quickly say, grabbing onto the collar of the shirt and pulling down until her head pops through the hole. Her hair is a static-y mess and splattered across her face. "I'm just laughing at the position I found Sally and Larry in earlier." I use a finger to brush strands of hair out of her face, then I run my fingers through it to tame the frizz.

"Oh, yea," Ash opens her watery, sleepy viridian eyes. "I saw that. Sal wanted Larry to sit for him but Lar said something about not wanting to hurt the bacteria living on his skin." Ash squints her eyes in obvious confusion, then closes them again.

Larry is so ridiculous. He's just like Ash-- worrying about things that don't need to be worried about. Come on, body bacteria?

I just shake my head, smiling at my sweet Ashy-poo while she unfastens the button on her cargo pants before shimmying her way out of them. They get stuck around her ankles, so I kneel down and gently pull them off of her.

But then she drops her panties without even an ounce of a warning to me.

I spin on my heels and purse my lips. I take it she's got the rest of this on her own.

I let Ash do her thing, tapping my feet against the ground and acting like this isn't my room too. Just puts me in an odd position knowing that Ash is just... yea.

With the way I'm standing, arms crossed and posted up awkwardly, I feel like a guard. Or a princess's personal knight. Damn, I actually wish I was the princess to that dark knight from earlier.

Oh, no. Now Larry's gotten the Batman reference stuck in my head forever.

Speaking of Larry, he and Sal are suddenly in the doorway and Ash is still getting dressed behind me-- crap.

I rush up to the two men and slap my hands over their eyes. Not that it matters much considering that Sal is wearing a prosthetic and Larry's so tall that his head almost hits the top of the door frame.

"What the fuck?" Sal gripes, grabbing onto my wrist and yanking it off of his face.

He glares at me, eyes so incredibly close that I can see all the different shades of blue populating his irises. I'm momentarily distracted, which ends up sucking because Sal's eyes snap to Ash.

They widen, meeting my own eyes again. And then he does the last thing I'd ever expect-- which seems to be my motto tonight. He grabs my hand and slaps it back over his eyes.

I take a breath, trying to calm the panic that's wreaking havoc on my body.

"What the hell are you two doing in here?" I snap at the boys, blinking at their stone-still figures. Sal and I are shoulder-to-shoulder, but since my arm is raised, it's more like chest-to-chest. And the same goes for Larry, but that somehow doesn't matter as much.

Sal huffs. "Larry wants to sleep with Ash tonight. It's.. it's their drunk thing," he grumbles, though his voice is a tad shaky which suggests that he might be nervous with a little spoonful of shocked.

"Okay, well, drunk ritual or not," I say pointedly. "You could've knocked."

"Fuck off," Sal bites out, but his rebuttal is weak. He knows he can't fight this, and he knows he's in the wrong either way.

I turn my head over my shoulder to see if Ash is done changing. She finally has underwear on-- thank God-- but she's struggling with her sweats now.

Not like these guys haven't seen Ash in panties before, I suppose.

I rush over to my pretty friend and help her as best as I can by grabbing the waistband of her sweatpants. She bounces on her toes, trying to work the fabric up her legs. And I almost giggle when I realize the boys haven't moved farther into the room. Poor Sal must still be recovering.

Once Ash finally has her pants on, I guide her to the bed and pull the blankets back, helping her to flop onto the clean sheets.

"Take my pants off," she whines, scrunching her face up as she rubs her legs all over the mattress, stretching her arms over her head.

Sighing, I place my hands on my hips and stare down at her. Sal has finally walked over to the side of the bed that I sleep on, trying to help Larry get under the blankets as well. "Larry can help you out of your sweatpants, I just got you into them," I tell Ash, watching as she sticks out her bottom lip in an adorable pout.

"Well then get in bed, I'm tired," she murmurs a bit more, rolling over to throw an arm and a leg around Larry. And Larry, in turn, wraps an arm around her waist and buries his face into her neck. It's quite cute. I can't help but smile at the sweet embrace.

"There's no room for me, lovebug," I say, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight. Get some rest, okay? I'll see you in the morning."

Before I leave. And then not for another long period of time which hurts so, so bad. I gulp down those words before they can leave my mouth though. I don't want to make Ash feel bad for anything. She had fun tonight-- we all did.

"But how will I make it through the night without you?" Ash asks, starting to stir a bit. Larry looks so comfy, I don't want either of them to interrupt their positions or their sleep.

"The same way you always have, honey," I say solemnly, leaning over to run my hand over her hair. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. You're a strong, brave girl."

"Yea." She yawns, settling in beside Larry again. "You're right. I'm strong and brave."

"Vi, just sleep in my bed. Don't rot on Sal's smoking couch," Larry slurs, his voice muffled from Ash's shoulder.

"Fuck no," Sal instantly bites out. I glance to him, noting his arms that are crossed over his chest and the disdain in his eyes that are shadowed by the darkness of the room.

For once, I can agree. I absolutely will not sleep in the same room as Sal. That's the very last place I want to be on my final day in Las Vegas. The smurf would slit my throat.

"No, that's okay, Lar." I wave him off even though he can't see it. I'd much rather take the couch, especially since I suddenly feel like crying. I have to leave everyone tomorrow. No matter how many nights I've slept wrapped up in Ash's limbs and no matter how long I've gotten to hang around Larry and Todd, it still just doesn't feel like anywhere near long enough. And tomorrow, I'll be back in LA. Back to where I was before. To where we all were before. Distanced and displaced.

"Vi, don't fight me," Larry sighs, squeezing the fabric of Ash's shirt in his fist. "It is my dying wish for you to sleep in my bed. And don't let Sal scare you off either. He couldn't harm a fly, let alone a pretty girl like you."

Pretty girl. That's what Sal called me earlier. Maybe he stole that line from Larry.

I lick my dry lips and swallow down the lump in my throat. I'll appease him with agreement and take the couch anyway. It's not like he'll remember telling me to sleep in his bed anyway. But I just need to be away from the things that make me want to cry. Sal makes me want to do multiple things, so I'll just attach him to that list anyway.

"Fine, fine." I push the words past trembling lips, trying to ignore the way that the weight I've been ignoring for the past couple hours is suddenly starting to crash down on me.

"You guys fucking suck," Sal hisses, uncrossing his arms and moving to the door. And even though he's voicing his opposition, he hasn't fought against the plan for me to occupy Larry's bed. He's just... going with it. If anything, it seems like he's complaining just to keep up appearances. There's just no bite to his words.

Weird. But whatever.

I roll my eyes at Sal to try and ignore my own concerns about his behavior. I was sad a moment ago, I don't want to circle back to confused. Or maybe I do? I don't even know anymore. I think I'm officially starting to go crazy.

"Um," I voice, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I look down at my two cuddling friends. "Thanks for the bed, Lar. And don't hesitate to call if you need anything. Both of you."

"Yep," Ash mumbles, followed by Larry who says, "Night."

Well, that's that. And I can't hold off the awkward moment where Sal and I are going to walk out of this room together.

I turn on my heel, keeping my head down as I walk over to where Sal's at. But he's already swung the door open and stepped out, making his way into the dining room.

I close the door softly behind me, making sure to switch off the light right before it's fully closed. I guess it's time to move to the couch. I'd really appreciate Larry's pillows and blanket now, come to think of it. I'm basically a kitten stranded in a tundra-- I can't sleep in this place without a blanket.

Aware that I might get my head bitten off, I awkwardly walk over to the dining room and peek around the wall, eyeing Sal who grabs another bottle of water from the fridge, but this time it's for him.

He turns to walk to his room, no doubt, but finds me standing there watching him. Which only makes me feel even creepier than I did a moment ago. I should've just said something, but he's constantly so hot and cold. I'm walking on eggshells here.

"Would you, um," I purse my lips, trying to think of a way to put my thoughts into word form. "Could you bring Larry's blanket and one of his pillows to me? I'm just going to sleep on the couch." I try to keep my voice as even as possible. I don't want him to know that my thoughts are taking over every inch of me like a never-ending typhoon. That I feel so out of control right now with no way to organize my emotions.

His eyes go from wary to disbelieving. "Don't be weird about it," he says, a tad aggravated. "Just take his bed. I don't care."

"You really think I'm just going to sleep in the same room as you?" I ask him, quite seriously in fact. He must know how much I don't trust him.

He seems to raise an eyebrow beneath his prosthetic as he tightens his hold on the bottle in his hands. The plastic crinkles, the sound echoing through the large room. Disrupting the quiet. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you. The most you'll get is fucked, like I said I'd do earlier."

My immediate reaction is a tongue-in-cheek, wide-eyed stare in his direction. He was serious about that earlier? Even after I pelted him with paintballs? Or is this his way of getting back at me for covering him in paint? Hell, neither of us have gotten a chance to change out of the tactical gear we left the shoot in.

At least I have the clothes I originally wore sitting on the dining table. I can change into those later.

I take a deep breath and hold onto it for a moment. Sal watches me, waiting for a response. In truth, this is the kind of distraction I need right now. To ignore all the guilt and sadness building up in me. Fuck the pain away, I guess.

"Okay," I say, attempting to sound more sure of myself rather than bashful and fucking shy. Of all things. I sucked him off earlier. He's had his fingers in my pussy. I couldn't be more sure about disappearing into his room with him-- but something just makes me feel... "Lead the way."

He doesn't say a word. Simply walks past me and into the hallway, heading for the door to his room at the end of the hallway. So I follow him, tiptoeing behind him and keeping my distance because I'm still wary. For all I know, he could open that door and then slam it shut in my face.

Very Sal of him. I wouldn't be surprised.

But when we do make it to the room (and we get there way too quickly), Sal opens the door and he leaves it open, allowing me to walk in behind him.

He looks at me for a moment, watches me come to a stop a few steps away from him.

And just when I'm beginning to rethink my decision of coming in here with him, the air in the room suddenly shifts. The situation I'm in feels primal now, like I'm being hunted. And again, I'm shocked by how quickly Sal's able to diffuse an awkward situation. He hasn't even said a word, hasn't even touched me. All he's done is tilt his head down a bit and change his stance-- the action so small that I hardly even noticed it.

He walks past me, so close that his shoulder brushes against mine as he aims for the door. A chill erupts along my spine and images and ideas of all the other places he could touch me take over my brain like a disease.

Sal slowly shuts the door, the lock falling into place with a soft click. Everything feels tense. He's standing there, I'm standing here. I know he's going to walk over here and dominate me to pieces soon. I'm so enthralled in the idea alone that I don't know what to do with myself. All of the pain I felt just moments ago is gone. Disappeared into thin air.

And I couldn't be happier.

He turns to me after locking the door, but never moves. Only stares. His blue eyes seem dim in the bright room, the ceiling lights reflecting off of his white and pink prosthetic. One veiny, ring-clad hand, decorated with bracelets, rests at his side while the other is safely tucked away inside his pocket. His stance isn't rigid, but it's on guard. It's waiting for a singular move from me to set this plan into motion.

The air condition blows a few strands of his cerulean hair, making him bring a hand up to push it away from his eyes. But other than that, he just stares my way.

I stare back, fidgeting with my fingers and lightly tapping my foot against the ground. Maybe Sally changed his mind all of a sudden. Maybe he doesn't want to do anything with me; he may just want to go to bed. And that's perfectly fine, I mean, I'm leaving in a few hours now anyway. It's uncharacteristic of him to change his mind when it comes to anything sexual, but who knows. He may have lost interest.

Sal's head tilts to the side a bit. "Are you just going to stand there?" He asks, voice coated in a mixture of agitation and hidden expectations. "Are we going to continue where we left off or are we going to go to bed hating each other as always?"

I purse my lips, picking at my fingernails. "Even if we continue, we'll still go to bed hating each other." I look off to the side, a little miffed over his words. We can't stand each other, even if all we crave lately is each other.

"Might as well have some fun before the hate then, right?" Sal says matter-of-factly, seemingly waiting for my consent. "I remember saying something about scaring your fantasies away, after all."

Adrenaline fills up every inch of my body. It happens so quickly, so viscerally. The only thing I can do is squeeze my thighs together and chew on my lip. Otherwise, I'd probably do something weird and ruin this entire moment. "Show me what you've got then. Because I still don't believe you," I say, my voice low and on the quiet side.

Sal takes that as his cue and closes the distance between us. I assume he'll start off like he did last night, but he takes me by surprise instead.

He grabs me by the nape of my neck, sneering to himself. His strong hands force me to turn around and then he slams me into the vanity against the wall, his painted nails digging into my skin.

I hiss when my chest and face press into the dark oak surface beneath me. I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch my lips together, trying to stay quiet. There was so much in that one little push— so much dominance, anger, even satisfaction. On the other hand, my mask is pinching into the side of my face. It even lifted up to uncover the tip of my nose. I move my hands to hold onto the edge of the vanity, using one to quickly fix my mask.

My heart screams in my chest. He can't see me. Could he have seen me? And he couldn't recognize me just by the tip of my nose, right?

Sal leans over me. His warmth envelops me so quickly and I suck in a breath, shivering when his hair brushes along my jaw. One of his hands is still clutching the back of my neck and the other comes down harshly against my ass. I flinch at the contact, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth to contain whatever filthy sound that was about to be released.

Things have taken a dark turn and I'm here for it.

"You keep testing me. Every single day. Can't you shut up for once?" he hisses into my ear while his lower half presses into me from behind. More specifically, his thick cock against my ass. The only thing separating our skin is our cargo pants that are covered in neon paint splotches.

He presses down on my neck, pushing my face into the cold wood. "You think you're all special and pampered because I went easy on you last night, don't you?" He harshly says, grip tightening. "You haven't seen even a fraction of what I'm capable of. And I'm not sure you're ready either."

I snort. He doesn't know a single thing about me. This is what I want— I want to be scared. I want to be hurt. Doesn't he realize?

"And honestly, I don't give a fuck whether you're prepared or not. You're walking into my world now." His voice is an aggressive whisper in my ear, making goosebumps rise along my skin. His hand moves from my neck to grab at my hair, right against my scalp. He gives a tight yank, causing me to tilt my head up and arch my back to relieve some of the pain.

My mouth falls open as I stare at him through the mirror before me. He's hovering over me with the most devilish look in his pretty blue eyes. His hand in my hair, the other resting on my butt. He looks like he has perfect control over the situation.

"Do you wish to proceed?" He asks, this time more seriously, taking a second to focus on consent before continuing.

"Not if you talk like that, Todd Morrison," I rasp out, grinning mischievously at his reflection.

His eyes narrow in response. "I'm serious, Vi," he growls out.

My own eyes roll in response while butterflies kick up in my belly. "Fine," I murmur. "Yes, I want to do this." The words tumble from my lips so effortlessly. It was so hard for me last night, even just a few moments ago, but seeing our position fills me with anticipation. I can't pass up such an offer when he already has me bent over a piece of furniture. This is a dream come true.

Sal hums, the vibration transferring from his chest into my entire body, making some unknown exhilaration soar to life within me. I grip onto the edges of the vanity, trying to hold myself together. But the truth is that I'm falling apart in his hands. The world around me is absolutely nothing-- I have no worries, no thoughts so long as he continues to touch me.

He drags his fingers from my scalp to the end of my hair and wraps it around his fist before shoving my face back into the wood. Thankfully, this time he's a bit gentler so I can adjust my mask by simply moving my face against the wood. "Give me a safe word," he commands hoarsely, palm running up my ass to the top of my pants.

I let out a breath, finding it hard to get in a good dose of oxygen at the moment. His touch is so rough, but nowhere near enough at the same time. I want to feel him everywhere. I want him underneath my skin-- something. Anything more than just this little bit he's giving me.

"Safe word?" My heart skips a beat. "So we're getting really slutty then."

"I won't say it again," Sal warns, absolutely done with my antics. "Don't test me. I'll fuck the brat right out of you."

His words make a shiver crawl up my spine. Yum, how fun.

I shut my eyes again and release another shaky breath. "Okay, uh," I trail off, taking a moment to ponder. Coming up with safe words is always so hard, especially when I'm put on the spot. Naturally, my first thought is to make it something that only he and I will understand. We don't have many memories, but we've done some dirty stuff, so we do have a couple things in common. I think he's hot and hopefully the same goes for him.

"Time's ticking," Sal says, voice monotonous but much deeper than it was seconds ago. Patience wearing thin.

The only thing that comes to mind is the argument that Larry and Sal had the day I got to Caesar's Palace. And then an image of Sal and Larry dressed as deer follow the memory.

"Twitterpated," I quickly spit out, gulping down the flash of embarrassment that's overcome me. I don't want to risk having this moment ended because I couldn't come up with a simple safe word. How ridiculous would that be? The one I chose is ridiculous in and of itself.

Sal snorts quietly. "Alright. Twitterpated. You say that, everything stops. I say that, everything stops. Got it?" He asks me, wrapping his arm around my waist and fumbling with the buttons on my pants.

I lick my lips while my heart jumps into my throat. "Got it."

"Prove it," Sal says, fingers squeezing my hair tight.

My mouth gapes open when a spark of pain ignites along my scalp. It renders me speechless for a moment while I relish in the blissful feeling. "Twitterpated," I say, loud enough for him to hear even though I feel so breathless.

Sal's hands stop. One moves away from my pants and the other untangles itself from my hair, but he still hovers over me. "Good girl," he purrs. "Ready to continue?"

I swallow thickly, my cheeks turning a dark shade of red over the praise. My breasts uncomfortably squish into the vanity while I impatiently wait for Sal to touch me again. "Yes," I say softly, eager to see where this goes.

Without a second of hesitation, Sal's hands are back where they were a moment ago. Only now, he's quickly and effectively undone the buttons on my pants. He hooks his fingers into the waistband, gives a quick tug, and then the fabric is pooling around my legs.

"Pick up your feet," he demands, bending away from me to grab the piece of clothing. His cool fingers lightly trail down my thighs and calves, making an involuntary shiver take hold of my body. He knows exactly what he's doing. That much is obvious when he drops to his haunches and wraps one large, ring-clad hand around the top of my thigh. His fingertips brush the edge of my panties and I feel like I've lost all ability to breathe.

I lift one foot at a time, letting him to pull the article out from under me. He haphazardly throws my pants to the side before returning to me, one hand still wrapped around my thigh and the other palming my bare ass like it's some kind of science project. "How pretty," he purrs, fingers dancing over my skin— down the inside of my thigh then between my legs, teasing my clothed pussy. His index finger presses into my clit with purpose and I flinch, heart racing as I press my legs together. The light touches and teasing make me want to whimper, but I refuse to give in so quickly.

Sal hums amusedly, pulling his hand away from my core to drag it up my back. "You're behaving so well. How long will that last?" He muses. His hand trails down to my underwear again. For a moment, every one of my bodily functions stops. He ripped my panties apart last night, who's to say he won't do it again?

But thankfully, Sal only pulls those down my legs too, allowing me to step out of them.

I let out a little breath of relief, blinking at the cream wall to the side of me. "It'll last as long as you let it. Up to you," I tell him. He must be able to tell that I'm holding on by a thread from the sound of my voice.

"As long as I let it?" He repeats my words, forming them into a question. I can feel his hard dick twitch against my bare ass, the feeling of it sends a shock through my body and straight to my core. My chest feels heavy with satisfaction as I shut my eyes and lick my lips. He's just as enraptured as I am-- the knowledge of that will never not fill me with an insatiable amount of pleasure.

"Treat me well and we'll see how long I can keep up the good behavior," I say quickly, trying to hide how affected I am, though there's no reason to do so. If I wasn't so worried about looking like an idiot, I'd be panting like a dog right now.

I hear a grunt behind me, his fingers flexing against my skin and scalp. "I don't treat anyone well. This is all for me and you'll do well to know that. Now shut the fuck up."

My eyes are still closed when his hand wraps around my waist and moves down to my swollen clit, his fingers expertly teasing the bud. He's skilled. Knows what makes me tick and what gets me going. He's only done this to me once before so I can only guess that he just has a good amount of experience.

Sal's fingers leave my clit, exploring downward to dip into me just a bit, soaking up all the wetness that had collected between my folds. The light intrusion is both unbearable and incredibly pleasing, I can't decide what I want to feel.

My thighs unintentionally squeeze together as my emotions battle each other. I've been waiting for this all day. He's only just brushing the surface of this experience and I feel like I'm going to fall apart. Hell, maybe I've already fallen apart but my pride won't allow me to acknowledge it.

"And there we are," he suddenly grinds out between clenched teeth, the sound of his aggressive tone spooking me momentarily. "Keep your legs open."

"Or?" I say without thinking.

I open my eyes when Sal's fingers leave my folds. Then his feet push my legs apart, keeping my feet firmly planted into the carpet with his own legs. My pussy is on full display for him, my back arched and ass pressed into him.

"I told you to shut the fuck up," he hisses quietly, voice so dangerous and delicious. His prosthetic face is right beside mine and I flinch at his words and our proximity, a little thrum of unease passing through me. It's soon replaced by excitement though.

Suddenly, without warning and despite my initial worry, Sal plunges a finger into me. And he doesn't stop.

Everything moves insanely quickly and I feel like my eyes are going to pop out of my head, that or I'm going to cry— in a good way. Sal's finger thrusts into me at an unforgivably fast pace and each time he sinks into my pussy again, a garbled moan falls from my lips.

The skin of his wrist repeatedly slaps into my ass, creating more friction and tension. There's so much happening— his fingers in me, his skin on mine, his hand buried in my hair.

I squeeze my eyes shut, whimpering when he curls his finger at just the right angle, sending a rush of pleasure through my entire body. I shiver, digging my fingers into the wooden surface beneath me.

Sal yanks my head up by my hair, forcing me to look at this salacious scene through the mirror in front of us. I can see him, bent over me with his prosthetic lips pressed into the side of my head and his arm moving so quickly behind me, so brutal and unrelenting.

The feelings that build up within me hit hard. There's the cliff I'm trying to chase, the one I want to jump over. Reach the peak. Anything to feel more of what he's giving me.

"Look at yourself," Sal says breathlessly, his eyes meeting my own through the mirror as he turns his head, keeping his cheek pressed against mine. "Dirty little whore. You like being used. You like being disobedient. You like being broken," he says these words to me, each syllable coming out in a light, controlled pant. He's definitely enjoying myself. "I'll break you if that's what you want," he continues, finger curling into me again. "But it comes at a price."

My eyes roll into the back of my head. If I could form words, I'd tell him "please" but lucky for him, I'm afraid to open my mouth. With his finger slamming into me like this, I'd wake up the entire suite. I don't trust myself and I sure as shit don't trust him, but what I do trust is his ability to make me cum. He's good at it, after all.

"Come on," he growls out, yanking my hair a bit more. I'm forced to bend my neck due to his grip. My back is pressed against his chest, there's no way for me to move to find some kind of solace. And still, I'm quickly gaining on an orgasm that only he can bring me to.

My legs squeeze together of their own accord, but his thighs keep them from completely closing. He's still pumping his finger into me at that same, beautifully addicting pace that he started at. I think I'm seeing stars.

"You gonna cum for me like a good bitch?" he rasps out, squeezing my hair tighter in his hand. I only moan as quietly as I can in response, still not trusting my ability to speak. Even then, the sound was still easy to hear.

"Speak," Sal commands, hooking his finger into me yet again. He's buried deep, to the hilt with his hand cupping the bottom of my butt and his finger moving quickly inside me. It's overwhelming in the most amazing way. My heart flutters in my chest, already running a marathon regardless. My lungs can't hold in a good breath and my limbs are quaking furiously.

"Yes," I say hoarsely, reaching my arms up to grab onto the back of his hair. I need to hold onto something; pleasure doesn't come to me in sections right now, it's one huge tidal wave that ceases to end. I'm practically drowning in the oncoming orgasm. "Please, I'm so close," I groan, biting down on my bottom lip while squeezing my eyes tightly.

Sal's neck is pressed against mine. I can feel every breath he takes, feel every little grunt that leaves his throat. His skin is hot, a little sweaty. His azure hair is mixed with mine. My mask and his prosthetic are cheek-to-cheek. I can't tell if the deep breaths and panting I'm hearing are coming from me or him.

"Really?" He says, voice condescending. Each syllable reverberates through my entire body, only pushing me even closer to the edge. I don't have enough time to focus on him— the end is in sight and he's thrusting his finger so hard, so deep, so fast. Just one more—

But there's never another thrust. When he pulls his finger back, it leaves me completely. And then I'm feeling empty, out of breath, fluttery all over, and quite frankly, a little pissed off.

I open my eyes, looking up at Sal through the mirror. His gaze travels over the image of my body before meeting mine in the reflection. "I told you all good things come with a price," he says, probably reading the negative emotions in my gaze. "You don't get to cum until I say you do."

Eyes dark with desire, malice, and sinful intentions, Sal lets go of me and turns his head. My hands fall to my sides as I watch him take a step or two away from me. "Move and I'll kick you out," he grunts out quickly. "You're going to be a fucking problem with all the touching," he continues, moving away from the vanity and out of my line of vision. I stay rooted in my spot, orgasm slowly fading away from me and being replaced by an almost painful yearning in my gut. Fuck, how dare he.

But from the sound of it, he's not finished. He just has an issue with me touching him. He said something about that earlier today too, which, fine. Hard limit— okay. I won't touch. I just wish he would get back here and finish what he started because I'm about to go feral.

I can hear what sounds like metal clanking together quietly behind me, and then Sal reappears in the mirror with a leather belt in his hand. I can't help but tense up my entire body, mind going blank.

There's a little glimmer of amusement in his cerulean eyes when he notices my reaction, so he holds the belt up, shaking it a bit. "This scare you?" He asks, but I shake my head, gulping down the exhilaration that threatens to practically crawl out of my skin. I'm so excited.

"It should," he says pointedly, tilting his head down slightly to intimidate me. And... okay, it definitely works. I've never done this type of thing with him before so this could go one of two ways. But I don't say anything, I just stare back at him, lips parted while I try to catch my breath.

Sal blinks then looks down at my bare ass. "Do you like pain?" He mumbles, running a teasing finger down the slope of my butt.

"Yes," is what I reply with, my voice shaking and my thoughts completely clouded. It's like we've gone the complete opposite way from last night. I couldn't get a word out yesterday— too nervous and embarrassed. But now I'd do anything to make him touch me, hurt me. Anything.

His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second, then he lifts that belt and swings it down, the leather cracking against the skin of my ass harshly.

I yelp and jolt away from him instinctually, my hips slamming into the wooden vanity. My eyes shut as pain closes in on me from all sides and I grip onto the oak in front of me, taking a slow breath.

Then comes the good part, the satisfying feeling of being hurt. The wetness that gathers on my folds, the delightful queasy feeling in my tummy that spreads through my chest all the way to my toes.

I lick my lips, blinking my eyes open when a pleasurable cry threatens to build in my throat.

I'm too close to the vanity to tilt my head up and look at Sal's reflection, but that doesn't stop him. He takes a step toward my retreated figure, palm enveloping the skin he'd just abused. His fingers expertly massage my sore butt, only bringing out more feelings for me to indulge in.

"Well, aren't you fun," he purrs into my ear, chuckling softly. He pulls my hands off of the vanity, putting my wrists together against my back. Then, he moves his hand from my ass to the spot between my shoulder blades and pushes my upper body down onto the surface of the wooden dresser. "Stay there. Be good." His words are drowned out the second he wraps that leather belt around my wrists like he's done it a thousand times before.

He loops the fabric around one wrist, then does the same to the other, leaving absolutely no wiggle room for me to get out. Next, he puts one end through the belt buckle and yanks it tight, making the leather pinch my skin uncomfortably. I hiss at the feeling, squeezing my hands into fists as a spear of gratification stabs into me. This is borderline embarrassing, but definitely worth it.

Sal huffs out a quick, disbelieving laugh at my reaction, his hands pulling harshly at the belt to make sure I won't be able to get out. "I guess I underestimated you," he acknowledges, albeit he does so hesitantly, like he hates to admit that he may have been wrong. "Maybe I can't scare you off. Maybe you've been a freak all along."

His hands spread over my back and to my waist, dragging up my sides and pushing my shirt up with it. His cold, nimble fingers trail over my ribs slowly, feeling each bone and every inch of my heated flesh. Then, two of his fingers push into the skin right below my breast on the left side of my body. I clench my teeth together when a dull ache follows the action. He found the bruise that his paintballs left on me earlier today.

"Did I hurt you?" He asks, tone patronizing in a way that would cause an instant fight in any other situation. Being belittled in this scenario is oddly satisfying in a way I can't quite explain though.

Sal leans over me again, his hard cock rubbing over my skin. His fingers are still gripping my sides as he whispers to me, "I'd bite that bruise if I could-- make you hurt even more."

A groan is ripped from my lips despite how badly I wish I could have kept it hidden within me. I really wish he would bite me.

As quickly as he'd grown closer to me, he pulls away. But this time, I hear the rustling of clothing and my breath is stolen from me again. I can hear my heart, feel it beat in my fingertips. This is it, the moment I've been waiting for for... well, weeks now.

My legs quake in anticipation when Sal presses a hand onto my lower back, settling me against the vanity. And he doesn't say a word-- neither do I when I feel the soft skin of the head of his dick pressing gently against my cunt. I bite into my bottom lip, my head feeling fuzzy as adrenaline grips me.

I push myself backwards, hopefully discreetly enough to the point that Sal's unable to tell, but just the very tip of him sinks into my pussy from my motions. A shaky whimper comes from Sal and it's so quiet that it seems to have been ripped from him, like he hated to even make a sound so soon.

"Stay fucking still," he bites out, voice higher pitched than it was the last time he spoke. The way I can tell exactly what he's feeling just from the way he speaks is incredible. He's so easy, yet so hard to read.

I still don't say a word. Damn him for momentarily taming the brat because this is a violation of my own personal rules. But I can't help myself-- so long as my silence brings him closer to me, I'll give up my voice box. I'd give it up forever.

"Good fucking girl." The words are barely audible, only meant for himself as his thumb rubs over the top of my ass. He pushes his cock just a bit farther into me, taking his sweet fucking time. I don't know how he has so much patience because I'm really about to lose my mind. I can't hold out, I can't.

"Sal," I almost cry out, taking a quick breath to try and regain my composure," Please."

"I said to shut up, Vi," he rasps, but his voice has no aggression or bite. He's losing himself. "When will you learn your lesson?"

I turn my head in an attempt to shake it, but find that the vanity's surface stops me from doing so. I couldn't care less about his no-talk thing right now. "Can you just--"

The sound of a jiggling door knob results in Sal quickly pulling out what very little bit of his dick had actually entered me. I jolt upright myself, taking staggering and panicked steps back until I bump into Sal's front. His hand instinctually grabs onto my waist to stabilize me as we watch the door. Fear is thrumming through my genes at the terrorizing thought of someone entering this room with Sal and I almost completely naked like this. So much is going wrong--

But the door knob stops jiggling and that's when Sal and I both suddenly realize that the door is locked.

I physically fold, bending forward in relief as a cold sweat suddenly takes over me.

Sal removes himself from behind me. When he walks around me, he's holding his pants up by the waistband and taking a couple steps toward the door. He doesn't say a word, confusion and pure, unadulterated fear is written in his body language.

"Sal, I want to come back in here with you." It's Larry, and poor thing. He sounds so desperate.

Sal glances back at me, his bright, icy blue gaze unreadable. I watch him, glancing between those eyes of his with a pout that I can't hide. We were so close.

"Okay, Lar," Sal says monotonously. He makes no move for the door though, likely because I'm still half naked.

"Alright," Larry says, voice muffled from the hunk of wood separating him from us. He sounds so relieved. "I'm going use the bathroom real quick. Can you unlock the door for when I get back?"

"I will," Sal mumbles back in response, walking back to me with a little glare in his eyes.

I suck in a breath. I'm disappointed, in truth. I was excited for this. We had both agreed and we were right there, but the opportunity is gone.

Sal stands behind me, undoing the belt around my wrists. I pull my hands away from my back when the belt is removed and flex my fingers, admiring the red marks left on my skin from the leather.

I glance off to the side after a moment and grab my clothes, quickly pulling on my underwear before I take a chance and turn. Sal has been quiet, which is weird. It's unsettling, even. Makes me kind of uncomfortable.

When he finally enters my field of vision, he even looks a bit awkward. Maybe it's because the moment is ruined and I'm literally almost half naked, fighting to get my cargo pants over my ankles.

"This is over," Sal finally speaks, his eyes boring into mine. Well, duh, it's over. Larry interrupted us. I don't have to say a word for him to see the words on my face.

"This thing," he continues, all nonchalance and unbothered as he gestures between us with a hand. "It's over. No sex over the phone, no hand or mouth stuff, no sex in general. I'm done with you. I was done with you yesterday."

My breath gets caught in my throat for the umpteenth time tonight. His words don't necessarily hurt-- I should have expected them. But the point is that I didn't expect them, and now I'm leaving Las Vegas in the morning... but I likely won't see Sal for at least another year anyway. So why am I shocked? Why can't I think? Why can't I process that he just ended our sex agreement?

I just watch him, trying to hide all of the panic, the disappointment, the fear, and the sadness I've been trying to bite down all day. I don't know how to feel. Again. I simply keep my gaze locked on his as I finally get my pants up my legs and begin buttoning them.

Just like that. It's done and I didn't even get the full experience. I feel... upset. I feel angry knowing that I was just a quick fuck for him. Not that we even got to fuck. But, then again, he was the same thing for me. I shouldn't be angry-- I can't be angry.

I should be relieved.

"Okay," I say evenly, peeling my eyes away from him.

I can't look at him. I'll cry or punch him. Maybe I'd yell at him. I don't know. And I don't know why I'd do any of those things to begin with. Maybe it's just because I'm upset that I have to leave tomorrow and all the negative feelings that come with being separated from my friends again is finally starting to make me crack.

"Okay," he responds, voice just as emotionless as mine.

I do the walk of shame to his door, unlocking it quickly and pulling it open. My head feels heavy, too heavy from my neck. My body weighs too much for my legs to uphold right now. I feel like crumbling to the floor. I said that I was falling apart earlier and now I really am.

Sal and I don't exchange a word as I step into the hallway and start closing the door behind me. I swallow my emotions, trying to keep my tears at bay. I don't need to cry. I shouldn't-- there's no reason. None at all. And crying's only going to make me have a terrible headache later.

I look up, tears brimming my eyes as I make quick eye contact with sleepy Larry. Fuck, terrible timing.

"Hey, Vi," he slurs a bit, smiling gently at me. "I'm not kicking you out, you can bunk with me." He's so sweet, but I need to be alone. I need separation or else Larry's going to wake up to me weeping beside him.

"That's okay," I give him my best smile, which probably isn't even really that great. "I'm going to go lay with Ash. I'm pretty tired. Plus your bed is a twin size-- we wouldn't fit."

"Fine." He pouts, following the expression with a yawn. "I'll see you in the morning then. Night."

I swallow down the lump in my throat so I can answer him without giving my feelings away. "Goodnight," I say quietly, because whispering is easier than saying it out loud.

I continue my trek down the hallway, my footsteps picking up speed as I turn a corner and make my way to the bathroom. I can't suppress the urge to cry and the frown marring my face is horrific. I can't keep it away no matter how badly I wish I could feel differently.

I never should have gotten involved with Sal. I never should have come to Las Vegas. Leaving is so much harder. Missing out on this opportunity to see everyone wouldn't have hurt this bad.

I regret everything.

My hand slaps onto the light switch, flicking it on and enveloping the spacious bathroom with blindingly bright light. I shut the bathroom door behind me and grab onto the counter, facing myself in the mirror.

I look sexed out and exhausted. I look broken. He said he'd break me. Fuck, he said he would. It wasn't just him though-- it's everything. Everything that I should have done differently. And now I'm stuck here, pitifully watching myself holding back tears in the mirror and unable to control my raging guilt, disappointment, and regret.

I should shower. That might calm me down, might shut my brain up for a few minutes.

Without a moment of hesitation, I yank my paint-stained shirt over my head and spare myself another glance in the mirror as my hands work on the clasp of my necklace.

But seeing the necklace in my reflection-- hanging around my neck and resting right between my breasts makes me feel so, so sick. Because it's not my necklace. It's Sal's. It's his guitar pick. And for the last few weeks that I've had it, I've forgotten it was there because it became second nature to take it off before my shower and put it back on right after. It became a part of me-- so much so that I forgot it was even there. I forgot about the meaning it holds, and the power it holds over me.

I pinch my lips together, aggressively pulling the thing away from my body after unclasping it. I squeeze the pick in my fist while leaning over the sink, watching myself in the mirror.

How could I have done this to myself? Every decision I've made recently has ended up being the ultimate betrayal. Every second. Even since right before I became VioletViolence. The day I met Sally Face is the day that everything started going wrong, and it's my own damn fault.

My reflection suddenly has wet, hot tears flowing down her cheeks and a pitiful look on her face. And she's the only one who feels as terribly as I do right now.

Chapter Text

I've never really been much of a skeptic. If it has a name and a meaning, I think there's always a possibility for it to be real.

Take dreams, for example. In my mind, they always have some kind of connection to the waking world and to the psyche. Your mind knows your greatest fears and your crutches— if you lose teeth in a dream, you feel like you have a loss of control. If you search up something on Google for an answer while in a dream, you lack at decision-making.

There's meaning in everything we do. And our minds, while belonging to us, have an entire personality of their own. Once our conscious shuts off, our brain makes its own decisions. We are but a shell for our mind to manipulate. And this is why we see what we fear most in our dreams— what we love most, what we value most, what we appreciate. Our dreams are what we want and despise most on this earth.

So tell me why the fuck Sal has been in my dreams for the past week.

It's despicable. It aggravates me to no end. Every dream is some rendition of his sky blue eyes glaring into mine. Discreet touches-- his fingers brushing the back of my thighs, his hair on my neck, his leg pressed against mine.

"Y/n, there's three customers up front waiting for a table."

Michael's voice beside me is suddenly followed by his hand clapping onto my shoulder. I flinch in surprise, turning away from the chef with my hands full and my anxiety maxed out.

"I'm not hosting right now," I say frantically, glancing between my fellow coworker and the chef. A lot of the work that I don't normally get has been dropped on me the past few days and I really haven't been appreciative of it. I say that sarcastically, of course. And I don't blame Michael-- he isn't at fault, he's just delivering orders to me that are coming from the boss.

But as of current, I'm sweating from rushing around for lunch, and that's also mixed in with how nervous I am. I can't even take a single breath without someone telling me I have something else to do.

And the reasoning behind this? According to my boss it's, "because you were out so long, you have to make up for the work you missed out on."

An empty wallet has never looked so appetizing before.

"Here's a proposition," Mike says, leaning against the counter beside me. The chef is done with our shit. Usually if we talk to him, he stays silent anyway. "You grab those fellas up front to make our boss happy and I'll take a few of your tables. Sound good?"

I look up at Michael with the best puppy dog eyes I can possible muster up. "Please," I whisper, cracking my knuckles and bunching up the fabric of my apron in my hands.

Michael grins and pushes off the counter, stretching his arms. "Sure thing. You might want to get up there before Mr. Krabs comes stomping out of his glory hole, though."

That makes me perk up a bit. A hand slaps over my mouth to contain my internal giggles just as Mike shoots me a wink and walks off to one of my tables, likely to inform them that he'll be their server.

It's bad and I'd certainly rather be anywhere but here, but I can make do for now, especially if it means repaying Michael for all his help. So I ignore the anxiety (said anxiety is so anxious that we're both trembling) and I walk over to the front of the restaurant to sit some hungry customers.

Thankfully, most of the rest of my short-ish shift slowed down a bit after lunchtime. Upon finally reaching my apartment at about two in the afternoon, I quite literally launched myself into bed and... consequently, I wished I was working again.

For the past two hours, I've sat here staring at my ceiling and reminiscing on my recent past. Thinking about the opportunities I took and missed. Remembering all the fun I had, just wishing I was back with my friends in Las Vegas. It's been a little over a week and June is finally here, but it still feels like I was sleeping in with my best friend just last night.

Thinking about what I've lost and gained within the past month or so is both depressing and incriminating. The sheer amount of down-bad that overran my body is impressive, but wasn't worth it. Never was worth it.

I've slain myself with the sword I wielded. And it was only a matter of time— I knew the consequences, yet I still went along with it. It's not that I'm sad or whatever, I'm merely disappointed in myself for getting involved with someone so heartless and vile.

I feel like I've betrayed myself. I was nothing but a speck and I knew that, but I still allowed myself to be used. That's what everyone would say, and it's what I'm starting to feel. Is that all I am? Is this all I ever will be to someone? Just a body with no mind. Something to be used and defiled over and over again.

By far, the worst pile drive of grief came from having to see photo after photo of Sal and I together on every social media site in existence. It was painful in an unfamiliar way-- a way that I don't quite understand. It was all photos of photos, photos I didn't even realize existed, or the two of us with fans. I clearly remember liking the pictures that Lexi and Kennedy posted. Oh, and apparently the handsome emo knight's name is Timothy. But even the nice memories of my time in Las Vegas doesn't feel as comforting as it once did.

Everything I experienced with my friends is slowly being altered every second that I'm alive. The way I lived in Vegas will never be exactly the same as I remember it now. Being aware of psychological changes is damning. It's depressing. I will never experience anything, or those memories, the same way I did at the time I was really there.

Fuck you, Freud.

My ceiling spins above me, a kaleidoscope of misery and darkness that I haven't suffered through since before being diagnosed with depression. I'm not even quite sure what it is that I'm so down about-- missing Las Vegas, feeling far from my friends, or Sal's asshole persona. It's something, but I feel sick being so torn up over something that's perceived as trivial by everyone else.

Why do I have to care so much? No one else is like this. So why me?

I pinch my lips together, finishing my recount of the tiles on my ceiling. There are 133 whole tiles. 24 half tiles. Add them together and there are 157 total, but it feels weird to bunch those two shapes together when they're clearly different.

I feel like I'm going insane.

Before I can think harder about how frustrated I am with myself, I force myself to sit up then sling myself out of bed. My heels smack into the floor beneath me, cushioned by grey carpet. It's saved my soles, but it can't buffer the deep grief in my heart. A grief that has no explanation or source.

This afternoon will be the first time I play online with The Faces since before Vegas. The first time I see my friends in a week. The first time I face Sal since briefly making eye contact with him the morning I left Nevada (he didn't even bother to come to the airport with the rest of us). And most importantly, the very first time I show my face while streaming-- and of course, when I say my face, I mean my mask. But I haven't shown myself at all. Anything that anyone has ever seen of me has been from pictures shared on social media.

For once, I'm not terrified by the prospect. I'm more worried about having to face Sally Face and more than eager to talk with Ash again. I really, really miss her.

I'm bundled up in my trusty Twenty One Pilots sweatpants (that are still falling apart), Ash's merch hoodie, and slip on the brand new pair of Kuromi slippers that my dad had waiting for me when I got home. If I'm going to endure the hell-spawn that is Sal Fisher, I might as well be comfortable.

A sigh slips past my lips as I drag my feet over to my PC and turn it on, slumping into my chair. I grab my mask that's been sitting on my desk, untouched for days, and fix it onto my face.

My computer whirrs to life as I stare blankly ahead, slipping into a hypnotic state. Dissociating. Wishing this life was anyone else's but mine.

I blink past my own distracting mental state after mere seconds of waiting for things to get moving. I log onto Discord, clicking into The Faces' server and catching up on all the messages I missed.

The first thing I notice is that Ash, the owner of the server, has apparently discovered that she can change everyone's names. Which, honestly, is news to me. It's apparently causing an uproar in-chat.

Two Face: haha. funny ash. hilarious. very original.

Subtract Thine Father: wut did u expect from Ash??? unicorn cum nd fairy shit????
Subtract Thine Father: omfg mine is rad

He Who Pegs: Much like the joke you made in Vegas, right, Sal?
He Who Pegs: My username is correct. I am a pegger.

I'm scared to find out what my new name is. These are personal attacks on absolutely every single member of this chat.

With quaking hands, I type out a quick message and hesitate before pressing send. I'm terrified of what Ash has managed to come up with. But it's whatever, surely it couldn't get worse than Two Face, right?

Closet Dweller: these are horrendously accurate names... i'm a little scared...

My stomach flies out of my ass when I see my name. Good God, I'm not sure how Ash managed to come up with that one but... it's not too far off the marker. I'll give her props.

Closet Dweller: dear god.

Subtract Thine Father: LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO VI

He Who Pegs: Do I smell a fellow homosexual?

Closet Dweller: i will neither confirm nor deny. maybe i'm just locked in my mother's closet or something, ever think of that?

He Who Pegs: Like an Oedipus Complex?

Closet Dweller: NO TODD!!! NO!!!!!!!

It's impressive how simple socialization has managed to cheer me up a bit. I know Todd is really into psychology like I am, so I'm not surprised that he threw something like that in, but I am shocked that he hit me with a joke that heavy.

He Who Pegs: Laughing my ass off.

Subtract Thine Father: srsly todd, just abbreviate it i'm guna die of erection
Subtract Thine Father: embarasment**

He Who Pegs: That was an epic fail and epic foreshadowing. Bravo, Larry. Quite the Freudian slip.

I shake my head at my two friends, tears brimming my eyes as I try to contain the fit of laughter that so desperately wants to be released.

Closet Dweller: what's ash's name?

Kween Pussy Popper: Hi :3

I have to shut my eyes and look away from the screen. Her name is funny enough, but her little emote and the casual entrance just makes this entire thing ten times funnier.

My hand slaps over my mouth and I shake my head, tapping my fingers against my desk. I'm so going to get in trouble with these people.

I'm going to cough up a lung or something later, but it'll be worth it, so I look up at my computer again.

Subtract Thine Father: waddup pussy kween
Subtract Thine Father: can u share sum bc i am lacking.
Subtract Thine Father: u kno how the grinch's heart grows 4 xmas? well my dick shrinks the longer i go wo a snazzy lady
Subtract Thine Father: save a horse ride a cowboy, as they say
Subtract Thine Father: i am the cowboy. where r my bitches??????? lonesome. desperate. choking. dying.

The chat goes quiet momentarily so I smile and scoot away from my desk. The objective was to roll across the floor-- no, glide-- and look like some kind of fairy in slo-mo, but I forgot that I have carpeted flooring. So my chair rolls for not even a second before coming to an abrupt stop. Pathetic and not so glorious.

My smile slips off my face as I push myself off the chair and walk across the rest of my room to my bedroom door. Lame.

Getting to talk with everyone has really upped my spirits in a way I didn't expect. It's really odd how the little things just so happen to matter so much when even big things don't seem to matter as much anymore. Even I don't feel like I matter much anymore, but Larry, Ash, and Todd somehow manage to remind me that they care in their own little ways. Whether it's through goofy conversations that don't even include me or silly nicknames, they're the sole reason for my overflowing dopamine.

My feet pad through the hallway and into the kitchen where I get my hands on the #1 best struggle meal that America has to offer.

Microwaveable ramen. Beef, specifically.

The funniest thing about microwaveable ramen is that hardly anyone makes it the right way. And if you do make it the right way, great job! You have an extra brain cell. The rest of us heathens, on the other hand, put the little styrofoam cup in the radiation incubation tank anyway and call it a day. Warnings be damned.

So I walk back to my room with my little cup of ramen, styrofoam nice and warm, fresh out the microwave for all my haters, and I plop back into my desk chair with chopsticks at the ready.

But my eyebrows furrow when I place my headset back on and catch up on the Discord conversation I'd walked away from.

Kween Pussy Popper: Can we get on a call now? I miss Vi and starting early is my excuse to talk to her now :(
Kween Pussy Popper: OMGGG!!! It's also a really big day bc Vi is going to be on camera for once!!! eeeee >.<

Subtract Thine Father: ya getin on now >:)

I scroll down on all our channels to find all four members of The Faces in Ash's VC. I'm late to the party. Now, the issue with this is... I'm stuck. My cursor hovers over the voice channel, but I just can't find it in myself to actually click on the thing. My finger lightly sits on top of the mouse, ready to press down but I can't. My heart physically jumps into my throat, choking me with emotion and grief and unadulterated fear that has absolutely no fucking business hanging around in my body like this.

Truth be told, I knew I'd get tired of my fear sooner or later. I'd get so tired that I'd just grab my issue by the balls and disrespect it doggy style. And I'm close-- so close to finally following through with this aggressive exhaustion. But I need one more excuse to tip me over the metaphorical edge.

My chopsticks dip into my steaming ramen and pick up brothy goodness in noodle form. I slurp up the last bit of dignity I need to be restored and finally click on the option that launches me into the chat before I can stop myself again.

Only, when I do this, I'm staring at all four other members of our server... but also myself. Noodles hanging out of my mouth, broth drip-dropping onto my desk because I'm a messy eater. Dignity not restored, but even more lost in exchange.

I love life so much. Note the sarcasm.

Larry grins while everyone else kind of watches me, stuck like a deer in headlights and unable to just eat my food like a normal human being. "Gobble, gobble, Closet Dweller," are Larry's first four physically spoken words to me since I hugged him goodbye in the Las Vegas airport about a week ago.

A small smile tugs at my own lips as I quickly suck the rest of my way too big bite of noodles into my mouth and, well, gobble as Larry suggested.

"Closet Dweller was targeted. I'm only a little offended, but I think that name would be better suited for Todd, right?" I ask, eyes glancing between Ash, Larry, and Todd on the screen while purposefully avoiding a no doubt brooding Sal. I refuse to look at him.

Ash's nose scrunches up in disagreement, her melodic voice flowing through my headphones to follow the action. "Todd is out of the closet. You, on the other hand, are still playing hide and seek behind your mom's pajamas like you're looking for a passage to Narnia. Plus, Todd is a renowned pegger."

Todd nods, pinching his lips together. I wait for him to laugh and say 'Jay kay' or something, you know, odd like he is, but he doesn't. And even freakier is that no one seems alarmed.

"He also has a shirt that says 'I got pegged at Cracker Barrel' so no one is more worthy of that nickname than him. King Arthur ain't got shit on my guy," Ash chirps proudly, tilting her chin up with a little smirk on her lips. Her cat ear headphones glow a bright green, reflecting the joy and pride she feels regarding the nickname she came up with.

My eyebrows pinch together beneath my mask and my attention turns to Todd. "You have a shirt that says 'I got pegged at Cracker Barrel?'"

Todd gives me the sweetest little upside down smile and quickly rises from his seat, showing off the back wall of his room that is... plain as fuck, to be quite honest. But that's okay because Todd is organized, so it's only fair that his walls are organized as well.

Todd reappears just two seconds later, holding up a long-sleeved, mustard yellow shirt that says exactly what he and Ash claimed it would.

I break into a face-splitting grin. "That's sick," I voice, moving closer to my computer to get a better look at the shirt. I didn't lie either. I'd assassinate some really important government leaders to get my hands on that.

"See! You're such a closet hermit!" Ash exclaims, pointing a finger at me with wide eyes and an open-mouthed smile.

"Since when?" I counter, crossing my arms over my chest good-naturedly. This is all in fun, Ash knows damn well I wouldn't have kissed her or even entertained the idea if I wasn't a little fruity. "Sal should get the nickname, he was the one trying to bed Hot Excalibur Emo Knight."

Yea, the acknowledgement and statement left my lips before I could remember that I was inadvertently giving Sally Face the silent treatment. Hades' personal hellhound is a taboo here. That man is a curse word in this house. I set myself up and now I have to put a quarter into my mental swear jar.

I note how Sal shifts in his seat out of the corner of my eye. Not that I care. In fact, I saw nothing.

"You're missing the point, Vi!" Ash shakes her head, faux disappointment marring her meticulously designed facial features. "Sal is out of the closet. He's as much of a cooked noodle as he is a raw one." Her distinction between gay and straight is fascinating. "You, on the other hand, are a recluse and hiding betwixt MawMaw bras and old, dusty infinity scarves from your mother's regretted youth. You want a different name, then come out of your hidey-hole already."

My jaw drops and I stare at my friend who looks quite proud of her outlandish accusations, even if they aren't so outlandish.

Larry is red-faced and Todd couldn't care less; he's too busy folding up his Cracker Barrel shirt.

"How come I'm a target today?" I snicker, leaning my head on my fist as I look back at my best friend.

"Because I'm feeling extra aggressive and a little frisky. In other words, the fruit is ripe. Flirt with me and I'll be in your bed within two to five business minutes," Ash winks at me, tongue swiping along her bottom lip.

I frown. "Well that sucks. I don't have any good pick-up lines. I only have really shitty psychology jokes. I guess I'll be sleeping alone tonight." I sigh and take another bite of ramen, dramatically looking off into the distance-- which is just the wall behind my computer. Blank space, baby.

"There's so much sexual tension packed into you two that I'm starting to suffocate," Larry pipes up, voice soft and astonished. "I'm drowning and I love it." He has stars in his wide, hickory-colored eyes.

I can't stop smiling. This expression is permanently etched onto my face, a tattoo. "We're just picking, Lar. Don't get your hopes up."

"Picking?" Ash gasps, feigning shock. She leans back with a hand to her chest. "All this time, your affection was a lie?"

"Alas, it was never real," I reply, dipping my head down to hide the my happy smile again. I have to play my part, but I can't do that with my face set like this.

Larry cackles in response. "The one woman you can't get, Ash!" He exclaims, wild giggles filtering through the call. I look up again, watching the way Ash's eyes narrow.

"I never thought this would happen to me. Not my Vivi..." She trails off, shutting her eyes to express her sadness.

"The fuck did you expect?" Larry prods, scooting close to his camera so that all we see is the bridge of his nose, dark eyes, and his thick brows-- one is arched in question. "Unicorn guts and fairy shit?" He quotes himself beautifully, reusing his remark from in-chat. "Fellatio and scissoring? This isn't Disney, Ash. If anything, we're wrapped up in a Grimm Brothers' fairytale."

I have to put my fist over my mouth to hide my reaction because that's the most accurate thing that Larry has said all day. And he even brought out big boy words like fellatio. Has he been studying?

Sal lets a boyish chuckle slip and my gaze cuts to him despite my better judgement. He's bent down, instinctually covering the mouth of his prosthetic, seemingly forgetting that we can't actually see his facial expression. It's such a normal action, one that I'm not used to when it comes to him. It's a moment where I can't look away. A rare moment where I get that weird feeling for him again-- one that I've only experienced maybe three times since meeting him. It's that domestic and naive feeling, where he's a normal person that I yearn for a bit. He's not an asshole, he's not hidden behind a prosthetic. He's just a guy that I know. A guy that I'd like to touch and see and feel on a deeper level.

I blink when he tilts his head back, revealing his pretty dagger tattoo and a veiny hand that runs through his hair. He pushes his fringe back, making little blue strands stick up in different directions.

I can't help but straighten my sitting position. Slouching gone, body attentive. I don't know if I'm nervous, wary, excited, or stuck in some admiring state. But it's weird. And I do not want to be feeling it. I never asked for this.

And yea, he still looks the same. Painfully the same. Like a beacon in the dead of night. Tales of his past on his skin, his hair like streaks of bright cerulean paint on a canvas. The worst aspect of him is his eyes. They haunt me.

He looks up at the camera again, having finally collected himself a few moments ago, showing off the feature of his that I loathe so much.

All the colors of an Aurora Borealis dance in his irises; the natural blue hue darkened into a teal from the lack of lighting. Little flashes of green and pale purple reflect onto his eyes from his computer screen, creating a kaleidoscope clash of colors that cover his entire prosthetic face. So many shades of life that mix to mimic something I've always wanted to witness for myself. I just didn't expect to see it in the eyes of who I both despise and desire most in this miserable life of mine.

What the hell is wrong with me? How dare I fall into this kind of depression over Sal Fisher? No one has ever betrayed me as many times as I've betrayed myself at this point.

Ash's voice steals me from my mind's ruthless vices. "That's a pretty morbid scarf, Vi."

My gaze flicks to her and I scrunch my eyebrows again. "Scarf?" I ask. I'm not wearing a scarf. It's summer. In Los Angeles. "What scarf?" She's probably going to make some kind of joke that she's been holding out on for a while.

Ash scoots closer to her computer, eyes filled with confusion. They squint and she says, "Yea... scarf. It looks like a hand. Is it a hand?"

"Ash, what the fuck are you talking about? It's summer. Why would I wear a scarf?" I give her a bewildered look that's buffered by my mask, but the conversation attracts everyone else's attention too. Larry and Todd both move closer to their computers and, shockingly, Sal even tilts his head, eyes glued to the screen.

I look down, but I can't see anything near me or on me. Is this some elaborately planned joke or something?

"Uh," Todd says, voice a mix of confused and concerned, which sets off alarm bells in my head. "Yea. There's a hand. That's a hand."

I plan on answering, but then Ash screams and then something cold wraps around my throat and I scream in turn.

My reaction is instant-- I shove myself away from my desk, headset ripped off my head and the hand forced off of my neck. I hear a resounding 'oof' as I knock into something, or more like someone.

My room is dark, pitch black, so I leap off of my chair and into the darkness. My heart is racing a mile a minute, my hands shake with fear and adrenaline, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. Who the fuck is in my room. What the fuck is going on?

I see the silhouette of a tall figure through the low light of my computer. It's bent a bit, pale arm wrapped around their stomach.

I back up toward my wall, listening to the quiet, panicked voices of my friends yelling for me to answer them from my headset. And then my phone rings in my pocket-- for fuck's sake-- so I have no choice but to rush to the knife hanging on the wall right beside my door (I'm paranoid and clearly for good reason) and flick on my bedroom light, ready to launch and attack whoever's dumb enough to be here.

I hold my breath, wide-eyed with a war drum hammering away at my chest as light floods my room. I'm going to either get charged with homicide or be the homicidee. Is that even a word?-- actually, I don't care. It's a word now.

But as soon as I see the supposed figure squinting in the sudden brightness, I'm so relieved that I nearly fall to my knees, whimpering despite how embarrassing that might seem to someone else.

The Faces start yelling again.

"Did I scare you?" His hypnotizing, baritone voice fills me with an eerie calm that melts away the string of adrenaline keeping me afloat as of present.

"And my friends who think I'm about to be murdered? Of fucking course, you thundercunt," I hiss, stomping over to what I previously thought was going to be my demise.

"That's for never bringing back my screwdriver."

I roll my eyes, groaning in a mix of anger and exasperation once I stand in front of my neighbor and long-time friend. Nate looks down at me with a handsome little smirk on his full lips and forever messy black waves hanging over his forehead. "Fuck you," I grunt, taking a step past him to kick in the back of his knees. Said knees buckle and he yelps, quickly catching himself with a hand on my shoulder as a deep chuckle rumbles in his chest.

I grab my headset off the ground and lean down so my friends can see me. I watch relief flood their faces instantly, with the exception of Sal, of course. I grab my mic without putting the headset on and say "I'll be right back."

Setting them back down, I turn away from The Faces and look to Nate again, arms crossed over my chest. I pull my mask off just so he can see how astronomically pissed I am.

The asshole only laughs harder. The charm in that singular sound alone makes me want to punch him in the face.

Nathaniel Emilio Luis Espinosa has been a daredevil since I met him, always raging over danger and reaching for that incomparable fear factor. He has lots of personality, and a lot of that personality has been met with a chancla to the face, courtesy of his overprotective mamá that won't take his bullshit even after she's in the grave.

And that's why Mrs. Lucía and I are besties at heart. And in sandals.

But to go with Nate's desperate yearning for bad things is social anxiety. He hardly ever leaves his apartment and he'll claw at his walls to stay inside. I think that's why he's more than happy to make brownies for me and get absolutely decimated in Mario Kart whenever he comes to visit-- he isn't really leaving the apartment building, but he isn't alone either.

He's also quite a looker. I have no doubt that if Sal ever met him, he'd be drooling all over the guy. Nate has sharp facial features that are just... perfect in almost every way. Little beauty marks on different sections of his face, angular nose, a jawline that could cut air. Everything is only accentuated by his shoulder length, wavy, midnight black hair that he hates so much (all he ever talks about is how aggravating the upkeep is) and his equally as dark eyes that still entrance me to this day. Plus, he's tall. 6'4 last I checked and built like Stonehenge-- gorgeous and unbreakable.

Basically, he has no problem getting pussy. I'm never concerned about his sex life. His love life, on the other hand...

"You're in deep shit," I huff out, looking away from my friend who grins proudly. I move over to my bed-side table and dig in the one drawer it has, pulling out his beloved screwdriver. I turn back to him and hold it up for him to see, waving it dramatically before walking back over to him.

I grab his hand and slap it into his palm. "You're lucky I don't scrape off your kneecaps for that. I ought to call your mom and tell her what you've done. I could have had a stroke!"

Nate's eyebrows pinch together as if to sarcastically say 'sure bitch' but then he seems to process what I said. He suddenly hisses and his sable eyes go wide. "Please, I'm actually really sorry. Don't call my mom."

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't," I counter with, stepping up so we're nearly chest-to-chest.

"Because you love me," Nate bats his eyelashes at me, but that ship sailed years ago. He can't get me with that look anymore. He licks his lips, pink tongue darting out quickly. "And because I'll make brownies for you every week for the next month?" he tacks on.

I purse my lips. "Let me continue to borrow your screwdriver and it's a done deal."

Nate looks like a kicked puppy over our game of deal-or-no-deal. But he accepts anyway, sniffling over his loss.

"How did you even get into my apartment?" I ask with a scoff, putting my mask back on and plopping into my desk chair. I face my friends who watch me in confusion, terror, and intrigue.

"With the key you gave me. Duh," Nate says matter-of-factly, walking up behind me. I need to go get checked out or something because how could I forget that I gave Nate a key? "What's with the mask?" he asks.

I suck in a breath. "That's a really long story for another time," I tell him, grabbing hold of my headset and situating it back on.

Nate leans over me, settling his chin on my shoulder from behind as his hands grip the armrests on my chair. I watch him through my camera as he gazes at my screen, meeting the eyes of The Faces.

Tongue in cheek, I address my friends again. "Sorry, I'm not a victim of murder," I say quickly. "this is my neighbor, Nate."

Larry blinks, "Oh. He's brownie boy?" I snort. "He's kinda..." A sexy grin forms on his face and I roll my eyes.

"Yea, he'd love to hear that," I say pointedly, glancing at Nate who's still hanging around.

"Wait," Nate murmurs, lifting his head and moving closer to the screen. "Why are you talking? You're just watching a video, right?"

"You're late to the party," I tell him, unable to stop myself from giggling a bit. "This is a discord call. With The Faces. I know you've heard of them, I talk about Ash all the time."

"Of course I've heard of them. I just... didn't think you meant this Ash," he says bashfully, shaking his head a bit so his hair falls into his eyes. It's a little anxiety thing of his, makes his hair fall into his face in an attempt to hide however much he can.

I put my hand over his that's still holding onto my armrest in hopes of both calming and reassuring him. He gets so nervous...

He lets out a little sigh behind me before setting his chin on my shoulder again. He doesn't say another word. That skill is lost on him at the moment, which is a frequent thing for him in social and social-ish settings.

I look back to my other friends and give them a little smile, but they're still staring. They look so confused that they don't know how to act, which, okay. Fair.

And all is quiet up until Sal talks for the first time since the call started.

"You moved on from the hot knight pretty quickly."

It's said in a very... suggesting way. It makes my eye twitch in response. It's so aggravating that he still manages to piss me off by simply breathing. I swear if his mic was too close to his face right now and I heard him take a breath, I'd have to fly to Nockfell just to slap him.

"Hot knight is still on my list," I say tastelessly. "But I didn't see him interested in you so I don't understand why he's a topic."

I watch Sal's eyes narrow in agitation and I match his emotions and expression. He thinks he's so important. What was the point of bringing up Timothy the knight? He's been quiet this entire call. Why couldn't he have just stayed that way?

"I can talk about whatever I want. You just piss me off. Your boyfriend tried to kill you and he's getting in on our call. I have an issue with his presence. Yours too, honestly," Sal says, voice monotonous and bored, like it's a waste of his time to have to explain himself.

"He's not my boyfriend, jackass," I say in a grating voice. I'm at that tired point again. Just fucking tired of him... and not at the same time. Part of me is yearning for the aggression. The vexation. The resentment we share for each other and all the delicious arguments and loathing it brings. I miss it-- everything before we embarked on our short-lived shit-uationship. "And I have an issue with your presence too. You piss me off. I see why Ash nicknamed you two-face-- you're so nice to everyone, but you're a wolf in sheep's clothing. You're actually just a lint licking, cunt flap, cum infested puss bubble of a fucklet."

"Damn," Larry hisses, leaning back in his chair and staring at his screen like he's been stabbed. "I felt that in my prostate."

Nate's head moves from my shoulder and I turn to address him, but end up watching his form crumple to the floor in a heap of laughing mess. He shoots me a quick thumbs up, but whether it was an agreement, pride, or to tell me he's okay-- I'm not sure.

Ash is holding herself together by a thread, bottom lip between her teeth as tears well in her eyes. She doesn't dare blink, or else those tears will fall (and crash around me, or whatever Bullet For My Valentine once said).

"You're lucky as fuck that I'm not in your general vicinity," Sal barks out, fire blazing in his otherwise frosty eyes.

"Or what?" I taunt, tilting my head. He wouldn't hit me. He's a self-proclaimed feminist after all, if that's even true. So what would he do? Punish me? Tarnish my squeaky clean online image? He could still do that without being in my general vicinity. That statement was so loaded that I'm starting to get a little nervous...

"Military weapons-grade, apocalypse-inducing, soul-severing revenge. That's all," Sal says nonchalantly. He leans back in his seat, arms crossed and ring-clad fingers tapping his biceps. And he's... hot. And terrifying. And so, so infuriating. I hate him.

"I'd like to see you try all that," I reply, sucking my teeth. In truth, I'm not as on top of my shit as I could be because I'm still upset and confused over him. I'm angry, but not enough to properly express it. Sal's been an issue from the start, but now he's becoming even more of one.

"Watch me," is his snarky reply. And I know I can't actually determine if it's me he's staring at like that, but the feeling I get says that his glare is baring right into my image on his screen. I can feel his detest across the country, aimed directly at me. It makes a shiver run down my spine and I grip my armrests tighter.

"Is that a threat?" I bite out, swallowing thickly.

His eyes light up a bit, and then they squint. Almost like he's smiling. And then he says, in a sickeningly gentle and dark voice, "It's a promise."

Chapter Text

VIOLETVIOLENCE: it's really pathetic that i have to pull you aside like a child to tell you to tone down your shit.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: grow up.

SALLYFʌCɜ: grow up? look who's talking. might i remind you of a verbatim quote by yours truly... "lint licking, cunt flap, cum infested puss bubble of a fucklet"

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i give back what i receive. you can dish but you can't take?

SALLYFʌCɜ: i can take twice as much as i dish.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm so sure that you can. fuck off, sal. quit being an asshat.

SALLYFʌCɜ: so now it's asshat? what happened to llcfcipbf? you're losing your creativity. do better, your fall from grace is disappointing even to me

VIOLETVIOLENCE: fuck you.

SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm sure you want to

He's real fucking cheeky. Excited, if you will. What's gotten into him?

Three days ago, while purposefully and pleasurably butchering Sal's character in Dead By Daylight, if anyone would have told me that the bane of my miserable existence and I would have a personal chat box open— I'd have laughed in your face. I'd have gone full Edgar Allan Poe. You would be in a Speed Bump Grave™️. I'd hear your phantom heart beat under my floor boards.

And now, here I am, simultaneously working through the worst shift of the week and having to bitch at Sally Face Fisher via discord DM's.

I don't know what I've done. Maybe it's just my existence, I'm not sure, but he's targeting me. It's horrifically bad. Every message from him, even if he's in the middle of conversing with one of the other of The Faces, has something about me included. And it is always shitty.

I'm not scared of him, how could I ever be? So I opted (more like I was seconds away from punching his scrotum through my phone screen) to reach out to him personally and nicely ask him to stop... okay so that's obviously a lie but I had to threaten and insult him back. It was the only way I'd feel better.

But now I'm stuck with this loaded last message from him and I have no idea how to continue. Because it's a repeat. A repeat of that fated Discord call that threw my entire existence askew for a week. Or four. Maybe I'm still askew.

His necklace isn't under a shoe in the farthest corner of my room for no reason, after all.

Today was supposed to be simple. Not easy because working at the diner is never easy, but simple. Simple fucking worked. And now I have this conversation with Sally hanging over my head when I was actually looking forward to what's meant to come after I finish my shift.

I brought my mask with me today. My plan is to immediately go back to that mask store after my shift and convince the sweet woman who helped me to sign her work, give me her name, a business card— literally anything so I can tell the world who gave me my start. But now I'm anxious enough to plead not guilty by reason of insanity due to not-so negligent or accidental arson. And on top of that, I'm starting to map out an intricately laid out plan for Sal's Speed Bump Grave™️. Today's ordeals have taken my mind by storm and I'm about to bring everyone down with me in this descent toward madness.

I'm just angry. And bothered. And low key wanting to message Sal back with, "Yea, I am. What are you gonna do about it?" But I must stay strong. I must soldier on. I know the repercussions, I've tasted them for myself— felt them burn my lungs to a crisp. I went through what felt like decades of chain smoking in just mere seconds.

And it's all because of—

A chime rings. A chime that came from my phone. It echoes through the diner's break room, startling me so hard that I nearly leap out of my chair. It's like waking up from a dream where you suddenly start falling.

What was that? What just popped up in my notifications?

Unknown:
are you a poe
fan, by chance?

My kingdom. My entire kingdom for a chance to start making a Speed Bump Grave™️. For myself? For Sal? For the inexplicable human race? I don't even know anymore.

I thought he'd given up on Lexi. So what the hell is this? Why now? Why today? Why right after he finished— flirting? Baiting?— me.

My mind goes blank. Maybe... maybe he's onto me. Maybe he knows. That I'm Lexi. And now he's finally decided to enact his revenge. On today of all days, when I feel so sick with anxiety and paranoia that I could throw up every square inch of my bowels. My feminine rage is so ragey that I wouldn't be shocked if I sprouted a pair of testicles just so I'd have an excuse for whatever bruised masculinity I'm experiencing right now. Sal must be projecting on me all the way from Nockfell.

Never in my entire life have I felt so hopeless, so cornered. Every time I feel this way, I think it can't possibly get any worse.

And yet.

Me:
umm, can't say that i
am! don't know much
about him.. but how are
you, sally!

I don't know what's possessed me. In a normal world, I would have blocked him by now. Or better yet, if I wasn't so disgustingly deplorable and had a damn backbone, I'd have texted him a picture of myself and said "Haha, gotcha bitch!"

The sad truth in this way-too-real life scenario is that I don't have a backbone. And I'm too far gone to go back. I can't revert. There's a part of me that still holds onto my first live interaction with Sal. I just can't get the memory of him— smooth, gentle, kind, and likable— out of my head. No matter how hard I try.

One thing I can be proud of is the amount of petty packed into the fact that I never saved his number in my phone.

Unknown:
good. perfect, actually.
i brought some poe
with me today, a story i
think you might like

Some kind of doom-ish feeling washes over me. Like a storm cloud forming above my head. Poison seeping into my pores, infesting my blood. I don't like the way he said that. I don't like it at all. It feels a lot like the time some kid threw up all over me in second grade.

I'll never forget the sickening chill that spread through my body as soon as I realized what happened to me in the middle of educational centers in Nockfell Elementary. This situation feels threateningly similar.

Me:
oh cool! so i guess
you'll be having a
chill reading day?
wish it was me :,)

Unknown:
not quite. but hey,
are you working today?

That storm morphs into a hurricane. And there's twin tornadoes in the background, growing closer and closer to make a torrid, lethal combination. I have to take this in stride. Be smart, y/n. Whatever hell may come, handle it accordingly and do not make mistakes.

Me:
ah, no! out of town to
visit family :) really,
crappy, awkward family
get together... yikes...

He'll totally buy that right? I didn't overdo it. It was perfect. Overdoing it would have been an entire paragraph about how much I hate my mom. This is good, this is fine. I'm totally not breaking out into a cold sweat with clammy palms to match.

Oh, God. What if he sent someone to spy on Lexi? What if he hired some murderer off the dark web to take care of me and clean up the mess? I wouldn't put it past him. And this scenario isn't even worst case!

Worst case... I don't even want to think about it. I can't.

Unknown:
damn, lex... on the
day that i'm finally
back in la and you're
out of town? :(

Oh, thank God I'm a paranoid chicken shit.

Then again, fuck the fuck off. It's worst case scenario, the thing that I didn't even want to think about. The thing I wouldn't allow to cross my mind.

What do I do. What do I do? I leave work— that's the smartest decision. Naturally, this is the place he once went to and, out of boyish fantasies, he'll probably come back here with some expectation that Lexi will miraculously pop up despite her being in like... Iceland or something, whatever it is I manage to come up with in my next text to him. Which—

Unknown:
i'm at the diner rn.
was hoping we'd get
to hang out this time.
when do you get home?

Oh, no.

It's a fucking disaster on top of twenty other disasters. This is what a pregnancy scare must feel like. This must be the equivalent to walking into a room full of snotty, sick toddlers. This is dropping an uncut birthday cake.

I think I'm gonna puke.

I look up from my phone and take in the empty break room surrounding me. The off-white, paint-chipping walls are closing in. I have no escape— this is prison. Trapped in my mind's clawed vices with no way out. Except, my mind's fears have transcended into reality. My worst fear has come true and I had no time to prepare for it. The time is nigh. Ruin is, unfortunately, now.

Think, y/n. It's not so bad. I can just leave through the back door and tell my boss I'm sick again. The door is literally to my left.

But to get back to my apartment, I have to cross in front of the diner that's full of windows. Sal is here, meaning he's paying attention to everything in hopes of finding me... even though I told him I'm not here. I just know he's that kind of romantic, if he even qualifies as such.

He'd spot me in a heartbeat and that can't happen because maybe Vi's mask concealed Lexi who was hidden beneath, but he's about damn near fucked Vi. He knows her body better than she does herself— than I do. Fuck, I have so many different personas I can't even remember that they're all me.

Clusterfuck. That's what this is. A massive clusterfuck, all of my doing.

I'm going to have to bite the bullet. That's my only option. And by bite the bullet, I'm going to fight tooth and nail to keep this bit going. I should just admit the truth, but I'm not humble enough for that, apparently.

My chest begins to ache. It's a slow-to-develop pain that only catches my attention when it hurts a little too much. And then the shallow, short breaths follow. And then the phantom feeling of something lodged in my throat, blocking my airways and filling me with dread.

This is a panic attack, one that is long overdue. One that still can't breach the surface quite yet. I need to make sure I'm home free first— I can weep and be dismayed later. Because the harsh truth is, yes this fucking sucks, but it's not going to kill me. It's just hard for me and my body to truly get a grasp on that.

I swallow down the anxiety that's billowing in my body like linens ominously drying outside a house in the middle of nowhere. I take a couple deep breaths, calming the doubt and fear raging within. My limbs shake a little less, my breathing is better controlled, and my chest doesn't hurt half as much. The pain is still there, but this is bearable. I can do this.

I rifle through my cubby which doesn't give me much to work with. I don't have a change of clothes. I have nothing to hide me, not even a hoodie.

"You... good, y/n?"

I whirl around, hope scraping at the insides of my cranium. Fuck yes. Best lobotomy ever.

I could really cry right now because this is a clear sign that I'm not as alone as I think. Even if it feels like I am, even if my dear coworker Ophelia can't really help me out all that much, she can definitely help me in some way.

I don't have to girl boss everything on my own.

"Lia," I start with, breathless as I practically teleport over to her with the quickness of my panicked steps. "Do you have something I can change into? I can't explain right now but... I would really appreciate your help."

Her big doe eyes take me in curiously, one of her perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question. She bats her long lashes, seemingly processing what I've asked of her before giving me an answer.

"Um, I was planning on going out after my shift tonight? Would a dress work?" She grimaces a bit, probably worried that she won't be able to help me out because Ophelia is just like that.

"That would work fine!" I say excitedly, but think better of it, my hopes crumbling a bit. "But I don't want to take your outfit for the night. I can probably come up with something else."

Lia rolls her eyes lightheartedly, placing a hand on my shoulder. I follow the action, noting her long and sharp blood red nails. I gulp, looking back into her pretty ebony eyes. "Y/n, take what you need. You know Mike can drive me back home to get another outfit! We don't live too far away, and we don't need to be in Anaheim until 9 anyway. Do what you need to do-- you know I'm cheering for you, girl."

I grab onto her hand and hold back the intense admiration infecting my soul. I'm giving Ophelia the most visceral care bear stare I can possibly muster up and she notices, giving me a cute little upside down smile.

"You are an angel," I whisper, "And your future husband is too. Power couple of the heavens, really."

Lia giggles and bends her head down, forcing her pin straight black hair to fall into her face, thus accentuating the really eye-catching red money pieces that match her red nails. I aspire to be this woman. "It's not that serious, Ducks," she says, using my dads nickname for me that she overheard a couple months ago. She thought it was precious, so it stuck. "Let's go get you changed, 'kay?"

Change, I do. But I see where she was concerned about me wearing it too. It's for clubbing, cock-tailing, socializing for sure, but... I can make it work. I've got this. It'll be fine. Thank God I am an avid Doc Martens-wearer. Doc's go with absolutely anything.

Lia has taste too, it's a short, little red dress with spaghetti straps that flares out at the ends. It shows a lot of leg, but not much of anything else. I can't imagine how amazing she must look in this.

"You're super sure that you're okay wearing this?" Lia asks, looking over me. "It looks great on you, I'm inclined to tell you to keep it, honestly."

I scrunch up my face. "No, I'm giving it back to you tomorrow," I laugh gently, using my phone camera to try and get an idea of how I look. I can't see much, which is kind of a blessing because I might hate it and be too afraid to brave LA if I end up not liking it.

"I won't argue with you," Lia sighs, patting my back in a reassuring way. "So do you want to talk about what's going on?"

"Um," I murmur, a shiver running down my spine. I almost forgot why I'm having to do this. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been five minutes at most. "It's very hard to explain, but I might have to get you or Mike involved, whoever's hosting today." I can't help but grimace as the words leave me, but it's the unfortunate truth that I'll have to talk to one or both of them. I'm ever so slowly hashing out a plan in my head.

Sal is undoubtedly going to ask about Lexi, and what the hell am I supposed to do whenever someone goes, "Lexi? No Lexi has ever worked here." So I have to bite the bullet, again, and stick around to at least inform Mike or Lia about that part of my major, gargantuan fuck up. That also means there's a good chance that Sal will see me, but he'll likely ignore my presence, and then I can slip away quickly.

"Mike is up front and hosting today," Lia says, frowning at me. She's so pretty, like if Marilyn Monroe was alternative. Goth mommy and whatever. No shame on my part.

The chef's booming voice carries into the break room, Lia's name floating along with it. She winces at the sound, flinching in surprise. She gives me a pitiful look, tilting her head almost as if to apologize for having to do her job. Poor little love, she is.

"Will you be able to talk with Mike?" She asks me, heading for the door.

I nod hesitantly. "Yea, I'll get to him. Thank you so much for all your help, Lia. I really appreciate you." I send her my most genuine smile, one that she returns.

"Anytime, y/n! You look beautiful, by the way. Go knock 'em dead, literally or figuratively!"

And she's gone, but she hyped me up in the gentlest way possible. Bless her dark, lovable heart.

I take a breath-- a deep, fortifying, 'ohfuckohfuck' breath that does nothing to calm my soul, but I try to trick myself into believing that it worked... at least somewhat. Then I move over to my work cubby (because we're all still in primary school according to my boss) and grab my old backpack that I bring every day. It's raunchy at best and holding on by a thread. I kept it from my high school days. It's a plain black Jansport with coffee stains on the bottom and questionable white splats that are front and center for everyone to see. I'm pretty sure it's just crusty white paint that I never bothered to peel off, but I won't correct anyone if they guess something else. What's the fun in that, right?

I open the zippers and dig in, working past a random beanie from winter, pads and tampons, and a makeup bag. All the way at the bottom, buried under my other things for protection, is my mask. I put it on then look down at myself one last time.

The flashy red of the dress I'm wearing does not match the deep violet of my mask but not everything can go right, so I'll take my little loss. Things could be worse-- oh wait, they are. Sal Fisher is outside this room. Whoops, forgot things were already devastatingly bad.

I run my fingers over the forehead of my mask, feeling that ache creep into my chest again. I wish things weren't going this way. I wish I was brave enough to go outside and just keep working. Because I'm undoubtedly going to lose my job after today. I'm backing myself into a corner, even risking my finances because of this guy that I'm too scared to face as my real self. I've reached peak pathetic.

My dad must be disappointed to have such an incompetent daughter. No wonder my mother and I don't speak anymore.

I swallow past the uncertainty, the guilt, and the unadulterated fear gnawing at my soul. Then I follow through with my plan by throwing my backpack onto my shoulder and pushing the back door open despite knowing that this is not worth it. It's not worth it at all.

I circle around the outside of the diner, heart rumbling like an earthquake as the putrid scent of garbage wafts into my nose from the dumpster I'm currently passing in front of. The sounds of cars honking, people laughing and chatting idly.

Los Angeles is the people's place. It hosts all necessary components of life, some more than others. Socialization, food. It's a dopamine powerhouse. But when it's me, when I've been living here for over a year and seeing the same things every single day, it's stripped me of all my feel-good chemicals. Especially right now when LA is only bringing me problems and trouble (Sal Fisher).

This doesn't feel real. I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. I can't quite wrap the fact around my head, that I'm about to be in Sal's general vicinity yet again. I thought I had time.

I turn the corner, coming out onto the sidewalk in front of the diner. I don't stop in my stride, eyeing my apartment building that isn't very far from me. A five minute walk. I'm almost home. Almost free. I just have to get inside the diner, unfortunately inform Mike of the tea, and hopefully dodge Sal. So long as I keep my eyes on the host table, I may not even have to see him. I might just be psyching myself out. Everything's going to be just fine!

My heart is in my throat, my limbs jittering nervously as I push the glass door open and look forward, noting the short line of people waiting for seats. Sal isn't one of them, so I assume he's been seated already.

I walk past the people in line, getting a few looks from them. That'd be the mask's fault.

Mike's looking down at his seating chart on the host table, most likely mapping out where someone could go whenever I stop in front of him, placing a hand on the table to discreetly get his attention.

He looks startled for a moment before tilting his head up, brows scrunched together as if to say 'The audacity!' but then he sees me and his eyes widen a bit. And then I'm not sure what his next expression says.

"What the--" he chokes out, "Shit! It's you? Hold on-- wait-- mind-fuck--"

I lift a finger to my lips, eyes wide as I hope he takes the note to shut up. Adrenaline is starting to spike in my veins and if he draws anymore attention to us, especially since my mask is already drawing enough, I'm going to piss myself right here. And sue him for public embarrassment, or whatever that thing is. Public defecation? No, that's public defamation... anyway.

Michael's mouth snaps closed, but he keeps watching me. I watch him. We just watch each other as I forget absolutely everything I had planned.

I swallow, blinking at my friend and coworker. "Mike," I say quietly. He flinches at the sound of his name. "I need you to do something for me and I am sincerely sorry about this but..."

"Yea, Yea, y/n-- um, what should I call you...?" He cuts himself off viciously, slapping a hand over his mouth. At least he cares.

I lean my forearms across the table, settling my weight against the front to relax myself at least a little bit. I'm so tense. I feel eyes on me. I need to get out of here.

"Don't call me that," I say lightheartedly, puffing out a breath. "Just call me Vi. For now." I lick my dry lips. Mike of all people finding out about my identity as VioletViolence is the very least of my worries. "There's a guy in here. He has blue hair, can't miss him. I'm sure you already know who he is. He's looking for a girl named Lexi and he'll probably ask his waiter about her. Just say that Lexi isn't here today, you don't have to answer anything else about her."

"I'm guessing... you're Lexi?" He winces, leaning forward a bit.

"Wow," I say sarcastically. "How did you figure that out?" I send him a little smile then focus on the task at hand yet again. "Anyway, I need you to be his waiter. Please. I'll take your entire shift on Friday. I will do anything." I tilt my head down, peering up at him through my lashes in an attempt to portray how badly I need this.

Mike's brows bunch together again and he mutters, "Yea, of course. Whatever you need. But it's-- he came in with the rest of The Faces. Do you want me to... entertain them too? Do they know about Lexi?"

The world stops turning. Everything pauses, no one's moving anymore and I feel like I'm going to vomit with fear, burst with excitement, and pass out right here from exhaustion. The plan I had is ruined, and I couldn't be more equally devastated and exhilarated about it. Ash is here. Larry's here, Todd too. What the hell is going on?

I blink, the action bringing me back to the present.

"Hey, is that Lia's dress--"

"The Faces are here?" I cut him off, holding a hand out in pause, trying to drill this information into my head. Trying to make it real so I can come up with a new plan.

Michael watches me like I'm stupid, a rueful expression on his boyish face. "Yes. I already said that they're here. Why are you wearing my girlfriend's dress?"

"Because we're fucking on the side and she came all over my work outfit." I watch as he makes his little offended face, and my tongue prods at my cheek as instant regret slaps me in the face. He's trying to help me, I shouldn't be giving him this attitude. "Sorry," I admit. "You know that's not true. I'm just-- I'm on edge."

"That's okay," he says hesitantly. "You know I'm going to get you back for that, anyway."

I pinch my lips together, accepting yet another minor defeat. "Fair." I shrug. "I was going to go back home and leave you to the wolves but... I'd rather risk myself. Ash is my best friend. You won't have to handle them alone now, so yay!" I give him a cheerful grin that I'm really not feeling. I even throw in jazz hands.

Michael runs his tongue over the surface of his teeth, clearly not looking forward to the fiasco I've dragged him into. "Alright," he settles on, sighing as he looks down at his feet while grabbing another menu. "Let's see how you manage to back yourself further into whatever shitty corner you've created. I'm eager."

"I'm sure," I grind out, knocking down all the fear that overtook me on my way here and replacing it with impenetrable, desperate yearning to find my friends. I finally cast my gaze around the diner, quickly zeroing in on the one head of blue hair in this entire building. They're seated at a booth all the way at the back of the restaurant and next to the bar, the one place that's away from most prying eyes. A request of theirs, I'm sure.

But my next question, now that I know everyone's here, what the hell are The Faces doing in Los Angeles? And why wasn't I told?

Ash didn't say a word to me. Do they not want me around? Maybe they don't like me as much as I thought they did. Maybe Ash would rather hang around with other friends than me. And that would make sense because we never see each other, besides Vegas, of course. But just thinking about it makes pain erupt throughout my entire body, a pang in my heart. Especially while watching the back of Ash's head tip down while Larry laughs in front of her. Sal and Larry, I can see them, but Todd and Ash are facing away from me.

Another deep breath.

"I'm going to head over there," I tell Michael, looking over to him again. He's watching me closely, his expression of pity mimicking Lia's from earlier. The sight makes me a little sick.

"Alright," he says gently. "I'm going to be there to take orders soon. I hope everything goes well. Don't be nervous."

I huff out a humorless laugh. "Are you and Ophelia psychic or something? Or is my face just that readable?"

He shrugs, grinning slightly. "I can't see your face, so I guess we're psychic. I'll be in your dreams tonight."

That makes me laugh. It wasn't forced or fake, it was genuine and I need that right now. I think Mike knows that too.

I start taking quick steps over to where The Faces are, nerves slapping at my insides to make me turn around and forget that I ever saw them. I'm attacking myself with my own mind, and my mind is attacking my body in turn. Mental illness is crazy, right? Death by anxiety and whatnot.

But, you know, I'm already here. My job is in purgatory, I'm five steps away from them and Larry has noticed my movement, his head twisting toward me to see who's growing near.

Poor Larry. When he sees me walking toward them, he shakes his head and rubs his eyes like he doesn't believe what he's seeing. He looks at me again, and that's when his eyes start to widen, when his jaw drops. And he doesn't say word, that open mouth just turns into the brightest smile I think I've ever seen.

Seeing his excitement makes my insides flutter about and I feel a little better about actually going over to them. Imagine I get there and they shoo me away? But I can tell that Larry won't. That look on his face screams barely held back hugs.

I gulp, trying to ignore my major cotton mouth. I need water. Or tequila. Something.

I also don't give my brain even a second to psych myself out. When I reach the table, I simply plop myself down beside Ash and act like it's a normal, every day thing for me to do.

All heads turn to me (Larry's never turned away from me to begin with) and then I hear a quiet, uttered, "Fuck" followed by incessant, eardrum bursting squealing in my ear.

Arms. A lot of arms. A ton of squeezing. Lots of kisses all over my mask and face. And all the love makes me think that my sweet Ash had a good reason for not informing me of her visit.

I struggle, but I throw my arms around Ash too, squeezing every little inch of her that I can get. Her sweet, coconut and strawberry scent overwhelms me and I feel so at peace. So calm. Home. Back in Nockfell. Comfortable.

Her hair is in my face and I know she's crying because my bare shoulders are wet, thanks spaghetti strap dress. I don't care though because I'm seeing Ash again much sooner than I imagined I would. I thought it would take us years to have some time together like we did in Las Vegas. And Ash is so emotional, I feel like she's being ripped apart by the sight of me alone-- that's both adrenaline-inducing and terrifying.

This is a nightmare, but a dream come true at the same time. I'm so glad that I was paranoid enough to force myself to tell Mike about the Lexi situation. Things couldn't be any better.

"Ash, fucking let go, man. It's my turn." Larry's voice is right next to me, and then another pair of hands that envelop my waist whole. I'm then yanked out of my best friends arms and spun around to face Larry who hugs me so tight that I have to stand on my tiptoes.

I shut my eyes, grinning as I reach my arms up his back, hugging him the best way I can as he nuzzles his face against my mask. The smell of cigarette smoke and pine trees lingers on his clothes, yet again overwhelming me with familiarity. The smoke is a more recent addition, but he's always had a unique scent to him that's always reminded me of Christmas in a way.

The scruff on his cheeks scratches against my jaw, his skin is warm, his grip tight. I really miss home... and LA is not home. Home is back with all of my friends. I don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to be where they aren't.

Larry takes a deep breath into my shoulder, likely bathing in my comfort just like I did with him. Then he backs up, holding me at arms length and I look up with tears welling in my eyes no matter how much I wish they weren't there. I hate crying, especially in front of other people, but I'm just so happy. It's like the anxiety I felt while walking over here never existed.

"What the hell are you doing here, Vi!?" Larry exclaims, dragging his hands up my arms to cup my face in his large palms. "I thought you lived in Connecticut?"

I place my hand on top of his, a spark of what I thought was fantastical anxiety rushing through me at the instant fuck up I've just made. Again. Crap. I forgot that Ash told them I live in Connecticut...

"Uh," Ash voices beside us, her tone taking the form of the smartest kid in class who's about to correct a mistake. Todd-coded. "I said she's from Connecticut, not that she still lives there." Good save, Ash. "Word choice is important, Lar! Pay attention!"

Larry's eyes swing between Ash and I before settling on me, stars dancing in his irises. "Wait, so do you live in LA, then?"

I can't help the excited little grin that's slowly climbing onto my face. It's Larry's turn to squeal as he suddenly realizes.

I look back over to Ash, catching Sal's gaze momentarily before I look over at Todd to wave. He waves back at me, a soft and pleased smile on his thin lips.

"So," I say, letting go of Larry whenever he backs away from me. I sit beside Ash again, leaning against her side as she throws an arm around my shoulders. "Why are you guys here?"

Ash hisses, frowning suddenly. I frown back, wary of her reaction. "Crap!" she exclaims, rolling her eyes. "Well, I was going to surprise you and the guys. But I guess you ended up surprising us instead..."

"Oh, so it's not just y/n that we're visiting while we're here? You knew Vi would be here too?" Todd asks, chewing on his bottom lip contemplatively.

Another spark of nervousness. They're here for... fuck, all three sides of me are expected in this situation. This... maybe was not really worth it. I'm erasing all the sides of my corner. Everything's starting to get really small and very tight.

Ash side-eyes me, a discreet little look before she answers Todd. "Yea, but I'm not quite sure where she is in LA. I'm going to have to call her later to get some updates on her whereabouts."

"I could just call her now. I'm super excited to see her, I'm sure she'd love to meet Vi too-- oh, and to tell her why we're here!" Larry says, excitement making him shimmy around in his seat as he pulls out his phone.

My body reacts instantly, tensing up like a cat in shock. Ash jumps too, nearly leaping over the table to stop Larry. "No! She's working!" She yells. It's so loud that you'd think she's trying to flip Larry's phone away from him with sound waves alone. True Stranger Things style.

"Oh...kay..." Larry trails off, pulling his phone closer to him so that Ash can't reach. "It's not that serious. I'll call her later, then. What's your deal?"

I swallow. Her reaction was really too much, but at least she's trying to cover for me. I would've sat there and let Larry call while my phone went off in my pocket.

Ash clears her throat, sitting back now that she threw the scenario into the trash. It was rocky, but her deflection was successful. "I know, just don't bother my girl while she's making money," she says matter-of-factly, holding her head high.

I note the way Sal shakes his head across the table. I haven't acknowledged his presence, nor has he acknowledged mine. It's awkward for the most part, but I think that awkwardness is only stemming from me. He seems to be perfectly in control with his short sleeved, black Iron Maiden shirt that shows off his tatted arms. I guess the LA summer heat was too much for him to wear a hoodie for once.

His electric eyes meet mine, no emotion in the endless depths of his irises. Like he couldn't care less that I'm here, which sounds a lot like him. And still, I fidget in my seat under his gaze. Can't help myself.

The edges of his dagger tattoo peek out from behind his hair, the shape of his Adam's apple clear due to the sun shining in through the window, casting shadows in all the right places. Necklaces are around his neck, some kind of silver chain and and old, really intricate cross necklace hanging right below it. And then his hand comes into view, the one that folded into a fist as a result of my touch just weeks ago in this exact restaurant.

There's something different though as he moves to grab onto the drink in front of him, dragging it closer.

The bottom of his prosthetic lifts as he sips from his straw, but that's when I notice what's different. It's a new tattoo-- Saniderm wrapped around his hand. It looks like... a skeleton hand tattooed onto his own. It's pretty sick and I'm so tired of him having great taste in art. Damn. Now I have a terrible excuse to stare at him some more when I shouldn't look anywhere near him at all.

On the other hand, have I ever mentioned how much of a blessing Michael is?

"Hi, everyone," his cheerful voice effectively distracts me from ogling Sal. I look over to my friend, noting his pink cheeks. Huh. "I'll be taking over as your waiter tonight. Your waitress had to leave," he glances at me as if to tell me that I made a good call by stepping out when I did. That's exactly the moment I realize that we're sitting in my section of the diner. Talk about a close call.

Okay, I should get the hard part over for him right? To thank him. I've got this. "Oh, hey, Mike!" I say, "Long time no see."

Poor Mike looks at me like a deer caught in headlights. "Hey... Vi..." he says quietly. Oh, Michael, please don't crap out on me now... I'm going to have to buy this man a cake for carrying me like this.

I smile at him awkwardly, trying to bypass this horrible excuse of an excuse that he and I are about to do horrible improv for. "So, how's Lexi?" I don't dare look a Sal whenever I say the name, but I do feel a shift in the energy at the table. "It's been weeks since I last saw you guys."

"Lexi doesn't work here anymore," Michael spits out nervously, sweat beginning to build on his forehead. Oh no, don't fucking fumble the bag, Mike!

I give him a look. One that has so many emotions and so many questions, but I just force out a simple, "What?" because what else do I say to that? Things are already beginning to go terribly. But it's okay. I'm a pathological liar at this point, and a catfisher? Maybe? Ha... Cat-FISHER.

I'm going to have a panic attack.

Michael pinches his lips together, red-faced as he glances at Sal. I turn my gaze to Sal too, noticing the way he's eyeing Mike like a hawk.

"Lexi is my girlfriend and she doesn't work here anymore." Michael says, his tone brave and assertive, but his facial expression says an entirely different thing.

Great heavens. Okay, so he's radically screwing everything up but that's okay— I'm a flexible person. He's... doing his best. I can work with this. I hope.

I have this image of him and I duking it out in my head. I have him by the collar, shaking him around like a ragdoll while I scream in his face that he's fucking up the plan. And in my mind he's just taking it because he's playing pure sub right now. I'm not even this submissive-- Michael is straight up breaking the BDSM spectrum.

I shove down my nerves and tilt my head at him. "Okay," I start with, slowly, feeling out what little room I have to work with. "I already knew she was your girlfriend," I say, raising my eyebrows even though he can't see. Saying this feels less incriminating for some reason. But I notice Sal snap his head down to the table. I almost feel bad. "But why doesn't she work here anymore?"

Michael looks off to the side, tapping his fingers against the menus in his arms. "Um, she's... she is..." I narrow my eyes at him. He's not even answering the question. I try to communicate with him through eye contact, bellowing at him to not. Fumble. The. Bag.

He gapes at me like a fish, our intense eye contact freaking him out even more. I sigh to myself. He fumbled whatever bag I'm going on about before he even got to our table.

He finally finds his voice after a second and says, "Lexi is working. At a... sperm... bank."

It takes every little inch of my being not to burst into tears. Holy hell. If anything I'm glad he fucked this up because the sperm bank excuse is hilarious no matter how you look at it. Even better is that it's so ridiculous and random that it's going to distract the entire table from the way he's royally screwing up this conversation.

Ash snorts beside me. Larry chokes on his coke. Todd is silent and so is Sal. Maybe the sperm bank thing will officially scare Sal away from Lexi. Yea-- this could work.

"That's a unique job," I struggle to push out, my voice wavering despite trying to forget what Mike just said. But it's hovering in my mind, like old memes from Vine that still make me cackle to this day. I really wish someone would have caught this entire interaction on video.

Michael glances to Sal again. And that's when I turn to find that the bluenette is glaring at my coworker with his arms crossed over his chest, a dangerous glint in his pretty eyes. Wow. That's a scary look, one that he hasn't even pulled out on me yet.

Mike is gaping again, trying to get words to, you know, word. I try to help him by saying, "I hope she likes it there! That's a big deal." But the words don't register in his mind. I can tell by the look of terror on his face, his gaze still glued to Sally.

My friend takes another second to gather himself, and right as a syllable leaves his lips-- one that he used his one working brain cell to come up with-- Sal interrupts him. He took perfect advantage of Mike's vulnerability.

"I'm not sorry for flirting with your girlfriend."

My eyes squeeze shut as butterflies slap at the lining of my intestines. This is ridiculous and I shouldn't feel flattered. I tilt my head down for a moment, trying to gather my wits. I figured out everything for Michael and I, but I didn't take Sal's response into account. I didn't think he'd have a response to begin with. I never would have thought he'd come up with this either.

"We'll, um," I say hoarsely, clearing my throat to regain my voice, but my heart is flitting about with excitement. I wish Sal never would have spoken. I look up at Mike, sending him a dismissive smile. "We'll order in a little bit. I'm still not sure about what I want. Thanks, Mike."

I've never seen someone scurry away so quickly before in my life.

"Is Lexi the chick you were trying to see over here?" Larry asks as soon as Michael's gone. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, watching as Sal glares at his step-brother. Yikes...

"I'm gonna head to the bathroom," I say, scooting out of the booth before anyone can stop me. I need to not be here right now. Ash is quick to stand up behind me, grabbing onto my hand. I turn, fearful that she's going to stop me, but she just smiles and juts her head forward, signaling me to keep walking.

I hope she doesn't ask me about Lexi. You couldn't even beat this information out of my dead body.

Ash and I take a singular step toward the bathroom, only to get stopped by my least favorite customer. I just want to die at this point. The stress is not worth anything. Not at all.

I've said before that many of the men that come into the diner are assholes of the patriarchy, the ones that tell me to stop talking and make them a sandwich, or comment about women's bodies. The shit that ticks me off beyond belief.

This man in particular smells like mildew and three years of straight sleep and bad breath. He's also not a looker, mind you. And then he's an asshole on top of it? I hate when my boss sends me to his table.

Even worse is watching him eye me after calling out to Ash and I with the words, "How much do you charge?"

My eyes narrow and the boys go quiet behind us. We're close enough for them to hear, especially for Ophelia to hear behind the bar.

She glances up at me, cleaning a glass and frowning.

I look back at the man. I never bothered remembering his name. "Excuse me, sir?" I ask, confused. I don't want to converse with this dickface.

"You're dressed like a whore so you gotta be selling yourself right?" he continues, a humorless chuckle following the grubby words.

I open my mouth then snap it shut, heat taking over my body. I'm embarrassed, really insecure about myself now, and pissed off. He thinks he can just say shit like this to anyone? What a pathetic joke.

Usually I can't do anything about this man since I'm the one serving him, but he doesn't know who I am and I'm not working at the moment. I can reign whatever hell that I want.

But I'm also exceptionally tired. Tired of this horrible job and little pay. Tired of holding up some persona that's already beginning to crash around me. Just tired.

"I'd rather look like a supposed whore than look like I just stepped out of the dumpster, sir. Have a day," I say dismissively. I don't have time for him and I've said my piece. If I go on any further, I'll get kicked out anyway and I've already given my coworkers enough trouble today.

'Have a day' is my favorite thing to say to customers who piss me off because they don't know if I forgot the 'good' or purposefully left it out. It's ominous and vaguely threatening.

Ash and I go to the bathroom and we don't stay there long. Neither of us talk. She just waits for me, like she knew I needed space but that I also needed her companionship. Just a moment away from the mess. Silence. Which is so much more than appreciated, I can't even begin to explain how much I adore my best friend.

She watches me wash my hands through the mirror, her arms crossed over her chest and a content smile on her lips. As we start to walk out, she says, "I'm not sure how long you'll be able to keep up the lie about y/n." and she's right. I'm going to face a dead end soon here. "You're obligated to have a sleepover with me tonight so we can come up with a plan, and so you can answer some major questions I have about you right now. My spidey senses are tingling super hard."

Her hand rubs my back and I nod, smiling thankfully at her. Of course she has questions. My entire presence here is questionable right now.

We resurface next to the bar, but looking up at where our booth is shows that it's empty. I'm about to voice my confusion to Ash, but then I notice Lia running around the bar to get to us.

My eyebrows scrunch together as my coworker stops in front of me, eyes on Ash before they focus on me. She mulls over her thoughts for a moment, gaping just like her boyfriend does. Did the boys do something bad?

"We had to... We kicked Sally Face out," is what she says, shocking both me and Ash.

"What?" Ash asks, startled. "What happened?"

Ophelia blinks at Ash, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "He, uh, he walked up to that... that guy at the bar. Kicked his stool out from underneath him. Then he asked me for a drink. Malibu and pineapple."

Ash sighs and I blink at Lia. I don't even know what to think. Did Sal do that for me? And to ask for my favorite drink on top of that...

No. It's impossible. There's no way he would. He just did it for the sake of feminism. That feminism that is nonexistent when it comes to me. Yea, he definitely didn't do that to avenge me. And he was probably just in the mood for alcohol and pineapple juice right? He could never remember the one drink I ever brought up around him. There's no way.

"Sal doesn't even drink all that much," Ash hisses. "What the hell is he doing?" She bites down on her thumb nail, free hand on her hip.

I swallow down all the emotions building up in me. There are so many that I don't even know how to distinguish a single one right now. This is too much. This entire day is too much.

"Okay," I whisper to myself. "Thanks, Lia," I say gratefully. "And thank Mike for me, too, please. I'm going to get everyone out of here before-- yea." I nod to myself, but it isn't very reassuring.

Lia grabs my hand. "We didn't call the police because that asshole had it coming, but someone else might have. It's better to go now."

I nod again, taking yet another deep breath before guiding Ash to the front doors of the diner. The boys are standing right outside, no doubt waiting for Ash and I.

I feel very similar to the way I did when Sal ended our shit-uationship. I'm so confused and so hopeless, but hopeful. So pained, but relieved. I don't know how to handle the way I feel. I can't work myself out of this awful situation now because he's here. He's here and his hair is billowing softly in the wind, showing off his tattooed neck. And a cigarette is between his index and middle finger as he looks out at the jam-packed street. And then his boot is stomping out the butt of his cigarette on the ground.

The nail in the coffin is when he bends over to pick up the cigarette butt and throw it into the trashcan right outside the diner. He would be perfect if he wasn't such an emotionless prick.

I want to cry. I want to feel him again. I want to shoot him with a paintball gun one more time. I want to run my fingers over all his tattoos. I want him to shiver in fear and pleasure because of me. I hate him so much that it's become obsessive.

I lick my lips as I come to a top in front of my friends, more notably, right in front of Sal.

He turns away from the trashcan behind him, his shoulder-length hair following his movements. When he notices me, he stops and stares disinterestedly. The action is so forced though that it feels like it's hiding something else. Like he doesn't want me to know what he just did in the diner.

I watch him. My eye contact is a threat, a warning, a question, begging. Everything, I try to show him through my gaze.

And then I nod at him subtly despite myself. Even if it wasn't for me, he put that guy in his place and I think that's something to appreciate. But at the end of the day, he still left me upset and he's an asshole so I can't find it in myself to physically tell him thank you. The nod will do.

I turn my attention to the rest of The Faces. "I can make brunch in my apartment if that works with y'all?"

And that's how I've made another mistake today. That's why The Faces are walking down the streets of Los Angeles, my apartment just two buildings away.

There's so much wrong with this decision I've made. I should have never invited them over. What if dad is home? He shouldn't be-- but still. There's so much that could go wrong.

But the walk is going disturbingly well. Ash and Larry ooh and ahh at the streets of Los Angeles— which are normal to me. But I understand the charm too. I was very fond of LA when I first came here.

We walk into my apartment building, everyone speaking a little quieter as we traipse through Lobby. I don't speak, I just listen. And I take it that Todd and Sal are doing the same.

My apartment building is nothing special. It's boring, it's the lowest end of mainstream you can get. It's like a 90's apartment in Manhattan, but make it modern and LA. To put it short, it's the cheapest Dad and I could find here.

Having The Faces step into my territory feels like a time bomb ticking down the last few seconds. It's scary, and it puts me in a vulnerable position. I don't have much of a choice— I'm the one who thought of this idea. And I feel like I owe it to my friends to make them something to eat after they got kicked out of the diner. Not that it was my fault, but it was my customer's fault. I feel guilty for some unreasonable reason.

There's always risk though, and I run through my list of said risks as we take the elevator to my apartment. Being in someone's living space is daring, considering that family stuff is all around. Photos on the wall, artwork with family name's on them, doctor appointments and reminders on the refrigerator. Everything is risky, risky, risky.

Lucky for me, dad and I still haven't quite settled in yet. It's been a year, but we're also both constantly moving around. Dad is in hotels for weeks on end and I work most days. We unloaded and fixed our necessities, but other than that, our walls are bare and nothing of note is on our refrigerator. I should be fine.

We finally empty out into the hallway that leads to my apartment and I have to swallow down the anxiety rushing through me. Nothing has gone wrong and I can only hope that the last leg of this walk will go well for me. I just want one thing to go right today, just one. That's all I'm asking.

I get to my door, I shakily slide my key into the lock, and I open it and let all my friends in, watching their eyes bounce around the living room. I nearly slam the door shut once everyone is safe and inside.

I got my wish. Thank you to whoever granted me a little bit of peace on this unfortunate day.

"You need to get a new carpet."

It's the second time I've heard him speak today. The raspy, monotonous, alto tone of his makes me pause. He wasn't insulting, the way he said that was just commentary. But his voice alone feels like a declaration of war and all the panic and fear I've been enduring for the past— what? Half hour?— is replaced with some kind of desirous agony. Like I've been waiting for him to just... just speak.

"You have a problem with everything, don't you?" I respond, my voice biting into the stale air of my living room. I should've simply asked why he felt that way, but I have reasons. For example, the shit I've put up with today has me on edge. Another reason is Sal bombarding me on all ends without him even realizing it, then being so tense with all these horrible decisions I'm making. I'm really itching for a fight right now and I know I can get it from him. I can practically feel my eyes dilating with the excitement that's ransacking my body at the mere prospect of an argument.

Sal's head turns over his shoulders, body somewhat rigid. One hand in his pocket, the other with the fresh tattoo resting at his side. His eyes are narrowed, scrutinizing me and no doubt wondering who the hell I think I am.

"There's a giant fucking stain on your black carpet," he snaps, gesturing his tatted hand at the light green splatter that dad fussed me for weeks ago. That time I was watching The Faces' Youtube video and spilled my damn mint chocolate chip ice cream. When this entire thing between Sal and I was started. Because he had to go and judge me without getting to know me first. "Be happy I even mentioned it," he mutters, tone clipped.

"You think I didn't notice?" I laugh humorlessly. I wasn't lying when I said he has a problem with everything. Seriously— he just stepped foot into my home and has something negative to say about it. "And why don't you guess who's fault it is that the carpet is stained, huh?" The words rush past my lips, all hardly held back fury and expectation for the worst.

Sal tilts his head in a way that begs me to try him again, then turns his entire body to me. He shuts his eyes and holds up a hand, pausing before saying, "It surely isn't my fault if that's what you're implying." He even adds a snort at the end.

"Actually," I say cheerily, chin up and head high because it's quite literally all his fault that I dropped my ice cream whenever I heard him talking about me all those weeks ago. "Yea it is. I was sitting right there," I point to the edge of the sofa nearest the stained part of the carpet. "While listening—"

I feel like I've been punched in the stomach, and I did it to myself. Again.

How could I be so stupid? Here I am, openly and happily about to expose my true identity just to make a point. Just to be right. To win. To gain some catharsis from a meaningless argument.

I snap my mouth shut, swallowing over the relentless pounding of my heart. I blink at Sal who's waiting expectantly for me to finish what I was saying. What do I say? How do I save myself?

My palms sweat, my legs quake. Oh, this is so bad. Is this my real downfall? Is this where I break? It's going to happen. I'm going to pass out or have a psychotic break. Maybe I'm going insane— maybe I've been clinically insane for weeks now. At least I could plead not guilty at my murder trial. I've had a lot of murder on my mind today, haven't I?

But there's a knock at the door and bless the heart of whoever is about to punch my door hinges off. Any other situation and I'd be losing my mind over someone knocking so hard, but my savior is behind this hunk of wood.

I let out a shaky breath and tilt my head downwards, pretending like I'm too fed up to continue my argument. It's perfect. The best excuse.

But Sal's eyes burn into me, the scrutinizing, heavy blue trapping me in my own guilt. A narrow waterway hidden behind the confines of his prosthetic, haunting me day and apparently at night too. I find myself stuck, my gaze piercing his and waiting for something that will never come. I don't even know what that something is.

"Never mind," I grunt, spinning on my heels and taking a singular step toward my door.

I twist the knob, relieved by the silence behind me. No one cares enough to ask what that was about. I escaped... somehow.

And then I swing the door open, gaze up at the last person I expected to see, hear a resounding and excited, "Bitch!" and intellectually (smartest decision I've ever made) slam the door back in their face.

Oh no. Oh no, oh fuck.

I forgot.

Chapter Text

Life is a storybook. The book makes the rules. Your plot is decided before you can think for yourself. The pages turn to the next chapter of your story before you're ready. Before you've embraced change. Before you've even decided to move on. Sometimes, characters may never be ready for their plot alterations.

Included in this storybook is a fairytale. A fable for all those who crave deeper meaning and search for elation in the little, hidden aspects of their tale.

Sal Fisher dreamt of things he would never achieve. He hoped for options and happenstance that would never come to him in this life or the next. He was but a hopeless soul floating in his own oblivion. He was a side character in everyone's novel and he knew it. Sal was the backup person in a fantasy story that was so insignificant, he didn't even have a name. In fact, he was akin to the opening kill.

This felt too true for him. He had his alias, Sally Face, but never was he Sal.

His bed was too rough. He tossed and turned throughout the night, restless. His chance at a decent life thwarted.

A loose thread from his comforter was wrapped around his index finger, pulled tight to cut off circulation as he yanked on it. A dull snap alerted him that he'd managed to pull the string from the fabric. If only he could separate himself from this miserable world like he'd done for the worn piece of twine.

He counted invisible numbers in his head, mentally repeating passcodes and combinations as if he were a machine. It was a pathetic mantra that ceased to end. Nockfell High's locker combination, shed code, safe's passcode. He was running laps in his own mind and he didn't know how to stop. He didn't know what to do to calm the anguished storm in his head. He was lost, hopeless, beyond rectification.

Sal's body was in a state of rest, his dissociated plight forced all his limbs to be completely immobile, frozen like a statue. Caught in perpetual stillness while his mind was in full motion. No amount of physics could possibly explain or debunk the haunt in his brain. These ghosts stalked him in the night, waited until the sun went down to sneak up on him.

The nooks and crevices of his darkened thoughts came to life, melding together in the form of a horrible creature like frost in the dawn. Shadows crawled inward, creating the shape of a monstrous, inhuman being. Wisps of sheer terror dripped off its back, an image similar to the draining of blood after a most horrendous, psychotic act. A kind of act he had intrusive thoughts of daily.

This shadow man reached for Sal, urged him to allow the entity to wrap its clawed, stringy hands around his throat. To peel the flesh away from his bones. To gnaw on his innards and feast on every organ populating his body. The being wanted control over Sal's life so badly, wanted to end him. Yearned for Sal's death to transcend this mortal plane. It needed the essence of Sal's life to be freed from humanity.

Sal was this shadow man. He was the monster that tortured his every waking moment.

Gizmo was nestled at the end of the bed, his paws wrapped around Sal's legs in a snug, soothing hug. Even in his sleep, that little old man felt Sal's agony.

Tree branches scraped at Sal's window, an ominous invitation in the dead of his lonesome night. Spirits of his zombified mind begged to be let in; reminded him of Edgar Allan Poe's, The Raven.

His regret knock, knock, knocking at his chamber door.

The wind howled with pure wretchedness, broken apart in otherwise tormented whispers by torturous affliction. Acting in kind as a reaction to Sal's deteriorating mental, he thought, a tad amused by the prospect.

A slight, unamused grin pulled at his scarred lips, a product of his dark humor. It wasn't even that funny, he countered to himself. A tinge of embarrassment washed over him and he wondered how pitiful he'd seem had he laughed at something so trivial in front of anyone else.

Sal, in truth, hated himself. He cursed himself in ways he couldn't understand. He was so distraught with damning thoughts and ideas. He was doomed to an ill mind. Trapped in a broken body. Vexed for eternity both mentally and physically.

Nothing in the world could match the toxic amount of abhorrence he held toward himself. He was an abomination. Plagued by a hankering appetite for something he couldn't distinguish. Forced to yearn for inconsequential necessities that he could never luxuriate in.

For many years, Sal had wanted to die. And this night was worse than others, for his regret was incomparable to any other deprecated self-loathing in this universe.

Giving himself to fans hadn't been his plan at first. When Sal lost himself in the streaming business with his childhood friends, he planned to stay impartial to oddities that weren't directly related to him.

But when he started getting direct messages, when people started telling him about how attractive he was, how charming his persona was, Sal felt like he'd achieved those dreams of his that seemed so out of reach.

He indulged. He overindulged. He knew he would come to regret it someday, but to such extents as this... he hadn't expected this.

Coming face-to-face with a woman who ripped his prosthetic off without permission, touched him without his consent, and told him no one else would bother with the likes of him was an experience that he couldn't even quite comprehend.

Sal swallowed against the onslaught of tears that threatened to spill over his cheeks at the recollection of last night's events. He had been stomping down the memories, desperately defending his heart with a sword in hand like a mighty and brave knight. But he was no knight. He had no sword. And it was always in the late hours that the lacerations of veracity came crawling out of the umbra.

He didn't want to fall apart yet. He didn't want his hands to do things without his permission yet, so he allowed his feet to do the work instead.

Sal carefully slipped his legs out from under Gizmo's comforting embrace, wincing with his teeth lodged into his rough bottom lip. Gizmo stretched upon being awoken by the sudden movement, his paws on display for Sal's tired eyes. The yellow cat's beans spread out to accentuate the lovely stretch he was getting in, all the while releasing a yawn from his wide, open mouth and showing off sharp canines and teeny tiny "teefs" as Ash liked to call them.

A quiet squeak followed Gizmo's yawn before he curled in on himself again, let out a sigh, and shut his eyes.

A swell of clarified adoration gripped his heart. Gizmo was his kryptonite, his lifeline. How could he leave his little man?

Sal slowly moved to sit up, letting his legs drop to the floor at his bedside. His feet brushed the cold wood beneath him and he hissed, a shock shooting up his skin. He ignored it after taking a moment to rebuild his comprehensibility and shoved his feet into a pair of cat slippers that Larry had bought him for Christmas. They looked just like Gizmo, according to his step-brother.

Gingerly, Sal tiptoed to his bedroom door that had been left ajar. He nudged it with his slipper, effectively pushing it open without a sound. He knew his home and its noises by now, having grown accompanied to the sudden change of moving to a new place a couple months ago.

He trudged into the kitchen, each step of his about as quiet as the cicadas chirping in the woods beside his home. Hardly noticeable to the unconscious.

And on the contrary, Sal's subconscious was in charge while his brain wept itself to pieces in suffocating silence.

There was a piece of him that disappeared yesterday. A part of him that would never return. It was a reality he was forced to come to terms with far too soon, a scenario in his storybook that he wasn't prepared to embrace.

Sal swallowed his unuttered pleas for help yet again, opening a cabinet door in his pristine kitchen to grab a can of peaches. They were his comfort food.

His kitchen wouldn't be pristine forever once Larry finally moved in. He and his step-brother were on two opposite ends of the organization spectrum. Once Larry came, his Kit-Cat clock wouldn't tick, tick, tick in the quietude of this room quite the same. The tap wouldn't drip, drip, drip like it did now. The fire alarm wouldn't squeak such as it did just seconds ago, when the sound of silence had begun to invade his mind.

Sal's fingernails bit into his palms as he squeezed the handles of the can opener in his hands, releasing his grip upon hearing the light thunk of metal piercing the tin. And then he cranked the lever around and around until the lid popped open, sharp edges glaring at him in the dark.

He gazed at the lid of the can, caught in the moonlight bleeding in from his kitchen windows. Orange peaches glistened in the depths of the tin, floating in sugary syrup that brought bliss to Sal's ailment in any other situation.

But the metallic lid, dagger-like edges and the color of a pernicious blade, called to him, bellowed at him to swipe his skin along the serration. Beckoned him to exsanguinate himself of his wretchedness, bathe in gore and the stench of defeat.

Sal blinked, licked his trembling lips. Stuck two fingers into the syrup and resurfaced with a peach.

"Sally?"

The honeyed, gentle voice startled him. Sal flinched, ultimately tricking him into bending to the can's will. His finger caught keen edge, successfully drawing crimson from the digit in just a mere, incidental second.

He didn't make a sound, simply watched his blood drip into the freshly opened can of peaches. Marveled in the way such hellish red fanned out amongst the liquid populating the can's contents. His orange peaches now stained pink.

"What are you doing up?" The voice came again, followed by the clearing of a throat. "It's late."

He didn't move. Dread infected his nervous system upon realizing he'd been caught by the singular person who knew him best. Even better than his brother.

Because she'd been through this with him before.

Sal didn't notice her steps growing closer to him, his hearing blocked out by the assault of dismay rattling his bones. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. He longed to be alone, away from prying eyes and glances of sympathy. More than anything, the harrowing yearning to be in his mother's arms again ripped at the impenetrable fortress he thought he'd built up.

Beyond all his urges to hide away, he simply wanted to be held.

Sal pushed down the bile that had clawed its way up his throat when her hand clamped onto his wrist and wrenched his scarlet index away from the material perpetrator.

"Sal," Ash's voice was plagued with unease. "What's going on." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Sal was a tripwire the moment he pulled out the can of peaches. "Why are you eating those?"

He couldn't form words, not with the lump in his throat and his blood dripping onto the white kitchen counter in front of him and his dearest friend.

Ash knew that when the peaches came out, it was bad. Incredibly, disastrously bad.

When he went a full beat without an answer, Ash lightly tugged on his wrist. "Come on, sweetheart," she purred, her soft timbre soothing him so efficiently. He felt tears biting at the back of his retinas. "Let's sit down. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."

Maybe it was fate that Ash had decided to stay the night since Todd and Neil had gone on a trip with their parents. The house was still fairly new to Sal, so he'd mentioned to her that he wouldn't mind having an extra head in the two-story.

Had she not been here, Sal's night may have turned out drastically different.

Ash managed to guide Sal's emotionless shell over to the the living room, where they sat on old pillows that doubled as a couch for now, seeing as the home didn't have one yet. And she didn't ask or pester him anymore, only read his mind like he'd been praying for.

Ash wrapped her arms around Sal's quivering shoulders and pressed his head against her chest.

He felt the dam beginning to crack, his body suffering a power surge that altered the chemicals in his brain completely. The fog cleared, reality had settled upon him, the weight of millions of regrets, of guilt, of hatred.

Tears swam down his cheeks, a torrent of emotional flames fueled by the sound of Ash's beating heart pounding against his ear. Buh-bump, buh-bump, buh-bump. He gripped the sound, the thumping a salvation for him. It was his last leg in this world, the one thing that tethered him to this despondent plane of existence.

Sal's chest was hollow, void of the life and exuberance he once emanated. His lungs felt empty, scorched by the blazing lamentation contaminating his very soul. Every digit on his hands had pins and needles, his limbs pierced and scorched by the flames of his insatiable need to revert back to the person he was just two days ago. He couldn't even find it in him to be angry, the prospect overshadowed by how crestfallen, inconsolable, and grief-stricken he was while being cradled in Ash's arms.

Ash shushed him delicately, careful with her words and her tone. Her dainty hands smoothed his cerulean hair with the gentleness a mother has with a newborn. Sal sniffled and quaked in her hold, but never uttered a word. That was okay, so long as she was here and he wasn't alone with himself.

In the midnight hour, in the darkest dark, unknown devils lurked in the abyss just beyond bedroom walls and creatures rose from the ashes of people who could no longer be. Spirits roamed in the night, phantom's haunted by their very own blunders and missteps in life.

Sal Fisher now qualified himself as a phantom. His very soul had been discarded and there was no replacement. He was simply and strictly a passionless husk of his former self.

His days no longer consisted of hours. They were a never-ending hell that forced reality upon him no matter the time. Restraining orders, court dates, emotionless fans that refused to understand his absence, his anguish and agony after the sun went down. But when the sun rose again and cursed him with its blinding rays, he was just... numb.

After the woman that assaulted him was imprisoned for two years, he no longer knew anything. He couldn't think, couldn't comprehend even the simplest information presented to him.

Something he knew for sure though was that nothing would get better for him. There was no remedy for the damage that had been done. At twenty years old, he was still in just as much pain as he was the day his mother died.

There was no reason for him to continue. None at all. His friends, his family, his furry fellow that warmed his feet at night were only temporary. One day, they would all be gone too. Everything he had was both immeasurable by means of necessity and also not permanent in his life-- regardless of how badly he wanted to chain them all up forever.

Sal's storybook had ended. There would be no new chapter.

Chapter Text

I swallow down the panic that sears the inside of my body, flames edging closer to the corner that once protected me-- or so I thought.

But I'm none the wiser. Just when I thought I was free of today's bullshit, more slapped itself onto my figurative plate. But I can handle this, definitely. I'm a strong, independent woman and my borderline insane, naive cousin is not going to ruin everything for me.

The only person allowed to tear me down is myself.

I take a breath-- a deep, shuddering breath as an ache builds in my chest for the umpteenth time today. I'm going to be okay. And besides, me and the man before me are close enough. He'll do what I say, no questions asked. Especially if I stress how important this is to me.

I nudge the door of my apartment shut, finally completely separating myself and my cousin from The Faces. I'm alone to speak my mind in the comfort of a familiar presence without worrying about the group of people who don't know that I'm hiding huge, relationship-altering secrets from them.

Seeing my cousin again after a couple years is refreshing. It's a good distraction from all the perturbance that ails me on this hellish day.

He looks so familiar and so different all at the same time. After ditching his parents just last year, it seems my dear cousin has been working on fixing himself up. He's wearing a navy blue NYU sweater, white collar peeking out of the top. Dark khaki pants to match the whole prospective college jock thing he has going on. His dark eyes seem a bit brighter, the mocha color lightened to a sunkissed gold that reflects the excitement in his wide smile. His once horribly dyed, mustard-colored hair is now a dirty blonde that suits him terrifically. I'm happy to see that he's taking care of himself. Working and going to a top-notch college has to be hard on him, but it looks like he's prevailing. I'm incredibly proud of him.

And dammit, he's grown since I last saw him too. Maybe Larry's height, actually. I have to tilt my head back to look up at him.

"Am I getting a hug after three years or fuckin' what?" He squeaks, eye twitching lightly to exemplify his impatience.

I narrow my eyes at him. Is he for real? "First, you address me as bitch. Then you vaguely threaten me. Don't I get a 'hi' after two years?" I counteract his reasoning with some of my own.

He pinches his lips together and puts his hands on his hips, switching his weight to his left foot. "C'mon. Every time I greet you, it's with 'bitch."

I chew on the inside of my cheek, gaze trailing over him again. He's not wrong. Even on phone calls, the first word out of his mouth is 'bitch.' "Fair enough," I settle on. "You get a hug after I tell you this, okay?" I tilt my head, showing that I mean business. That I'm serious. Because if he doesn't get this, everything I've built up could fall apart before I'm ready for it to.

His brows furrow in wariness and concern. "Okay..." he murmurs, voice trailing off as he waits for me to continue.

"You absolutely, under any circumstances, must not call me by my name. I am Vi to you from here on out. Once you enter this apartment, you call me nothing else but Vi." Monotonous, serious, and straight to the point is exactly how I portray these words. I watch as my cousin nods subtly the entire time I speak, his expression adopting a look that shows his sincerity as he listens.

"Got it. No questions about the sudden name change. You're Vi," he gives me a strong nod before shutting his eyes and grinning brightly.

"Good," I sigh. I shake my head to rid myself of the agonizing fear that has gripped me like a boa constrictor for a large part of the day. "Thanks, Trav. It really means the world."

Travis snorts, standing to an upright position. "Don't mention it. You've done a lot for me, bending to your will is the least I could do."

With a simple shrug in my direction, I take that as my cue to twist the doorknob, opening it so that no one is separated any longer.

But then Travis does his Travis thing and comes barreling toward me, his arms latching around my waist and smacking the both of us into the door. The hunk of wood flies open with our weight, slamming into the wall and damn, this time I don't think I'll get away with no damage.

I hiss, giving in and just allowing Travis to wrap me up in one of his big, aggressive bear hugs that he always greets me with without fail. I pat his back with a little smile as he flings me around like a doll, the bastard.

My eyes glance over to The Faces behind Travis. They are all wide eyed and silent. Every single one of them.

Heat envelops me. Travis lived in Nockfell for a while too. I'm sure they all know each other. Ash, at least, knows that Travis and I are related. I've told her about him many times. Maybe she just... didn't know I was referring to the Travis Phelps who used to live in Nockfell.

Travis finally sets me on my feet, a big, infectious grin on his face as he instinctively walks over to my kitchen. I hope he doesn't say anything bad... he clearly has not seen the rest of the people populating my small household yet.

"So what's with the mask? You into some kinky business?" Travis asks as I follow him into the kitchen, keen on watching where he travels to.

I sigh. "Trav, can we not? Come on, give me your bags." It's a wonder how he managed to keep hold of them while body slamming me through the door.

"What?" He scoffs, a little grin taking over his face. "I haven't seen you in years because you're a fucking recluse. I need to catch up on your life and if part of your life is being some kind of BDSM mistress, then I'd like to know."

I swallow thickly. I can't believe my friends have to watch this. I turn to look at Travis who's watching me over his shoulder. "Yea?" I ask humorlessly. "And what about you? It's been years and you still always have some kind of wound." It's true. His bottom lip is busted. "What the hell happened to you?"

He shrugs, narrowing his eyes at me in a playful way. "I've been boxing the last couple months. Really helps with the anger issues."

My lips part and I stare at him like he's stupid. It's like he's addicted to pain at this point. "Well," I decide to say. "I'll be cheering for you when you join WWE I guess."

"You better," Travis chirps, dropping to his haunches and grazing through my refrigerator like he owns the place. Which, he's family. He knows he's welcome to do or take whatever. Dad and I have never minded, especially given his upbringing. "You can root for me on the sidelines. I'll just be fucking hot buff guys behind the scenes. It's a win-win."

A song suddenly comes on, one by Bullet For My Valentine. It's a heavy hitter and Travis immediately flinches at the instrumentals. I guess someone managed to figure out how to turn on the speakers my dad spent a fortune on.

"Still listening to your nasty metal music, I see," he murmurs, grabbing a container of sliced strawberries. He pulls the top off and picks up a fruit, throwing it into his mouth before his eyes meet mine. "You still making it?"

I raise an eyebrow. "No," I tell him. "Ever since dad and I moved out here, I haven't had the space or the time to do so." And not being able to play my drums hurts, even the mention of it is painful.

I guess Travis can see the change in what little of my expression he can see with the mask, that or he already knows well enough. He frowns a little, wincing. "Sorry," he says gently. "I know you liked making music. Sucks that you can't now."

I offer him a little smile. Travis had his asshole phase years ago, but he's been so kind ever since he grew up. "Thanks," I respond, chewing on my bottom lip. "It's fine. I'll figure something out."

Travis winks at me then pushes himself into a standing position. He walks out of the kitchen and past me, heading toward The Faces who are sitting in my living room. Right in front of me.

"So do you still have that hot neighbor?" My cousin asks, stopping in front of me. He pulls a strawberry out of the container and holds it up to my face, raising his eyebrows.

"Why don't you go knock on his door and find out?" I murmur, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch my... dear cousin. He always hits me with a million and one questions but he must be majorly jet-lagged to still miss the four extra heads in the room.

"Mmm, maybe later," he murmurs, shoving a strawberry into my partially opened mouth. My brows furrow in shock, but I close my lips over the fruit anyway. "Remember my high school crush though? He's, like, super famous now."

I chew on the strawberry, nearly drowning over the sweet juice that coats my tongue. I push through the ocean in my mouth and answer him though, interested by this news. "Yea," I manage, swallowing a bit of the strawberry. "The one you bullied like the cunt you are? He's famous? Good for him."

Travis scoffs and rolls his eyes dramatically. "Take the 'c' word back, hoe." He sends me a mean glare then shuts his eyes. "But yes, he does deserve it. You know," one of his dark eyes pops open, narrowed in my direction. "I made out with him."

My stomach tightens in excitement. Travis told me he'd kissed some guy years ago and he was really happy about it, but I didn't know it was the crush.

"Really?" I push out, finally finishing off the fruit he'd forced upon me. "When was this?"

"Oh," Trav waves me off. "A while back. In high school. It's actually all thanks to you-- you told me if I didn't shape up, apologize to him, and confess that I would be alone forever and you would banish me from the family. What the hell else was I supposed to do? Of course I did what you said. It was so worth it." He gives me a roguish, exhilarated grin that says the night he shared with his crush will go down in his mental history book and stay there forever. "I owe you a cake, lovely," he continues

I smile, my cheeks warming at the prospect. I'm happy Travis had his time with his crush.

"We haven't talked in God knows how long though," Travis sighs, looking off behind me like he's reminiscing. "Which it's better that way." He chews the inside of his cheek contemplatively, thick brows bunching together softly. "I still think about Bluey every once in a while, though..."

Now it's my turn to narrow my eyes at him as Bluey claws its way through my mind. "I'm sorry," I choke out, "Bluey, like the dog show, or Bluey as in blue, like a Smurf?"

Travis turns his head to me quickly and I know I hit the mark. His eyes are wide as he says, "Perfect analogy. Blue as in a Smurf." A little impressed smile works its way onto his lips. "He may as well have been a Smurf actually. Short as hell, blue hair."

This time, my stomach tightens in a different way as my brain slaps me in the face. Trying to open my damn eyes because... I only know a select few people with blue hair. I only know one famous person who has blue hair.

My eyes snap over to Sal. And, my God, he looks like he's about to explode. His neck is painted a deep scarlet and he's nervously playing with his fingers. Azure eyes saucer-sized.

I sit on that one. I sit and really contemplate it while Travis goes on and on about, fuck, about how he tasted. And how his skin felt. And his voice. He goes on like the man he's talking about isn't in the room-- because he doesn't know he's in the room. He keeps talking like he doesn't know I nearly fucked the guy who gave him his first make out sesh.

"I'm going to throw up," I murmur to myself, but Travis catches the words and frowns at me.

"Girl, I have told you worse. You've heard my NSFW stories and this makes you fold? Very ableist of you." Travis tuts at me, disappointed after probably saying something about Sal that I don't know about, especially because the ableism accusation came out of nowhere.

"No," my voice quivers as I force the words out. I've committed the ultimate betrayal. I feel sick. It doesn't matter if I never knew that Sal and Travis had a moment, I nearly had sex with him. This is.... this is bad. Really bad.

"Are you okay?" Travis asks, suddenly concerned. He walks over, rubs my arm comfortingly but it doesn't make me feel any better.

I don't have to answer him because, thankfully, Larry has broken the barrier between us all and said what I had been thinking.

"Sal!?" He coughs out, the deep baritone of his voice making Travis flinch. "What the fuck! You swapped spit with the enemy!?"

I watch Travis spin on his heels and then he jumps like a startled cat would. I can practically see all of his body hairs stand on end.

Travis turns back to me, his face the epitome of shock and betrayal. "You bitch!" He squeaks out, glancing back at Sally. "You betrayer!"

How come I never made the connection before? I had this bullshit coming. This sketchy plan was bound to blow up in my face at some point. I knew Sal was a bad idea.

"I didn't know!" I splutter out, eyes flitting back and forth between my cousin and the bluenette. Sal looks alert— eyes wide and never blinking. He's struck silent, that sad excuse of an asshole.

"You weren't supposed to invite my first kiss over," Travis yells, voice cracking while gesturing his hand to Sally behind him. "I only told you about it— how did you find him?"

My stomach drops out of my ass. Everyone's silent as confirmation of what we all feared rings throughout my living room. The only person who has any kind of reaction is Sal who slaps his hands onto his prosthetic, leaning his head onto the back of the sofa.

It's quiet for a little while longer, bile searing the back of my throat. Travis still has wide eyes, his gaze directed at Sal and an embarrassed blush flushing his cheeks.

I watch as Ash blinks, her expression beginning to morph into something both predatory and unreadable. This entire day got so much worse, right when I thought it was over too.

Have I ever said that Todd is quite literally the best at reading rooms, and the best at being the best? I owe him a lot of credit because he saves mine and everyone else's asses, even if only for a moment, by saying, "Dark Autumn Complex released a new song a couple hours ago."

My head tilts, my focus suddenly zeroed in on my friend who watches us blankly, no emotion or real reaction to the silent standoff in my living room.

But no one else cares. Larry, Ash, and Sal are having a staring contest with Travis who look beyond overwhelmed.

Todd sighs. "Travis and Sal are old news. It's not something any of you should be surprised about. Plus they clearly have been over for ages. Take the information and cry about it in bed tonight if it ails you so." I stand corrected when Travis drops that load of reality on us. If anything, he seems a little agitated. How can he be so... nonchalant with the prospect of Travis and Sal floating around us like a melody? I'm, personally, petrified to the core.

Travis shrugs nervously beside me. "He's not wrong," he murmurs bashfully, sniffing to hide his awkwardness. "I made out with him once and that was it. Gay awakening?"

Larry snorts, his eyes squeezed shut and tears building at the corners. I can't quite tell if he's laughing or wailing.

I crack a little smile. Larry's comedic relief, whether his tears are positive or negative, and Todd's direct approach make the situation not as serious as it originally seemed. Sal is still sitting pin straight on my couch like a scarecrow hung up in a corn field. He couldn't be more displaced with this turn of events. I bet he's cursing me and my family in his head right now. If anyone dies, I know it's due to his vexation, at least.

Todd is nice enough to follow up on his first statement by snatching my TV remote from under Larry's ass and loading up Youtube. He doesn't even have to search, the new-- holy shit-- the new music video is the first in my recommended section.

DAC has never made a music video. Ever. And it's a new song in general, I'm about to combust. I never thought I'd see the day. And why the hell didn't I get a notification?

I briefly travel through my memories, picking out the moment I watched North playing his guitar on stage. His eyes, shadowed by his mask but looking straight at me. His hand shaking mine, cold leather beneath my skin.

It takes every fiber of my being to not smile over the thought of him. He was just so nice, and hot, and talented... I can't help myself.

Travis and I jump forward whenever Todd clicks on the video, flocking in front of my television to watch what's about to unfold. Travis has heard more than enough about this band to know that I love them, so his accompaniment is merely moral support. He knows damn well I'm about to fall apart so he'll be there to pick up my pieces.

"They're metal, right?" Trav tuts, tone dispassionate due to lowered expectations. He's such a metal hater. "Hot members though..." he tacks on, trailing off as the song opens up.

"They're mine," I proclaim, drowning in adoration for DAC. They're literally just standing with their instruments right now for the intro, no words no music. Just a blank slate. But I'm enraptured, eyes glued to the screen as I thrum with energy.

"Our castle was built in Spring;
We longed for books and bricks.
To fantasies we did cling,
So our castle was made of sticks.

Of worn and cracked logs--
Papier-mâché, our key,
Of fragile and brittle walls
Our castle came to be."

I shiver over the string of lyrics invading and possessing my soul. Oh, how I obsess over North's voice and the sweet symphony of Dark Autumn Complex's instruments.

"You can't lay claim," Travis scoffs, elbow knocking into mine when North stops singing to play his guitar. "Suppose they're gay, huh? I get to fuck them and you don't." He pridefully tilts his head up, small grin playing on his lips as he continues, gaze drifting toward me. "And you better believe I wouldn't spare you a damn thought during doggy."

I damn near break my neck to glare over at my cousin. I can hear Ash wheezing behind me and Larry's suspiciously quiet-- my only guess is that he's laughing so hard that not even a single noise can be heard. Todd simply sighs.

"I guess it's a good thing the lead singer probably thinks I'm hot, then," I boldly state, even though I know it's a really long shot. I'm putting words into poor North's mouth and the fucker doesn't even speak. But, hey, all is fair in sex and war. Travis can suck it so long as 'it' is not North.

"You yearned for an out of reach jewel;
Opulence, luxury, and solace.
All this greed made you cruel,
Made you break your promise.

You readied your match and flame--
Cursed our castle and thought it trash.
Without warning the fire came
And reduced our memories to ash.

My romance of choice is Death
Where you don't reside.
By silence I abide,
And keep you-- I tried.
Alone at last, I take my final breath."

The living room is dead silent as North sings again, his gloved hand wrapped around the microphone in front of him while East and South dominate the sound, taking over in place of the guitar for a moment.

Listening to cathartic music, so much emotion filling my entire being, is better than therapy ever proved to be. Good sound and touching lyrics are all I will ever need to heal. To feel less alone.

My thoughts turn to Sal who's watching the video, seemingly disinterested. He looks so calm regardless of Travis and my presence. I want to slap guilt into him. I want to make him hurt the way I did the night he hurt me.

"Delusions were a precious fairytale;
Tender was the slow fester.
Expectations in minute detail,
But failure greeted the jester.

You placed me in the guillotine--
Bound, blind, and confined.
My blood's your nicotine,
So pull the lever, love, be kind.

I laid myself out for you to walk on
So the castle sticks couldn't pierce your skin.
I was the throne you sat upon
From whence we became potent sin."

Larry interrupts my internal solace when the lyrics stop again. It seems to be a longer song-- I guess DAC took a chapter out of Avenged Sevenfold's book.

"I'm not the one who said it, but," Larry's mischievous chuckle sets off the danger alarms in my mind. Emo Buff Daddy likes to slap me with things I refuse to comprehend. "North totally has some kind of Joe Goldberg infatuation with you."

My mouth goes dry, my heart stammering with flutters and quick beats, like little fairies hammering away at my organ in an attempt to keep it together. He's joking. He has to be. But my tingling fingertips and empty lungs say otherwise-- they want this to be true. But then there's Sal, and somehow I'm concerned over the validity of Larry's statement. Why is Sal even a factor here? I'll never know.

I smile at Trav-- a smile that I really don't feel, but one that comes easy. "See?" I taunt. Travis scrunches up his nose in faux jealousy. "Thanks for the backup, Lar," I tell my friend with a little wink his way. I'm just going to assume he's trying to help me out with the spaced out, friendly family altercation happening between me and Travis.

"My romance of choice is Death
Where you don't reside.
By silence I abide,
And keep you-- I tried.
My essence in Macbeth.

Eat my thoughts;
Drink my soul.
Exchange silence that haunts
For the the peace you stole.

I am a fiend, a monster, a disgrace--
All the things you crave.
I am a lover, a believer, a warm embrace;
All of which led me to my grave."

"No problem, Vi," Larry chirps during another break in the song. I blink, heart falling a bit. With the deep lyrics resonating within me like this, the knowledge that Larry was just trying to help me out is disappointing. As much as I want North's affections, it wouldn't work out. Wouldn't be right. I have to accept that-- it's not like I'll ever get a chance to talk to the guy again anyway.

"Just spreading the truth," Larry says in a sing-song voice. Just like that, my soul is alight yet again. Is he still fucking with me or is this for real? My only notice is when Ash smacks Larry in the back of the head, her lips pinched together and eyes piercing into his soul.

What in the hell is with those two?

"I rot in this cage of reminiscence,
Watch our connection burn.
Sob in the name of innocence
And for what was lost I still yearn.

This was never self-love--
Hypocrisy residing in my longing.
Of my naivety thereof,
To my own soul I'm desperately calling.

My romance of choice is Death--
Where I don't exist,
So my thoughts can't persist.
Extinguish what demolition kissed;
I sink into abysmal depths."

I don't know who wrote this song, but they're hurt as hell. And I relate. I feel like this song popped up at the perfect time. Dark Autumn Complex understands me like no other and I resonate so deeply that I feel like I've known each member all my life. There's this ridiculous, false connection between me and them that I wouldn't admit to a single person.

My lips part as I watch the video zoom in on all the members, slowly centering on North who harshly whispers,

"It was never an alias,
Nothing spontaneous.
This is the half of me
I have always wanted to be."

He repeats the words over and over again, voice slowly fading out until the screen goes black. I feel like I'm in a trance, like North just hypnotized me and I willingly went with the entire bit.

Travis clicks his tongue disappointedly beside me, stealing my attention away from the song that I'm going to play on repeat later tonight.

"Damn you for always pulling the pretty people," he grumbles, turning to face me. "I take back your cake. You have the hot male lead, you owe me food now."

"I'm so glad you've accepted reality," I chirp, patting Travis on his broad shoulder.

This entire spiel is something I have to ignore. North isn't crushing on me, he isn't interested. He never will be. And I can live with that! I've shaken his hand and gotten to see him play live. Totally don't need his tongue in my mouth or anything.

I walk toward my kitchen pulling my phone out and opening up Twitter. I'll do exactly what I've done every single time DAC's put out new music.

"Everyone okay with eggs and bacon?" I murmur distractedly, uploading the link to the new song, Consonance of a Tragic Villain. I tweet the link then turn my head over my shoulder to look at my friends. Sal's head is trained down to his phone since the TV has been turned off, replaced with Breaking Benjamin, courtesy of Ash. Is he embarrassed or something? He can't even hang out with the people around him. Even Todd is standing up to go and converse with Travis.

"Just hurry up and cook, woman!" Larry exclaims, grinning at me with that handsome face of his. And the tattoos littering his toned arms. And the... yellow stain... on the front of his shirt. But it's fine, even the most beautiful people can't be perfect.

I narrow my eyes at him as I turn into my kitchen, feeling my phone vibrate in my hand. "Watch yourself, Lartholomew," I bite out, flicking off the metalhead. Larry has to be short for Lartholomew.

"Lartholomew?" He stumbles over the word. "Stupidest shit I've ever heard. You could've done so much better than Sal's middle name."

I was about to check my notifications, but my head snaps up before I can see. I nearly choke on air as my gaze falls onto Larry. "Sal's middle name is Lartholomew?" I ask, disbelief and amusement bubbling up in my body. I have to agree with Larry, that's fucking hilarious.

"No, no, it's Bartholomew!" Larry cackles, pointing a finger at me. "Isn't that hilarious?"

Sal sighs exasperatedly, throwing his head back. "I'm going to castrate you Larry," He grumbles, frustrated and on his last mental leg as he lunges toward Larry, throwing an arm out to slap. With Ash between them though, the altercation is broken up very quickly.

"Fuck. Off." Sal bites out at his step-brother who really gets a kick out of the scenario.

I turn my attention away from the brothers, taking out ingredients and utensils that I need to cook with. While the bacon is sizzling on the stove, I finally check on the notification on my phone.

It's from Twitter.

dacnorthxx: 🖤

My eyes go wide. The comment is under my tweet of their new song and I'm really going to fall apart right here. Does this mean he remembers me? Or is this mere coincidence? My thoughts are running rampant, tummy bubbling with excitement. I can't breathe, all the oxygen is trapped in my throat under lock and key.

I comment back, my thumbs moving a mile a minute as I gulp. My entire body is a carnival of pins and needles. I feel faint.

violetviolence: @ dacnorthxx OMG?????

Someone get me a diaper because I think I'm going to pee myself.

dacnorthxx: @ violetviolence OMG!!! my idol

Is this real life? Can't be. Nope. No way. I'm about to throw up and the bacon is burning-- oh shit, the bacon is burning.

I throw my phone onto the kitchen counter and quickly pull the food off the stove, setting each strip of bacon onto a separate plate so they don't burn even more.

"Food's done," I say as loud as I possibly can considering the heavy amount of excited stress I'm undergoing. My voice comes out trembling, so I cough to cover it up as best as I can.

Dark Autumn Complex is quickly becoming my favorite band, North most prevalent out of all the members. I swear I'm not delusional-- well, maybe.

I type out something in response to his comment.

violetviolence: @ dacnorthxx STOP UR JOKING

Then I tuck my phone into my pocket. I'm being crazy. He's just being kind and he might like my comment after this but that's it-- that's as far as the exchange will go. I'm not stupid, I'm not delusional, I'm not insane.

Each of my friends, including Travis, files into my kitchen, grabs a plate of food, and then walks back into my living room like a train of preschoolers. It's a little humorous until the straggler comes in, it's not hard to tell who that is at this point anymore either.

Sal grabs a plate of food, comes to a stop behind me. The counter that peers into my living room separates us from the rest of our friends and having this kind of partial privacy with him smoothes out the wrinkles in my brain. This is horrifying when throwing in the context of our last meeting into the situation.

My heart skips a beat upon noticing his presence beside me. I glance up at him, noting the way he peers down at me with lidded eyes. Speculating, curious, leering. There's something hidden there, something he's locked away in a little mental box.

But I'm mid-chew and staring over at him like a deer caught in headlights, so I couldn't care less about whatever the hell he's hiding.

He watches me a moment longer, then drops his plate onto the counter beside mine. My eye twitches in pure amazement and agitation as he moves to stand beside me, leaning his elbows on the surface of the counter. As soon as he's settled though, he turns his head forward to watch the rest of The Faces and Travis who are all, surprisingly, catching up rather than being awkward.

The unspoken question of why he's standing beside me never gets spoken, the unknown simply percolates in the energy we somehow seem to share. I can't explain how I simultaneously wake up and lose brain cells when he's near, but it's definitely something I can't deny.

I watch him, wait. He wouldn't stand here to bask in my presence, I'm not that naive. That still doesn't answer why he's here though.

That dagger tattoo of his is on display right before me, just inches away from my eyes. He's that close-- so close that I can pick out every point of the ink on his skin. The soft waves in his layered, cerulean hair. The piercings in his ears. The sharpness of his jawline, edges of scars peeking past his expressionless prosthetic. And I can smell him. Something good, something masculine, something so him.

"Your bacon's shit," he rasps in that infuriatingly pretty voice of his. He never looks at me.

My wary expression turns into a glare. See? What did I just say?

But before I can bitch him out, something cool gently brushes along the top of my bare thigh.

I flinch in surprise, gasping as I glance down to see what the hell touched me because that's not normal. I've never bumped into anything while standing here, and this is my prime eating spot.

And as I frantically turn my attention to assess my mental commotion, I notice Sal's hand near me, his index finger just a centimeter away from my skin. I swallow against the realization-- it was him. He touched me.

I look up at him, eyes narrowed in question. What is he getting at? What is this game he's playing? I don't want him to string me along just so he can say he doesn't want me anymore when he inevitably leaves LA again. When he leaves me again.

He tilts his head inconspicuously as if to ask if he can continue, and I stare at him. I don't move, hell, I don't even breathe. I don't know what I should do. Because I do want him to touch me, but I know I shouldn't let him. Both for myself, but also because of him and Travis. I really shouldn't.

And Sal looks like he's about to apologize, this regretful look enveloping his eyes-- a look that makes my chest ache because there's such strong emotion, so much guilt. Guilt that he doesn't need to feel regarding this because... because he always double checks. He always asks for consent. That's something I've never had to worry about with him.

And maybe it's just the hurt in his eyes, something I haven't seen before and something I don't want to see again, but I nod at him. I nod to tell him he's okay. He can touch me.

He blinks, the emotion that was building ever so slowly slipping away from his gaze in a flash. I feel like what I saw was a hoax, a hallucination. It leaves his cerulean gaze that quickly.

And I can't watch myself fall back into this again. I know I've made a mistake, but it's one that I can't find myself regretting. Whether I like it or not, I have this insatiable attachment to-- obsession with-- Sal.

I turn away from his eyes that bore into mine, gaze at my living room again and bite down on a piece of bacon. Wait for the inevitable, which happens the minute my eyes aren't on him anymore.

Cold fingers crawl across the back of my thigh that's closest to Sal. The feeling of his fingertips dancing across such sensitive skin, slow and purposeful. Meaningful in that frustrating way of his. Just fingertips up until he's gotten across enough skin to grip my flesh in his hand and squeeze.

We're in a bad position. We probably look so suspicious right now-- if anyone were to glance over here and see us, they would be wondering what the hell was going on. Because the two of us? Willingly standing beside each other and not bickering? Preposterous.

I don't look at him. He doesn't look at me. Just runs his hand over and squeezes the back of my thigh to his heart's content. But I see him out of the corner of my eye, my heart fluttering all the while as goosebumps rise all over my body. Just barely seeing the way his chest rises and falls calmly, his hair brushed aside to show off his tattooed neck, the feeling of his skin on mine.

I lick my dry lips, start drumming my fingers against the counter beside my plate because I can't take this.

Maybe Sal saw my nerves getting to me, whether he was able to hear my pounding heart, see the way I nearly started hyperventilating, or just from my hands unable to stay still. But his touch is gone instantly, very suddenly.

I swallow thickly, blinking at my friends. Larry... has Travis in a headlock. Things might be bad! But in the moment, that's not my concern. Sal's phantom touch still lingers on my skin, the delicate brush of his fingers along my thigh much like a whisper now, but still there. My brain is still living in the fresh memory of what happened thirty seconds ago.

He doesn't speak. Neither do I. There's nothing to say-- this was random, unprepared. So what the fuck has just transpired? Figment of my imagination? Is the psychotic breakdown happening? I've been awaiting its arrival.

I'm not quite sure what kind of reaction I'm having, especially when Sal slides his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling like nothing just happen. An unwanted lump forms in my throat, my palms sweat. I feel used. Again. And I knew I would feel like this because Sal is Sal-- he's not kind, he isn't gentle. He just gets what he wants. I'm at fault too because I've fed into that behavior, reinforced it by giving him what he wants.

"Sal!--" Ash bellows. I snap my head up, eyes wide. Why is there yelling? "I swear, guys, he's a literary genius." Ash's eyes are alight with mirth and pride. She trusts Sal to back up her statement, but I don't think he's going to. Sal Fisher is anything but a literary genius-- he is not a book boy. A misogynistic, old ass man wrote his patriarchal Smurf ass. God, I can't stand him. But, here I am, standing...

"Recite Poe!" Ash yells again, gesturing to Sal with her hand like she's the Phantom of the Opera. That's quite an image.

Edgar Allan Poe is a recurring and foreboding theme in my chapter today. Literally, not breaking the fourth wall.

I side-eye Sal who has no reaction. He doesn't even look up to acknowledge Ash, simply cocks his head to the side with his eyes still glued to the phone, typing something out.

And then his voice. His stupid, stupid voice. Monotonous, uncaring. But the feeling-- the emotion-- embedded in his words makes me want to topple over. And he didn't even write them.

"For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea--
In her tomb by the sounding sea."

That's what he says. Completely recites the last stanza of Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. The same poem that the poet used to capture the hearts of so many women at his public readings.

He's not Poe though. Sal is not Poe. And the raspy, unfeeling tone of his eclectic voice will not capture me. Not when he's been two migraines and a stroke. Never.

Is it wrong of me to appreciate the tender way he pronounced 'Annabel Lee?' His voice danced around her name as if it were a waltz, something precious and rich with his affection. And his voice grew with passion when mentioning the moon and stars, dying off into something gentle and warm once he repeated 'my darling.'

Envious isn't the word. Ravenous, on the other hand, is. In every word, in every recollection, in every universe.

I turn my head to him, chest hot with esurient rage because how dare he be so...

Sal turns his head to me, emptiness reflected in his cobalt gaze. A darkness so ever-present, one that never disappears. And I forget all the strife in my mind.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, but I ignore it, holding eye contact with Sal while Ash's excited screams of praise fade into the background.

Before angry thoughts can filter into my head again, Sal turns away like he was never even looking at me in the first place. He grabs his plate, hair swaying slightly with his every movement, and he walks away. Meets with everyone gathered in my living room.

I chew the inside of my cheek, watching Sal come to a stop beside Travis and I loathe the way some kind of abhorrent, negative, spiteful feeling rips me in two. Those two men want nothing to do with each other and the last thing I need to be worried about is Sal to begin with. He's bad, awful, terrible.

I'm going to have to socialize soon before Travis starts batting me about being a recluse, but I need just a moment to push aside whatever ancient Transylvanian spell Sal casted over me with his recitation first. So, to distract myself, I pick up my phone to see what caused the buzz.

My jaw instinctively clenches shut, an uncomfortable chill crawling up my spine when seeing the discord notification followed by Sal's username.

I click on it.

SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm sorry.
SALLYFʌCɜ: and you'll never hear it from me again, but you deserve it this time. the way i broke things off was insensitive, it was sudden with no warning. and i promised i'd fuck you. and i want to. if you don't want that anymore, perfectly understandable. figured i'd give you the offer instead of silently regretting what i did.

I blink at my phone screen, nauseating butterflies kicking and screaming inside my belly. Begging me and peer-pressuring me, telling me I better not skip out on this.

I won't skip out on it, but this is the last time. From what I've gathered in the short time I've known Sal is that he's careless and unkind. He'll attack you given whatever means necessary. And when he goes overboard, he apologizes with the assumption that everything will go back to normal and all is forgiven. I mean, kudos to him for even apologizing to begin with, but repetition makes all the sorry's meaningless.

I shut my eyes and let my head droop a bit. I shouldn't. I really, really shouldn't.

I swallow down the bile working its way up my throat and start typing.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: had i not been here today, would you have ever apologized and extended the offer?

My gaze travels upward until I'm looking at everyone again. Sal isn't involved in the conversation. In fact, he's on his phone. And I suddenly feel like I'm going to collapse again.

Remember the first time I met him? When I assumed he would be the type to avoid confrontation? Fuck me for being wrong because he's the one who brings confrontation.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

SALLYFʌCɜ: no.
SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm taking these circumstances as a sign. i've been thinking about it

I run my palm over my forehead. He's being honest with me, I respect that. Maybe this is a sign then, like he said. He's been bugging me for weeks, picking at me and being aggressive. Maybe that was a result of how torn up he was over internal guilt? I'm not sure but I'm not one to turn away from something this obvious sitting right in front of me.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: okay. when are you leaving?

The reply is instant.

SALLYFʌCɜ: 6am tmr. that problem's solved though. ash is going to invite you to come with us
SALLYFʌCɜ: i would be pissed and angsty like usual at the idea, but if you accompany us, that just opens up more time and opportunities.

To go with them? Ash? Where the hell are we going?

My eyebrows scrunch together in both confusion and intrigue as I start typing back.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: how do you know ash is even going to invite me to go with you guys?

SALLYFʌCɜ: it's ash. use your fucking head.

It takes everything in me to bite down the snort that so desperately wants to be released. He's right. And my ignorance aggravated him. This is everything I've grown used to, everything I want.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: typical of you to assume. suppose she doesn't invite me, then we both lose out, prick.

I hear a soft, quiet, and distinctly Sal-sounding chuckle from a few feet in front of me. Damn him and damn the way a smile starts growing on my lips at the audacity, the familiarity, the chaos of it all.

SALLYFʌCɜ: i wouldn't have made the promise if i didn't intend on keeping it. watch what you say and give ash five minutes to remember that you're in the room. actually, give her brain a boost.
SALLYFʌCɜ: come here.

No questions asked. I shut my phone off and slip it into my pocket, looking up to assess my surroundings.

Everyone is in a huddle. Wherever I surface, someone will move over to make room for me. Given that Sal and I were so close a couple minutes ago, I should probably stand away from him now. I'll just scoot in on the other side of Larry. That feels safe, he's standing beside Sal so it's a simple excuse too.

I walk over to everyone, my feet feel heavy like they're covered in 15 snuggly kittens each. I'm weighed down, reluctantly making my way over to them. My cheeks feel hot. I'm second guessing everything.

I don't like hiding from my friends, it makes me nervous and I feel terribly guilty. Like, if Sal and I are fucking around, they should know. But something about their group, about The Faces, says they do not date within the circle.

Date? What the hell am I talking about? I meant fuck.

I come to a stop right behind Sal and instinctually pinch my lips together. This was not the plan-- I meant to curve to someone else. But I got distracted by my own anxiety, which, this wouldn't be the first time. I just wish it wouldn't furl my plans like this.

Upon assessing the small group gathered in my living room though, I can tell that Sal would be the only one to allow me access into the circle. Ash is dramatically talking with Todd who seems zoned in and solely focused on the conversation, shockingly. Todd's not one to be very engaged in conversation often, so my guess is that they're talking about business or science. Given Ash's infatuation for the arts though, I'd bank on business as the topic.

On the other end of the small circle, Travis is grinning awkwardly at Larry who's deep into an explanation about Dragon Ball Z lore. Throwing up his hands, nodding his head vigorously, and leaning into Travis's personal space. They squashed beef rather quickly.

And Sal, he's just present. Not involved, simply there like he was when he walked over here.

He's also the only person expecting me.

He turns his head over his shoulder, glancing down at me with his emotionless but bright eyes. I gulp down the nervousness crawling inside me like poisoned bugs; it's hard though. Every time we make eye contact today, I feel stuck. It's almost unbearable. Did I miss him or something? Or-- oh, yuck. Do I have a crush on him?

I hate to even think it, but I find him attractive. That's the roots to the plant. Just because there's a sprout doesn't mean it has to grow into anything-- and I surely won't grow with this ass. Nope, major pass.

Meh, it's not a crush. He's just pretty and mean. I'm flustered is all. Who doesn't like a handsome man with an attitude?

Sal takes a step toward Larry, making a tiny little spot of space for me beside him. The move is so inconspicuous that it's impressive. It makes me wonder how many things he's tried to get away with in his lifetime, to be able to know what, how, and when to move so others don't notice his unfolding plans.

I start moving forward, eyes still on him. And his eyes are on mine too when Larry's elbow whacks him in the back of the head.

There's a hiss, a resounding pained yell, and a clatter. I simply blink, watching Sal grab onto the back of his head in pain and Larry with tears in his eyes, snuggling his elbow close to his chest.

There's something wrong. Something wrong with Sal's messier-than-it-was-moments-ago hair and the expression of unadulterated fear that strikes Larry's face. He looks as though he's stabbed Sal, betrayed his step brother in the worst way possible.

And Sal. Sal.

His eyebrows nearly match his hair. And they're furrowed, signaling the contempt in his soul. He tilts his head up, eyes glued to the floor before they flit up to me. I watch him with wide eyes, unable to fight off the shock plaguing me.

Half of Sal's face is emaciated, the other is almost completely untouched. It's a wonder to look at-- out of everything, I didn't expect to ever see his face. I didn't expect it to look like this either. His left cheek is sunken in, a scar running up the middle, the shape and placement reminding me of a Glasgow smile. His cheek bone is ragged, uneven with sharper points and parts that are sunken in, much like his jaw. And part of his nose is missing too, making the half that's still there more prominent with the way the scar healed. Other little scars litter the wounded side of his face-- plenty through his eyebrows, over his lips.

And the scars on his lips stretch up to the middle of his cheek, his chin, all in various place. A lightening strike permanently etched onto his face. A beautiful work of art that he lives with every single day.

The other half of his face, the one that seems nearly untouched, gives me a glimpse of what he'd look like had he never been scarred. Little, light freckles are splattered across his nose and the apple of his cheek. His lips are full, pink, soft-looking aside from the cracks here and there-- undoubtedly a result of constant biting. Sharp jawline, like I'd assumed.

He turns away from me, his expression slackened a bit. Then he starts yelling at Larry and I have to process the unfortunate truth that I couldn't look at him longer.

Maybe it's a crush now.

I take a breath as Ash suddenly flinches in my peripheral vision upon noticing Sal's bare face. In the meantime, I lean down and brush my fingers over his prosthetic that landed on the floor. It feels surreal to touch something that is so impactful in mine and Sal's life. I find myself hating it a bit because, as much as I loathe admitting it, Sal is pretty. I knew he would be. And the added confirmation sucks me into a dissociative state. I don't feel real, this is just some immaculately designed psychological horror and I'm the spectator, watching as everything falls apart. Forgetting that I'm a main character, falling apart with everyone else.

I swallow the internal panic and revelations and close my fingers over his prosthetic, lifting it into my subtly shaking hands. I need a nap and an edible or something.

I stare down at it for a moment, hesitating to look up when the yelling pauses for a moment.

When I do lift my gaze, Sal has turned back to me, his lips pressed into a thin line and brows still furrowed. And this time, it's not impenetrable and never-ending anger in his sapphire eyes. It's fear. Disgust. Regret. A lot of negativity and I think it's directed toward himself.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, chewing on it incessantly in an attempt to stomp down the immense number of emotions suddenly awakened within me. I'm feeling way too much. Feeling blissful over his beauty, but broken over his reaction to himself. I can't imagine how long he's gone feeling so disgusted about himself-- I can't say anything to make him feel better because it wouldn't matter. My view of him doesn't come close to comparing to his view of himself. I can see it in his eyes.

My hands move toward him, silently offering the prosthetic back. Sal's gaze drops down, seeing his lifeline in my hands and his nostrils flare like he's on his last leg before he absolutely breaks. I know that feeling.

His hand clasps onto the mask, not gently but not aggressively. Just grabs it like I'm a completely normal person and not someone he both despises and craves.

His fingertips brush over the back of my hand, and he's suddenly ripping the prosthetic away like I've murdered his pet in cold blood.

I watch in dissociative shock as he turns back to Larry, prosthetic still in his hand.

"Sal, man, I'm really sorry," Larry rasps out, that terror and worry still on his face. He's not scared of Sal, just scared for him. "I didn't mean to."

Sal doesn't utter a word. He lifts the prosthetic and smacks Larry upside the head with it. A resounding, hollow thunk echoes through the room as Larry yelps in pain. My eyes widen a little more and Travis breaks out into cackling laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth to unsuccessfully hide his reaction.

And Sal doesn't react to the abuse of his brother, just walks over to my couch and situates his prosthetic onto his face again.

I can't get the image of him out of my head. His doe eyes and exotic face tattooed into my temporal lobe for life. My eyes follow him, watch as he opens up his phone again to escape reality. Clearly, the device is a crutch for him. It's a getaway from present events.

A nudge on my waist makes me slowly peel my gaze away from Sal, who I seem to be viewing in a new light. I've gone through fresh hell today, this was the bittersweet cherry on top.

I switch my focus to Ash, who's now standing beside me and, I would guess, the person who nudged me. She gives me a hesitant, rueful smile.

"We're going back to Nockfell tomorrow," she says softly, hand lifting to graze over my cheek affectionately. Her crimson nails clash with the ethereal color of her foresty eyes, but it works. They clash wonderfully. "Do you want to come with us? Reminisce a bit?"

"Why did you guys come, by the way?" I ask in a small voice, eyes flitting between hers curiously. I'm still in a state of shock too, so her comfort is appreciated.

Ash's features change, an excited grin slowly building on her lips. She's holding back something big. "We found an apartment a few buildings down. I've been researching for a while, trying to find a place near you ever since we built up the money to move."

My expression falls. They're moving? Here?

My very essence is filled with immense joy, contentment, and happiness. I don't know how to correctly portray how wonderful it feels to know that Ash is going to be near me every single day again. I can walk to her now, I don't have to fly. I can hug her, I don't have to watch her through a phone screen.

I blink at Ash as she swipes her thumb under my eye, grabbing onto my cheeks and pulling me foreward until our foreheads touch. It takes me a moment to realize that where her finger rubbed over my skin left a wet residue.

And so begins the break down.

I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to gather myself and to stop the tears before I start full on sobbing in my best friend's arms.

"So will you come? To Nockfell?" She asks softly, tilting her head to kiss the tip of my mask's nose. "If I tell you we need help packing, will that be an an acceptable excuse?"

I sniffle, unable to stop myself as I nod my head vigorously. I can't find the right words or think the right thoughts to use my voice to answer her. I can't even quite understand my own emotions.

Ash nods against me, an elated smile building on her lips.

"And so the prodigal daughter returns to her hometown."

Chapter Text

dacnorthxx started following you.

sallysusedtoiletpaper: VI WHO IS THIS WHO IS NORTH WHY IS THIS INTERACTION GIVING ME LIFE???
t0ddles2: @sallysusedtoiletpaper frontman of dark autumn complex
sallysusedtoiletpaper: @t0ddles2 oh omg ok... I've never heard of them are they any good??
ashypoops: I haven't heard of them either. What genre? More importantly DOES VI HAVE HER VERY FIRST SHIP
toodswithoutthed: @ashypoops I WAS ABOUT TO ASK BC THE CHEMISTRY!?!? they're obsessed w each other... I went stalk his profile. Ship name options: northlence, violeth...
t0ddles2: they're rock/metal. even if u don't like the genre, they're worth a listen
sallysusedtoiletpaper: WORD I just followed him and their band account >:3 also @toodswithoutthed I'm personally a fan of violeth. I'm linking this shit in the faces fan discord
ashypoops: THERE'S A FAN DISCORD??? can u send me an invite pooks🥺
sallysusedtoiletpaper: @ashypoops ofc😘
sallysusedtoiletpaper: OMFG SOMEONE BEAT ME TO THE CHAT EVERYONE KNOWS NOOOOOO

———

Yea, so I lost my job. Big shocker.

Once my boss found out that I dipped mid-shift, the text was typed out and sent by the evening.

In any other situation, I'd be fucked. Indefinitely. Completely broke and flailing to get a new job. In fact, that was my first thought. As soon as I got the text, I clicked onto my bank account to check how much I'd have to live off of until I found a new job--

--only to find out that I had over $2,000 just sitting around, which was such a nice surprise. I don't think I've ever had so much money to my name before in my entire life. And all the transactions were straight from all my streaming apps. All within the past two weeks since being back in LA.

To say the least, losing my job couldn't have happened at a better time. Now, I can put my focus into something I actually enjoy doing.

But first, a trip to Nockfell, which is proving to be more chaotic by the second.

"Todd, dude, there's a chemistry to this thing, okay? It's a ritual," Larry says, all seriousness and business face as he stares back into Todd's uninterested gaze. "I can't fly without it."

Todd blinks, a flash of frustrated disappointment crossing over his features. "You're not taking an edible before the flight, Lartholomew."

Ash had a ticket ready for me before she even got to LA yesterday. Her entire mastermind plan was to abduct me whether I liked it or not-- not that I would've said no to begin with. And besides, having her at the apartment to help me pack last minute made pre-flight stress non-existent.

Travis is camping out at my apartment. He was more than happy to kick me out of my own house, claiming that my bed is comfiest anyway. Regardless, he said he had no desire to return to Nockfell anyway. And dad was just excited for me to go visit considering how much I've complained about missing the little town over all these years.

Sal and I haven't spoken since his last commanding text to me. Right before his very sudden face reveal. He's caught in an almost petrifying silence-- has been since he put his prosthetic back on. I, on the other hand, very much resemble a little puppy whimpering and begging at his feet. Metaphorically, of course. I wouldn't dare to physically exploit my internal thoughts.

The really sickening truth is that I'm so desperate to see his face again that I'd trip him down a flight of stairs just to recreate yesterday's scene.

Just kidding. I don't mean that. I definitely don't.

"All our seats are kind of screwed up, so I have no idea where you're sitting, sugar." Ash pokes my cheek, her chin in her palm and elbow propped on the armrest of her seat. "I bought them kind of last minute so I took whatever they had available."

A little smile tips my lips as I turn my attention away from the grumpy smurf and focus on my stunning best friend. Her viridian irises glow with renewed joy and energy like our plans check off so many bullet points on her bucket list. "That's okay," I reply, tilting my head. "At least we actually have seats, right?"

Ash grins, her maroon shaded lips accentuating the light freckles along the bridge of her nose. "See?" she chirps, arm winding through mine to pull me closer. "You get it. When do you not get it?"

Our plane calls for us to board, and so begins the toxic, anxiety-inducing split-up of the century. I lose all The Faces somewhere in the crowded line that gathers at our gate in just a matter of seconds. That's okay though, I'll probably end up sitting with some old lady that smells like an odd mixture of peonies, Dial soap, and Lysol. You know, a funeral home and two colds away from death. So long as she's nice, I'll catch her dentures when they fall out of her gaping mouth as she naps.

Anything for MawMaw.

I hobble my way into the plane, brain set on finding my seat before stressing about all other one hundred and fifty two things I have to worry about later. People are everywhere and it's, expectedly, a huge plane. Three rows-- two seaters against each wall and a row of three seats down the middle. Sickening, really. Social anxiety's worst enemy is looking for means of escape only to be met by even more people.

I block everyone out as best as I can, pretending that the people I bump into are just very dense pieces of furniture. Or, actually, even better-- a bunch of really buff kitties. Yep, just passing through a horde of Maine Coon's and Munchkin's.

I spot row F, my pupils zeroing in on the letter like a scope on a gun. Target acquired.

The majestic way I veer around what my mind imagines is a really tall Siamese and their spouse, a yellow Persian, is something that the directors of The Matrix are pissed that they couldn't come up with. I swing my foot around a figurative pair of paws and reach my free hand out to grip onto my seat-- F20. That's right bitches, I did it.

I swing my suitcase up, somehow managing to actually get it into the overhead compartment. I give it a good shove with both of my hands and a grunt, then pull the backpack off my shoulders to keep it at my feet when I sit down.

But now that I've stopped, cats are pushing past me and it's so aggressive and rushed that they suddenly aren't sweet, fluffy kitties anymore. They're people again and I'm starting to get dragged away from my seat by this sea of shared distress.

Nimble fingers latch onto my wrist from the seat beside mine-- the seat against the window. The hand tightens around me, giving my body a good yank forward. I use the aided force to weave my way around a few more people up until the hand pulls me into my seat.

I huff out a breath, pushing my hair out of the eyeholes of my mask. And begrudgingly, I turn my head to meet bright cerulean hair.

Sal isn't looking at me, he's facing the window. His entire stature gives off a mixture of unbothered and ashamed. He shouldn't feel that second one-- never. Granted, he shouldn't feel angry half as much as he does but that's besides the point.

Ever since it happened, I could tell that the abrupt exposure of his face has been heavily weighing on him. I don't owe this man a single thing-- he's been awful to me in so many ways, but I give credit where credit is due. Not only did he own up and apologize to me yesterday, he helped me to my seat... and he is handsome. Regardless of how he views himself.

He's my biggest enemy and I, his. But if I plan on getting fucked during my visit to Nockfell, I have to give him the Beating of Truth.

"So," I mumble, chewing on the inside of my cheek. If you couldn't tell, I'm absolutely forcing myself to do this even though it's the last thing I want to do. "How are we working around Ash, Larry, and Todd when we get to Nockfell?"

Sal's head tips up a bit, like he's wondering to himself if I actually just spoke to him. Then his head pivots sideways so that he can side-eye me.

"What?" He asks, voice genuinely shocked and confused. It makes my heart stutter a bit. Any time he speaks in a tone that isn't aggressive, it completely reboots my system.

"How are we going to follow through with this arrangement?" I try again, simplifying it into Sal terms. He has a wide vocabulary range; maybe using bigger words will snap some sense into him. For added effect, I lean onto the armrest separating him and I, trying to show that he doesn't repulse me or anything of the sort.

Sal doesn't move away, instead, he adjusts his body so that he can address me. Fully turns his prosthetic face to me and settles into his seat. I didn't realize how tense he was when I first sat down, but watching him relax now shows me how much my simple mention of our agreement settled his mental turmoil.

He's quiet for a moment, eyes dancing across my mask and body before his gaze meets mine again. "You still want to?" he finally decides to ask, eyebrows lifting beneath his prosthetic.

"Yea," I snort, scrunching my nose up as if his question is ridiculous. "Why wouldn't I?"

Okay, stupid question. I know the answer and the words came out before I could stop them. In more ways than others, that was a genuine response though. I can't accept that Sal would be so put off by his own appearance because I truly think it's so lovely. I have to remember though that not everyone sees themselves the way I see them though.

Sal's brows bunch together again, his eyes narrowing. "Stupid fucking question," he echoes my own thoughts, voice even and void of tone. Whoopsie.

I roll my own eyes, sighing. "Well, to settle the whole debacle," I start, aiming to just bite the bullet and extinguish the awkwardness and misplaced fear vibrating between us. "I think you're quite the catch."

Friendly banter is weird. Borderline uncomfortable, but... not quite. Just so that I'm ready to get this over with but I'd be prepared for it to happen again.

A nasally snort leaves Sal and he rotates his head so that he's facing the pair of seats in front of us.

"So," he prods, ignoring my statement. "North?"

Mission success. I know he'll never admit it and he doesn't need to, but I think he appreciates the compliment.

"What's it to you?" I counter, adjusting my position in turn. I sit criss-cross applesauce in my seat, making sure my feet don't touch Sal because God forbid. "You still get to fuck me."

"Not much," he says lowly, hand moving to ruffle up his fringe. There's that dagger tattoo again. And then his head tilts just a bit, haunting sapphire blue piercing straight through my soul like the weapon etched onto his skin. "But you're mine. North can't give you even an ounce of what I can."

Fuzzy fingers, a pounding heart, and the worst case of cold sweats possible dominates my body for the rest of the flight. My brain replays that statement over and over again, plaguing me with recurring physical reactions like I've just heard it in real life again. I wish he hadn't said anything at all if it was going to leave me like this.

Neither of us said another word. The only sound between the two of us was the constant cracking of my knuckles accompanied by me putting my feet on the ground-- then sitting criss-cross again-- then having to readjust again and again and again. He left me quite literally restless and I'm sure he's relishing in just the knowledge of it.

Landing in Nockfell was a quick divergence from bubbly hearted affliction in my being. A good distraction from Sal.

Perpetual autumn. Nockfell never gets too hot or cold. The air is always misty, the sky always grey and cloudy. Tall, ever-growing trees dominate both night and day, stealing all the light from the sun and hiding it in their leafy treetops. Nockfell houses the kind of atmosphere that I've dreamt of returning to for years now; the gentle eeriness and chill that I've longed to bask in ever since I left.

We step out of the airport and into the small parking lot where a suspiciously blue haired man is waving at us with a big, dad-like grin on his face. Not a question in my mind. That's Sal's dad-- the cropped, receding cerulean hair was the first obvious sign but as we grow closer, his bright azure eyes are the second giveaway.

"Wassup, daddio!" Larry exclaims, wrapping Sal's father up in a huge bear hug (which is so Emo Buff Daddy of him). I nearly forgot that Sal's dad, who I now know as Henry, is also Larry's step-dad. Crazy.

"Not much, big guy!" Henry chuckles, rubbing Larry's back affectionately once the hug comes to an end. He pats Larry's shoulder, that big smile still on his aged face. "You guys brought the friend back! Convinced her to come huff up our humid air?"

Henry moves over to Ash, Todd, and then Sal to hug all of them. He purposefully places a discreet kiss on top of Sal's head before turning to me.

He holds his arms open suggestively and my heart flutters. "You okay with hugs?" He asks me. "Everyone's family here."

A grin of my own sneaks onto my face as I take a little step toward Henry and wrap my arms around his middle.

Henry's arms latch around my body, shielding me from the moist, heavy air of Nockfell and anything else that could possibly hurt me here. His embrace is so comforting, so familiar, so protective that tears I've been holding back for weeks suddenly rush to the surface.

I love my own dad, he's perfect, but being hugged by his near doppelgänger reminds me of how much I miss him. I wish dad and I weren't apart so often. But that'll change soon with the money I'm making.

I don't allow myself to weep, I hide the tears and pull away from the comforting hug I needed so desperately to smile sweetly at Henry. Lovely man, his own smile widens.

The group of us piles into Henry's old 2000 Nissan Pathfinder to navigate around Nockfell.

We first stop at Ash's place-- a home I haven't seen in a decade now. Everything is so nostalgic-- the tall, two story, white-painted, wooden home and the canopy of evil-looking trees that hide it from the road reminds me of a time that's been ripped away from me.

Ash leans on the door of Henry's SUV, the window down for her to speak to me before she disappears. "I'll come by Sal's or the apartments later to scoop you up, 'kay? Parents and I have a meeting with some guys to transfer ownership of some things to me before the move." She chews on her lip, a deep yearning in her pretty eyes. "I'd let you stay with me if I could."

I shake my head at her-- I don't want her to feel guilty for handling business. "No that's okay." I tell her sweetly, grabbing onto her hand. "I'll kickback with the guys."

Ash smiles, squeezing my hand in hers before breaking off to head to her house.

Now, I never imagined I'd end up coming back to Nockfell in general, but to stand in Sal Fisher's home? These were even more improbable odds.

And worse, Todd suddenly slips out of the house with the very mean (he's ditching me!) excuse of meeting with Neil for a late lunch. That just leaves me, Larry, and Sal standing in the spacious kitchen of their shared two-story home. It's quaint, roomy, and pretty nice. I imagine it's kept up specifically because Sal tends to it.

And Sal, he doesn't say anything. Which is typical behavior from him. He only, swiftly, spins on his heels, luggage in hand, and disappears into a room right past the stairs. Okay, fair. It's late in the afternoon-- naptime.

And now it's down to two.

I look to Larry with a grin. And he's grinning back excitedly, wiggling around like an antsy child who's about to go on a field trip.

"I can't believe we managed to get you over here," he whisper-yells, screaming silently. You know, just open-mouthed and head tipped to the ceiling in pure excitement.

"Even Copernicus wouldn't be able to debunk this turn of events," I joke, watching Larry dance around his kitchen. I put my bags down. I'm sure we'll figure out this situation later when Ash returns.

Larry opens up his refrigerator, moving around some bottles before uttering an expletive. "Ah, fuck," he hisses out, quickly lifting his head which results in him slamming said head into the freezer door. I pause, wincing, eyeing his silhouette warily while awaiting whatever he has to say next.

He resurfaces from the fridge, rubbing his aching head and chewing on his bottom lip. "I left my fucking bags in Henry's car." He curses again, glancing up at me with agitated eyes. "I have to run over to the apartments real quick." Larry starts inching away from the fridge and I feel my heart leap. How could he forget his luggage in the car? And is he really about to leave me here with the master of aggressive seduction himself? We're bound to tear this house apart either via sex or a physical fight. I just don't know which one.

"I'll be like... ten minutes at most," Lar says, squeezing past me and around the kitchen table, rerouting to the front door. He gives me a look that screams vulnerability and urgency. "Please don't kill Sal, and don't let him kill you. Okay? I'll be back in a jiffy."

I blink at him, running my tongue along the inside of my dry mouth. This is not going to go well. "Okay," I say anyway. I can already see the headline on the newspaper-- 'Masked Streamer, Sally Face, Brutally Murders and Chops Up Rising Streamer, VioletViolence, With Kitchen Knife.'

Larry nods at me, pinches his lips together in a moment of concerned hesitation, then disappears through the front door.

I stand in the empty kitchen for a moment, watching the back of Larry's head through the front door window. "In a jiffy..." I murmur to myself, recalling the most soccer-mom words I've ever heard come from Larry's vicinity. It was so odd, I mean he would never say something like that, but here we are.

The house is empty aside from myself and Sal. What the hell am I supposed to do? Watch The Office?-- well, that actually doesn't sound bad at all.

I can literally do anything I want, though. I have been given the most opportune opportunity to act upon my will as I see fit. With that in mind accompanied by the suspiciously good conversation a certain blue-haired individual and I shared on the plane, I think I have an idea of what I could do. And I know I'll have a willing partner.

This will either end in a homicide via kitchen knife or an orgasm. I'll take my chances.

A sly little grin fights its way onto my lips as I spin on my heels, trekking over to Sal's room. His door is closed, giving him an ample amount of darkness to hide in while gaming or sleeping or whatever he's doing. But for me, it's the ample amount of darkness to create a moody setting. It's perfect.

The cold, metal doorknob sits comfortably in the palm of my hand as I give myself one last chance to think about this. I really shouldn't do this, but the timing will never be this good again. With everyone moving to LA, I may never get a chance this convenient since someone will always be around.

That's the last little bit of encouragement I need to twist the knob and slowly push the plain, white painted door open.

The wood squeaks on its hinges, making Sal turn his head up from his PC. His dark, shadowed eyes meet mine. They go from curious to a bit miffed in half a second— but he doesn't say anything, really just ignores me and turns back to his setup.

My heart races. He didn't turn me away or tell me to get the fuck out of his room. That's a good start. But that also means I can actually follow through with my very sudden plan— a plan which has no plan. I didn't even brainstorm what I could do because I genuinely didn't think I'd get this far.

I watch him closely, noting the way his computer casts a cool, blue glow against his prosthetic. His hand moves the mouse around and he clicks on various things, really paying me no mind at all.

My teeth clamp onto my bottom lip as I step past the threshold of his room, grabbing hold of the door and slowly closing it behind me. Once it latches into place, I wait, simply observing the man with my back to the door. For good measure, I turn the lock. You know, just in case I manage to get somewhere.

And he still doesn't look my way. The fact that he's ignoring my presence right now makes anticipation build up within me. My heart thumps a little faster than it already has been. My cheeks feel warm, I can't keep my hands still. It's like my brain is kicked into overdrive, forcing me to take notice of every little thing.

I lick my lips and take a step forward, scratching at the skin on my knuckles. I take another step, then another, my body growing warm with anxiousness all because I may stand in front of this man, present myself to him, and come to regret it. I really might embarrass myself. Just because we agreed doesn't mean he wants me at this exact moment.

But before I'm even really prepared, I'm standing right beside him. And he's sitting there without a care in the world, comfortably propped up in his gaming chair and pulling up different comments on what looks to be YouTube.

I've done about all I can for right now, but we are on limited time. So I watch him for a moment. He has to know I'm right here— I wasn't quiet, I didn't avoid his field of vision. I'm right here.

And I still get nothing.

Time to think. Should I say something insulting? That usually gets him riled up. Maybe then, one thing will lead to another.

I bounce on my heels for a second as I think up a quick insult. "Is this how you waste your time? Figured you'd at least reply to some of your fans if you were going to read their comments. Kinda shitty of you." Low blow probably. I don't really mean it, but I'm sure he'll take it seriously. His fans mean a lot to him, it's the best way to gain his attention.

But Sal doesn't even react, only scrolls through a few replies under a comment and clicks 'like' on a some. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't look at me. Never makes a sound.

I roll my eyes. Playing hard to get are we? He fusses at me for not complying all the time— he's such a hypocritical asshole. I hate that I'm into it.

I swallow thickly, putting my hands behind my back to try and hide my nervous fidgeting. "Sal," I try, cringing a bit. That was desperation— he has to know that.

Again, nothing.

He really must be trying to piss me off, that or he isn't interested at all. But thankfully, the zero interest half doesn't stink like I was afraid it would. Instead, it spurs me into action.

He can ignore my words all he wants, but he can't ignore me.

"I'm going to touch you," I warn because consent is important. "If you don't want that, you need to tell me."

I wait a good thirty seconds but he stays silent.

I pinch my lips together then grab onto the armrest of his chair, pulling it back just enough to place my body between him and his computer. He simply looks up at me with disinterested eyes, so I go further, fueled by the spark in my soul and the rage of him purposefully pretending I'm not even there.

I take a step forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder for balance, then easily slide myself onto his lap. His thighs are warm beneath my own, his skin smooth under my fingertips. The dark ink on his biceps contrasts beautifully with the milky color of his skin and it's quite an honor to finally run my hands over his art.

I watch the way my fingers drag down his arm then up again, returning to his shoulder. I'm on top of him and he still hasn't said a word, still hasn't touched me. At this point, I'm yearning for something— anything.

The only good sign I'm getting is that he hasn't pushed me off.

I glance up, looking into his blue eyes that are darkened by the shadows of his room. They're watching me closely, no ounce of emotion reflected in them. He's just observing.

My other hand travels to his prosthetic face, gripping onto his jaw in the way that he does to me so often. "Think you can ignore me?" I whisper, a little smirk quirking my lips despite how badly I wish I could contain it.

A slight furrowing of his brows is what I get in return.

Ha, got him.

He still doesn't say anything, but I've piqued his interest at least.

"Larry's gone," I say next, my eyes traveling to the rough prosthetic in my hands. I run my thumb over the underside of his jaw, feeling a number of scars.

"I assumed so," he says, voice a bit deeper than it normally would be and toneless like it seems to have been all day.

My gaze meets his again, and this time there's a little fire in his pretty eyes. There's desire, interest, slow-building exhilaration. I love seeing this look on him.

"Mhm," I hum, moving my other hand from his shoulder to the side of his neck. "Are you going to sit here and ignore me like the asshole you are, or are you going to have mercy on both of us?"

Sal slowly blinks, eyes traveling over my form, drinking me in like I'm the last drop of water on earth. "You called me an asshole for a reason," he bites out. "Don't expect much. Unlike you, I can actually hold out."

"But what's the point of holding out?" I counter, tilting my head to the left. "Larry's heading to the apartments. We have about ten minutes. That's enough room for one of a couple options. Stop being a little prick and do something."

"More like twenty. Larry takes his sweet ass time." Sal's eyes narrow. "You think insulting me is going to coerce me into this, you little bitch? Thought you knew our dynamic well enough by now." My words are getting to him. That's exactly what I want.

"I do know our dynamic," I whisper, leaning my head down so that my face is level with his. I look into his cerulean eyes and they gaze back at me, one pupil dilated. Then, I bend lower until I'm at the nape of his neck, his hair tickling my jaw.

I use the hand holding his face to tilt his head up and away from me, using the angle as leverage to place my lips onto his warm skin.

I hear a muffled sigh from him in response and it takes everything in me not to smile.

My mouth moves slowly along the side of his neck, placing meaningful, wet kisses along his throat. But when I get to the hilt of his tattoo, I bit down gently.

He flinches at the feeling of my teeth digging into his skin, then completely aborts his mission to ignore me completely.

Sal's hands fly to my waist, one gripping tightly onto my hip and the other trailing up my back and into my hair, gripping the strands tightly before yanking my head back.

My teeth are ripped from his neck immediately and Sal pulls me away from him by the base of my neck. I gasp, staring into his captivating azure eyes from just centimeters away. His prosthetic nose bumps my mask's and he holds me there without a word.

His eyes trail down my face and heavy breaths follow his gaze. His cold fingers are curled into my neck, his nails digging into my skin.

I swallow, wondering if maybe I should have just minded my own business, stayed in the living room and waited for Larry to come back. Maybe I pissed him off.

I lick my lips and blink at him, my mouth gapes open as I try to find something to say. He's silent. It's not awkward, just scary. Scary is ten times worse.

Sal must see the regret and fear in my eyes because his own eyes lessen their harsh glare a bit and then he rasps out, "Can I touch you?"

Every inch of my body goes rigid with shock, anticipation. "Yes," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My fingers tighten ever so slightly on the underside of his jaw while my heart runs an entire marathon in my chest. Now is not the time to get nervous because I sweat when I'm nervous. I need to be horny– not nervous.

Sal takes a deep breath, eyes set on mine. I feel his chest rise ever so slowly, then go back down the same exact way. The pause between us is utter agony and I feel like I'm going to start spazzing out or something. Honestly, with the way I'm sitting on top of him, I might just fall over and die on the spot. That feels less incriminating than whatever is about to ensue.

Cool fingers grasp onto my thigh, his palm flattening against my skin. His hand drags up to my side, followed by his other hand leaving my neck to grab the other side of my waist. The feeling of him touching me, just like he'd asked, fills me with memories I tried so desperately to forget just a couple weeks or so ago. This is deja vu in the best way.

In one swift motion, Sal lifts me up and plops me on top of his desk. I brace myself with my hands on either side of his keyboard that lays behind me. Questions of concern start flowing through my brain because this is an odd place to be.

"Don't knock over my shit," Sal breathlessly informs, eyes glancing up to me. HIs hands move to the waist band of my bottoms and I suck in another anxious, anticipatory breath.

I nod quickly, watching him with wide eyes as he looks down at my waist, his hands circling to the front of my stomach and fumbling with the button of my shorts. Oh my gosh.

I gulp, looking at anything but the man between my legs, currently pulling down the shorts I'd traveled in. His cold fingers brush along the outside of my thighs, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. He's slow, purposeful, dragging this out to get whatever reaction out of me that he can. It feels like my heart is about to explode.

I have no idea what he's about to do, he doesn't warn me either. I don't have the guts to watch this scene play out. The prospect of his dilated pupils, messy hair, and that glare in his captivating eyes is too much-- so much that warmth pools between my thighs before he can initiate anything.

"You look scared," he murmurs and I flinch at the gentle, comforting tone he uses with me. I've never heard something such as this come from him and be directed at mebefore.

"I am," I answer honestly, licking my lips while his fingers slowly pull my shorts down my legs. I lift myself a bit to aid him, shivering when my bare legs meet the cold surface of his desk. "A bit."

"Why?" Sal asks, hands pressing onto my thighs. With how warm my skin is and how cool his fingers are, the contrasting temperature is enough to spark an aneurysm. He drags those hands of his up my legs until he reaches my panties, hooking his digits into them.

I shake my head, chin quite literally tilted up to the ceiling. I'm not quite sure what has me so scared. Am I afraid of myself? Him? Getting caught? Being dropped again?

One risky hand leaves my hip and Sal's prosthetic comes into view. He's hovering over me, in a standing position now. His hair falls onto my shoulders, shielding us from the rest of the world like a curtain. I blink up at him, breath caught in my throat as a rush of chills invades my body.

"Hey," he says. His voice is a bit on edge, but it's concerned. So concerned that it distracts me from my own fear for a moment. "You're okay," he continues, his hand gripping onto my chin and pulling my head down so we can be eye level. I look between his bright eyes-- his eyebrows are risen a bit, as if to communicate to me that I can trust him. But can I?

"I'll take care of you. If you want to stop, if you don't want to start-- let me know. Say anything and I'll end it immediately." He tilts his head a bit, eyes glancing over my face. This is different. This looks vulnerable. "If I made you uncomfortable at all, I--"

My head shakes in opposition. I don't even have to think about it. "No, it's not that. It-- I trust you." The words spew out of my mouth and I immediately regret it. Something smug takes over his expression and I press my lips together, grabbing onto his wrist connected to the hand that's still holding my chin. "I trust you with this. If I was tied to train tracks, I wouldn't even think of calling you." I narrow my eyes at him to exemplify my point. His eyes squint as if he's... smiling? I'll ignore that. "But you've never... made me uncomfortable. You always ask. You always check. So..."

I watch him nod slowly, our gazes never disconnecting. He seems to contemplate what I've said, measurably formulating his next move. "Do you want to talk about what's stressing you then?"

My head rears back and my eyebrows furrow, his hand falling away from my face. "What brain eating amoeba has overtaken you?" I blurt out, holding a hand out between us. It's incredibly odd-- this is out of place. "You are never concerned about me-- what is this?"

If you can't tell, I'm not a fan of change. I greatly prefer stability even if it's toxic.

Sal drops the caring act almost immediately, his eyes rolling so hard that I'm worried they'll sink into his body. "I can't go down on you if you're freaked, can I? I wouldn't even feel comfortable doing that. I'm an asshole, not a monster."

I pause, every facial feature relaxing as his statement slaps me in the face. Key words: go, down, on, you, asshole, monster. Yep, only monstrous assholes go down on their enemies. I'm the very brave, very eager, very shocked recipient of this going down.

I take a deep, shaky breath, blinking at Sal who watches me with what looks like a raised eyebrow. "Okay," I breathlessly whisper. "How are you-- are you..." Why am I rambling? What kind of answer am I looking for? Obviously the prosthetic is about to come off and I just have to contain the desperate, whore-like rage within.

"Shut up, Vi," he chuckles over my nickname, grabbing onto my thighs and tugging me to the edge of the desk as he sits in his chair again. My fingertips press into the wooden surface while my heart threatens to pound its way through my ribcage. "Just let me taste you."

Cue internal screaming. I'm so going to faint-- and the addition of watching his pretty guitar-playing hands leave my skin to unbuckle his prosthetic is pushing me to astronomical heights. I don't even exist anymore. I'm just a wisp, a little phantom fairy watching her favorite sex movie play out in real time. It's called Faceless Fixation. She's the Fellatio Fairy. I don't even-- whoever is writing my life needs to give me a break.

I'm shivering like I have hypothermia by the time Sal carefully pulls the prosthetic off his face, making sure to not mess up his hair. And then he glances up at me. Bright eyes hesitant, sort of wide. Eyebrows risen just a bit and lips pressed together like he wants to say a thousand things but can't. He looks so nervous and it's a moment we can both share.

For reassurance (I think we both need it) I smile at him. Just a slight upward tilt of my lips as I press my thighs together. He's so beautiful. Every scar, every indentation, every feature, every little freckle. Just wow-- he's a sight to behold.

Sal's gaze flits to my lips, then down to my legs and he grabs onto them again, purposefully pulling them apart. His black polished nails dig into my skin as he gazes down at my underwear. I'm so used to watching his reactions and feelings portrayed only through his eyes, but watching the way his jaw tenses and the moment his lips part like he can't wait any longer makes me feel like I'll implode.

His fingers run up my legs to my hips, dipping into my panties and pulling them downward. I gulp over the sight, relishing in the deja vu. How kind of him to not rip these this time.

I lift myself up as he shimmies them down my legs, finally pulling them from around my ankles and holding them up for me to see. I blink, warmth rushing to my face at his boldness. And Sal, well-pleased, quirks a little seductive smile at them before switching his gaze to me.

"I haven't even touched you and you're soaked," is what he murmurs, eyes dancing over my half naked body with very little focus on my face. It's like he's glued to what hides behind my clenched thighs, eagerly awaiting what he'll find between them. "You're inflating my ego way too much," his voice is a bit louder this time-- darker, more sinister. The pronunciation of his words shows off charming, slightly crooked front teeth and sharp canines. I'll never know how I haven't ascended already.

I shiver, trying and failing to hide my reaction. But it doesn't really matter, seeing as Sal caught onto it anyway and his hooded eyes are on mine, a dangerous glint clashing with the hypnotizing azure shade of his irises.

His hands are on my legs again, fingers roughly squeezing my skin. He isn't putting off his plans again though. When he separates my legs and I try my best not to push him away out of fear, Sal leans forward and presses his lips to the inside of my left thigh.

I take a deep, shuddering breath as I bathe in the feeling of his soft, jagged lips moving along my sensitive skin. I commit the image to memory, absolutely astonished over the way his blue eyes are closed while he inches closer and closer to my pussy.

I'm unable to take a full breath at this point, my body is tense while I try to hold myself in an upright position, pathetically falling apart as his mouth dances along the inside of my thigh like he's studied and perfected each step he takes. His hands are molded into my skin, they've become a part of me. He's pressing my thigh up to his face, leaving the most inebriating kisses. I wish he would stop teasing me already.

At the same time, I'm obsessed with the way he's handling me. Delicately, carefully, but he's in full control and making me wait. Testing me. Seeing if I'll push him, hoping I'll give him a good reason to punish me.

Sal's eyes open again, glancing up to meet mine. I suck in a breath, watching as he opens that dirty mouth of his and bites into the sensitive skin at the top of my thigh.

I hiss, wincing at the slight pain but my eyes never leave his. They could never. And he loves that, takes it as a challenge because those sky blue eyes close and he bites down harder, sucking my skin into his mouth to leave his mark.

Some kind of satisfied, sickeningly delighted feeling swells in my chest at the knowledge of having a mark from him on my body. It's primal, it's a little weird, but I adore the idea and maybe he does too. After what he said to me about North on the flight to Nockfell, I'd guess he's more than happy to stake his claim even if it's invisible to the outside world.

Sal finally pulls his teeth from my leg, revealing a gnarly, dark purple mark in his wake. He places a quick, soothing kiss to the abused skin before trailing his way closer to my pussy. He masks his destination with more wet kisses and bites and I'm so worked up by now that a light sheen of sweat has formed on my forehead. I can't be doing this-- this is complete torture.

"Sal," I groan out, flinching at the sinful tone of my voice. It makes him pause his movements as well. "Please," I tack on, the word quiet and agonizingly pleading.

He hums against my skin, eyes zeroed in on mine. I hate being so direct, it's terrifying, but it's worth it if it'll end up with his tongue buried in me, right?

"Beg for it," he says lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. His tone makes me shiver, as well as his words and I would drop to my hands and knees if he told me to right now.

My lips part upon hearing him and I release a shaky breath, thighs drawing together until he stops them with his tight grip. My heart is running a marathon, my limbs are trembling and I'm wondering if maybe this is all just a really awesome dream.

"Please," I repeat, voice coming out as a whine. For once, I don't regret it because this is what he wants. "I'm desperate." I don't know how else to portray to him that I need this-- the wait is nearly excruciating. "I need to feel you."

Sal pulls away from my skin, tongue lapping at all of his bite marks before a sadistic smile pulls at his lips. "How much do you hate me?" And he's waiting, waiting for a wordy explanation of my distaste for him. But now, with the way things have changed between us-- even if it's slightly-- describing my loathing somehow feels harder.

So I snort, trying to coerce him into putting his mouth on me again regardless of the location. But all the shivers, waiting, and very slow building orgasm is slipping away into the distance. "A lot," I whisper shakily.

He gives me a look, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together as if I've disappointed him. "You can do better than that, Vi. Where's the fire?" He leans toward the thigh he hasn't captured with his mouth yet and skims his teeth along my skin. "Should I give you an example?"

I lick my lips, a sudden fluttering in my chest making me feel light headed. I hesitantly shake my head-- the longer he isn't paying attention to me, the farther I am from cumming. I can come up with something to say can't I? Of course I can. He's infuriating enough.

"Alright then," he mumbles monotonously, finally ditching my thighs. He yanks me a bit closer, eyes still rifling through my soul. "Then tell me. And if you stop," he warns as I swallow against the pounding in my chest due to his positioning, face mere inches from my sopping cunt. He's dragged this on long enough. "I stop. Keep that filthy mouth of yours moving."

He waits for me to launch into a monologue of detest. His mouth so close to my clit, breath tickling my skin and forcing a quiet little whimper from me.

"I fucking hate the constant foul mood you're always in," I force out, feeling my heart leap into my throat the second the words leave my mouth. Because Sal keeps his promise and with an inebriating grunt of approval, he finally attaches his lips to my clit, tongue running over it like he's desperate to soak up every inch of what I have to offer.

The feeling of his mouth on my pussy is incomparable to any other type of satisfaction in the world-- this is what I've waited for. And he happily makes up for the lost time, expertly flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves and sucking it farther into his mouth. He moans against my cunt, hands dragging up my thighs to cup my ass and force me even closer to him. He squeezes my skin, a reminder to keep talking.

I dig up all the things I can't stand about him, slathering them across my brain so I can tell him about it. "You're a brick wall. No matter what I say, you refuse to listen. How come you're never open to hearing anyone out?" I whimper between words, squirming around on his desk and trying my damn hardest not to ruin any of his belongings.

Sal lifts my legs over his arms, pushing them onto his shoulders and I swear I'm about to combust. The way his tongue maps figure eights and circles around my clit does nothing to help, only sends me further toward falling apart.

I squeeze my eyes shut, fingers curling over the edge of his desk, heavy breaths and quiet moans falling past my lips no matter how badly I wish I could keep them inside. "You have some kind of God complex. You think you're right about everything, have to be in control of everything and I can't stand it. I can't stand you and your constant need to have everything you want."

His teeth graze over my clit and my mouth falls open, waves of pleasure rolling through my body like I've never experienced before. He moves downward, his tongue buried between my folds and licking up every bit of my arousal that he can get. Upon getting a better taste of me, he moans and I can feel the vibration of it everywhere, all the way up to my fingertips.

"I hate how easily you turn me on, how wet I get just from a simple touch," I admit, teeth clamping down onto my bottom lip as his tongue explores the inside of my pussy like he's been starved of me for far too long. His nails dig into my skin, the action eliciting a stinging sensation that only adds to the pleasure he's giving me. This is everything. "And you're so unfair. So pretty, so damn attractive with that horrible personality of yours. Why can't you be pretty through and through?"

I open my eyes again to watch him, drowning in the prospect of his face buried between my thighs, cheeks flushed and hair a mess. I watch as he drags his mouth up to my clit again, drawing patterns and shapes I don't care to know over the bundle of nerves. The rough, slick feeling of his tongue on such a sensitive place is addicting. So long as he's around to bring me to new heights like this, I don't need anything else. Maslow's hierarchy of needs has never been so wrong-- this is my sole need.

I can't help myself-- I reach a hand out, my fingers burying themselves into Sal's hair. It's soft. Just as soft as I knew it would be. And he doesn't seem to mind, only continues to suck on my clit and abuse it with his tongue. I close my hand into a fist, lightly tugging on his hair. I need something to hold onto.

"And your stupid fucking mouth," I groan out, sucking in a breath that never fully fills my lungs. His tongue dips into my pussy again, making another little groan follow my first. My thighs are clenched tightly at this point, quaking furiously. Sal never tries to stop me, doesn't calm me. It's clear how much he enjoys bringing me to ruin. "All the awful things you say, so many dirty words and you are so good with your tongue. I've never craved and loathed something so much in my life."

Sal smiles against my pussy-- I watch in pure amazement as the corners of his lips curl upward like what I said was everything he's always wanted to hear. It's so lewd, so perverted and I absolutely will never forget this moment.

One of his hands lets go of my ass, trailing down my thigh again but moving to the inside this time. As his teeth gently nip at my clit and his tongue laps at my pussy, the tips of his fingers press against my opening, a silent request for more of my profession of hatred. A profession I'm more than happy to give him.

"I can't imagine how much I'll hate the way you fuck me just because I know it'll be better than any sex I've had before," I tell him, watching his mouth move against my cunt with furrowed brows and my lips parted in intrigue. Oh, he's so good at what he does.

Sal's eyes meet mine again. Eye contact with him when he's in such an erotic position is incredibly intense. I feel like my entire body is going to crumple before he can finish me off and it all counts on if he's able to hold me up or not. But as soon as his cerulean gaze meets mine, two of his fingers sink into me. The action is slow, drawn out, and drags a nasty moan out of me in turn.

Sal whimpers against my pussy, taking care of me like he promised he would. When his fingers reach as far as they can go, he curls them, causing me to flinch at the sensuous feeling. There's so much going on to the point that every inch of my body feels impossibly overwhelmed.

My sensitive clit gets sucked into Sal's mouth again, but then he pulls away. His fingers make up for the absence of his tongue, pounding into me in the same salacious way he's done before.

"Is that all you've got?" he grumbles breathlessly, glazed eyes glaring into mine. This is the expression I'm used to with him-- anger and dominance.

I choke on the breath I try to take, my thighs pressing into his neck as his fingers slam in and out of my soaked cunt, digits only pausing their relentless pace to curl into me. I try to fight against my one working brain cell, try to form words for him, but-- "I can't." is all that I'm able to create, the two short words coming out as an imploring cry.

Sal stands, finger-fucking me into an alternate dimension. He hovers over me, his hair brushing my shoulders and neck. I watch him, an absolute mess beneath him but I can't look away-- even through the panting breaths that morph into whimpers and moans.

His eyes glance between mine, seemingly contemplating something in that meticulous mind of his.

"Yea, you can, gorgeous," he grinds out behind clenched teeth, using the hand that's gripping my ass to press me against his chest. Our even closer proximity somehow forces his fingers deeper into my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. "Tell me more." My mouth is dry, I'm going to cum soon, and hopefully I don't actually fall over before that.

Sal takes a page out of my book, leaning closer to me and nipping at the skin of my throat. A little gasp falls past my lips and I finally let go of his hair, dragging my hand down to his neck. Those fingers work me to the core, never ceasing their movements and pushing into me with so much perfectly applied force.

His mouth moves along the side of my neck, his lips still wet from my juices. I have no idea what gave him the confidence, but I'm not mad. Everything that couldn't be done with his prosthetic can be done now and he's taking advantage of it. "Speak," he snaps, tone not so gentle or comforting like it was when this first began. "Or else."

My mind is blank. "I'm about to cum," I begrudgingly whisper, completely overtaken by his fingers thrusting into me and his thumb focused on my oversensitive clit.

I shut my eyes, my free arm wrapping around his shoulders. Every inch of my body is tense, senses heightened and alert. I don't think I can possibly hold on any longer-- I doubt Sal needed my confirmation to tell that I'm close.

His digits curl into me again, repeating the action. I follow up with a loud whimper, my nails digging into the skin of his neck as he sucks on the skin behind my ear. I wish he'd have ditched the prosthetic sooner because I've really been missing out.

The hand still gripping onto my butt retreats to my stomach, fingers disappearing under my shirt and crawling across my ribs to my bra. He treats it as if it isn't even there, hand easily dipping beneath the fabric. His palm envelops my breast, squeezing gently and massaging the skin. It's such a considerate touch compared to the way he treats the rest of my body-- he knows exactly where the sweet spots are.

"Cum," he commands, lips brushing the shell of my ear and fingers pounding into my sore cunt, thumb running over my hardened nipple.

My head drops onto his shoulder and with one more curl of his fingers, I do as he says and fall apart in his arms. I burst almost instantly, doing anything to keep myself silent over the feeling of his fingers gently caressing the inside of my pussy, riding me through my orgasm just like he did the first time. My teeth sink into his shoulder, a muffled whimper following soon after. Sal tenses up in my arms, a pleasured breath falling from his mouth and fanning over the side of my neck.

"Good girl," he purrs into my ear, lips skimming over the warm skin at my throat. He leaves one more sloppy kiss to my neck then pulls away to look into my eyes again. I can hardly hear anything he says as my teeth are forced away from his shoulder, still reeling from the orgasm that slammed into me nearly unannounced. My limbs feel like jelly as chills run up my spine. "You listen to me so well," he continues. I can't even look into his eyes; I just watch the way his lips move. How his tongue presses into the back of his teeth to pronounce a syllable. His sharp canines that undoubtedly left their own bruises on my skin.

I gulp, unable to peel my eyes away from the mouth that masterfully brought me to climax. For the first time ever, I wonder what his mouth would feel like against mine. How soft his scarred lips would feel, not on my skin, but captured by my own. What his tongue would taste like. What his teeth would feel like nipping at my lips.

Sal doesn't move away from me-- keeps our close proximity with his nose nearly brushing my mask's. He slowly, delicately pulls his fingers out of me but only continues to gaze into my eyes.

This is dangerous territory. Very dangerous. Because the impossible is coursing through me right now and I... somehow can't find it in me to hate him in this exact moment.

But then he blinks. Stands to his full height, moving away from me. His azure gaze turns to the desk I'm sitting on and he grabs my panties, offering them to me. Not an ounce of emotion evident on his face. I'd always wondered what he'd look like simply because I was curious if his face gave away his emotions better than his eyes could. It's pretty impressive how he's able to keep a straight mug though, RBF and all. Especially when he lifts the hand he fingered me with to his mouth and licks my cum off. He doesn't even look at me as his tongue runs up the length of his digit, just turns away from me and walks to the other side of the room.

I'm floored, jaw dropped and pussy wet. Again. That's really fucking hot.

I watch him strut away, follow his movements as he drops to his haunches and opens up his suitcase with his clean hand. He grabs something then faces me again, beginning to walk back with a finger still in his mouth.

My chest tightens at the sight. He can't be doing this to me. Not when Larry is going to be home any minute-- he needs to keep both his hands at his sides.

Thankfully, Sal has some mercy on me and finally finishes cleaning his fingers, eyes darting up to mine again. He walks up to me, right where I'm still sitting on top of his desk and drops fabric onto my bare thighs.

My brows furrow and I look down, grabbing lace. I lift it up, unfolding it to see that it's a near replica of the lace underwear he'd ripped off of me in Vegas. Only it's a completely brand new pair. No rips, no issues. My heart swells a bit at the gesture-- he bought a new pair like I'd told him to. I wasn't even serious, but he did it anyway.

I puff out my cheeks, contemplating what to say. Thank you's are virtually nonexistent between us. My eyes flit up to meet his again and he stuffs his hands into his pockets, watching me.

"You taste good," he nonchalantly comments, causing an infuriating blush to heat my cheeks.

"Thanks," I murmur, holding up the lace panties to show that I'm thankful for them too. "You taste pretty good too." He does. I'll have to return the favor to him when I get the chance.

A barely audible snort comes from him and I almost smile.

"I'd fuck you, but Larry will be back any minute and Ash probably isn't far behind him," he says, turning on his heel and walking toward the door. "I suggest you put your clothes back on. Panties are clean, I washed them."

My eyebrows raise and I pinch my lips together. Huh. "How kind of you," I say half sarcastically. Only half because it's helpful that they are clean-- it's almost like he knew he'd place me in a predicament where I needed fresh underwear. "You trying to kick me out?" I add. Of course he is, I'm just trying to make my way out of here as awkward-less as possible.

"Hell yea," he says proudly, "I have shit to do."

"Are you calling me a distraction?" I ask, looking toward him as I shimmy my underwear and shorts up my legs then start working on the button.

Sal tilts his head, hand on the doorknob. "And a mild aggravation."

"Oh, wow," I gasp, feigning surprise. "Mild? I must be working my way onto your good side."

"Fuck me good enough and we'll see how far you get," he replies, eyes watching my every move but face still unreadable as I begin walking toward him.

I roll my eyes. Of course. I pinch my lips together and give him a disinterested look. This is my lesson to never try to have a casual conversation with him again. He clearly doesn't want it, which, fair. Our agreement is sex, not friendship. "Okay," I say dramatically when he opens the door for me. "Bye, Sal."

The man nods his head, acknowledging the shift in the room. His eyes stay glued to mine like they have been the entire time I've been here. Now that I'm not distracted by his mouth on my pussy, I realize that this is an odd thing for him to do. He looks at me every once in a while, but not in such a... scrutinizing way.

He purses his lips and says, "Bye, y/n."

Every nerve-ending in my body suddenly shuts off. Everything is still. I have no thoughts for a moment, no physical reaction. Just stillness. I don't breathe, I don't move. I just watch him.

There's no way— he has to have mixed up my names. It has to be that.

And then everything hits me. Sal Fisher just said my name. And not the fake one that I've been hiding behind. He said my actual name— the one that's on my birth certificate. And now my hands are shaking, my heart is racing, my breaths are uneven, and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"What the fuck," I say shakily. I'm not ready for this. I'm going to completely switch his thought process around-- "did you just say?"

The look in his eyes changes, they light up a bit as if he's caught me. And still he decides to mess with me. "Huh?" he innocently asks.

Okay, I'd really like to wake up now.

My eyes narrow. So that's the game he wants to play? This isn't the time and I don't have the mental capacity to handle this. Not only am I recovering from a mind-blowing orgasm, but I was just getting over the overwhelming anxiety I suffered from yesterday.

"I'm not y/n, if that's what you're thinking," I rush to tell him, even adding in the fakest little smirk I've ever slapped onto my face. Anything to get him off my tail, whatever I can think of to save my ass. This really can't be happening to me.

He's still watching me speculatively and it's making my brain itch. "You know," he finally starts, voice disgustingly pleased. "I went out on a limb with that one." I watch in horror as a little smirk begins to grow on his face. I don't want to accept it yet, I really don't, but I think I'm fucked and not physically.

At the end of the day, he's still managed to fuck me in multiple ways. I cannot stand Sal Fisher.

"What are you even talking about?" I ask him, clearing my throat quietly while taking a safe step out of his door and into the living room. I try my best to keep my eyes on him while extinguishing the fear from my gaze. If I act horrified, he'll sniff me out instantly. That is, if he hasn't already.

Sal chuckles deeply— it's, shockingly, an amused and prideful one rather than something sick, dark, and twisted. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. I try my best not to adore the way his scars stretch with his laugh and the sight of his pretty teeth. "Any other woman would have assumed I was sleeping with someone else if I called them by another name," he says lightheartedly, tilting his head down a bit. "But you didn't. And that can only mean that I'm right."

I open my mouth to decline, fear thrumming through me. He caught me red handed. I can't fucking believe this.

"And don't try to deny it, you won't change my mind. I've been very sure of who you are for months now."

My head slowly begins to shake of its own accord. He never fails to shock me. "How..."

Sal shrugs. "You couldn't have timed your introduction more horrendously. Think about it," he says, chewing on his bottom lip. "I bitch at y/n over a phone call, then the next day, a wild VioletViolence pops into my life and isn't too surprised by my shitty personality. The second you were added to the Discord server, I had my suspicions." He shrugs nonchalantly, like the confirmation doesn't bother him in the slightest. "I talked it over with Larry and Todd too. They're pretty sure of your identity as well. They were just nice enough to wait for you to tell us on your own." His eyes narrow, sly like a fox. "But I'm not nice and wanted to know for myself. Wanted to scare you a bit too."

I swallow over the bile rising in my throat. Scare me, he did. I have no idea what to do with myself. I must look like a deer in headlights nearing its death sentence. "It... it doesn't bother you?" I decide to ask in a small voice, unable to blink as I watch him closely.

That same smug little smile is still lighting up his marred face as he says, "Regardless, I still can't stand you and I'll still fuck you stupid."

Chapter Text

"You are never allowed to leave me with him again."

I point an accusatory finger at Larry, making him keel back in his seat and scrunch up his nose.

"What the hell did he do to you?" Larry barks out, voice cracking beneath the weight of his tone.

I scoot onto a bar stool, watching as Ash pulls out a pan to cook dinner. As Larry's settling in beside me, ready to hear about the latest gossip, Todd walks through the door. It's been about an hour since Sal dropped his intimidation tactic on me and I haven't seen him since. Larry walked in with Ash mere minutes ago, the two of them giggling over their perfect timing.

I don't have even an ounce of giggle in me.

I shake my head at emo buff daddy. "I'm sure it'll be the first words out of that monster's mouth. Give him five minutes. Tops," I reply half heartedly, knowing full well that as soon as Sal realizes we're all gathered in the kitchen, he's going to come out and confirm everyone's suspicions about me.

Ash turns to me, string cheese hanging from her mouth as she says, "While the boys are out tomorrow, I'm taking you on a tour of Nockfell." She gives me a cute little half curtsy then turns back to prepping dinner, I guess.

She's used to Sal and I bickering at this point so the fact that more has happened means nothing to her.

"A tour won't be necessary considering y/n's already lived here."

I stay silent, watching the way Ash gives herself whiplash, mirroring the action with wide eyes. Larry makes a single sound, something caught between a screech and garbled choke. And Todd merely raises his brows a bit, setting his bag by the door and taking off his shoes.

Tongue in cheek, I stare straight into the kitchen, avoiding everyone's gazes even as Sal crosses my field of vision to steal the rest of Ash's cheese. I try not to watch the way he plucks the cheese from her lips then lifts up the bottom of his prosthetic to eat the rest.

Ash's brows furrow, lips parted as if she's still holding her cheese, then whirls around to smack the back of Sal's head. The man hisses at the assault, ruffling his cerulean hair where he rubs his head to soothe the ache.

"What the hell did you just say!?" Ash proceeds to bellow, her emerald eyes cutting into the Smurf's soul. Damn Travis for giving him that nickname.

"The obvious," Sal murmurs, buckling the bottom of his prosthetic back onto his face. His pretty face that I really wish I could see again.

This time, Ash doesn't snap back at him. Her eyes, still murderous, only hold Sal's gaze as her glossy lips press together.

"So," Larry hops into the conversation, seemingly trying to bite down whatever kerfuffle is brewing between Ash and Sal. "It's true then?" he continues. I turn my head, noting Larry's raised brows. He looks hopeful and a little... crushed all at the same time. "Why didn't you tell us all?"

My mouth opens to spew out whatever nonsense fills my head because he doesn't understand. And I don't know how to make him understand either. But I take a moment, snap my lips shut, and think about my response.

"We figured you'd tell us before Sal of all people." Todd's voice fills the hollow silence and that's when Larry's question finally clicks in my head. He didn't mean tell them all in general, he thinks I opened up to Sal about it before everyone else. It sounds like me hiding my identity doesn't even offend them in the slightest.

"I didn't tell this asshole a single thing," I bite out, gesturing to Sal who rears his head back as if someone finally told him he needs to repaint his damn nails. Offended. "He--" I purse my lips, trying to quickly reword this afternoon's events in a way that doesn't spell out the fact that Sal Fisher feasted on me like Thanksgiving dinner laid out on his gaming desk. I blink. "He walked out of his room, had an epiphany or something, and called me out by name. What was I supposed to do?"

It's quiet. Quiet in the sense that I could hear everyone's hearts pounding simultaneously if I focused hard enough. Up until: "I told her that we all knew. You guys were being nice about it and, well, I'm not. Case closed. Vi is y/n confirmed and now we can squash out the hiding and tiptoeing. Welcome to the real world." Sal's less-than-chipper, nonchalant voice echoes in the near silent kitchen as he explains himself, leaning against the sink beside Ash.

"Does Ash know though?" Larry raises an eyebrow at Sal and his expression is wary, concerned. Like he's afraid of the moment Ash squeals in excitement over this discovery.

Sal just gives his brother a bland look. "Brain, Lartholomew. Use your brain, not your cock."

Larry's eyes narrow. "I'll have you know that my schlong has never led me astray," he says pridefully. "But as for Ash," He turns his head and levels a glare at the beauty. "You didn't say a single word about this. What's up with that?"

It's my turn to cut in now. Ash isn't at fault here-- not a single bit of this falls onto her because all she did was exactly what I'd asked of her. She's been perfect.

"I asked her to stay quiet," I say, shriveling a bit as all heads turn to me, clearly waiting for an explanation. So I take a breath and tell them the truth-- at last. Shedding the weight of lying after dying to let it out and be honest for so long.

"A day or two before I came in as VioletViolence," I start, glancing between Todd and Larry. I'm talking to them-- Ash already knows the deal and I know Sal couldn't care less. "I watched the video where you guys talked about me. And I heard everything Sal had to say. I called Ash later, ended up having a short and quick chat with Sal--" I try not to aim a menacing glare at him while recalling the memory. "And then Ash... knowing that things kind of sucked for me in LA, offered to help me get started with streaming. You guys know I like games, she does too, so I decided to try it out. But in between that, I was terrified of Sal for whatever reason and didn't want to say who I truly was. What if he called me out online or refused to play or something? It just felt... it felt so dire," I try to explain, accentuating with my hands, desperate to portray what went through my mind. What led to this. "That I couldn't come out as myself. And I'm sincerely sorry for all of it-- for not being open with you guys sooner, for approaching the situation with a disguise to begin with. I'm sorry."

The words pour out of me and it takes every inch of my sanity not to fold in on myself. Admitting the truth is scarier than visiting the dentist. I should have just been honest from the start.

"So it's your fault."

I focus in on Larry who practically scowls through each word-- his head tilted at Sal and fury dancing in his pretty, chocolatey eyes.

My eyebrows raise as I watch the stare down between both men, taking a mental note to bet on who would win. Maybe I can make a couple bucks.

Unfortunately, my bet is on Sal simply because he's normally incredibly calm with his responses-- unless it's him and I arguing, of course. "If it's any consolation," he says, watching Larry without an inch of fear in those azure eyes. "I kind of feel bad about it."

I suck in a quick breath as some kind of tie unfastens around my heart. It's not an apology, but it's an emotion. From Sal. From the aggravation and... acquaintance he's slowly turning into for me... that has ailed my soul for months now.

It's not an apology, but it means something.

"Then do better, Fisher," Larry warns playfully, smacking his lips. "Y/n's family. She's not going anywhere. You have to get used to it."

Sal rolls his eyes, slipping back into his usual, foul personality. "Joy," he blandly states. And like a phantom wind, Sal simply slinks over to the fridge, grabs another string cheese, then disappears into his room. No wonder he's so damn pale-- I have no doubt he has some kind of vitamin deficiency.

Todd sighs, breaking the temporary silence that had settled over us. And for what it's worth, instead of arguing that I'm not family, Sal silently accepted it instead.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

The next morning, Ash has me up at the crack ass of dawn.

It's actually just 10pm, but it feels early enough considering Larry and I stayed up til 3am streaming together. We double-teamed heaping groups of poor, unfortunate victims in Among Us. It was really fun and our fans loved seeing us side-by-side on whoever's stream they decided to join.

Ash and I decided to spend the night too. Apparently, things didn't go down great at her house so she wanted to give her parents some time to cool off. I didn't want to pry, especially since it seemed like it wounded Ash too, so we pulled out the sofa bed and camped out in the living room together. The whole night, I could have sworn I felt something purring at my feet, but maybe it was just a dream.

I replaced my normal mask with a sleeping mask for the night. Doesn't cover as much but it's better than nothing, plus I had my head hidden under the blankets regardless. Either way, whatever I did managed to do the trick and no one discovered my other identity.

Both boys are apparently gone by now, having embarked on their own journeys that they claimed they had for the day.

"Come on, get up, time to go," Ash chirps like a mourning dove when all the morning glories begin to bloom. I am not having it, even as I follow her orders and change into some clothes for the day-- black skirt, Type O Negative merch shirt, and vans. Could be better, could be worse. Ash says I look 'smashing' though, even if the color of my outfit clashes with the violet of my mask.

When I walk into the kitchen, I grab a croissant resting on a paper plate and stuff it into my mouth for a quick breakfast. Ash grabs a crimson purse that looks like it costs more than my prospective college tuition would have, and gestures to the front door. "We're walking today, gorgeous," she tells me with a grin. "Nockfell's tiny. We get around on bikes or our feets."

"Feets?" I ask with a giggle, enjoying the cool breeze that flows into the house when Ash opens the front door.

Ash nods proudly. "Yup. Feets."

So we use our feets and walk through the little town of Nockfell. It's everything I remembered it being-- a scene straight out of the Halloween franchise. Tall oaks shedding their leaves, glowing a golden brown and yellow in the dim sunlight. That is, whatever little sunlight manages to shine through the overcast clouds that threaten to spill their rainy contents every second.

The pumpkins aren't in season yet. The numerous, empty crop fields we pass on our trip onto main street tells me as much. But it's only a matter of time now, just a couple months until little pumpkins begin to pop up.

"For now, we're dropping by Henry's music store, mainly because I know you want to see it since you like music and all. After that, we can do whatever you want-- or just go home. Doesn't matter to me," Ash says as we finally reach Nockfell's main street. It's this one road that runs straight through the heart of Nockfell. The road that travelers take to get through the city as quickly as possible.

I look over at my best friend, observing her wine colored lips that nearly match her purse, then her long-sleeved, grey crop top and black jeans. She's so pretty.

"Henry has a music store?" I ask once I remember that the goddess on my side spoke to me.

"Mhm," Ash hums, flipping her sort of short hair over her shoulder. "It's just a couple buildings away now," she continues, leaning toward me and pointing down the road ahead of us. I haphazardly glance, assuming that the giant record sign with an F in the middle is the store in question.

Ash and I are walking into the store just seconds later. We hover near the door only until Henry catches Ash's eye. She launches into a speed-walk in his direction, but I admire the inside of the store before following.

Guitars of various types and colors litter the walls of the store. So many... so many that I can't even count. And then the floor houses different drums, add-on's for instruments, and a wide variety of records. It's stunning-- so much so that I swear I can hear seraphim singing all around me. Such an angelic thing to see; the makings of the best genre of music.

When I snap out of my ogling, I walk over to where Ash is finishing up a conversation with Henry.

I smile at the man as he walks away from the front counter, moving over to help a young boy who's desperately trying to hold onto a guitar that's far too large for him. Sweet little thing.

I turn my attention to Ash who's chewing on the end of a pixie stick,-- I don't know where the hell she got it from-- gazing lazily at Henry's silhouette. Her eyes slide to mine, viridian irises shining in the various fluorescent lights that add a mystifying brightness to the space-y room. She gives me a bewitching smile, teeth imbedded into the stained paper of her candy.

With a smile back at her, I lean my elbows onto the counter I found her at and rest my chin in my palm. "Are we camping out with the boys again tonight?" I voice my internal question, watching as she purses her lips in contemplation.

"It's up to you," she murmurs, shrugging. "We've all been packed up for the most part since before we went to LA. We just have necessities to pick up— which, that's all at the boys' place because they all live together." I guess she's trying to avoid the topic of her parents. Her eyes glaze over me, thinking about the best option, no doubt. "We leave in two days— more than enough time to pack up their kitchen and get my boxes into a van."

"I'm fine with either option," I bashfully admit. I hate making decisions— I don't want to disappoint anyone, especially when I'm more than happy to do whatever.

Ash narrows her eyes at me playfully, scrutinizing me and my lacking decision lightheartedly. "I'll just ask Larry what he wants to do then," she chirps. Bless Ash and her ability to find a solution to everything. "Would you be able to put up with Sal for another night if we decide to stay?"

I snort. "Yea, don't worry about that. He seems to be the type to lock himself in his room for hours on end and never come out," I chuckle a bit as I think about how I was occupying a few minutes of those hours for him yesterday. "That means we'd hardly cross paths."

Ash tilts her head, lips quirked up lightly as her hair falls into her eyes. My fingers itch to push the strands away from the forest of green hiding beneath. "I think he's warming up to you," she counters my rationale with something so obnoxiously ridiculous that I nearly fall over.

"Yea, okay," I answer sarcastically, unable to hold back the crazed laugh that falls from my lips.

The music in the room suddenly grows louder, cutting off our conversation. Ash jumps out of her skin, eyes momentarily going wide. But then they narrow, brows bunched together as her gaze shoots to me.

"Why the hell is it so loud?" she voices my thoughts.

But that's the thing, it isn't just loud. It's suspiciously concert-like. "Is someone playing?" I ask, turning to see if Henry is the culprit— I hear guitar and drums. Someone is playing Save Me by Killswitch Engage beautifully.

Ash whips her head to the side like she got sucker punched. I watch as confusion flits across her features, and then stony concern. Clear apprehension exemplified by the pinching of her lips, but some frustration mixed in there too if her furrowed eyebrows are a hint to anything.

So I turn my head to look where she is too, finding that someone is playing. Well, people are playing. Todd's boyfriend, Neil, is going to town on a drum kit like a pro. I'd noticed the set up upon walking into the store but I didn't think it was usable.

I'm thinking Neil might play a big part in my life-- more specifically, he might play a big part in a very specific band.

And in front of him is a man with a guitar in his hands. A blue guitar and that red, gold, and black mask with music notes. Intricate, loud, mysterious. And I am one hundred percent hallucinating right now because why the fuck would North be in Nockfell of all places? The Faces' hometown or not, this is fever dream material.

"What the fuck." Words fall from my lips before I can really think better about them, my eyes darting over every inch of North's figure like an alligator staring at its prey-- probably something innocent like a bunny. I feel like such chaos compared to North who has been nothing but pure, sweet, and tender to me. But the way his fingers, clad in fingerless leather gloves, move along the strings of his vibrant guitar, his mask tilted down with his head as he watches his finger placement and movements, and the positioning of his entire body as he shreds through a guitar solo. What else is supposed to go through my mind other than unintelligible button smashing? My mental keyboard's letters are flying around my head like a fucking tornado.

A monotonous, mumbled reply from Ash makes me blink at the rockstar, my eyes never leaving his form. "Dark Autumn Complex recorded their music video here," she answers the question I failed to ask— she knows me so well. "I thought they'd left."

Tongue in cheek and heart racing a mile a minute, I say, "Why am I just finding out about this?"

"Because it didn't matter at first," she instantly replies, voice a tad louder. "But now I'm starting to wonder if what Larry said was true."

I gulp. I've been wondering about that too. About North's supposed crush on me. I assumed it was all in good fun, but Ash possibly finding some hidden truth in the matter makes my stomach feel queasy. And the queasiness isn't bad.

I bite down on my bottom lip, watching as North and Neil close the song, breaking off on a heavy chord before taking a moment to catch their breath. Neil wipes beads of sweat off his forehead, captivating smile enveloping his face and illuminating his mocha skin. Todd wasn't lying when he flaunted about his boyfriend being a complete catch.

North, on the other hand, lets his guitar hang from his chest and turns to Neil, uttering something quiet enough to the point that Ash and I can't hear. It's clear that the two men are communicating though because Neil is nodding his head in agreement, laughing heartily, and talking back to him.

I turn away, facing Ash who stands behind the counter. I don't need to get myself tangled up in another messy situashionship. Sal's more than enough in that department, plus North is too gentle for that. I wouldn't do that to him. I don't need all this strife and mess. It's probably better if I don't talk to North anymore, even if the thought pulls at my heartstrings a little too hard.

Ash is chewing on the inside of her cheek, eyes slowly roving around and growing closer to my own body. My breath catches in my throat as I contemplate what to do within the next few moments. My best friend looks anything but content and I know her eyes are tracking North's movements. Her calculated emerald eyes say enough.

My lunch leaps into my throat when arms cage me in from behind, hands resting on the counter on either side of me. I have, like, five seconds tops to decide on a plan before I address the man behind me and his very bold approach. Wow, never thought I'd be shooting down a hot guy like this.

I run my tongue over the surface of my teeth, tilting my head up a bit to find that fancy mask hovering over my body and showing off what looks like grey eyes that are solely focused on me.

My heart thumps like there are a thousand little miners embedding pickaxes into the crevices of the organ, trying to dig their way through to see what lovely minerals they'll find. It's almost too much— the little intrigued, shocked twinkle in the masked man's shaded eyes and the way his fingertips dig into the wood counter in front of me, arms encircling my body like a shield.

I slap a smile onto my lips, a smile that undoubtedly looks nauseated and a mess. But it's a smile. "Hi, North." The words pop past my lips and I thank my body's natural instincts for a moment. I always babble when I'm cornered and I appreciate that weakness at the moment. It might scare him off before I have to possibly break his heart. Hopefully it doesn't come to that.

My head tilts downward again and I carefully shift myself, turning my body around to face the man as he takes a step away. In addition, his head tips to the side almost as if he didn't expect me to speak.

So I keep speaking despite how badly I wish I could shut up now. The babbling worked a second ago but this consistency— I might as well consider myself a pile of vines wrapping my way around this poor guy's legs. I can't stop.

"My cousin thinks you're hot." I seethe on the inside, willing myself to just shut the fuck up. I've said all of seven words to him in the span of a full minute and it's already getting worse. "Can I get a picture of you to send to him?" Y/n, please, for the love of everything holy.

I'd never truly be able to explain the panic that coursed through me upon seeing him playing his guitar, but having him suddenly right in front of me has sent me into flight or flight mode. My fight instincts are to bargain my way out or yap until someone gets bored with me so... here we are.

Much to my chagrin, North fucking nods. This walking, breathing, living piece of sex on a stick nods at me to signal his agreement to a picture. And now I'm stuck and Ash can't see my face so she doesn't know the fear roiling through my limbs right now, taking over my brain and turning me into someone I'm not. Arguably.

So I lift my phone with shaky fingers and slap the most pathetically petrified grin on my face to take a quick picture of us and send it to Travis because now I have to follow through with the stupid last minute plan.

But things always get worse when it comes to me. I make a mental note to stop putting myself in tricky situations the moment that North moves beside me and stands so close that his arm has to wrap around my upper back and his chest is pressed into my shoulder. I lose every sense, falter for such a long moment that I forget how to breathe.

The warmth radiating through the right side of my body is intense, alongside the cool fingers gently pressing into the top of my left arm where his hand wrapped around me. I hear a sigh from behind— Ash.

His mask taps against the side of mine and I realize that I can just make out the sound of his even breathing. Quiet, muffled, unbothered. This is nothing to him— likely something he does with fans quite often. Does he get this close to them too? Is he this intimate with everyone? Based on how comfortable he seems, I'd guess this is routine. I'm nothing special— and I don't know if that's relaxing or the reason my own bodily functions haven't returned to normal yet.

I gulp, flipping my camera to take a picture of us together. I muster up the best little smile I can force, a slight tilt of my lips and squinting of my eyes. North presses his face a little closer against mine, the plastic of our masks causing a dull scratching sound that reverberates through my entire skull. A tattoo in the lonely, forgotten, impenetrable part of my brain that swore off any little desperate feelings of tenderness years ago.

I snap the picture quickly and bring my phone down, hastily clicking onto Travis's contact to send the photo. "Thanks," I shakily chirp to North, "I'll keep it forever." I say it with a subtle tone of finality, hoping that it'll result in him moving away... but he stays, chin on my shoulder as my quivering fingers hover over the keyboard.

Okay. I guess he's curious. He must be enjoying the way I'm very obviously squirming.

I type out a quick text before sending the picture.

Me: guess what :3
Me: (1 attachment)

Travis's response comes no less than a full five seconds later, the little text bubble popping up the way North popped into Nockfell today. I hate my life.

Simp for the Entire Male Population: BITTTTTCCCCHHHHH
Simp for the Entire Male Population: Hold on, FaceTime me so I can show him my cock.

That brings me a little bit of joy. I snort at the message, noting that it's the exact moment that North finally moves— but it's not away from me, it's a laugh he's barely able to keep hidden, a snort just like mine if you will. I could love this man, I really could, but I won't.

And then he plucks my phone from my fingers which sets me into fight mode again, but this time I'll actually drop kick him. I have a lot to lose with my phone in someone else's hands— if he clicks out of my messages with Travis, he could see my real name somewhere. He could see my messages with my dad, hell, he could see my messages with Sal— that perpetually unsaved number sitting in my messages with his last text including the name Lexi.

A flicker of unadulterated fear and failure makes me feel as if I'll vomit, sweat building up on my forehead at the mere prospect. But North, he doesn't move my phone from my view— holds it out in front of both our faces as he types out a quick message that says,

Me: no doubt mine'll be bigger -N

I swallow past the dryness in my mouth. What a brave guy to test my cousin like that. Travis enjoys a challenge. I'm lucky that I'm family because otherwise I'd have an unwanted dick pic floating in, I'm sure. Maybe these two should exchange phone numbers.

Travis hasn't messaged back, but North starts typing again.

Me: post our picture.

He doesn't send the message, just leaves it there for a second for me to see. Then he holds down the backspace button, deleting the message entirely.

I blink. Once, twice, a third time before I fully process his message.

"You want me to post our picture?" I ask him, making the mistake of turning my head to look at him. And he's close, too close— so close that even he finally backs away, keeping a safe but friendly distance between us. He nods his confirmation while simultaneously allowing me to take my first breath of air without shuddering since he first walked over here.

North nods again, shifting his weight into a more relaxed stance, his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Dressed the same way he was at his concert. So Noah Sebastian-coded.

I nod back, wielding a mental knife that stabs and slices at the awkwardness I've caused. I can't stand myself— I shouldn't be like this. If anything, he should be. He's the one who called me his idol the other day.

Regardless of my current circumstances, I open up Instagram and post our picture, making sure to tag North and their band account. I don't bother putting a caption though. I don't have the brain power to come up with anything smart or witty. I don't have the brain power to come up with anything at all.

I post the photo then lock my phone with lightening speed and stuff it into my pocket. I don't want to be present when the comments and likes start to roll in, especially not in front of him.

My attention goes back to North who's still standing in front of me. He tilts his head down a bit, as if to show me he's pleased then takes a step forward. He moves fluidly, like a gentle wave in a calm ocean as his hand lifts and his fingers tap under my chin. It's a featherlight, minuscule touch that tilts my head up just a tad before he pulls his hand away again. A thank you, nice to see you, wish I didn't have to leave, and see you later. That's what that touch was. All in one.

He looks over my shoulder at Ash, offers her a wave, glances back at me then turns on his heel. And like he was never even here to begin with, his presence is gone-- disappeared behind a door labled 'Employees Only.' I feel like I went through something that dreamcatchers are supposed to keep at bay. The only remnants and confirmation that what I just lived through was real being the most recent photo in my camera roll, one that I don't have the balls to look at right now.

And then my body betrays me. A fluttering deep in my soul makes me press a hand to my chest as if I'm trying to release trapped butterflies. Trying to scrounge up a lost breath, searching high and low for a medical explanation as to why my fingers tremble. Why my legs feel like jello. Why my stomach is twisted into knots that are too tight to unravel. Why my body feels so light, but my mental feels so drained. Why I feel drawn to chase that man behind the door while battling the internal faint feeling that has me swaying on my feet.

This feeling doesn't seem as terrible as it did when I felt it with Sal. The attraction. The tender affection that grips me in its ambrosia-drenched, quietly dangerous vices.

I stare at the empty spot where North stood just seconds ago. The spot that Neil suddenly fills up.

"Hey," he drawls in such a milky tone, pretty smile stealing my attention for just a moment. "You're Vi, right? I've heard a lot about you from Ash and Todd!" His umber skin, illuminated by the low lighting in the store, captures my gaze when just a singular bead of sweat drips down his neck and disappears beneath the collar of his shirt.

I'll never say it out loud but, damn, is Todd a lucky man. I feel like I'm looking at a god of old age right now-- the type that's too perfect even for statues.

I suck in a breath and force another smile on my face. I'll worry about North later.

"Hey, Neil," I start cooly, offering the man my outstretched hand. "Yea, I am Vi but I'm also y/n-- not sure if everyone else told you yet. But, nice to see you again."

Neil's brows raise in surprise. "Ah, no, seems Todd left me out of the teacup this time." He chuckles lowly, showing off that handsome grin again. "I haven't seen you since grade school! How have you been?"

I shrug, smiling in turn. "Not really thriving, but surviving," I admit with a chirp, drowning in Ash's silence while Henry's chipper form grows closer to us.

Neil tilts his head and purses his lips as if to say that he relates. But when he speaks again, it's the last thing I expected to hear.

"You know, I noticed you kept perfect beat with my drumming earlier. Do you play at all?"

My eyes widen a bit. I hadn't even realized he noticed me, nor did I realize that I was keeping beat with the song he and North played. A little breathless, I reply, "I've played for seven years. Haven't for the last year though because of my living situation, but..."

"Wow," he whispers, leaning closer to inquire in that smooth voice. "Seven years?" He puffs his cheeks, blowing out a breath. "That's... a while. Would you want to play?"

Where my chest felt filled to the brim mere moments ago, it suddenly feels achingly hollow. Play? Again? It's been over or near twelve full months since I so much as touched my drum kit that's been packed away in three separate boxes. I've ached to wrap my fingers around drumsticks again and get lost in the beat of a good song.

But there's anxiety deep in my gut because it's been so long. I don't know if I can even still play anymore.

"I don't know," I tell him weakly, glancing over his shoulder at the immaculate drum kit. Set up and spotless, drumsticks resting on top of the snare. "I don't think I'd be any good. Not what I used to be."

Neil shakes his head exasperatedly. "Girl, you played for seven years. That isn't just a talent anymore, that's second nature. Drumming is breathing. You could lose both your hands and still find a way to play. Get get on that kit before I drag you there." His voice is aggressive, but in that loving, coddling type of way. Still aggressive enough to make me flinch into a quick walk toward that daunting drum kit in the middle of the room.

Ash, Neil, and Henry follow behind me as I round the kit and plop into the chair, staring down at the instrument that haunts me night and day. The one thing that kept me tethered to this world when nothing else could. Cymbals, toms, snare, bass. It's all here.

I chew on the inside of my cheek and delicately pick up the drumsticks, flipping one around in my left hand. The little trick I used to flaunt in high school.

My eyes drag up to Ash who's watching me with stars in her eyes. She catches my gaze and clears her throat. "I didn't know you played," she rasps out.

"You know I like my secrets," I croon, tilting my head a bit. "Got a song request?"

"Well knowing you, it's all rock or metal," she snorts, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"You're correct," I snicker, waiting for a song name or band, something. I covered a lot of songs during my free time in high school. If Ash gives me the one hard song she knows, I'll probably be able to play it.

"Wherein Christine Daaé Becomes Her Own Phantom?" Ash asks, eyes narrowing as her face contorts into a nervous cringe. A Dark Autumn Complex song. Of course. One of their first from however long ago.

I giggle as confirmation, readying my sticks and giving myself a moment to think back on all the memories that Neil was right about. I've done this long enough. It is second nature and it always will be.

With the first hit of my drumstick, I fall into a bridge between dimensions. A bridge only available when I immerse myself, lose myself in the art that comes with music. Comes with creating and mimicking it. Time slips by on a breeze, slow but so death-defyingly fast. Quiet, but pounding in every inch of my being.

And I only return to reality when I realize I'm nearing the end of the song, drawing off with a final note and staring at the echoing drums in front of me, my fingers numbing and sticks hot in my hands.

I missed this so much.

I don't have time to wonder how I did or feel stage fright because my lovely best friend takes that opportunity away.

Ash's loud, reverberating squeal drags my gaze up from the kit. My eyes meet her teary ones first. She looks so excited, hands curled underneath her chin as she grins brightly. Beside her though, the only really attention-grabbing figure is North who's resurfaced from his hiding place at the back of the store. But he just looks at me-- his dark eyes don't crinkle in a smile, he doesn't walk over to me or make a move at all. Just stands next to Henry who looks like he could cry with the kind of pride only a father can have. And Neil, he's at my side, I realize, when a warm hand clasps onto my shoulder.

I whip my head to him, gazing up at his much taller figure. "See?" he exclaims, gesturing to the drums. "I knew you had it in you. You need to get back on a kit and keep working. Don't give this up. You're really good." He gives me an encouraging smile that has my mind reeling with possibilities.

That smile gives me hope. So I smile back at that hope.

As I'm standing to leave this gorgeous drum kit behind, I notice Ash angle a blinding glare at North beside her. The man doesn't acknowledge the expression, or her for that matter. When Ash looks back to me though, I wonder if I really did see a glare because she looks so happy, so filled with positivity. Maybe the look was in my head.

The woman comes bounding over to me, her dainty hand gently wrapping around my wrist. "Let's head home," she says, ditching her plan of letting me pick where to go next in the city. "I have to stop by the Nockfell Psychward first--"

"I'm sorry," I cut in, watching her warily. "The psychward? Nockfell has one of those?"

Ash waves me off. "Not an actual psychward, silly. That's just what we call our local grocery store. Filled with all kinds of people, customers and employees alike, who really need to be admitted." She looks off into the distance like she's reminiscing about something before her forest eyes clash with mine again. "Let's go!"

Ash begins dragging me out of the music store, the grip on my wrist going from gentle to dominating in a quick second. It makes me wonder what kind of rollercoaster her lovers must go through when it comes to her.

I turn a head over my shoulder, waving at Henry, Neil, and North who watch Ash kidnap me like this is a normal occurrence. All three wave back just as we disappear through the doors, but I watch North until he's nothing but a speck of dust hidden behind those tinted doors. Until we're already walking far enough down the road that I can see Nockfell's grocery store just a little ways away. Or, as Ash calls it, the Nockfell Psychward.

Ash and I are finished with our shopping trip within just ten minutes, the two of us holding three bags each on one arm and coveting hot coffee in our other free hand.

Ash sips from her coffee, licking her lips clean of the brown liquid before she turns to me with something fiery flashing in her eyes. Our walk back to Sal, Larry, Todd, and Neil's place is just about five minutes as far as I've heard.

I match Ash's steps as she watches me, holds my gaze, starts brewing something in that beautiful, jewel-encrusted mind of hers.

"Is there something going on that you haven't told me about?" She asks, an edge to her voice that makes my limbs lock up. I almost trip over my feet.

Does she know? About me and Sal? We've been careful, covered our tracks fairly well, as far as I'm aware. Maybe Sal's been talking? Maybe I'm overthinking? But for her to hit me with this kind of question...

"Uh, not that I'm aware of?" I force out through trembling lips, hoping that the veer-off from the truth is believable enough.

Ash's eyes narrow and I feel like I might dissipate into the afterlife right here on the side of the road.

"So North's infatuation with you is just... random." She states-- states, not asks-- and tilts her head forward like she can read the lies and truths swirling around in my head.

Oh, she's thinking that me and North have something going on.

I almost feel inclined to lead her in that direction-- to think that maybe North and I are involved so that it keeps her away from suspecting me and Sal. But I'm already hiding enough from her. Lying to her again, roping North into it... it feels unnecessary. Feels cruel.

"Yes," I say truthfully, taking a quick sip of my peppermint mocha. "I'm as confused and shocked as you are," I tell her, gesturing with my cup. "But I'm not opposed to it either."

It pains me to watch the grim expression that takes over Ash's face, the way she pinches her lips together like she knows she's going to disappoint me.

"It's..." She trails off, looking up to the cloudy, grey sky as she tries to find the right words. "It's... odd. The whole thing is weird." She jerks her head to the side as if to take back what she said, but adds to the statement instead. "I know it's not my place to get involved, but it just doesn't sit right with me. It's so... just..."

"Wrong? Random? Unnecessary? Misplaced?" I fill in the blank for her, voicing my own thoughts on the matter. These words have been plaguing me regarding North's sudden focus on me. I'm nothing but the dirt beneath his feet-- so why is he into me at all?

"Well, now that you say it," Ash starts. "I can tell why he's interested. You're beautiful with a stunning and selfless personality to match. Literally, who wouldn't fall for you?"

I smile at my dear friend, red painting my cheeks from her words. I don't have a response, not when she's completely countered both our thought processes.

"I'll just bully Sal about it since they're close," she quips, shrugging. "I've never seen North go for anyone but fuck buddies and I don't want that for you, so I'm gonna get the message to him in some way. I'll make sure he knows of my wrath."

We walk a little ways farther up the road, turning into Sal's driveway. I'm so immersed in what Ash has said that I nearly miss the very well cared for '67 Camaro parked beside the house. It's a little worse for wear, shows its age, but the black paint is fresh, glistening. It's clearly loved.

My guess is that it's Neil. He was the only one who wasn't at the house yesterday-- he probably beat Ash and I home.

But I focus on Ash as we walk up the front steps to the house. "Just don't hurt his face," I joke to her, watching as she turns the doorknob, pushing it open with her hip. "I know he's pretty beneath that mask."

"How do you know that?" Ash snorts, setting her three bags on the table. I follow suit.

"All masked men are hot," I say, shrugging. "I know North is going to be beautiful the same way I knew Sal would be."

Ash snaps her head to look at me. The action is so quick that I wonder how she didn't snap her neck. "You think Sal is beautiful?" She asks, her words a grating, exasperated shrill.

I wince, watching her with furrowed brows. "I'm stating the obvious," I argue, holding my hands up in surrender. "I mean, come on, he's a handsome man with a pretty face."

I mean those words. I've meant them every time I've said this. Sal has such a nice face-- scars and all.

Ash seems to contemplate, those viridian eyes roving over me the entire time. "Yea...true," she finally settles on, "Sal is pretty." But there's something in her gaze that says she's wary.

Movement seems to catch Ash's eye the moment she utters those words, because she snaps her head forward again. Her neck is really going to hurt later. But I follow her gaze, coming to the horrible realization that Sal is just... here. He's leaning against the edge of the kitchen table across from Ash and I, watching with those haunting sapphire eyes.

I don't have words. They've failed me. Someone needs to put me out of my misery.

"You," Ash practically growls, pointing a finger at Sal like it's a Sith Lord's lightsaber. Her voice is menacing, holding a fuck ton of hidden, murderous desires. "Put your friend on a fucking leash."

Her seething words make me take a step back. The sheer, bloodthirsty undertones take me back to the conversation we had on the way here. She told me she'd bully Sal about North, but maybe she only put up that front to keep me off her tail. So I wouldn't freak out or tell her to leave things be. Because the way she's stomping over to Sal right now, getting in his face with a nasty scowl taking over her features, says that maybe she really is angry and put-off by this whole thing with North.

Sal looks down at her, prosthetic face perfectly masking his emotions like it always does. His eyes do a great job of holding up that nonchalant expression as he carefully says, "If my friend did it and I didn't, then there's no reason for you to come at me like this." Those words are meticulous. No yelling. No anger. Just... words. But that alone seems terrifying, especially when he adds, "Back off."

Ash concedes to his request, taking a singular step back to put some space between them. My body grows warm beneath the tension, the pressure of watching these two stare at each other-- one hot-headed and ready to knock the shorter one down, and the other the complete epitome of calm aggression with no fear in his stance.

"I'm serious, Sal," Ash warns. I've never heard her so grave before. "He's playing with fire and if he adds anymore fuel, the results won't be pretty. Talk to North. You need to talk to him." She takes a deep breath, harsh voice softening a bit. "And you tell him that I said he needs to figure his shit out and leave y/n alone. Because I know him. And I know that he's going to play her like a fucking fiddle if he isn't threatened."

Oh. So when she said that North only had fuck buddies, she meant that she doesn't trust him with me. Even if she doesn't realize that I'm in some kind of shituationship with the man right in front of her-- fuck buddies-- whichever it is. She's just looking out for me, obviously, but that assertive stance she's taken against it... I can't help but feel like letting her dig a hole for this blooming thing between North and I is the best decision.

Sal doesn't reply to her. But he does stand a bit straighter, puts his hands into the pockets of his sweats. And then his head turns to me.

A dark ocean of endless blue meets my gaze as he asks in a low, authoritative tone, "What did he say to you?"

The question catches me off guard. The way he articulated the words, the tone he used. All suggesting someone playing a protective role. It sends that fluttering feeling through me again.

My mouth goes dry as I battle my own mind, fighting for the right thing to say. But I don't know what to say. Between Sal making me feel things I shouldn't and North leading me into a corner, I'm stuck.

I subconsciously shake my head, mouth gaping like a fish as my heart pounds wildly in my chest, my body still warm with anxiety. "It's-- He--" I falter, swallowing thickly before I try again. "It's nothing bad, per se." I shrug shakily as Ash turns her head to assess me too. "Some flirting online, and-- and we took a picture today. He grabbed my chin. That's about it. It's really... not a big deal."

"Wait, he's been flirting with you online?" Ash asks, emerald irises zeroing in on me just as her voice grows harsh yet again. Even Sal tilts his head, eyes narrowed.

Ash walks over to me and I already know what she's silently asking for. Proof.

It may not be a big deal to me, but if Sal is actively getting involved... maybe it's bigger than I think.

So I pull my phone out of my back pocket to show her our interaction from a couple days ago. But it turns out I don't need to.

The very first notification on my phone, among a few others, is from North. A comment under the picture I'd posted of us.

dacnorthxx: pretty girl <3

My lips part in surprise at the same moment Ash lets out a grumble of frustration behind me.

And Ash, ever the leader and queen that she is, leaves my side and walks up to Sal again. She puts a predatory hand on his arm, fingers gripping his clothed skin.

"Handle it," she seethes from behind clenched teeth. "Or I will."

Chapter Text

dacnorthxx: pretty girl <3
sfcommm: OMG?? ok they're def dating
wtfsally: I thought Vi and Sal were gunna end up together butttt honestly this is a vibe. I like it
belongingtoash: VIOLETHHHHH LETS GOOOOOOO
toodswithouthed: @dacnorthxx BROTHER THE RIZZ??????????
dacnorthxx: @toodswithouthed they don't call me the rizzler for nothing
belongingtoash: oh he definitely pulled her. but does he pull out?
dacnorthxx: @belongingtoash what's the name of that lil debbie pie?
larrysbitch: @dacnorthxx LMFAAOOOOO I KNOW YOU DIDN'T
dacnorthxx: @larrysbitch how do u know i didn't if i literally did
violethshipper: ^^^omfg someone give this man a medal.

----------

I want to go back to Sal's house.

If anyone asks, I never said that. Never admitted it. I will take those eight words to my grave and into the afterlife. But standing in the middle of a pot-hole infested road in the middle of Nockfell's forest with no prior reasoning to be here has me on edge.

Todd and Neil ditched us for another date night, which is starting to sound like an excuse to get way from us. So Ash gathered me, Sal, and Larry out here (apparently Larry is in on the plan) and told me the weather would be chilly, so I should 'dress appropriately.'

It's fucking colder than a witch's tit out here. Chilly to me translates to long sleeves, not coat weather.

But we're here, the sun drifting toward the horizon behind my best friend's sunset-encrusted silhouette and an evil grin dominating her partner-in-crime's handsome face.

"I've gathered you here today to participate in a life or death simulation," Ash chirps, like that statement isn't going to strike fear in the hearts of all-- well, me.

I purse my lips, turning from Ash and Larry to glance at Sal. He's dressed comfy; in the same Breaking Benjamin hoodie I accidentally wore in Vegas-- I'm shocked he didn't burn the thing-- to go with black sweats and dirty shoes. And he did something different with his hair. Something that I hate him for.

Ash said 'the woods' and he proceeded to sigh, then put half his hair up into a little bun all while grabbing another string cheese. Then he walked out the house.

I really, really hate him for it.

"Are you going to ask or what?" Ash's clipped words snap at the open air like a whip.

I pinch my lips together and focus on my darling Ash. "Why am I out here?"

A stunning smile builds on her glossy lips. "I'm so glad you asked, bellissima! We are going to play hide-n-seek. You and Sal are going to be finding a hiding spot-- no context as to why you're paired up included." She holds a hand out to exemplify her point, stopping the obvious question before it can even form on my lips. My stomach drops out of my ass regardless though.

"Larbear and I will not be seeking you, we'll be hunting you." Her eyebrows raise as that smile on her pretty face turns cunning. "You have five minutes. We'll hike to Sal's, then back here and that will end your time to hide. I suggest you make haste, my lovely little victims."

I gape at her, the plan sounding more and more evil as she keeps running her freaking mouth.

Larry lifts a hand, index finger pointed in the air. "And you two are not allowed to kill each other either." Ash nods her head vigorously in agreement.

"So yea!" She chirps, hands behind her back as she grins mischievously at me, a malicious glint in her forest eyes. "Larry and I will see you two losers when we find you. Good luck!"

"Hold on!" I stammer over my words, taking a big step toward Larry and Ash as they... run in the opposite direction. Gone in the blink of an eye. I pinch my lips together, heart sinking into the depths of my despair. "This is going to end in murder!" I bellow for good measure even though they can't hear me.

I swallow thickly, blinking at the now empty street. It's just us two.

"If it ends in murder, I'll haunt you," Sal's voice makes me sigh. It's monotonous, nonchalant. No emotion.

I spin on my heels to look at him. He's standing in the middle of the road, hands in his hoodie pockets.

Half his hair is up in that bun, the rest hanging over his shoulders as he watches me, completely emotionless. And as empty as he seems right now, the nature around him still makes him glow. The sun setting behind him, the canopy of Nockfell's forest framing his body. What a sight to behold-- it's just a damn shame that he's the person that mother nature is admiring so lovingly.

A shiver takes hold of my body when the slight breeze picks up for a moment, but I do my best to mask it as a grimace instead. I can't let this monster of a man see me weak. It'll only end badly for me.

Can't hide shit from Sal Fisher, by the way.

His eyes light up, his stance straightening a bit. "Are you cold?" he asks, a bit of something in his tone even if it was just to make his question actually sound like a question.

I grumble to myself. "It's Ash's fault," I snap. "She told me it would be chilly. Chilly in eternally autumnal Nockfell and chilly in blazingly hot LA are two very different things." I clench my teeth, begging them not to chatter. "Two different things she did not take into account."

My gaze gravitates to my black jeans and the tight-fitted, long-sleeved violet shirt that I borrowed from Ash earlier. Things could be worse, but this shirt is still thin as hell.

Being that The Faces are so accustomed to the constant chill here in Nockfell, fifty degrees isn't cold to them. But in Los Angeles, I'm lucky to see fifty degrees in the winter. This, to me, is cold. Especially with the sun beginning to go down.

I focus in on Sal again. He's staring at me. It's awkward, neither of us know what to do. Ash and Larry have taken off back to Sal's to count. I don't know where on earth to go. Sal looks like he'd rather be anywhere else and be stuck with anyone else. But hey, that makes two of us.

With a breath, Sal tilts his head down. Then he starts easing his arms out of his hoodie. For a moment, I fear that he's going to give that damn hoodie to me. But then I remember that this is Sal, I mean, come on. He's probably just warm because he's used to the weather here.

Was the fear of him offering me his hoodie wishful thinking?

No. 'Course not.

I purse my lips at the thought, continuing to watch Sal as he carefully pulls the hoodie over his head, careful not to mess up his styled hair.

Where could we hide? Should we hide at all or just bump into Ash and Larry with a half-assed 'haha, wow you found us?'

My brows furrow when Sal walks closer to me, holding... out... the hoodie...

I choke on my own saliva, taking a staggering step back as the retaliation of my own traitorous ideas comes rearing it's fugly head. Had the thought not crossed my mind, I wouldn't be in this predicament right now.

Sal turns his head slightly, eyes narrowed like I freaked him out or something. Like I'm weird. Like I'm some kind of fairy with wings that suddenly popped out of the forest.

"Hell no," I cackle, holding a hand out in front of me and shaking it, hoping that my hand's movement will wipe away that damn hoodie. "Cut that shit out. Put your hoodie back on." The words come out in a maniacal shrill, but I don't know how to control myself in this kind of scenario.

My anxious, terror-ridden reaction seems to spark some kind of emotion in Sal. As if taunting me, he takes a step closer and presses the hoodie into my hand. I back away quickly like he's burned me and he has the audacity to laugh.

I have every reason to believe that he'd chase me around with that hoodie if I showed too much fear.

"Seriously, Sal," I warn, narrowing my eyes at him to show him I'm serious. "Stop."

In turn, Sal sighs. "Just take it. It's not to be cute or anything. You should know as much." Amusement tinges his raspy voice. "But if you freeze out here, you won't be able to pack all my shit tomorrow."

"Why would I pack your shit?" I ask, immediately offended. What does he think I am? His servant?

"I'm the only one driving. Most of our boxes are coming with me. Do you not communicate with anyone? Or do you not listen?" He inquires with a smack of his lips. "That's a fatal character flaw, Vi."

I scrunch up my face in distaste, rage flaring through me. He definitely does this on purpose. "For your information, no one bothered to inform me. At least know the full story before you start assuming my character flaws." I point an accusatory finger at him, watching him silently before my eyes flit down to the hoodie that he's still holding out to me.

He called me Vi, not by my name.

With a disgruntled groan, I snatch the hoodie from his grasp and start fumbling to get it on. I'm thankful for my mask in the moment since it hides the light blush working onto my cheeks.

The hoodie's still warm from his body, wrapping me up in a lush embrace. I sigh as comfort takes hold of me-- I can't believe I initially fought this off. What was the point? Now I'm warm and I won't freeze to death. Plus, the collar smells just like him. A little minty, a dash of cologne that's a mix of pine and rainwater, and then a sweet detergent.

"I didn't know you drove," I grumble, popping my head through the hoodie while keeping a hand placed over my mask so it doesn't fall off. Sal tilts his head at me, hair looking completely untouched whereas mine is now a frizzy mess.

"You must not observe your surroundings," he replies. This time there's a little, lighthearted bite to it. His eyes seem brighter than they did just minutes ago. Some of his personality is coming back to him. I wonder what ever took it away in the first place. "Car in the driveway's mine."

I blanch, eyes practically popping out of my head. "That Camaro is yours?" I practically spit the words out, patting down my hair. "How are you even able to-- to drive? With the prosthetic?"

"Great question, especially considering I only have one eye." Sal's gaze never leaves mine, like he's testing me with that information.

While I didn't know that for sure, I could have assumed he was at least blind in one eye due to the dilation of only one pupil instead of both. But it's nothing surprising. The scars on his face said as much about him.

So I narrow my eyes as if I'm studying every move he makes. "How'd you trick 'em into giving you a license then?" I ask, nothing but scrutiny lacing my tone. "Did you kill them?" I point a finger at my temple. "Mind control?"

My aim was to aggravate him, but to my surprise, he actually chokes on a laugh. And it's an adorable reaction-- so much so that in the moment, I feel like we're friends. I like him like this. I feel... this feels...

His eyes scrunch closed and he tilts his head down, hair flowing over his shoulders and chest bobbing with his laughter. He even puts a hand on his stomach as the lovely sound continues to pour out of him. I can't help but add in a little chuckle of my own.

Sal takes a deep breath before standing up again, ambling a bit closer to me as his hair blows in the wind, only bits of it contained in his little bun. "That's a first," he says breathlessly. "And the best reaction to someone finding out I'm disabled."

I can't wipe the wide grin off my face as I shrug. "Seriously though," I say, giggles attached to the words. "How are you able to drive? Isn't that-- not being able to see fully-- wouldn't that be a hazard?"

Sal nods his confirmation. "I shouldn't be driving, but I can. My promise was to never drive outside of Nockfell, so once we get to LA, things are unfortunately going to change." His decent mood seems to diminish a bit at the mention. "And as for the license I have now, don't worry about it. Just know it's very, very illegal."

I tilt my head dismissively. "Alright then," I mumble. "I won't ask about the extent of your illegal activities." Even though I am really curious about it. "But where are we hiding?"

Sal, in answer, begins walking past me. He doesn't gesture for me to follow, but I do it anyway. I catch up to him in a moments notice, walking beside him and waiting for a vocal answer rather than a physical one.

"We aren't hiding," he murmurs, nodding at the road ahead of us. "We're going camp out at the apartments."

"Oh," I whisper, watching the buildings in front of us grow taller the closer we get to them. "So, they won't find us at all, will they?"

Sal snorts. "No. They'll be out here for hours."

"Karma," I say nonchalantly, stuffing my hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Hm," Sal hums to himself. "Yea," he says louder, looking ahead as we walk. "Ever heard of Darwinism?" he asks randomly. But something about his voice puts me on edge.

"Uh," I say hesitantly, wary of his next words-- or worse, his next move. "Charles Darwin? Survival of the fittest?"

"Yup," he pops the 'p', body leaned toward me for a moment as he adds, with a smile in his voice, "You are not the fittest, by the way."

I gape at him. Shock ripples through me at the audacity. Now he's just reaching for anything to insult me with. Sure, maybe I'm not the fittest. I didn't bring a jacket into cool weather. But that didn't warrant a Darwinism jab. "Fuck you," I snap, taking a step away from him. I grumble unintelligible insults to myself for a second. I'll curse Ash and Larry 'til the day I die. "Why did they send us out together anyway? They should have known this would be a clusterfuck."

Sal doesn't even spare me a glance, just keeps walking, sticks and gravel crunching beneath the soles of his Converse. "I don't know. Something about forceful bonding. I didn't care to listen," he replies and I want to punch him for it. That question was for myself, not him. And of course he wouldn't listen. That's just so him.

I keep walking, gaze glued to the buildings and darkening sky. I don't have words for him, not when he's being difficult on purpose. I can go the rest of this stupid little trip without sharing another word with him. See if I care-- he'll be the one to suffer. I can hold out. I don't need to fuck him here. My pride is bigger than his and my need combined.

In the middle of my solitary girlbossing, my foot catches on a pothole that I didn't see because I didn't bother to look where I was walking. Too busy bitching to myself about Sal. Nockfell's old. The roads aren't well funded. It seems I've forgotten that in my time away.

I stumble forward, ready to scrape my knees on the pavement and suffer the embarrassment of Sal watching me take a tumble. But I hear a grunt beside me as a hand latches onto my elbow, another grabbing my waist and hoisting me into a standing position. I gulp so hard that it hurts, gaze on my foot caught in the pothole while the warmth from Sal's hands envelops my arm and side.

"Watch your step, dumbass," Sal mumbles, a clipped laugh following the statement.

I pinch my lips together and swing my head over my shoulder to glare at him. He watches me, humor dancing in his sapphire gaze. Seeing him so unserious will always be shocking. Especially since he saved me without complaining for once. I half expect him to shove me back into my fall, but he doesn't. Puts a bit more of his weight into his arms and pulls me toward him until I'm able to free my foot from the hole.

"Had you broken your ankle, I wouldn't have carried you back, idiot," he says, voice chipper despite the constant back and forth of his emotions. Finally and thankfully he moves his dangerous hands away from me.

"And yet you felt merciful enough to lend me your jacket?" I ask, a sneer on my face. I'm still holed up with my pride... but it's slipping with every word I say.

Sal shrugs. "How can I fuck you if you're sick?" is all he says. And it almost sounds like an excuse, but... he isn't wrong either.

I shake my head, lips pressed together. "Are you going to tell me the truth or are you going to keep up with the fluff bullshit?" I ask him, inclining my head upward. Like I said, I don't have to fuck him here-- why is he so insistent on it? Does he need to christen his house before he leaves for good or something?

Well, we have a head start. We already checked his desk off the list.

Sal rolls his eyes at my words, a glimmer of aggravation in his gaze. "Can't you just accept help?" He kicks a rock with the toe of his shoe, launching into a walk toward the apartments again. I begrudgingly follow him. "I know I'm not trustworthy or anything, but not everything is meant to spite you. Yea, maybe most of it is for my own gain..." he trails off, a smug glance toward me that makes me want to kick his shins in. "But it works out for you."

"The more you talk, the less I like you," I force out from behind clenched teeth. Any kind of warmth I felt from his gesture with the hoodie is left colder than a piece of frozen meat.

"You like me?" Sal drawls, his body tilting toward me just to piss me off some more. But that prideful tone of his makes me shake my head again-- this time to get the smooth timbre out of my head. Is he flirting or being antagonistic? I can never tell with him.

"Not anymore," I chirp. "And when I did like you," I turn to him and hold up my hand pressing my index and thumb together until there's only a sliver of space left between them. "It was so little that it didn't fucking matter either way."

I watch as the bottom of his left eyebrow disappears behind his prosthetic. I can imagine the inquisitive eyebrow raise-- I just wish I could see the whole thing. "Is that anything to say to the guy who's made you cum how many times on this trip?" He holds up a hand, lifting fingers to count.

A snarl leaves my lips as I look away from him. "Once. You've made me cum once, dick," I inform him. "The point you were trying to prove is stupid."

"Dick?" He asks. My eye twitches when his slightly excited, very complacent tone travels over to me. "No, my dick hasn't made you cum yet."

I don't know what's gotten into him. And I don't know what's gotten into me when a little smile quirks my lips at his joke. But I hide it the instant it appears, shoving it deep down. "Shut up," I bite out, trying to come off as aggressive, but even he seems to catch the light, humorous tremor in my voice.

All that anger has dissipated by now. It's almost as if he knew he bothered me and went through all this to make me forget it.

I purposefully ignore the flutters in my chest and cartoonish crush-y feeling as Sal and I fall into silence, continuing our trek to Addison Apartments.

I'm thankful for the comfortable quiet, the only sounds around us being our shuffling footsteps along the street, birds chirping and rustling in the treetops. Other than life noises, Nockfell is quiet. Aside from the annual Pumpkin Fest, it's so quiet here that it nearly seems desolate.

Sal is a specimen and whatever it is that's changed between us-- because there is a very obvious change-- I'm going to ignore it. I have to ignore it and focus on my career, on myself. Why acknowledge this growth in the first place? We're still fucking around and that's all it'll be. To do that, we have to hate each other a little less, right?

Sal turns a corner, so I cut my own steps to turn with him, stopping short when Addison Apartments suddenly towers over me.

When I lived here the first time, the apartments were about to fall apart. But now... everything is refurbished. It looks like there are lights on in bedrooms on the fifth floor, where renovations had gone on forever it seemed. The building is a new color, no paint chipping or walls broken. It's pretty nice. There are buildings on either side now too, showing that there have been additions. It's nothing like I remember it.

"I take it you've met Lisa by now."

I turn my gaze to Sal, watching as he pulls out a set of keys. Has he had those this entire time?

His head is tilted down, sorting through the same set of keys while his cerulean hair billows in the gentle wind. Cornflower blue Converse dusty and caked with mud in various spots. I take it these are an old, occasionally worn pair.

His prosthetic enters my field of vision and I snap back into myself. "Yes," I simply reply. I reserved that answer, but forgot what question, exactly, I'm meant to be answering. Because I was too busy ogling him.

He looks at me a moment longer, eyes narrowing like he can smell the fact that I got distracted. With the way he is, I wouldn't be surprised if he could smell something like that.

Sal opens the door though, passing through it and into the lobby as a nonverbal way of telling me to follow. I do, walking through the threshold and into the building.

It's stunning, reminding me a lot of The Faces' suite in Vegas. All white, pristine. I wonder who's keeping it all up, but the answer rings through my head. Most likely Lisa.

I hear hinges squeaking to my right, so I rotate my head to face the sound-- only to find a pair of ebony eyes gazing out of a mail slot about as old as these apartments are.

"Oh, Sal!" Mr. Addison's short, polite voice fills me with nostalgia. I smile warmly at the man. "Welcome back. Coming to visit, I presume?"

Sal nods his head once. "Ash and Larry are up to no good, as usual."

"Ah," Mr. Addison responds, followed by an endearing chuckle. "Who's your friend?"

"Not my friend," Sal answers, never missing a beat.

I roll my eyes.

"Hi, Mr. Addison," I say sweetly, waving at him. "I'm y/n. Do you remember me?"

I watch those dark eyes widen in recognition and a little grin works its way onto my face.

"My word," he says breathlessly. "It's been years! I hardly recognize you!" That mail slot opens a bit more as if he's trying to get a better look at me.

I giggle, leaning down a bit to talk to him more properly. "Ten years'll do that, I guess."

"I guess so." He laughs heartily. "Tell your father I said hello. Oh, and I shouldn't have to say it, but you two behave yourselves!"

A breathy laugh comes from Sal and I nearly mimic it. "See you later, Mr. Addison," I bid the man goodbye.

"Farewell." Then squeaky hinges and the disappearance of those ominous eyes.

I turn my attention to Sal, a glare clearly reflected in my gaze. I know he can see it because neither of us has to say a word to communicate what's happening. All he needs to do to rile me up in response is smile-- which he does, if the squinting of his eyes says anything.

I follow him into the elevators regardless of how I feel. There's still a thin veil of humor hovering between us despite it all, so I ignore his bullshit even if I desperately want to smack him for giving Mr. Addison a hard time.

He presses his knuckle into the '4' button and we slowly travel upward. It's a miracle that the elevators have been fixed in the years since I've been here. In fact, there's music playing. It's shitty smooth jazz, but it's better than having to listen to the elevator threaten to fall apart like I did as a child. I can still hear the janky, rickety sound of the elevator struggling to move.

We emerge on the fourth floor, still not a word exchanged between us. But I change that, curiosity getting the best of me.

"This place is nothing like I remember it," I muse, eyes trained to the little chandelier on the ceiling. Who the hell paid Addison?

Sal hums, as if to say he knows. "Once our streaming career took off, Larry and I shoveled a chunk of money into finishing renovations here. We had way too many close calls with death as teens to let it rot."

I nod, taking in the rest of the hallway. It's not much different from what it used to be-- a new paint job and some accessories here and there. "It was a good investment," I murmur.

"Larry would disagree," Sal snorts, grabbing the handle of a door to apartment 402. He pauses when the knob doesn't turn and grabs the keys he had prepared. "We had a failed ghost hunting Youtube channel going before this. Larry really wanted that to work out even though he was a chickenshit."

I bark out a laugh despite myself. Larry and Sal into ghost hunting? Preposterous. But believable considering all the rumors surrounding this place.

It's kind of sweet to imagine them walking around with a camera, going places they shouldn't with quivering voices and high-pitched, voice-cracking screams.

"That channel still up?" I prod Sal. He pauses at my question, never getting his key into the doorknob as he turns to me.

"Don't even try," he warns, head tilting in a half-heartedly threatening way.

I grin. "Well, I know what I'm doing tonight."

His eyes roll, karma for the eye-rolling he made me do downstairs.

Before he can retort, the door swings open and Sal whips around, making eye contact with Henry who beams at both of us. "We weren't expecting any visitors-- what are you guys doing here!?"

"Avoiding Ash and Larry," Sal simply states, keys back in his pocket.

Henry's smile transforms into one of understanding. "They're giving you trouble again?"

Sal releases a breath, clearly fed up with having to give the same explanation for his appearance multiple times. "When are they not?"

Henry lets out a dad-chuckle, clapping his hand onto his son's shoulder and ushering him inside, motioning for me to follow.

I could cry when I walk inside. This apartment looks the same way mine did. Sal and Larry didn't renovate this one-- maybe they didn't renovate the inside of any. It's a nice blast from the past though. I can almost feel Ash dumping her paint water on me in the corner of the living room; a fond but chilly memory from our childhood.

My focus transfers to Lisa though, a smile on her face as she wipes her hands off on her apron. But as I smile at her, her eyes narrow and she purses her lips. "You look familiar," she says, the statement sounding more like a question.

I walk over to her, my heart pounding the entire way. She was more of a mom to me than my own mother was. I owe this woman so much and it's been way too long since I last saw her.

"It's y/n," I tell her a bit bashfully. "It's me."

I pray she remembers me for a moment, but there was no reason to worry considering she breaks into a blinding grin and wrestles me into a suffocating hug that I'm more than happy to drown in.

"Oh, my little girl!" She coos, hand rubbing my back affectionately. Her cheek presses into the top of my head as she gives me a big squish. "Best day ever."

Of everyone I've met again recently, Lisa is the first person who hasn't prodded me about life recently or made the comment about how it's been so long. She hasn't said a word about the mask. She's just happy to have me here.

She pulls away from our hug and wipes a tear from her eye before it can fall. My heart about damn near cracks in two. "You're so beautiful!" She gasps, holding me at arm's length and looking me over. Best day ever. "How have you been, honey?"

"I've been alright," I answer honestly, smiling fondly at the woman. "How have you been?"

"Well, I'm wonderful now that you're here." She playfully scrunches her nose then pats my shoulder. "Come here and sit so we can catch up. I have dinner cooking right now."

Lisa leads me over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for me. So I sit and cross my arms over the table mat, watching as she moves over to the oven. This is exactly what I'd do every Thursday evening after school-- make my way down to the basement and have dinner with the Johnson's.

"So," Lisa says excitedly, pulling out her famous lasagna-- fuck yea. "Tell me about what you've been up to."

I open my mouth to respond but flinch upon feeling my phone suddenly vibrate in my pocket. Fumbling to pull it out, I send an apologetic glance toward Lisa who only shakes her head, a gentle smile on her lips.

I look down at my phone, brows scrunching together upon reading "Heather" across my screen. Dammit. Is it really that time of the year again?

It's my mother. We don't talk much. And when we do, it's because dad hasn't paid her yet. For what? Child support? I have no siblings. She's just some important, top notch executive on Wall Street that still milks her ex husband and daughter of any asset they have.

Sighing, I debate on what to do. I should just decline it. But if I decline, she'll bother dad. And when they talk, I don't see my dad for weeks at a time. Not because he's avoiding me or depressed... it's because she convinces him to send her more money and that ends in him having to work much more than he already does.

I begrudgingly answer the call, bringing the device to my ear with a pounding heart. I don't want this. I never do.

"Y/n," my mothers brusque voice filters through the call and I grimace, jaw clenched tight. "Bruce is late."

"Does it matter?" I bite out. I have every reason to treat her this way. She couldn't even tell her own daughter hello after going silent for months. Why should I offer her any kindness?

My mother scoffs, disbelief in the noise. "Of course, it matters," she snaps at me, devoid of any kind of motherly affection. Not like it's surprising. "When we split, the deal was that I get $1,500 monthly. And when he doesn't have it, I have to come get it from you."

"Don't you have anyone else you can bother?" I sigh, thinking of the money stacking up in my bank account. Half of it's going to have to fall to her now. "Or are your other children from the rest of your failed marriages not talking to you either?"

Heather goes silent. I immediately regret my words, especially upon noticing Lisa, Henry, and Sal go still. Their attention on me. I hide behind my hair, tipping my head down so it falls in my face.

"You ungrateful brat," Heather seethes into the phone. I grimace, but it's not enough to make me back down. This isn't the first time she's said those three words to me. If anything, I'm used to it. "Don't you know how much I sacrificed to raise you?"

I pinch my lips together, wondering why she bothered to try and raise me at all. Not like she stuck around long enough to do much raising in the first place.

As if Lisa could tell things were beginning to spiral, she lays a hand on my shoulder and whispers, "Is that your mama?"

I swallow thickly, nodding in confirmation. Lisa and my mom used to butt heads constantly. Lisa loathed my mom and the tight leash she held on me as a child. I'm lucky I got to meet Ash, Larry, and Todd at all.

"Put her on speaker for me," Lisa says in response to my nod, a maniachal little grin on her aged face. That must be where Larry got it from.

My mouth dry, I lay my phone down on the table, ignoring the curses and insults my mother spews until I click the button that puts her on speaker. And then her voice echoes through Lisa and Henry's living room, Heather's harsh and aggressive words splayed out for everyone to bear witness to.

"You and your little ploy of being something special. Pathetic," she spits, her voice cracking. "Did you think you could hide from me?" A humorless laugh. "That you could hide behind that stupid name? What was it— VioletViolence? Should I tell the world about what a disappointment you are? Or how about I show them your face?"

I suck in a shocked, shaky breath, my eyes going wide as panic rips my inside to ribbons. My heart threatens to burst from my chest as a tsunami of fear and and anxiety drowns me.

My own mother, selling me out for not getting her way.

With nothing else to do but pant down at the screen, ignorant of the other bodies in the room, I leap from my chair. My hands brace against the dinner table, my mouth gaping as I try to find words and rifle through my thoughts.

A hand snatches my phone in a split second. Lisa.

"You're on speaker, Heather dear." The words are laced with ice. With hateful promises of revenge so vicious, I couldn't even begin to dream of the possibilities. "I suggest you watch what you say."

My mother starts spitting out nonsense again, but Lisa takes her off of speaker and disappears into the next room, no doubt to give her a verbal beating.

Fuck. What do I do? I need to talk to Ash. I need to talk to dad. I need someone to ground me because I'm free floating through my own terror at this point. Shame and panic have gripped me whole, threatening to take everything that I am. Claim everything that I've built up for myself and tear it all down.

I don't know what to do. Heather is big enough in New York that she can slather my name across headlines and leak every personal aspect about me. For the entire world to see.

And how could I stop her? I'm nothing. I'm just a random streamer that maybe a few thousand people know about. I don't matter. I never mattered.

Hands cup my cheeks— warm, rough ones. They force my head to tilt upward until I'm gazing into pretty, azure eyes. And while I'm not surprised to see cerulean hair, I am taken aback upon finding that the hair is long, rather than short.

Of every possibility, I expected Henry over Sal. In every lifetime. So maybe Sal knows something that I don't about anxiety and averting attention because his hands on my face and his eyes gazing into mine shocks me into stillness. A pause. A moment where no thoughts enter or leave my brain. Everything just freezes.

But I watch his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, determination and confidence reflected in his light irises. A little spear of panic stabs at me upon seeing one of his pupils dilated. It's not a bad panic, but it's panic in the sense that he's very obviously worried for me.

I don't want his pity. But right now, with him conveying the words 'Everything will be okay' through eye contact alone, I grasp onto his pity. I hold onto it for dear life.

Hold onto the way his fingertips press into my cheeks and jaw, their grasp so tender but assertive. The cool bite of his rings against my cheeks. Our physical contact telling me to focus on him rather than outside issues. The warmth of his skin on mine. And when his index discreetly pushes a strand of hair away from my lips.

I latch onto all of it, the once in a lifetime comfort he's offering. I leech on the one tether I have to sanity, gripping his wrists in my cold palms and watching him the way his eyes beg me to.

"I am not doing this as a friend," Sal starts quietly, never blinking beneath that strong stare. His tone a perfect mask of calm, of stability. "I am not doing this as a companion. I am not doing this as someone who cares." All mistaken meanings combined— he's touching every base so that I don't misunderstand his approach. "I am doing this as someone who understands." His thumb rubs over my too warm skin, soothing whatever negativity is still roiling around inside. I try to ignore the sparks of want that erupt throughout my body. It's not insatiable, it's just an overwhelming desire to keep his hands on my face. To have him shield me from everything.

"Get your head on straight." Those words, spoken so gently but with a dominant edge— all to give me a mental launching pad so that I'm not fighting alone right now. "Remember that you have the power to sue the fuck out of anyone who comes for you. Okay?"

I swallow thickly, roaring at the tears that suddenly sting my eyes. Not now, not in front of him.

But I nod. And he pulls away. I feel the lack of his warmth immediately, the emptiness.

Another phone rings and Sal hisses in front of me, but I don't pay much mind. I'm too busy trying to reel myself in and remember that there's always a solution. I'll be fine, it'll all be fine.

"What?" Sal snaps, frustration lacing his pretty voice. Then silence, aside from Lisa getting real aggressive with my mom in a bedroom to the right.

I look up, noting his phone held to his ear and those baby blue eyes darting back and forth along the carpeted floor.

"Fine. We'll head back. When are you guys leaving?" Sal says, still a bit snappy but softer this time. I guess he's talking to either Ash or Larry.

Sal doesn't even say goodbye, just shuts his phone off and tucks it away before turning to his dad. "I'm sorry, but we have to leave," he says, voice emotionless like it had been earlier. My mood only seems to dampen at the sound. "Can you get Lisa?"

Henry knows the drill. He nods grimly then goes over to the room Lisa's in, pulling her out as she snaps a dark, "Rot in hell." into the phone before ending the call.

My eyebrows raise, a hint of amusement flitting through me at the remark. Heather deserved that.

Lisa rushes over to me, handing over my phone and cupping my face in her hands like Sal did just moments ago. "Don't let her scare you, honey. She's a mean old lady with nothing better to do," she tells me gently, smiling sadly.

A watery laugh leaves me, but being on the verge of tears, I really don't trust myself to utter a single word.

Lisa seems to understand. She rubs my cheek, kisses the top of my head, then pulls away. "Come visit me before you all leave."

I nod, swallowing thickly. Praying that I bounce back from this and set some boundaries with my mom. However that sliver of hell on earth will go.

Sal and I walk out moments later. Our journey back to his house is spent in the dark, crickets chirping and owls hooting. We don't talk. Sal was respectful enough in that sense, but I hardly remember the walk back. It went so fast, took so little effort with my mind trained on other things.

And Ash, unaware of what went down at Henry and Lisa's, greets me with a yelled, "Where the hell did you two even hide!? We checked, like, everywhere!" She pauses, assessing me. "And how the hell did you get into Sal's hoodie without either of you ripping each other apart!?"

"We didn't hide," I mumble, giving her a smile I don't feel and walking to the couch. I'm numb. Whereas the world was crashing down around me at the apartments earlier, now it's just stagnant. I can't find it in me to care.

Ash goes quiet, although I feel her gaze on me. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" She asks, tone comforting and sweet.

"Yea," I sigh. I don't want to worry her. I can tell her about what happened later if she's still concerned. "Just tired."

She hums like she doesn't believe me, but says, "Okay, so I guess you don't want to come out with Larry and I? We're going to a bar on main street."

I shake my head, turning on the TV and completely checking out of the conversation. My social battery is empty for the night-- I just want to be alone.

I vaguely hear Ash and Larry asking if Sal wants to join, but he declines. Walks over to his room in my peripheral.

Then the front door shuts, buffering the sound of Ash and Larry's conversation. Their voices are muted, hardly carrying into the house now.

I stay perched on the couch, turning to Sal when he doesn't immediately disappear into his room.

His one hand holds onto the door jamb, his chest and head poking out of his bedroom door while the rest of him stays hidden. His prosthetic turned to the front door, listening as his friends voices grow quieter with the distance they create as they walk away from us.

This should be an opportunity for me, but I don't have anything in me to start up a game with Sal right now. His pep-talk helped me earlier, but now I just... I don't want to socialize. I don't want to talk. I don't want to have to fight to get some short-lived distraction from Sal. Even if it would be nice, it just isn't us unless we're making it unique. Personal. Filled with hate and loathing.

I realize I'm staring his way when his gaze suddenly cuts to me. Those haunting blue eyes glance around my body before settling on my face, both of us watching each other. Emotionless.

Then he disappears into his room, door shutting softly behind him.

Sal may be a lot of things-- bad things-- but I have to give it to him. He knows how to read a room, when to be serious, and when to back down. He has never once disrespected my decision and he holds the championship for that kind of care even now.

It's not much, but he treats me like an actual human being whenever I need it most. When I'm mentally stable is when he breaks free from that facade and creates chaos. And that-- that's fine. That's what makes being stuck in his presence fun.

I chew on my bottom lip, dissociating a bit as I watch his closed door, listening to automated laughter on the television before me.

I blink out of my daze when Sal's door swings open again and he pokes his head out. He doesn't look at me at first, his fingertips pressing into the door jamb again. But when he finally does turn his attention to me, those darkened eyes catching my own, he says, "I don't know how to word this."

I'm unable to form my own words. He clearly wants to ask me something. Why is hesitant? It's unlike him. Unsettling. "You've never filtered yourself before. Spit it out," I simply reply.

I hate that damned prosthetic. I wish he'd keep it off forever so I could see his expression. So I could get some kind of read on him, if at all possible.

Because he just stands there, just watches me. Hell, he doesn't even blink for what feels like ages.

"Let me fuck you," He seems to force out, like the words weighed a ton. "With your permission, of course."

I don't know what kind of face to put on, what kind of reaction to have. I'm used to him being upfront like this, but the salacious claim still catches me off guard when I least expect it. I did not foresee him walking right back out of his room with a sex proposal. Never in a million years, at least not with the kind of mood I'm in.

But I debate it. I sit on the offer for a minute, let it percolate. I want it-- I really do. Our entire arrangement is for sex. But can I do it right now? Can I handle the arguments and strife that comes with our rocky situation?

"How about I lay down ideas?" Sal interrupts my train of thought, tone one of contemplation and hesitance, like even he's nervous about approaching me like this.

I tilt my head, but nod nonetheless. I can hear him out.

Sal averts his gaze beneath my stare before he very obviously forces himself to look me in the eye again. Cute.

"You had a bad day. We all have those. So a distraction would be nice, right?" I watch his Adam's apple bob. "Lucky for you, I have a cock. I can't think of a better distraction to be honest."

I nearly scowl. Cocky as ever.

"I'll do whatever you ask of me tonight though. Just for tonight," he pauses, sensual gaze traveling over my body like he already knows his next words will make me fold. The same way the audible change in his voice-- from nervous to assertive, sure of himself-- makes me lean toward giving into him. "I'll let you make a request. You don't have to say a single word tonight. If you want it gentle, I'll give it to you. If you want it rough, I'll make you plead until Lar and Ash return."

My mouth goes dry as I hold his gaze, my limbs quaking at the prospect of him being my bitch for the night. What a day to be alive. No matter how tonight goes, whatever I ask for, I know it'll end well.

"I will do whatever you want."

My tongue runs over my bottom lip as my eyes travel down his neck and over the top of his chest, relishing in the edge of that tattoo on his throat.

I suck in a quick breath. "Promise? Whatever I want?" The words are hoarse, raspy as they fall from my lips.

"Anything," he confirms breathlessly, impatiently anticipating my answer.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, already knowing my decision.

My feet press into the floor as I stand, walking over to him with venom and adrenaline in my veins.

"Then let's see what you've got."

Chapter Text

"Then come here."

He didn't have to tell me. Not even once.

I move my feet, quickly walking over to him. Sal watches me with those pretty, nearly translucent blue eyes and gently grabs my wrist once I make it to him. He yanks me into his room, my pursuit stopping when my chest slams into his.

His tattooed fingers squeeze my wrist a bit as he shuts his door behind us. My body reacts almost immediately, goosebumps forming along my skin.

For a moment, just a moment, Sal simply stands with my body pressed to his. Doesn't do anything else, doesn't move-- like he's contemplating.

I already know what he's contemplating, doesn't even take a full second for it to click in my head. It's about the prosthetic.

I breathe in shakily, gazing into the eyeholes of his mask that show me so little of him. "If you're uncomfortable," I whisper, "You can keep it on."

He takes a big, stuttering breath that I feel through my own chest. I can't tell if I should be flattered for nearly making him choke or if I should be nervous about being so upfront.

But then he releases my wrist, using the same skeleton-tatted hand to grab the chin of his prosthetic and lift it over his face. The action rustles up his hair to the point that he reaches back and pulls out the pony tail that had held up his hair for the day. And when he looks at me again, brandishing his handsomely marred face like my words gave him the little bit of confidence he needed to bare himself to me, I fear I may fall apart.

Big doe eyes, long lashes. Furrowed brows to accentuate the little bit of clear apprehension he still feels. Parted lips to show off the tips of his sharp canines that left bruises on my skin that haven't yet faded-- teeth that'll no doubt leave more bruises by the time we're finished. His would-be straight bridged nose that's missing certain parts and still littered with scars and freckles alike. The sunken in left side of his face and the long scar stretching up his cheek. The assortment of discolored skin and glistening scars all over him.

I truly can't get enough of his unique beauty.

He may be a total ass, but something about him-- something about the way he acted like a normal person today-- makes me want to kiss all the traumas on his body and let him know that it'll be okay. The same way he did for me today.

I don't. I refrain, if only for his peace of mind because intimacy as gentle as that would no doubt confuse both of us and probably put an end to our situation too. I have to fuck him at least once before something happens and we end up hating each other again.

Sal's vulnerable expression drops into one of mild aggravation; pinched lips and a lazy, uninterested gaze. He's tired of his least favorite part of himself being ogled I guess.

I mirror his expression even if he can't fully see it with the mask, but stick my tongue in my cheek for added effect. His cobalt irises narrow in response and he smacks his lips to combat my attitude, which is his fault by the way.

"Aren't I lucky that we made a deal and you can't get snappy with me right now," I chirp, knowing that it's going to tick him off just a little more.

"I can disrespect you in more ways than one," he replies in his slightly raspy, smooth voice that feels like ice dripping down my spine. Oh, he's good.

"So do it," I tell him breathlessly, eyes glancing between his.

"I need to know what you want first," he cuts in before anything can begin, raising an eyebrow. He takes a little step backward, laying his prosthetic on top of a set of drawers. "We made an arrangement for tonight and I know it's a delicate one, so I don't want to do anything that'll make you uncomfortable."

Ever the gentleman.

He did a lot for me today. It was completely out of character, but when I think about it, his actions could be his way of thanking me for not fearing him or treating him differently because of his face and disability. If I was suddenly revealed, like he was, I would appreciate not having it made into a big deal. Maybe he appreciates that too, and this is how he's showing it.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable either," I note rather awkwardly. It's weird to have to... care.

I watch Sal grimace like he feels weird about this new dynamic we have going on too. "Shut up, y/n," he hisses out. "I'm..." He takes an audible breath, sorting through his words. "To bury myself in you is enough, don't worry." He says it with some truthful clarity, so I only purse my lips and nod to myself. Makes sense.

He fills in the minute empty space between us again and his hands lightly run up my sides, feeling what little of me that he can with our clothing separating us. "What do you want?" He asks, voice low and quiet while his eyes meet mine again.

Simply feeling the pressure of his hands on me makes my chest feel like it'll cave in, the lack of air in my lungs burning my throat. I can't form thoughts for a second, my mouth working but no sound coming out.

A little smug grin quirks Sal's rough lips at my silence. God, and the dimple on his right cheek has me folding like a fucking lawn chair on the inside.

I swallow and force myself to take in some air. "I've been degraded enough today," is the first thing I say to him.

That smile of his is gone in a moment, his lack of expression showing his seriousness. He nods, waiting for me to continue.

"But," I add, looking off to the side. I can't say this to his face. "Fuck me hard enough so that I can't remember that I had enough degradation." I chew on my bottom lip, nearly curse to myself before adding a forced, "Please."

"So polite," Sal coos, the light praise being the sole reason why I can't turn my head to look at him again. "Can you remind me of our safe word?"

Not demanding. Still dominant, but... gentler.

I run my tongue over the surface of my teeth. "Twitterpated."

His hands leave my sides immediately. "Good," he purrs. "If you're in a position where you can't use your words-- which, at some point, you will be in this position-- tap me twice. I'll understand."

I finally find the willpower to look at him again, finding his hands hovering over me but never touching me and some kind of inebriated glint in his eyes. Like he's excited but won't allow himself to show it.

He doesn't move. Just watches me expectantly. Waiting.

I release an impatient sigh. "Touch me, Sal."

I'm unable to see his reaction to my words, I only feel it when his hands fly back to my waist and grip me. He hides his face in my neck, those slightly crooked teeth nipping at my skin as he walks us backward.

I gulp, drunk on the feeling of his scarred lips against my throat and his teeth scratching at my skin-- his fingertips digging into my flesh.

I grab onto his shoulders to steel myself, a gasp falling from my lips when his hands find their way under my shirt, his cold palms a stark contrast to the warmth of my sides. Those same hands drag upward, reaching my ribcage and squeezing.

"Jump," he rasps against my throat, pausing only to wait for me to do as he said.

I follow his command and he uses his grip on my ribs to help with lifting me up, quickly moving one arm under my thighs to catch me.

Sal's lips leave my neck, his head tilting sideways to watch where he's walking. He takes just three steps before throwing me onto his bed.

I suck in a breath, my eyes on him as he pushes his hair back with a hand, looking down at me with a predator's gaze. He tries to hide it, tries to be gentler to honor my wishes, but I can tell it's tough on him.

Makes me a little proud. His struggle is kind of cute.

"Stop smiling," he mumbles emotionlessly, leaning down to grab my hips and pull me toward him.

I drop the unknown smile from my face. I didn't even realize I was doing it. "Sorry," I tell him, losing a couple braincells when he wraps my legs around his waist, his clothed cock pressing against me. Fuck. "Just amusing watching you try to be something you're not."

His hands, which had begun moving up my thighs and back to my waist, pause as he turns his gaze to me. Completely unimpressed. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, desperately trying to hold back a retort. "Just because I'm going easy on you doesn't mean you can act like that."

"There must be some miscommunication," I press, yearning for some bite from him. "I didn't tell you to go easy on me."

He breathes in slowly, eyes glued to me. I feel like a science experiment under scrutiny. So long as it's his scrutiny, I don't really... mind.

Sal looks like he has a lot to say, a lot to do. He looks utterly ravenous. But instead of acting on it like I want him to, he returns his gaze to my body and moves his hands to my jeans. He undoes the button, fingers dipping into the waistband to start moving the fabric down my legs.

"If we get interrupted again," he says in a gravelly tone, a bit of that dominance I'm aching for leaking into his words. "I'll fuck you in front of them."

Butterflies flutter around my tummy. He needs to stop talking or else I'll cum before we can even get to what he's talking about.

Another reason he needs to stop talking is because he likes to predict shit.

Oh, and his bedroom door just squeaked on its hinges.

My eyes go wide and my heart drops into my stomach just as Sal tilts his head up to me, his brows furrowed in confusion.

And then a long, drawn out, pissed off meow echoes through his room. Now it's my turn to be confused.

Sal and I communicate through eye contact alone, his expression slackens and he lets out a relieved breath, blinking at the wall behind me.

"Gizmo," he says, tone gentle and sweet. I swear my eyes are about to pop out of my head as I watch his personality do a complete one-eighty. "Bad timing, buddy."

Sal backs away from me, moving to the side to reveal a chunky orange cat. Gizmo, if what Sal said tells me anything, stands in his doorway with all the might of a small army of men. His tail in the air, curled at the end like a question mark.

"You have a cat?" I ask exasperatedly, unsure of what, exactly, I'm witnessing.

Sal throws me a look that tells me he's not confirming the obvious.

He turns back to the cat and drops to his haunches. Gizmo bounds over to him, pushing his head into Sal's outstretched palm and purring excitedly. "Are you hungry?" Sal asks, voice baby-like in the same way a parent talks to their child.

What the fuck is going on.

I think back to last night and being briefly woken out of a sleep-stupor to the feeling of purring at my feet. It must have been this little guy.

I watch Sal scratch behind the cat's ears, his other hand running along Gizmo's back. Gizmo chirps his response to Sal's question.

Sal turns his head over his shoulder, face angelic with all his features relaxed rather than harsh like they have been every time I've had a chance to see them. "Give me a second," he tells me, a bit of that tone he uses for Gizmo still evident. I blanch, mentally beating myself with a bat that has the words 'THAT TONE IS NOT FOR ME' etched onto the object.

I don't say anything, too shocked to form actual words.

Sal grabs Gizmo, lifting him into his arms and walking out of the room.

I lean back onto his bed, blinking at the ceiling. I'm glad it was a cat that walked into his room and not an actual person. But regardless, seeing him be so sweet on purpose is odd. It reminds me of the time we ran into fans in Las Vegas. It's just so uncharacteristic of him to be nice... but then again, he was nice to me for nearly the entire day.

A few months ago, niceness coming from him was off-putting. Now, I don't really mind it. It's different, but not unwelcome. It shows me that he can be an actual person, not just an unfeeling asshole. In fact, it proves that he isn't an unfeeling asshole-- that his shitty persona is just a facade. Maybe a safety mechanism?

He feels the need to hide something. His vulnerability? Shield himself from betrayal? That would track if he's so nervous about his face. It's so frustrating that it took seeing his face for me to finally understand him. To make sense of his behavior and reactions and not immediately blame him for all of it.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, pushing up and resting on my elbows. I glance around his room that's packed up for the most part-- it's just his bed frame, PC, and desk that are still set up. Proves that they've been planning on moving for at least a few weeks now. They probably had already decided to move when we were in Vegas.

There's still a little bit of him here though. An assortment of medication bottles on top of the dresser he laid his prosthetic on, different masks on the wall above it. Probably there for when he wants something other than his every-day prosthetic, even though I've never seen him wear these other ones.

I almost feel inclined to walk around his room and inspect everything like it's a museum exhibit. But I can't-- at the end of the day, as nice as he's been lately, this is still Sal. One wrong move and he'll take it personally. Besides, these are his personal belongings. It would be a shitty move to go and pry into anything that isn't mine to begin with.

Sal walks through the doorway in the middle of my observing, shutting the door behind him but making sure it's completely closed this time.

He walks up to the bed-- up to me and grabs my hips again. There's a hint of a smile on his lips as he watches me with those bright eyes. "Let's try that again-- while he's distracted."

The dash of humor makes a guilty smile form on my face too, and Sal's ghost of a grin widens a bit in response.

That is, up until he yanks me to him. His dick is hard against me and I nearly groan at the feeling. I note the little upward tilt of Sal's head. He's proud, clearly.

"I want to see if you're all talk," Sal purrs, smile morphing into something more sensual, the sight of his teeth making a shiver run up my spine.

He takes up the task he'd set out to do before he left the room, pulling my jeans off of my body. Then he's gripping at the flesh of my thighs, feeling and enjoying it.

"You told me to be nice, but that you don't want this easy, right?" Sal asks, tongue running over his torn bottom lip as he towers over me. I nod my confirmation, just a few words away from drooling all over this man.

He doesn't ask for any more. He carefully grabs onto my panties, fingertips teasing me with their gentle drag along my hips, and pulls them down my legs. He doesn't discard them the same way he did my jeans though; he bunches them into his fist and looks back to me, tilts his head.

"I have neighbors." That's his excuse before shoving my panties into my own mouth to undoubtedly keep me quiet. My eyes widen and I glare at him, but I don't move them. He seems to bathe in my aggravation and my willingness to cooperate, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

He pushes me farther onto the bed and drops to his knees. Damn. That's a pretty sight.

His grip tightens on my thighs, painted nails deliciously digging into my skin. "Any last words?" He asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. He's dragging this out on purpose-- I'm bare to him, he can see my arousal he's just being a dick.

Despite it all, my heart is running a marathon and my limbs threaten to quake in exhilaration with each second he looks at me as if he knows he's going to be my undoing.

A muffled, aggravated groan leaves me in response and he only chuckles a bit, dipping his head down and rewarding me with his lips closing around my clit. He doesn't tease me like he did last time, just goes straight to what he intended.

I melt into the mattress, shutting my eyes and drowning in the bliss of his tongue caressing my clit, his teeth occasionally scraping over the bundle of nerves, and just the soft feel of his lips alone.

His hands are so tight on my skin that it hurts, but it hurts so good-- the combination of pain and his tongue dipping past my folds makes tears well in my eyes. The fact that he's gone down on me twice in two days is heavenly. Who knew I'd get this lucky?

The best moan I can muster up fills the quiet room when he gets more aggressive, his tongue licking up my pussy before he bites into the flesh of my thighs, sucking on my skin and making it sting on purpose-- because he knows I like it.

His thumb rubs along the inside of my leg to soothe the pain when my back arches off the bed, his teeth releasing me a moment later. He licks at the bruised skin before returning to my slit with a singular, panted breath of obvious enjoyment.

His tongue dances between my folds, drawing patterns that I don't have the brainpower to distinguish along my clit. His mouth drives me to madness, only adds to a quick-building orgasm that I can't control because he's just so good with everything-- in words and actions.

He sucks my clit into his mouth one last time before standing up and leaning over me, huffing breaths between those parted, glistening lips. He uses his hands on my legs to wrap them around his waist again, but moves one between my thighs, replacing his mouth with his fingers that he buries into me easily.

I squeeze my eyes shut despite wanting to watch the expression on his face. I tilt my head back as his fingers slide in and out of me, eliciting a deep pleasure that makes my body react of its own accord.

"You don't want me to tell you about how you're such a good slut for me," Sal says breathlessly, the hand that isn't at my pussy moving to my stomach. He pushes my shirt up until he's able to lean down and press his mouth to my warm skin. I tense beneath him at the contact, the delicate feeling of his lips moving roughly above my navel. "So how about," he pauses, licking up my torso to my ribs. "I pamper you with all the things any normal guy would tell the woman lying beneath him."

I suck in a breath, eyes still shut as he slams his fingers into my pussy, curling them to hit a spot that makes my body jolt. There's so much going on, his hand bringing me to climax and his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin of my ribcage.

He uses the hand holding up my shirt to maneuver it over my chest, haphazardly lifting it past my neck and over my head. My hair is a mess as he chucks it somewhere into his room-- but I don't care. He doesn't care as he adds another digit into my cunt, his thumb expertly rubbing my clit.

He reaches underneath me, miraculously unclipping my bra first try and yanking it off me-- all the gentleness he tried to flaunt minutes ago disappearing entirely.

He doesn't bother taking a look at my chest, he only moves upward to lick my hardened nipple, his free hand palming the opposite breast all the while he keeps pounding his fingers into me. "Someone normal would tell you that you look pretty like this."

Holy hell, I'm going to cum before we can fuck.

"That you look stunning in the low lighting with my fingers filling you up, and your flushed cheeks-- the tears in your eyes." I feel myself falling apart underneath him, his fingers reaching deep within me and his mouth latching onto my nipple, his hand running down the length of my stomach. And he must know because his lips stretch against my skin, moving away from my breasts to glance up and send me an inebriating grin that's so full of equally evil and sensual promises. "That you look so beautiful when you're losing yourself."

I can't look at him anymore. Not when there's truth to those words hiding somewhere deep in his cerulean eyes. Not with his fingers curling into me again and his hand roaming over my stomach.

But that same hand grips my chin, shakes it a bit until I open my eyes and look at him. His jaw is clenched tight, something sinister in the eyes that were praising me just moments ago. "Cry for me," he says in a guttural, assertive tone.

I cum all over his fingers, my hand grabbing onto his strong bicep as the tears he asked me for slip down my cheeks even if he can't see them. I can't control them, nor can I contain the muttered pleas for more, or less, or for him that tumble past my lips only to be muffled by the panties in my mouth.

He helps me through the sudden orgasm, lips pressing little kisses between my breasts while his eyes never leave me. He removes his fingers from my pussy after I come down from my high. I pant at the ceiling, finding it harder to breathe with the fabric in my mouth.

Sal notices and plucks my panties from my lips, causing me to shut my eyes in ecstasy as a fresh wave of air invades my lungs. I almost choke on the first breath.

In my peripheral, I watch Sal stick his soaked fingers into his mouth and lick up the excess of everything he couldn't taste when his tongue was on buried in me. I nearly choke again.

"Such a good girl for me," he praises, standing to his full height but never parting our bodies-- my legs still wrapped around his middle. He does lean over though, opening a drawer on his bedside table.

He pulls out a foil packet and drops it onto my stomach. "We're doing it the right way this time," he informs me, nodding at the condom.

I swallow past the unbridled excitement building within me. "Why didn't you use one?" I pant, sucking in a big breath of air before continuing. "The last time?"

Sal tilts his head disappointedly in answer, averting his gaze. I watch the way his scarred lips move as he says, "Got ahead of myself. Couldn't wait."

"Oh," I breathe, snorting afterward. "Proud of myself for that one."

"Remember that you didn't insist on protection either. You're as guilty as I am," Sal informs me and I roll my eyes, an action that makes him smirk a bit-- all the pride I felt returning to him.

Sal and I have learned, at least by this point, to not waste time on arguing when we're in the middle of sex. Because something always gets in the way of us continuing. So Sal grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head, dropping the article behind him.

I soak up the sight of him, my gaze roving over the various tattoos on his body as he stands before me. The dagger on his neck, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The map of depictions along his left arm and the vines down his right. The moon and stars peaking past the waistband of his sweats.

He's just so fucking beautiful. I don't have words to describe him.

"One thing I'm going to ask of you," Sal says, using a tone I haven't heard all day. He was serious with me early, but this sounds vital. "Don't look past my stomach."

I freeze, eyes moving back to his. I try not to let my thoughts show through my reaction, but I'm sure he notices what I'm thinking because he pinches his lips. Doesn't let up that dominant gaze of telling me I have to follow through with this condition.

It's because of the scars on his thighs. I won't press him again-- ever. His reaction when I brought it up the first time, followed by Larry unintentionally spelling out the truth, told me enough. He doesn't have to tell me, he isn't obligated. He's always done whatever I ask and taken care to make me comfortable.

I gulp, regulate the features of my face that he can see and nod my confirmation to him. "I won't look."

Sal blinks, nodding back to me and loosing a little breath. I keep my eyes on his as he pushes his sweats down, kicking them off. His boxers follow moments later and I feel the moment his cock springs free, brushing along the inside of my thigh.

My chest rises with the heavy breath I take, my heart racing in my chest and my cheeks growing warm. Sal watches me with lidded blue eyes and grabs the condom off my stomach, bringing the packet to his mouth and ripping it open with his teeth.

My eyes roll back and I close them as soon as possible to keep at least a little of my dignity. Sal saw it anyway though and he laughs a bit, the pretty sound wrapping around me like the vines on his arm.

"Open your eyes, y/n," he rasps. And I have to; he used my name. "Watch me. Stop being shy. There's no room for that shit once I fuck you."

I open my eyes and watch him as he instructed, never looking lower than his chest even as I catch his arms rolling the condom onto himself in my peripheral.

And he's done in a moment, leaning toward me and hovering with his hands pressed into the mattress on either side of me. His gaze falls to my chest before his eyes can meet mine. "You look scared," he mutters, filling me with deja vu at the repetition of our conversation yesterday.

I continue the memory with quiet, shaky words. "I am."

Yesterday, he asked me why. Today, his eyes dance over my masked face-- all nonchalance and a lion towering over a cornered bunny as he says lowly, "You should be."

I don't get time to sit and contemplate his words because one of his hands moves between my thighs. Then his dick presses against my folds, carefully and delicately pushing in just a bit. His nostrils flare as he sucks in a quick breath, eyes still holding my gaze. "Can you take all of me or do I have to go slow?"

My pussy dampens at his consideration and at the feeling of his warm cock gently pressing into me. "Slow," I answer him softly, feeling a fluttering in my chest. "For now. It's been a while."

Sal nods, taking his time pushing his length into me, allowing me time to adjust. I wince a bit at the burning feeling of his cock stretching me out, but I don't stop him. Regardless of the dull slice of pain, it feels good.

Good enough that I have to pant through how painstakingly slow he's taking this. Hell, I didn't mean this slow.

But he fills me up to the hilt and then stops, giving me extra time to simply feel him. Being so full and relishing in the throbbing warmth of his thick cock is otherworldly bliss. Even without him moving, having him buried in me is so pleasurable that a soft, satisfied moan leaves my throat.

Sal takes that as his cue to move, pulling out of me before slowly-- not as slowly as before-- pushing in again. "You're okay?" he whispers, his furrowed brows saying more than enough about how good it feels for him.

I nod, whimpering and shutting my eyes again.

"Fuck," he grounds out behind clenched teeth. "Thank God."

He unsheathes himself before slamming into me again, slow pace abandoned and replaced with something unchecked and monstrous. I nearly scream, only held back by the reminder that he has neighbors or what-fucking-ever.

His cocks pounds into me, his head dropping onto my chest as his hands grip my hips with brutal strength, no doubt leaving behind bruises that I can be proud of later.

The feeling of his hard dick sliding into me at such a fast pace so suddenly is heavenly, coating my insides with erotic pleasure that I haven't experienced before-- his hands on me and him panting against my chest, taking the moment and suffocating in it.

He lifts his head, a gratifying, sensual glare plastered onto his face as he watches me and picks up that barbaric pace.

His lips part and he pants through each thrust, a hand moving away from my waist to wrap around my throat. My air is cut off as he squeezes and I feel myself falling apart again. Even more so when he uses his other hand to press down on my stomach as he continues to pound into me just to feel himself, feel his cock moving in and out of me.

My pussy clenches around him and he groans at the feeling, leaning his head down to nip at my stomach. "You feel so fucking good," he says breathlessly, licking at my skin. His lips skim along my flesh as he ruts against me, dick filling me up and showing me all the reasons why he swore I wouldn't be able to handle him.

With a grunt, Sal stands up and pulls out of me, releasing my throat and wrapping an arm around my waist. He flips me onto my stomach with no hesitation or struggle and that alone is hot in and of itself.

He grabs onto my hips, lifting them and pulling me against his waist. His cock, wet with my arousal, presses against my ass and he whimpers. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forehead into the mattress, gasping for air against the fabric. He's so vocal and it's so addicting that it hurts.

Sal adjusts himself, pushing his dick past my folds from behind. The change in position elicits a completely different kind of ecstasy compared to before. I moan loudly at the feeling, my fingertips digging into his bedsheets.

He doesn't give me a moment to recover; he grabs onto my hair and forcefully pulls me backward, causing my back to arch and my jaw to drop.

Sal slams into me again, one hand on my waist and the other gripping my hair tightly. There's no consideration in his fucking, no niceness. No gentleness. He's only chasing his own release and hoping I can reach it with him.

He uses that hand in my hair to jerk me back even more so that I have to get onto my knees. I fall back against his chest and he never relents in his fast, wicked pace. Sal grips onto my throat again, holding me to him and panting into my ear. "Do you like when I fuck you like this?"

I don't have the words to answer when he's fucking them out of me. I only groan in response, solely focused on the carnal feeling of his cock filling me up again and again.

"Still think you can handle me?" He whispers, lips brushing the skin of my neck since he can't speak any louder without his voice shaking. I can tell by the light tremor that's already in his tone, followed by the way his hands squeeze me tighter and his chest smacks into my back with the force of his harsh thrusting.

I can handle all of him. I told him he would be wrong about me. I was worried that maybe I was wrong for thinking I could take him. But I've never been so right.

I know he wants me to fall apart and beg him to go easier on me. So I tell him, "More." Moans erupt past my lips the moment I utter the word. I swear Sal stills-- but it's so brief that I can't be disappointed about it. He chokes on a laugh before sinking his teeth into the side of my neck and slamming into my pussy even harder than before.

I cry out, grabbing onto his forearm with one hand and reaching back to grab onto his hair with the other. Sal sucks on the skin of my neck, grunting with each rough thrust into my cunt.

"My good girl," he moans softly, taking a deep breath to follow. "If you go and fuck another man, you're going to imagine me in his place for the rest of your life." I think he's right.

His cock twitches in me and I groan, gripping his hair tighter while I try to hold myself together for at least a little longer, relish in his cock stretching me out and bringing me the most hedonistic feeling I've ever experienced.

I don't know how the hell he's able to speak in these conditions. Maybe it's the pride of being in control.

Sal finally changes to a painstakingly slow pace. I feel every inch of him sink into me, every centimeter of his warm, throbbing cock fill me up and then leave me empty. Again and again and again until tears are sliding down my cheeks the way they were just moments ago.

"I want the thought of me to plague you every time you fuck someone again," he hisses, every word separated by a quick breath that caresses my neck like a promise-- a secret that he and I alone will take to the grave. "You'll think of me every time. You'll taste me on your tongue like the most potent flavor to exist on this earth." He pauses, my heart slamming against my ribcage as his hand moves from my throat to brush my hair away from my face, his lips moving along my skin and his dick sliding into me so sweetly. The rest of me feels numb-- everything focused solely on my core and the second orgasm I'm about to have.

"You'll feel me on every inch of you like you're trapped in the strongest of spider webs." My thoughts are dizzying as he speaks, his teeth scraping at my neck and his thrusts so calculated. My mouth goes dry as he grabs onto my chin with his entire hand, keeping me still as a statue, controls me while he uses me. "See me even though I'm not there, haunting you every second."

This motherfucker is hexing me.

"Sal--" I say in a broken whimper, trying to speak past the chills that erupt along my body as the breath I'm trying to take catches in my throat.

"Shut up," he bites out, lips brushing along my jaw. "I want you to know that you're mine without me having to say a word," he begins, his voice raspy, deep, and wavering from the focus he puts into each sensuous thrust. So much animosity, so much destruction in his tone.

His hand snakes down from my waist to my pussy, warm fingers working on my clit. I groan in response, throwing my head back onto his shoulder. "You don't get to cum until you accept that." And then his thrusts stop, my pussy clenching around nothing as emptiness ravages me, the loss of him disgustingly astounding.

I let out a disappointed, pained breath, gripping him tighter in my hands. "So," he purrs against my skin, marred lips stretching into a proud, feline smile. "Who do you belong to?"

I suck in a breath through my nose. There's a lot going on right now, and maybe he's just saying this for added effect, but I need to tread carefully regardless. We don't need to start something that shouldn't exist.

"What do I get," I start, trying to control the trembling in my voice. "If I tell you what you want to hear?"

"Anything you want," Sal whispers in response. I let out a breath, realizing that he's not even half as serious as he sounded. Being in control is just his kink. He needs me to give into that.

"Then," I start, gulping as pulsing heat and pain begin to take the place of his thrusts. I need him inside me, I need him to finish this. "I'm yours," I tell him sweetly, adding some sugar to my tone and loosening my grip on him to something more delicate. Becoming the puppet he desires.

Sal groans into my neck before shoving his length into me again, giving me the perfect pleasurable pain that I wanted from him. He keeps a steady, quick pace that makes me whimper, tightening my hold on him despite trying to submit.

"Such a dirty girl," Sal says gruffly. "You're doing so good. Keep taking me."

I moan loud enough for the sound to echo off his bedroom walls and his fingers rub my clit faster in approval.

"You let me fuck you so well, sweetheart," he utters the raspy words against my skin, his thrusts growing sloppier the more he talks. And, what the fuck, but all his yapping is pushing me closer.

"I'm going to cum," he warns me, "You better, too." His hand returns to my throat, gripping tightly as he growls, "Let the whole neighborhood know how good my cock feels."

I whimper at his command, luxuriating in the quickness of his harsh pace and his hands holding me so tightly, his fingers working me just as fast as his dick is.

The combination of his words and his hard cock sliding into me at such a bruising rate makes me go limp in his arms, the orgasm slamming into me out of nowhere. I cry out as Sal's grip tightens on me, both of us seemingly surprised by my sudden climax. But the second the warmth of my cum seeps onto him, he hums his approval, tongue lapping at my throat.

And yet he still says in a smooth, gentle, condescending tone, "You came before you were supposed to."

My breath stutters and I'm still seeing stars, my vision blackened in the corners and my thighs quivering. And he's still pounding into my pussy, overstimulating me with each thrust. It's so much, but it feels so good.

He seems to sense this, so he pulls his still rock hard cock out of me and steps away from the bed. I groan at the loss of him yet again, but don't have time to bitch and cry about it.

He grabs onto my hair and yanks me onto the ground in front of him, pushing my shoulders down to put me on my knees. The entire action is so forceful, so careless and my already wet thighs dampen a bit more.

Sal's request for me to not look below his waist is hard to honor in this position, but I keep my gaze angled at his face.

Oh, his pretty face is flushed and sweaty, his hair sticking to his cheeks and neck. One of his pupils is blown out, the other normal. His lips are parted and he looks like he's about to explode.

I can't see it, but I can hear when Sal pulls the condom off and throws it into a trash can. He grabs me by the hair again, jerking me closer to him, the tip of his dick rubbing over my lips. "Suck," he orders, a glare on his handsome face. "And swallow everything that I give you."

Sal honors his only request better than I can by forcing his cock into my mouth. I struggle to take his length, but suck on what amount of him that enters me.

My tongue twists around him, licking up the excess pre-cum and sucking. My eyes stay focused on him the entire time and I take true pride in the way he hisses at the feeling, face contorting into one of immense pleasure. He bucks his hips, shoving himself deep into my throat and furrowing his brows, his mouth falling open. He watches his cock fill up my mouth like it's the best gift to ever be bestowed upon him.

I watch when Sal shuts his eyes and tilts his head back followed by a loud, pretty moan that leaves his open mouth. Such a beautiful sound-- I could cum all over again just from hearing him break like this.

His grip on my hair tightens and he continues thrusting into my mouth, not giving me a good opportunity to do any work for him. He uses me to chase his own orgasm, his hand in my hair to push me forward to meet each thrust. I take it, my gaze still glued to his face as he falls apart in front of me.

He whimpers before his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. Without a word of warning, considering he already warned me, he bursts in my mouth.

This time, unlike our moment in Vegas, I swallow everything. None of his cum falls to the floor. I groan at the taste, tongue flicking over the tip of his dick. Sal flinches, releasing a shocked breath.

But after a moment of clarity, Sal lets go of my hair and pulls his cock from my mouth. I release him with a pop and he groans. The second we separate, I look up at him so as not to breach the little bit of trust between us.

He watches me, towers over me. He's still recovering clearly and I think he fucked the literacy out of both of us. I don't have words and he looks like he's short-circuiting.

"Fuck," he finally breathes, struggling to draw out the word.

I give him a little upside down smile and try to stand on shaky legs. Sal, chivalrous as he is even with the whole post-nut clarity thing, grabs my elbows to help me up.

I sit on his bed, fully aware of the mess between my legs. Sal doesn't complain though. In fact, he sits down next to me and stares at the closed door in front of us. We both do.

This feels like a scene out of a movie. Neither of us know where to go from here.

I sigh, giving myself a moment to think through my options. I need to clean myself and then I need to drink an entire gallon of water. He fucked me good. There's no coming back from this, I'm afraid. He knew that. He warned me.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I say quietly my voice coming out hoarse. If I'm quick, I can make it there without worrying about anyone walking in on me naked. Hopefully.

Sal distractedly hums his acknowledgement so I stand up, legs still jello-like, and grab all my clothes. And then I fucking book it out of his room and across the living room.

I take care of myself in the bathroom, feeling some kind of lucid numbness. I feel great, I just had really good sex. But at the same time, there's a difference between Sal and I. I don't know how to feel about it, nor do I want to address it. But something's just... off. Part of me is afraid that he'll end things because of it, but maybe that needs to happen. Maybe this needs to be the cut off.

Thinking about it fills me with anxiety. As much as things have progressed, I still see the image of me crying back in Vegas. The same would happen if he were to end things now.

But I take a breath, brush my teeth, take a quick shower, and prepare myself to walk out of the bathroom. He might still be in his room and he may stay there. That's probably what he will do actually-- he looked pretty out of it.

And you know what, I'll reward myself with his beloved string cheese. Because, hell, if he ends things I'll just fuck someone else. Maybe he's right-- maybe he'll haunt me and no one else will ever be as good as him, but I'll still get to have sex.

Things will be fine.

With a quick, revitalized breath, I open the bathroom door.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Sal is sitting at the table in the kitchen. Now I can't sneak a string cheese.

I blink at his back, watching him scroll through his phone from a distance. I'm still parched though, so I walk over to the kitchen and open the refrigerator, intent on ignoring him since any phrase from me would most likely be a bad decision.

"If you're hungry or something, you can take whatever you want," Sal says in a voice that's both void of tone but insisting. Like he wants me to take all the shit in his fridge.

Not like I'll tell him no. Guess I can't get away with ignoring him though.

"Thanks," I murmur, grabbing a string cheese, opening it, then stuffing it into my mouth. I glance around then grab a bottle of water. My eyes cut to the milk and I purse my lips, biting off a chunk of cheese. "Do you have cereal?"

"Mhm. Bowls are in the cabinet next to you, spoons right under it in the drawer, and cereal is in the pantry." Followed by his words is the sound of his chair moving. And then he says, "Grab double. I'm getting the cereal."

Pausing, I glance over my shoulder at him. A shock runs through me when I watch him get up, noting that he did't bother putting his prosthetic on.

I blink as I watch his figure disappear from view. Ignore, ignore, ignore. I slowly turn back to the cabinet and grab two bowls, then two spoons, followed by the milk on my way over to the table.

Sal comes returns swiftly, taking a seat beside me of all places. He grabs a bowl and a spoon, pours a considerable amount of Trix cereal into his bowl, then pours the milk.

I can't look at him. I really cannot look at him.

He hands me the cereal and I pour some into my bowl followed by milk.

This is so fucking awkward. It's too domestic. Too normal. He and I are not normal.

The house is quiet aside from the sound of us eating, and I watch Sal scroll through Twitter from the corner of my eye. I'm trying my hardest to eat my fruity soup as normally as possible even though the silence is really starting to get to me.

My thoughts are weighing on me. I thought I'd be fine, I thought it wouldn't bother me. But Sal isn't saying anything and now I'm scared. I'm scared that this will be it and he won't want me anymore-- and, fuck, why does it even matter?

"Do you still want to fuck me?"

The words tumble past my lips before I can even decide I want to say them.

Sal's head turns toward me, so I look over at him. His mouth is full, the cereal puffing out the cheek that's usually sunken in. His eyes are innocently wide, like he didn't expect me to say something-- that, of all things.

I gulp, the action reminding Sal of the situation. He snaps out of his stupor and covers his mouth, turning away from me to finish his bite of cereal. When he finally turns back to me though, he's recovered a bit and slapped a nonchalant expression onto his face.

"Yes, I still want to fuck you," he says as if it's the most obvious thing.

I glance between his pretty eyes, watching as he does the same to me. I try to ignore the relief that infects my veins, the giddiness that fills me with adrenaline.

"Okay," I respond, turning back to my cereal.

Sal looks at me for a bit longer before also returning to his cereal. Quiet ensues again and I'm honestly about to just ditch my cereal and turn on the TV. What's worse than constantly bickering is the silence between us.

And then Sal breaks that suffocating silence with, "I'm sorry."

My brows furrow and I face him again. He doesn't look at me, but I watch as he chews on his bottom lip, staring at his phone like he didn't just say something really important.

"What do you have to be sorry about?" I ask him.

Sal looks to me and sets his spoon down. "For what I said in Vegas." His voice is sincere, but as in control as he possibly can be. He doesn't want to admit quite how bad he feels about it, but it shows in the fact that he's apologizing for a second time.

"You already apologized for that," I inform him, my voice gentle. I know I hate feeling remorse and it's hard to apologize, so I appreciate that much from him at least.

"Then I'm doing it again," he says, looking off to the side. "You didn't deserve it. And I don't deserve so many chances."

I almost feel bad seeing him so sorrowful.

"Don't worry about it," I sigh halfheartedly, going back to my cereal. My spoon clinks against the side of my bowl. "You fucked me good. That makes up for it."

Sal hums his agreement, a short chuckle following. "I told you I would," he chirps. Proud bastard. "You weren't too bad yourself."

"I wasn't 'too bad?'" I snap, thankful for the sense of normalcy. "Says the man who literally could not shut up the entire time.

Sal shrugs before sending me a glare. "I'm vocal. Do you want me to say nothing during sex like you? That shit's awkward."

"You should be honored by my silence," I scoff, pointing my spoon at him. "I couldn't talk because you fucked the ability out of me."

His azure gaze darkens at my words. "Careful with what you say or you'll get fucked again."

I gulp. The way he's watching me with that dominant stare, his tattooed hand gripping his spoon tighter. The fact he's put his phone down to put all his focus on me.

"I wish we could," I whisper, my voice coming out raspy.

Sal licks his lips and he blinks, remembering that our friends could come home any second. That it's not worth the risk. "Yea," he replies, looking away to pick up his spoon with a sigh. "Me too."

Almost as if fate wanted to confirm our thoughts rather than us think we had a shot at round two, the front door swings open.

Larry and Ash walk through the doorway, hanging on each other's arms and giggling like a pack of hyenas. I pause mid bite, mouth open and spoon hovering in the air as I watch them.

They've definitely been drinking, but they aren't drunk. Yet.

Larry looks over at Sal and me and furrows his brows, eyes going wide. "The fuck are you two doing together?" His words express his shock better than his face can. "Sal do you not love me? You never take your prosthetic off around me. Is y/n a better brother than me?" The words are joking, of course, but by the narrowing of Larry's eyes, I can tell there's a brotherly quarrel that's about to break out.

I expect about as much when Sal sighs sarcastically, already tired of the rough night ahead and drops his spoon into his bowl.

Milk splashes onto my arm in retaliation and my first instinct is to bark insults at him. "Come on, dickhead," I snap, glaring at him. Sal glares back-- and suddenly, we've started up the game that I missed so much. It's just so easy to fall back into old habits.

"Better for it to be milk than cum, right?" He grumbles, teeth peeking past his lips with each syllable. I'm torn between curling up like a dead spider at the insinuation and admiring the little bits of him I don't see often.

"Shut the fuck up," I hiss in warning, narrowing my eyes at him. The retort is half-assed but how can I come up with one when one wrong step will only aid in Larry and Ash figuring us out?

"What if I don't want to, huh?" He counters, brows raising and lips pressing together as if he's challenging me. A little glimmer of something in his cerulean gaze. Something that begs me to pounce.

We have a glare-off for a couple, quiet seconds and I'm trying to think up an insult, a response, a diversion. Anything. But I can't-- I can't because despite the fact that things feel so normal between us, the arguing is more for a reaction. The bickering is just a veil over the truth now.

"Well," Ash cuts in, saving my ass. "At least you're in a better mood now, y/n. We were worried about you." I pull my attention from Sal and focus it on Ash.

She's watching me with big, green doe eyes that are silently asking if she can know now that I've calmed down.

That familiar pit in my gut forms at the reminder of my mother. At least now, compared to when Sal and I first got back, I realize that I can figure something out. Ash and Larry can help me come up with a solution. But-- "Where the hell are Todd and Neil?" I ask. It feels like they've been gone the entire time we've been in Nockfell.

Ash rolls her eyes at the mention, switching her weight from her left foot to her right to put a hand on her hip. "Those two rapscallions would rather be anywhere but with us even thought they're getting their own apartment. They've never been social butterflies but, hell, still. I feel like a restless mother!" She answers with a little sneer, flicking her wrist toward the open expanse of the house to reinforce her point.

"At least you're a mother who cares," I snort, sending her a half-grin that's faker than my own mom's hot-shot persona.

Ash's expression drops followed by her stance slackening as realization dawns on her. "Is that why you were upset earlier? Heather being cum-guzzling bitch again?"

"Damn!" Larry exclaims with an approving glance at Ash. They're still tucked under each other's arms. If Ash didn't have such a strong preference for women, I have no doubt that these two would have ended up together.

Ash throws him a sensual smirk before turning back to me. "What did she say?"

I chew on my bottom lip as I recall the short phone call I had with her. "She knows that I'm VioletViolence. I don't know how-- I guess she recognized me in pictures."

Ash's face morphs into a more serious, angry expression. Larry follows suit, mimicking her with near perfection.

"She threatened to expose her identity and face, pretty much," Sal pipes up from his standing position beside me. I glance over, noting his hands perched on the surface of the table, his body leaned forward and his face tilted up to address Larry and Ash. Horrible positioning considering his dagger tattoo is on full display to me right now.

Ash quirks a brow. "Okay, were you with her or did she tell you?"

Sal tips his head to the side, gaze scrutinizing to go with an unamused upward tilt of his lips. "You think she'd willingly tell me about her mommy issues?" He asks his own question, tone flat to accompany his sarcasm.

With a sigh and frustration curling in my gut, I hide my face in my palm and take a moment to remember the task at hand is not to beat this man to a bloody pulp but to figure out how to resolve this... mommy issue.

"We were in the middle of you and Larry's game whenever she called. It was... messy," I confirm Sal's claim, making sure they know that I'd rather eat a toe before going to him with my problems. Ever. Even if he did make those problems go away for a bit.

Hey, maybe he isn't good for nothing!

"What are you going to do?" Ash asks me warily, ignoring me and Sal's little hiccup.

I avert my gaze and purse my lips. I have the same question for myself. Anxiety at the prospect of being exposed wraps around me, constricts my airways and nerves. Disables my rational thought and the ability to breathe.

A little body brushes along my leg, followed by a chirped greeting and the loudest purring I think I've ever heard.

Momentarily distracted, I look toward the floor and see Gizmo at my feet. He notices me, pushing up on his hind legs to make biscuits on the top of my thigh. A mixture of surprise and pure glee kicks the anxiety away as I lean over and scratch the top of his head.

"Pick him up," Sal murmurs. I turn my gaze up to him to find him looking down at Gizmo with furrowed brows. "You're anxious, he knows."

I suck in a quick breath before glancing down at Gizmo again. He came all the way over here because he sensed my distress?

But with Sal's permission, I do as he instructed and lift Gizmo into my arms. I plop him on top of my lap and the cat practically climbs up my torso like he's hugging me. He rubs his furry little head on my cheek and purrs against my chest. Oh my gosh, I might cry.

I turn my attention to Ash and Larry who have little smiles on their faces, meanwhile I'm fucking gaping at them. Where did this heaven-sent cat come from?

Sal scratches behind Gizmo's ear and sends the fur-ball a little smile. "You're such a hardworking guy," he coos, like the complete change in his character is nothing to be shocked about. In-fucking-sane. I can't get over the way he dad's his cat.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and blink at my friends. "I don't know," I finally force out, rubbing Gizmo's back. "I don't know what to do."

Ash's smile disappears upon returning to the topic we were previously discussing. "There are a couple things you could do. One, ignore it. She either will put you on blast or she won't. And if she does, what proof does she have that it truly is you?" She brings up a good point. "We haven't seen your face since you were a teenager. I'm sure she hasn't seen you in much longer."

I wince. "Actually..."

Ash's eyes widen with disbelief. "She's seen you more recently than I have!?"

"Not willingly," I rush to explain. "Split custody between my parents. I didn't have much of a choice. Last she saw me was when I was 17."

"Oh," Ash chirps, feeling a little less offended. "Okay." She sends me a pleased smile. "Here's your other option: move out."

I furrow my brows. That would solve absolutely nothing other than adding another bill to pay. "How would that fix anything?" I voice my internal thoughts.

Ash looks away from me, a little blush on her cheeks. "It wouldn't necessarily fix anything," she murmurs bashfully. "Maybe I just need a roommate, I dunno..."

She takes pride in making me cry, doesn't she?

"Hold on," I rush to say, cursing to myself when my voice wavers. I cut myself off so as to retain some dignity, but I'm sure the look in my eyes tells her enough.

Gizmo hops off my lap, having done his job. So I stand up now that he's gone and push past Sal to get to Ash. "You need to--" I lick my lips as an excuse to take a moment to collect myself. "You need to warn me or something before you drop shit like that. What are you saying?"

Ash sends me her trademark puppy dog eyes and I already realize what's going on. "Fuck, fine," she forces the words out. "I bought a two-bedroom apartment. I need a roommate. Or, more like I want you as a roommate. I know I need to start double checking with you instead of loading you up with surprises... sorry."

I don't even know what to say, let alone think. I just gape at her, trying not to cry the way she seems to love making me do. Well, her and Sal.

"Is rent expensive?" I whisper, voice hoarse with how tight my throat is.

"Baby," she starts, giving me a stunning smile. "You don't have to pay a single thing. I'm just tired of being away from you."

"Don't hit me with that 'baby' bullshit," I choke out, smiling despite the challenge of having to speak. "I'm paying rent. I just need to know what I'm getting myself into. And I need to make sure dad is okay with living alone."

Ash's comforting smile turns into a wicked one full of sinister glee. If it was any other person, I'd probably be terrified.

"It's a good thing I already asked your dad if I could steal you, then, isn't it?"

Chapter Text

Sal's freshly folded Breaking Benjamin hoodie is soft in my hands. I haven't washed it, but I figured I'd return it after accidentally stuffing it into my bag the other night.

I set it on top of the cat carrier that's prepped and housing a cheerful Gizmo who purrs like a fully powered motorboat. And he's too cute, too happy to see me, so I grin down at the orange feline and brace one hand on Sal's car door and lean down to give the little guy some scratches.

He purrs against my hand, big green eyes closed as he shoves his head into my palm and basically pets himself. I can't help but huff out a laugh, smile widening because of the little fur ball.

Yesterday, The Faces and I spent the day visiting with Henry and Lisa. Since they aren't moving to LA with us, considering they have their music store here, we wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. Especially Larry and Sal.

"Are you done coddling my cat?" Sal gripes behind me. I sigh a bit disappointedly, rubbing under Gizmo's chin before zipping the carrier closed.

Turning to the cat dad, I back away from the black Camaro. Sal gives me a not-so-serious glare before placing himself in my previous spot, snatching the hoodie I'd just laid down and unfolding it. So particular.

"He likes my coddling," I murmur, tipping my head to the side as I peer at Sal both out of curiosity and admiration. The sun beating down on him, illuminating all the shades of blue in his hair. It's still chilly here, Nockfell's norm.

Which explains why Sal starts pulling the hoodie over his head, but I still have to try my best not to gape. What happened to him being terrified of my cooties?

"No one likes your coddling," he responds, deadpan.

I regard him nonchalantly, pursing my lips. "Your mom does."

Sal's eyes go wide, the action setting off a warpath of alarm bells in my head. I watch him warily, but then the corners of his eyes crinkle and he whips his head away from me to choke on a... giggle.

My mouth twitches in a smile that I desperately attempt to stomp down. His laughter is so symphonic, so heavenly, so rare. Worst of all, it's infectious. And, most concerning, the joke wasn't that funny. So I hesitantly inquire, "What?"

Sal takes a breath, tucking a strand of cobalt hair behind his ear. Like he's purposefully trying to display that damned dagger that haunts my every sleeping and waking moment. "There's a punchline to that joke," he croons, eyes alight with such mischief that I brace myself, hold my breath.

"My mother is dead."

The breath I held punches past my lips, expelled in a gag-cough tag team on my lungs, my throat, my fucking brain. My cheeks flush scarlet, the warmth of my embarrassment rippling through my body. Sweat beads at my forehead as utter dread courses through me.

His mom is dead?

"I— I'm sorry, I didn't—" I sputter, rushing to get the apology out as soon as possible. Because, while I wouldn't bat an eye if my own mother left this plane of existence for eternity, I certainly would if my father did.

Sal shakes his head, eyes shutting and head tilting forward as if to say he accepts my apology. "You didn't know," he says nonchalantly. "Besides, it's nice not to have to talk about her so seriously. I wish people didn't tiptoe around the topic."

"They tiptoe for a reason," I hiss, although halfheartedly. I'm just relieved he isn't suddenly snapping at my heels with rage again. "Because it is serious."

Sal shrugs, a calm and relaxed glow to his cerulean gaze. For once. I almost forget that he's public enemy number one for a moment. "Yea, well," he sighs dramatically, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Gave me a reason to scare the shit out of you again. Seeing you ready to kiss my feet and beg for forgiveness is just such a lovely sight."

He does all of this on purpose. And screw him for using me as his comedic act constantly. "Suck it, Fisher," I sneer, feeling the terror in my veins finally transform into muted contempt. The anger isn't so bad, not like it used to be.

His gaze snaps to me, and just like every other time we look at each other, I can't tell what he's feeling as he murmurs, "So long as you consent."

I gulp, ditching what wrathful thoughts had gathered in my fortress of a mind. It's all quickly replaced with a throbbing in my very bones, another tinge of color to my cheeks, and a wild replay of all the times he had his head buried between my legs recently.

Hands clamp down on my shoulders and I flinch with the agility of a cat who just lost it's second to last life-- since Sal has taken all my other damn lives.

"Hey, angel," Ash coos from behind. I peek over my shoulder to see her grinning down at me. But her happy expression doesn't quite meet her eyes. "Sal's going to drop us off at the airport. As much as you two live to hate and loathe each other, we need to talk."

Oh, no. Oh, fuck. We need to talk? That statement never, ever ends well. Does she know about us? Is she about to kick me out of the group— or Sal? Or is there going to be this brutally mortifying conversation about how she knows but she'd never tell anyone and she absolutely requires an invite to the wedding?

I suppress a shudder.

Instead, I purse my lips, tongue cemented to the roof of my mouth as every one of my four limbs goes completely rigid. "I'd rather hotbox in a car full of Larry's farts," I declare, more than ready to do just that. He ate about half his body weight in tamales last night.

Ash's eyes go wide, her brows furrowing as a guilty smirk quirks her lips. "You would rather—" she cuts herself off, shaking her head and looking up at the sky to avoid the giggles she would no doubt conjure up if she looked at me for too much longer. "Just get in the car, y/n," she commands, voice wavering with hidden laughter.

I look back to Sal and take note of the lack of color in his eyes. Seconds ago, they were bright and full of mirth. Now... they're empty. Grave. Numb.

It snaps a little bit of clarity into me, so I do as Ash said and climb into his back seat, right beside Gizmo who chirps a greeting to me. I give the orange cat a smile as Ash shuts my door, but I'm roiling with too much anxiety to do more than that.

Ash is about to have a meeting with me and Sal. The three of us. She's either going to ball us out for fighting so much, or she knows that we're fucking. And if it's neither of those, then I don't know what else it could be. I think the unknown scares me more than the other options.

Ash plops herself into the passenger seat, using the 'oh-shit' handle to adjust herself before shutting her door and buckling. She throws her head over her shoulder, grinning at me. "So," she says giddily as Sal climbs into the driver's seat. "Hot rod, old ass, family heirloom. How are we feeling?"

I raise an eyebrow that she can't see. "It's a car."

"And a treasure," she finishes thoughts I did not have, watching me with eyes that say I should cherish this gift of a ride. "How are you not tweaking with excitement? This thing is older than you!"

"Because it's a car," I repeat, narrowing my eyes at her. I don't want to kill her short-lived joy, but I'm too paranoid.

The car suddenly roars to life and maybe— for a split second— I understand Ash's elation. It might be older than my grandpa (bless his heart) but it purrs like a newborn kitten. I'll give it that much.

Sal mumbles something I can't hear then situates his hand on the back of Ash's headrest, head peering over his shoulder to back out of the driveway. His eyes meet mine for a short moment before they avert to the window, making sure Henry's car is down the road before beginning to back up.

Oh, if I was Ash with his hand behind my head like that, I'd be feeling a lot of things. Horny being the most prevalent. I definitely wouldn't admit that though.

"Hey," Ash mutters, eyes on Sal who switches gears and begins driving behind his dad. "Are you... are you sure?"

So it's something they both know about? A spear of unease slashes through my gut, a clear reminder of this conversation we're about to have. The acknowledgement of it makes the inside of Sal's car grow thick with tension. It's almost unbearable— even Gizmo's purring has halted.

"Just get it over with," Sal grumbles, eyes on the road and fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

I swallow thickly, watching the way Sal completely checks out of reality. Something about his position, his unblinking gaze tells me he's drifted somewhere foreign. He isn't here right now— he's simply driving.

"Okay," Ash whispers before turning to me. Her glossy lips are stretched into a tight line, a shadow of grief darkening her angelic features. "Listen," she starts, normally light and airy tone morphed into something a bit apprehensive, sad. "I'm not going to get into the details of this because it's not my story to tell. But Sal, Larry, Todd, and I agreed that it would be in everyone's best interest to give you a heads up... and somewhat of an explanation."

I swipe my tongue along the seam of my lips, my mouth suddenly dry with the worry that skitters along my spine. I say nothing, simply wait for her to continue.

"We are moving to LA to be closer to opportunities, and since it's more fitting for our streaming careers," She tells me, viridian gaze zeroed in on mine. "But there's another, more pressing reason as to why we're moving."

I nod along, waiting, biting my tongue in nervous anticipation. This is where I crumble to ruins, right? When every bad decision I've made comes crashing down around me. I mentally brace myself, fingers closing around the door handle a bit tighter.

"There's a... woman." Sal's hands tighten around the steering wheel, unknowingly mimicking my own actions. "She really hurt Sal. She was put in prison for two years, but... she's being released next week. We don't want Sal to be near her, nor do we want to be near her."

Every bit of air leaves my lungs upon hearing Ash's words. Two years? What the hell did she do to him? I glance at Sal through his rearview mirror, noting how he stares disinterestedly through the windshield.

A kind of emotion I can't quite explain rushes through me. It's understanding, shared grief, fury, sorrow. None of it is aimed at him. It's for him. And part of me aches to avenge him, to find this girl and make her hurt the way she made him hurt.

The truth of it is painful, like some part of me is slowly being ripped apart from my body. It's all so unfamiliar. I can't understand why I feel so strongly about it, especially since I don't even know what this unknown woman has done. The sudden influx of emotions and undeciphered realization that's suddenly hit me overpowers every one of my brain neurons, but I make quick work to try and break everything down.

Now, I understand why he was willing to give me anything so long as I agreed to sex the other night. It was as much of an escape for him as it was for me. I wasn't the only one who needed a distraction.

I feel everything so deeply right now, and assessing the depth of all this emotion makes me realize that I must care for Sal a lot more than I originally thought I did.

Ash lets me mull over the information before speaking again. I feel my heart rumbling, echoing through the hollowness in my chest as she spills more to me.

"The reason we're telling you this at all is specifically because there are people shipping you and Sal together online. Of course, the focus on whatever the hell is going on with you and North has taken some of the heat away from you and Sal— but there's still enough going around that it's worth warning you." I suck in a shaky breath. "This woman has been known to target other women who have a close relationship to Sal. It's all via stalking online and harassment, but it's something I don't want you to have to go through. Something none of us want you to go through."

I'd take it all if it meant I'd get to enact revenge. For myself. For Sal. For both of us. I don't know.

Ash must see it on my face; the tidal wave of emotions that keep crashing into me relentlessly. She gives me a knowing look, a sad smile as if to say she understands. "So, keep us in the know, okay?" She says sweetly, reaching back with her hand, opening it for me. I blink, clutching her warm palm in mine. "If anyone messages you and it's really shitty, or if Sal is mentioned or something, tell us. We'll figure it out." She squeezes my hand, thumb running over my skin. "You aren't alone."

My eyes flit over to Sal again, trying to catch his gaze in the mirror. It almost seems as if he's avoiding me. I try to tell myself it's because he's driving, obviously, but it doesn't feel that way. He doesn't even bother to check if there are any cars behind us, just robotically stares ahead with the air condition gently ruffling his hair. Sleeping with Sirens softly playing on his radio.

My gaze drifts to him throughout the rest of our thirty minute drive to the airport right outside of Nockfell. I can't help myself. Can't help the weight that burdens me.

Eventually, Sal looks down from the windshield to shift his car to park once we get into the parking lot. Then he looks to Ash, gestures for her to get out of the car. And Ash, ever the goddess, snorts before opening her door.

I turn to Gizmo, stick my finger through a slit in his carrier, and scratch under his chin before parting ways, preparing to leave through the door that Ash has opened for me.

"Okay," Ash sighs, a cheery lilt in her voice. "Enough of the bad, more of the rad. It's moving time."

Sal throws open his door before it can even fully unlatch, a man desperate to escape the horrors of his past. The sight causes a twinge of pain in my chest, but I ignore it. I can contemplate this conversation when I'm safe on our plane and have nothing better to do.

I warily walk into the parking lot, surfacing beside Larry who has a blanket bunched in his arms and a pair of headphones around his neck. Something tells me his flight is going to be nice.

Larry takes note of me and throws an arm over my shoulder, offering me a sleepy grin that I try my best to fully return The comfort of his somewhat embrace is needed though. I'm still feeling the whiplash of the conversation I sat in on for the ride here.

I gently grab Larry's wrist and hold on, his thumb comfortingly rubbing over the inside of my palm.

"I think I've got everyone's bags ready to go," Henry says with a little sigh, hands on his hips and cheeks colored pink from handling everyone's luggage. I spot the backpack I came with and watch as Neil scoops it up, throwing a strap over his shoulder.

"I can't believe we're leaving," Ash mutters from beside me, frowning at Henry and Lisa. Her parents didn't come along to tell her goodbye. I hadn't asked her about it because the stress of moving is already enough on her shoulders, but I can't begin to imagine how painful the situation must be for her. I remember how tough it was for me to realize my mom didn't want to be a part of my life anymore-- at least, she 'wanted' to be a minuscule part of my life but not for the right reasons.

Henry smiles warmly at her, walking over to ruffle her hair. "You've said that about fifty times in the last 24 hours, squirrel." His dad chuckle follows and I find myself subconsciously smiling at their interaction. Henry became a stand-in dad for Ash the same way Lisa became a stand-in mom for me. Realizing this brings me some solace. It's a little sliver of light in the darkness of my overwhelmed mind.

Ash smacks her lips then purses them, trying and failing to hide her affectionate smile. "I know, I know," she fusses, running lithe fingers through her chestnut hair. "It just... doesn't feel real. I've lived in Nockfell for so long."

"And I would be failing all of you if I let you stay here any longer," Henry says gently, helping Ash with her hair by tucking a strand behind her ear. "You're all blowing up. Your options and resources are astronomically limited here. We, as parents, don't raise you to walk in our footsteps. We raise you to walk beyond the path we tread. You're all doing that." Henry's gaze passes over all of us, his eyes watery with a mixture of torment and pride. "So I want you to thrive somewhere that you have a chance to exploit your gifts--" Another sweet smile and I'm getting emotional alongside him. I didn't think I'd wake up this morning with a constant lump in my throat. "Just come visit every once in a while, 'kay?'

Larry's arm flexes around my shoulders and I blink past my tears, squeezing his wrist in my hold. I watch as Sal walks up beside Ash, a hand grasping her shoulder as her bottom lip begins quivering.

I didn't expect this to be so... hard. I knew it'd kill me to leave Nockfell a second time, but taking my old friends with me and having to part with people who have slowly become family is deeply gut-wrenching.

I've learned a lot on this trip. I saw so many things that make it hard to leave because I'm afraid of never seeing them again. I found out that Sal Fisher has a heart, and it's a pretty good one. He has issues, some of which have no doubt influenced his personality, but he's not soulless. He can be kind, he can be funny, he can be a friend. And Henry has clearly been a large influence on the good parts of Sal-- his father is the most selfless person I've ever met, gentler than a mother with her newborn. He has a heart of gold with morals and values that defy modern humanity. The moment Sal took my face into his hands and averted my attention during a panic reflected all the things his father has taught him-- all the warmth he has that he's hidden for so long. Hidden from me.

Looking at Sal now, noting his hand that tenderly runs over the back of Ash's head in nearly the same way Henry did, just reinforces the difference I've observed.

Ash wraps Henry up in a crushing hug, squeezing the man close to her. And he doesn't seem to mind-- in fact, he holds her just as tight. The man presses a kiss to her hair before moving over to hug his son.

We all hug Henry and Lisa, our parting about as heart-wrenching as an ASPCA commercial. But the bright side is that we know we'll see each other again. With our jobs in the streaming industry, we'll have enough money to make frequent trips.

Lisa holds me for a long time, her head rested atop mine and her fingers threading through my hair. Giving me the mother-like comfort that I crave every now and again. And Henry, he presses a kiss to my head the same way he did for everyone else. It's a soothing relief to know that I matter as much to him as the rest of The Faces do.

As I break away from my embrace with Henry, I watch Sal pull Ash to him, his hand cupping the back of her head and holding her close. I can't quite describe the kind of emotion that zaps me when he pulls his dad's signature move and presses his prosthetic lips to Ash's forehead. It's such a precious moment to witness. Ash's response makes it even sweeter; she playfully swats at his arm before leaning down a tad to kiss the cheek of his mask.

I can't help but smile fondly at their sibling-like affection, even if it echoes a bit in the hollowness inside me. I want to be cherished so badly in this moment, to be loved the way this family loves each other.

Sal moves around, hugging Larry, Todd, and Neil before taking a step back as everyone prepares to say their final goodbye's.

The disheartened smile doesn't leave my face as everyone mutters saddened parting words. But I spare a glance at Sal to find him watching everyone the same way I am. His eyes are squinted, the sole indication of his smile beneath that prosthetic.

My breath catches when his eyes, a crystal clear image of the overcast sky today, meet mine. He simply looks at me for a moment, then holds up a hand, middle finger on display.

I blanch, oxygen rushing back into my lungs, filling the void I've refused to acknowledge. Compared to his refusal to even come to the airport in Vegas, I'd say this is a step up.

I bite down on my bottom lip in an attempt to disguise the smile that pulls at my lips and the fluttering in my chest as I flick him off in return.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Dragging my backpack onto this rickety airplane takes a lot of guts. It's so run down and beat up that I can't help but wonder if Amelia Earhart was the last person to sit in the pilot's seat. But hey, if I go missing, I'd be solving a lot of problems. Win-win?

I walk down the skinny aisle, pausing to find my seat-- only to realize that Todd and I are riding together for this trip.

I smile warmly at my dear friend, scooting past him and toward the window seat.

Sighing, I plop into my seat and fasten my seatbelt. "Hey, Todd. It's a shame you and Neil got separated."

Todd tips his head in a silent greeting, a little smile on his freckled face. "Not a shame at all. This is his punishment," he replies nonchalantly. I simply blink at him while fighting off an onslaught of giggles. They seem like the type to have random arguments and disagreements every once in a while. They're totally the couple that fully believes their hiccups make their relationship fun, too.

"I stand corrected then," I chuckle as I pull my phone from my pocket. "Just so you know," I continue, leaning toward him to whisper, "I'm on your side."

Todd laughs, the sound much like bells tolling on a lovely spring morning. He pats my wrist, gives it a little squeeze. "As you should be."

I give him another quick smile before looking at my phone.

I probably shouldn't message Sal. I should just leave it be. I'm not obligated in any way, shape, or form, but... the whole situation is weighing on me. I won't be able to stop thinking about our conversation until I extend my hand-- in whatever weird way that I can given this situation Sal and I have found ourselves in.

And, yes. Of course my messaging him is a split second decision that I'm bound to regret. I feel... closer to him. Like we've bonded somehow.

Famous last words.

This is a true fool's rose-tinted glasses because Sal is complicated. All of this is complicated and I'm probably mistaking my relation and guilt for his traumas as us forming a connection.

I swallow over the nerves that ravage me whole and pull up discord, clicking on Sal's and my private messages. His last text to me altered our entire situation. It started all of this:

SALLYFʌCɜ: i wouldn't have made the promise if i didn't intend on keeping it. watch what you say and give ash five minutes to remember that you're in the room. actually, give her brain a boost.
SALLYFʌCɜ: come here.

I chew on my bottom lip, contemplating his last message to me before typing up a quick message. I want it to be simple, easy, done. Without considering the past too much.

But I end up typing, deleting, and retyping up until our pilot announces that all passengers are boarded.

My fingers quake as I type up my last attempt and use every bit of willpower to refrain from deleting it all over again. My thumb hovers over the 'send' button and I force myself to look away, quickly smashing the button and pursing my lips as embarrassment rips me to shreds.

I spare a glance down.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: i'm good for more than just fucking if you need a reminder

Why the fuck did I say that? Why couldn't I be normal and just tell him I'd listen to his problems?

He starts typing.

I slap my phone face down onto my thighs and refuse to breathe for a full minute and a half. I take the time to build up the confidence to look, give myself a pep talk. I don't really care how stupid it was. It's done-- I can't change it. It doesn't matter and I don't care.

So with my heart knocking on my ribcage, I hesitantly lift my phone and look down.

SALLYFʌCɛ: i know.
SALLYFʌCɛ: thank you

The guiltiest grin blooms on my face. I try my absolute hardest to smash the expression down, to tell myself that his appreciation isn't that serious. That this is just basic human decency. But, damn, something about the way he bothered to say 'thank you' instead of just 'thanks' or even nothing at all...

I put my phone on airplane mode then shut it off, look out the window as our plane begins to power up.

"Hey," Todd suddenly says, his voice inquisitive and a little concerned. "So, sorry if this is prying too much but it's kind of fucking killing me."

I turn my head to look at him, brow raised at his tone. "Don't worry about it," I murmur. "What's up?"

His dark eyes stare into mine-- deeply, investigating my soul like some kind of spiritual detective. I can't help but squirm beneath his heavy gaze, waiting for him to share his thoughts.

He starts slowly shaking his head. "I can't tell which one you're fucking."

Mentally, my eye is twitching.

I catch the shocked cough that almost escapes my mouth. Fear claws its way up my spine as I search through filing cabinets full of words in my head. "Uh," I intellectually start with. "Who says I'm fucking someone?"

Todd blinks, something like clarity morphing his features-- like he just got his answer. "Because you have North bricked up in the supply room of Henry's music store and Sal tracking your every movement like a dog salivating over a steak."

My mouth opens and closes silently up until my mental filing cabinet of words flies open and forces unintelligible sounds and words to fly through my mouth. I choke over my panic and slap a hand over my mouth, watching him with wide eyes.

Part of it is absolute amusement and disbelief over Todd's claims, but the other half of me is petrified by the fact that he sniffed me out immediately. Well, he's trying to, at least.

"I'm sorry?" I snort, my words muffled due to the hand that stays clutched to my mouth.

Todd gives me a no-bullshit look. "I won't say anything," he promises with a shrug. "I know I outted you in Vegas, but that's why I'm discussing the situation with you first this time."

"I'm not--" I pause, dropping my hand from my mouth to properly speak to him. I'm trying to school this and keep the terror out of my gaze, but I think he already knows. "I'm not fucking anyone," I declare, tilting my head down to accentuate my claim.

Maybe he'll buy it. I need him to buy it, actually.

It's not that I don't trust Todd, it's just that I know what he's going to say. It's the same thing anyone in The Faces would tell me-- the same thing Sal has insinuated repeatedly. That I shouldn't be fucking him. I want to avoid that because I already know. I don't want anyone else burying themselves in whatever the hell is going on because I don't even fully understand it myself.

This group is tight-knit. They care. They care so much that they would immediately tell me and Sal to end things and forget it ever happened because fuck buddies are 'toxic' and we 'hate' each other. But with Sal and me, it transcends all of that. We don't have half the issues we started out with, not to mention, our arrangement is working fine. And I'll admit that Sal is the farthest thing from shallow. There are so many twists and turns in his maze of a mind that I'm urged to navigate through it.

Maybe we're nothing remotely close to normal, it's the complete opposite of what constitutes as tradition. But everything before this pales in comparison. God forbid he hear my thoughts, but Sal is becoming a friend. I had to quickly accept that notion the moment I got defensive over his trauma.

Todd smacks his lips, a clear sign that he doesn't believe a word I've said. "Fine," he sighs. He seems a bit disappointed... but understanding. Todd loves drama, but he's thoughtful as well. He won't push me to talk if I don't want to. And let's face it, I'm sure he's already set on his opinion of the topic. The only thing he doesn't have is my confirmation.

"Just be careful, okay?" Todd's brows furrow a bit, a small frown pulling at his lips. "I know it isn't my business, but some secrets are a lot worse than you'd imagine. Fuck who you want, just don't get close enough to get wrapped up in feelings you'd regret."

Apprehension wraps its bony, ashen fingers around my heart and chokes the life out of it. I stare at Todd with wide eyes that have reacted of their own accord. I clench my teeth and think hard about how to organize my thoughts into something comprehensible.

"Is there something I should... know? About either or both of them?" I decide to ask, clearing my throat when my words come out whispered and hoarse, tangled with anxiety.

Todd presses his lips together, showing off his short temper. "I literally just told you they have secrets and to watch yourself. Read between the lines, y/n. Shakespeare should have taught you as much."

The pounding of my heart dies down a bit at Todd's rushed, frustrated sarcasm. The tension and fear are slowly dissipating, so I'll take Todd's claim to mean that he's just worried for me. North's and Sal's secrets can't be so bad-- everyone has baggage. And I mean, Sal's quite literally been through the wringer. An accident so bad it marred his face, a shitty woman who hurt him, and a dead mother. It can't get that much worse, can it?

I scoff playfully. "I hate Shakespeare. He was the worst person to choose for a comparison, Todd," I say gently, giving him a hesitant smile.

That sets Todd off. For the rest of our two hour flight, he argues with me about Shakespeare's genius. He made some pretty legit claims, saying that Shakespeare knew just how to throw backhanded comments to petty royals who didn't have smarts to decipher the true meaning. That Shakespeare was damn lucky he didn't get killed-- unless he was!

Yep, a whole debacle on his death came from that. It kept me entertained though. More importantly, it distracted me from Sal who, now that we've landed and are heading to our new apartments, I can't help but worry about.

Ash is sitting beside me watching the buildings of LA pass us by. She squeezes my hand here and again, smile widening when we come across landmarks she spent her own time searching up. It's so sweet-- all the places Ash couldn't visit on her first trip here are all available to her now.

Meanwhile, Larry's animatedly chatting with our Uber driver-- somehow he happened upon the topic of Speedos. Interestingly enough, our driver seems more than happy to let our friend talk. Neil chimes in here and again to add to Larry's outlandish remarks, making the driver nod in agreement or chuckle.

I watch the streets, slowly beginning to recall all the times I've walked these sidewalks within the past year. All my surroundings are starting to become familiar.

It's comforting knowing I won't be walking these streets alone anymore.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

I set my backpack on the floor, taking in the wide expanse of Sal and Larry's brand new living room. It's enormous; tall ceilings to accompany the loft to one side of the room, then a wall of windows with balcony doors across from me. As modern as it is, it has a nice, darker touch to it. The floors are grey oak, the walls a charcoal color, and the ceiling is bright white— a perfect contrast to the shade crawling upward.

I lick my lips, trying my best not to gape at the only room I've seen so far.

Larry whistles his adoration for the place, standing in the center of the room with his hands on his hips, inspecting every nook and cranny of his new home. He's but a speck of dust in a fancy cave. "This shit's pretty hardcore," he murmurs.

Neil places his bag on the floor beside mine, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Didn't you check the place out already, Lar?" he asks, a cheery edge to his voice.

Larry, in response, snorts and waves Neil's comment off. "Duh," he sarcastically answers. "This place has too much pizazz for me to not admire it like a middle aged man admires his new lawnmower. This is ejaculation material, bro."

Todd sighs obnoxiously, but Neil nods his head beside me, handsome smile on his face as he says, "Fair enough."

I seem to have found myself quite the group.

Ash glides her way through the entrance, giving the big room a once over and an approving nod that says she likes the apartment. She glances over at me, gestures with her elbow. "Looks pretty similar to ours, Vee," she chirps, viridian gaze glittering in the lovely sunshine that filters through the big windows. Sal and Larry didn't get an apartment, these dudes bought a house. In the sky. This thing is too extravagant to be undermined with the term of 'apartment.'

And then Ash's claim spins around my head, hitting all sides of my cranium to solidify the fact that we have a near identical home.

My eyebrows bunch together and I blink at Ash. "Wait, what?"

Ash simply shrugs, little grin plastered on her lips as she scrolls through her phone and plops herself onto the floor. She sits criss-cross applesauce and drags my backpack over to her, tucking it into her lap like a pillow. "I'm calling Sal to let him know we made it," she mutters, clicking on her phone a couple times before putting it on the ground in front of her.

I see a pig-tailed, really tiny Sal on her phone. His contact picture. He and Ash are standing side by side, both of them holding up bunny ears behind each other's heads. Ash looks exactly the way I remember her as a teenager. Sal looks the total opposite of what I thought though.

Part of me expected him to be this super lanky, scene kid. I mean, the hair said enough. But he just looks awkward and childlike here. His eyes are big and bright, happy. He's on his tiptoes to try and add some height to his small stature, so he doesn't look quite as short next to Ash. It's refreshing— clearly, he hasn't always been so... closed off, mean, and unhappy.

The call suddenly accepts and I'm forced back to reality, especially when someone who absolutely cannot be Sal Fisher answers the phone.

"Hey, sweetheart," he starts warmly, tone cosplaying as a literal cinnamon roll. Gooey, sweet, and cozy. "Did you guys make it safe?"

What brain slurping alien has taken over his body? There's no way that's him.

I think back to our night in Nockfell-- he called me sweetheart. He's calling Ash the same. Is this the true Sal? Laid back, caring, and gentle? Is that what he was trying to portray to me when we acted as distractions to one another?

"Sure did, mi corazón," Ash replies in a sing-song voice, rocking back and forth. "How are you and Gizzy? Staying safe? What's the ETA?"

I hear a low, content chuckle from the phone and swear I've been thrust into an alternate reality. "I'm fine, Giz is great. He's napping on my lap while I drive. Staying as safe as an eyeless guy can. And we should be there around midnight tonight."

Ash frowns. "Midnight? Why don't you guys stay the night at a hotel? Kinda risky to drive for so long."

Sal hums in contemplation. "My chances of finding a pet-friendly hotel are scarce. It's more trouble than it's worth. I don't usually go to bed 'til early in the morning anyway— you know that. I'll just get our bags down when we get there and save the unpacking for tomorrow."

"Let us know when you get here then," Ash murmurs worriedly. I grab my phone and check the time. It's six in the evening. Is he really going to drive for another six hours? "And please, drive safe. Don't forget to eat and stay hydrated. You literally take, like, two weeks off all our lives the longer you aren't around," she adds, tone much like a grandma fussing.

Sal laughs heartily on the line and my lips quirk up at the sound. "I will, I will," he replies to her, voice lovingly tender. "I'm about to stop to pick up dinner and feed Gizmo. I'll update you later, 'kay?"

"Okay," Ash chirps, satisfied with Sal's promise. "Ik houd van jou!" She kicks her feet after speaking, pinching her lips together and staring at the ceiling excitedly, waiting. Ash and her languages... I have no idea which one she just spoke, but usually if it's not in English, she's saying 'I love you.'

"You too, darling." Sal knows her as well as I do. This interaction is too precious-- I should not have been present for it.

Ash ends the call then looks over at us. "He's in such a good mood," she whisper yells, exhilaration scrawled across her face. She looks like she just did a line of coke. "He never says he loves me too!?" She whips her head to Larry, eyes narrowing as she inspects him. And Larry, he balks; holds his hands up in surrender to accompany his saucer-sized gaze.

"Is he on drugs? Did you give him something?" Ash asks, raising an eyebrow but never letting up that little glare she has going.

"No!" Larry exclaims, voice cracking. His surrendering hands turn upward in an exasperated shrug. "Why the hell would I send him on a road trip with drugs? We're talking about Sal."

"Exactly. We are talking about Sal. Sal who likes to party with you. See where I'm going?" Ash counters, tilting her head to accentuate her point.

Larry opens his mouth to argue, but then his brows furrow and he snaps his mouth shut, looking off to the side contemplatively. I'm still reeling over this news about Sal supposedly liking parties. "Okay, I see," Larry grumbles. "But seriously, I didn't give him anything. Hell, I don't even have anything."

"I wonder what the hell has him so cheery then," Ash mumbles to herself.

"It's trauma, dude, I swear," Larry declares passionately, pointing at Ash with one hand while the other buries itself into his hair. He's just had an 'aha!' moment. "He's fucking coping. Let the man cope."

Ash stuffs her face into her hands. "Larry," she says darkly, voice muffled. My hair stands on end at her tone and I note Larry grimacing beside me. "That is not funny."

Larry purses his lips and takes two steps back. I watch him struggle, cheeks going red as his mouth works. Like he's trying so desperately hard to not say something. But when can he ever keep his mouth shut, right? This is King Cockblock. Emo Buff Daddy.

"Sal would've laughed," he says softly, wincing when Ash's head snaps up and she sends him a cold glare.

I giggle when Ash launches into a full frontal attack, heading straight for Larry who squeals like a piglet. Todd simply sighs, pinching Neil's arm who laughs at our friends.

As unclear as everything is, I know that I can rely on the people here with me. The excitement on their faces just from knowing they have a new start, surrounded by one another. This is solid, this is good.

Ash and I eventually find our way three stories above Sal and Larry's apartment to our own apartment. It's at this exact moment that reality sets in. Not only will I be beside Ash every single day from here on out, but the rest of our friends are in the same exact building. For as long as I've felt alone, I feel stuffed with company and I love every bit of it.

She wasn't wrong either. Our apartment is essentially the lighter, more feminine version of Sal and Larry's. The floor is a dark, mahogany color but the walls are eggshell white, creating a lovely contrast in the room. Our ceilings are still stunningly tall, but unlike Sal and Larry, we don't have a loft. Just a lot of fan room, as Ash joked.

We spent time having our 'ooh' and 'ahh' moment, exploring our spacious three bedroom apartment and its bathrooms. And not long afterward, we set up the one blanket I brought with us in the middle of our living room. We ordered ramen and had a picnic beneath the moonlight fluttering in through our balcony windows.

It's a girl's night that I've been craving since the moment I first left Nockfell all those years ago.

Ash ends up dragging me and our little blanket out onto our balcony so we can stargaze. In fact, we're in the middle of discussing Twenty One Pilots's new album when pale hands suddenly drop onto Ash's shoulders.

She and I both yelp, Ash's arms flailing and her eyes squeezed shut in absolute terror as she flings herself off our blanket. I flinch, spinning in my sitting position to see Sal who's absolutely grinning beneath his prosthetic.

I look past him, noting Larry and Neil hovering in our living room with bags and suitcases surrounding them.

Oh, an important note, all three men are completely shirtless. Even better, they're a little sweaty too.

"What the fuck, Sally!?" Ash yells, sighing exasperatedly as she lifts herself from the ground and walks over to Sal, wrapping him up in a tight hug. "You're lucky I'm relieved about you being here because I would so twist your dick if this were any other situation."

"Thanks for sparing me then," he chuckles, hand splaying across Ash's lower back as they break their embrace.

I've found myself wordless all day. I feel like a spectator-- like I'm not even here with them on this balcony.

Ash ignores his remark. "Why are your nipples out? Why do you smell like a wet dog?" she asks instead, wrinkling her nose and leaning away from him.

Sal rolls his eyes and moves his arm away from her. "Because I've been unloading. Why else?" He steps aside, ushering Ash back into the apartment with a gesturing hand.

She follows his unspoken command, walking through the balcony doors and beholding the sheer amount of smelly men in our new home. "You should have called us for help," Ash murmurs, hands on her hips as she comes to a stop before Larry and Neil.

Sal doesn't answer her immediately. Instead, he looks over at me with his bright eyes that have been phenomenally captured by the moonlight above. He tilts his head toward the door, silently telling me to follow Ash's lead.

Gulping, I lean down and quickly gather my blanket in my arms, trying my absolute best not to express the nerves ravaging me whole. Sal's here. I don't really hate him like I thought I did. And he hasn't spewed insults at me yet. It's awkward and I feel... shy?

I start walking to the door, making absolute sure not to look at him.

As I pass through the threshold, I can feel the very tips of Sal's fingers brush along my side. Even in LA's smoldering weather, chills suddenly erupt along my skin. I don't know what kind of touch it was-- a greeting or a reminder of his presence-- but it was certainly something.

I suck in a quick breath, counting my steps so as not to trip over my feet as I walk further into the room.

Sal follows, shutting our balcony doors behind him and moving to point at all the luggage on the floor. And, oh, thank God, someone was either smart enough or kind enough to bring an air mattress. "This is all your shit, Ash," Sal sighs sarcastically, though there's some amusement beneath his facade.

"How did you manage to fit all of this into Sal's trunk?" Larry asks, gathering his hair into his hands, a ponytail between his teeth. "Everyone else had, like, three bags. Here you are, bringing your entire closet and then some."

"Uh, yea." Ash's attitude comes out full force, a glint in her forest eyes that says she's ready for this argument. "I brought my entire house, dude. I just moved states away, if you didn't know."

Neil cackles, grabbing onto Larry's shoulder for support. "I'm so glad we all moved together. I never get tired of you guys."

Someone get this man out of the room. Neil's a really handsome mouse surrounded by vultures, especially shirtless like this. Sal blinks at him then turns away and-- honestly-- I'm not far from having to do the same.

Ash smirks at Neil, shifting her weight to one leg to accentuate her little sassy pose. "You're going to get tired of us when we finish unpacking our stuff. After that, we're going pack up all of y/n's stuff to haul it here."

Neil tries to mask the way his face suddenly falls at the reminder that we're moving me here too, but he miserably fails. His quivering lips say enough and the group of us can't help but burst into laughter.

"It shouldn't be too bad." I send Neil a reassuring smile. "I'll rope Nate into helping us somehow--"

"Your hot LA bestie?" Ash squeaks excitedly. She turns to me with her hands fisted beneath her chin, her previous attitude mist in the wind now.

My brows furrow. "You think Nate is hot? You? Ms. Scissoring Expert herself?" I can't help but pick on her a bit.

Ash's excitement morphs into flattery at the name I came up with for her. "Oh, come on. It's not that shocking is it? I indulge in men sometimes."

"Yea, every three blue moons," Sal chimes in, watching us with a tilted head and narrowed eyes.

Ash sticks her tongue out, mocking him before she focuses back on me. "Definitely invite the hottie," she tells me with raised brows.

Whatever Ash wants, Ash gets.

I grab my phone without another word and start typing out a message to Nate. Ash watches over my shoulder, her coconut and poppy scented hair brushing along my chin.

Me: hey, i'm moving. help pack???? pls???? :DDD

Nate: I swear I wasn't serious about revoking
your brownie rights. You don't have to leave.

Me: LMAO i promise that's not the reason
the faces just moved to la & ash invited
me to live with her soooo

Nate: So you hate me is what I'm hearing.

Me: --_--

Nate: Lol. Kidding. You know I'm happy to
help with whatever you need.

Me: this is why ur my favorite ex <33

Ash gasps. "You dated the hottie?" I fling my head around to look at her, forgetting she was in on this entire conversation.

"Woah," Larry adds, hands waving like he's washing windows. "You dated the guy who tried to kill you before our stream?"

I shake my head disappointedly, glancing down at my phone to see if Nate fixed my fuck up. And he has, so I show everyone the message.

Nate: We've never dated. I'm not your ex.

Me: but you're clingy like one so you
might as well be... plus you literally drop
everything to help me

Nate: Have fun packing on your own.

Me: I'M SORRY I WAS JOKING

Larry's cackling by this point, watching the conversation over my other shoulder. "I'm so proud of you for inheriting my good humor," he squeezes my shoulder in his big palm, causing a grin to split across my face.

The boy's start talking about something that I don't care to listen to. I just spare Sal a couple glances, noting his unfazed and easygoing persona right now. All day, I went against all that my DNA has decided about him. I've worried and sympathized, battled myself constantly at the expense of my own sanity just because he showed some of his truth to me once.

Nockfell changed things.

I left LA lustful and I've returned with a friend.

Chapter Text

Sal's Lore Pt. 3

-----

Chains gripped him, held him down under a torrent of consistent, suffocating, and lethal waves of affliction. It was a plague that had been taking him over for decades now and he wondered how he hadn't become used to it after all this time.

Every time it started to get bad, he shattered under the weight of realizing 'again.' He was trapped again. A victim of his own torment. He tore himself down, stripped himself of dignity and of hope.

This time, he didn't care where these abyssal waters dragged him.

Sal's rapidly deteriorating life was transforming into something monstrous and untamed. He no longer recognized himself when he looked into the mirror-- not that it mattered much in the first place. He hadn't recognized himself since he was five years old.

He stared blankly at his ceiling. Counting the stained tiles and filing through arbitrary numbers and combinations in his head no longer aided as a distraction. The only savior in his life happened to be the one thing that would tear him down for good.

When he tried it the first time, upped his daily dosage of anxiety medication to three pills rather than one, he was thrilled. Finally, a solution to his mental torture. He had fallen into a near drunken state, his head clouded with fog and for once, not so many worries captured him so devilishly.

Since then, he had slipped into a hellish routine. Wake up in the late afternoon, take much more of his medication than he should have, then he'd nap for hours or dissociate beneath his duvet. What else could he do to occupy his miserable days? The woman who assaulted him was in prison, but she wouldn't remain there forever. She wouldn't be there for nearly long enough.

All Sal could do was painstakingly count down the days to her release-- when he was sober enough to do so, of course.

When he would regain a bit of his clarity come nightfall, when the moon and stars occupied his empty days, he would stream. It was never for long-- he couldn't bear to engage in something he couldn't find it in himself to love anymore. She had stripped him of the few things he had once adored.

His birthday was approaching. He would be twenty two. In his past years, he feared the fated day. What if everyone forgot about him? What if no one wished him a happy birthday? But this year, he didn't even consider that, nor did he care. So what if everyone forgot him? He was beginning to forget himself too.

Sal glanced to the side, the weight of his own head too much for him to carry with benzodiazepines coursing through his veins. His internal enemy had transformed into his friend-- the medication he cursed for so many years had become his safe haven. He beheld the bottle, wondering if he could turn the pills inside into an eternal bed for himself. He could rest. He could finally leave it all.

All the elderly scholars claimed that Aphrodite had been the greatest temptation, but Sal had found a substance that topped the goddess in that department.

He didn't want to continue in a world where he wasn't even living. Why continue to suffer when everything could be silent forever?

The monster that haunted Sal laughed at him, mocked him as it towered over his limp form on the bed. The wispy trails of its shadows slithered around Sal's body, only adding to the chains that stood out against the fresh cuts along his skin. Its wicked grin failed to strike fear in Sal's heart this time. He looked at the abomination he was destined to become and didn't cower. With each passing day, he assumed he wouldn't be alive long enough to see this empty shell of a creature he'd eventually turn into. The land-born leviathan that made his life into a laughing stock had nothing on him if he could end it before it began.

Sal lazily glared at it-- at the imitation of himself-- while his hand stumbled around his dresser for the bottle of medication.

"Sal?" Three knocks sounded on his bedroom door, painfully echoing around the dark vignette of his drugged mind. The bottle clattered to the floor. "Wanna come out with me and Lisa for dinner tonight?"

It was his father. Sal bit down on his scarred, chapped lips as the hallucinations of his greatest fears, conjured up by his own mind, dissipated into nothingness. Gone like that, in the blink of an eye. He cursed the odds. How come he couldn't fight his own battles?

He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, waiting for an excuse to come to him. "Not tonight, dad. I'm still feeling a little sick." He slurred, giving his father the usual excuse, claiming he was suffering with allergies.

A muffled, defeated sigh. Sal waited with bated breath for his father to leave. The sooner the better. He didn't want the man who raised him to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him this way, which is precisely why he only left the room in the dead of night and early hours of the morning.

"Son," the words were gentle, sad. "Talk to me, please. You've told me you're sick for months now. I know that's not it."

Sal gulped over the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, cutting off his airways. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he stayed quiet.

"Your friends say that they don't see you anymore. You don't answer their texts or calls. Hell, you don't even open your bedroom door for them." Henry's voice cracked, the sound causing Sal to launch into an upright position. His weak arms were barely able to catch his weight when the room began to spin around him.

Sal squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to clear his head, to right himself. His dad was outside his door, close to tears. He hadn't seen his father cry since the passing of his mother.

And his friends. Every day, without fail, they would try. Ash messaged him at least three times a day, called a couple times. Larry, Neil, and Todd would knock on his bedroom door to check in once or twice each. He would ignore them or give excuses every single time. He knew he was letting them down, but in this state, he didn't want to see them. He didn't want to see anyone.

"We have Gizmo at the apartment." Fuck, Gizmo. Sal's little man. After the first few days of falling into himself, Sal started asking Larry to take care of his cat in his stead. He didn't have the strength to look at his boy knowing that the feline could sense his downward spiral. "He's been with us for a few weeks now. He misses you. We all miss you."

Sal dropped his face into his hands, his fingers quaking with the revelation his father had bestowed upon him. Leaving his friends and family behind was already one thing, but the cat who saved him? He felt terrible. The monstrous version of himself was right for cackling at him. Sal was a pathetic excuse of a human.

"And I just want you to know that I love you. You're my boy, Sal. I adore every bit of you and I desperately wish I could hold you in my arms again the way I did the day you were born. With your little hands and feet." Henry took a deep, shuddering breath. "You know, I'm proud of you. You're talented at so many things. You're polite, you're strong, you're kind. Despite all the obstacles, you've... you've pushed through it and you've become a wonderful man. I'm proud of you, and I'm proud to call myself your father."

Sal felt a sob working up his throat, his heart pounding inside his chest. He gripped the front of his shirt in weak hands, squeezing the fabric as the pain of causing his father so much anguish became too much to bear.

Hot tears slipped down his cheeks and he sniffled, feeling attacked by the onslaught of guilt, of fear, of regret. He thought he had conquered these emotions, finally beaten them. It created a hole in his heart, forced a deep ache to surface in his chest. Everything his medicine was meant to do failed on him now as harsh pants wracked his body, his thoughts on a rampage and his body suffering the consequences of the abuse he put himself through.

"Sal," his father's voice was a bit frantic now. Sal knew he could hear the breakdown he was tumbling into. "Please, buddy. Let's talk. Let me help you."

Sal rushed to stand, his legs too tired to support him. He stumbled to the wall, another agonized sob breaking past the barriers he thought he'd built up. His hands trembled against the white wallpaper and he used it to guide himself to his awaiting father. He needed to get to him, tell him he was sorry. Tell him he loved him, beg his father to forgive him.

He gasped for breath, his chest so tight and his mind so muddled with negativity that he couldn't take a full breath. He was slowly slipping beneath the waves, barely able to keep his head above water.

Sal didn't let the terror of leaving his emotions bare to his father stop him when his quivering hand finally wrapped around his doorknob, unlocking it the moment he realized he'd had it locked for two days now.

He ripped the door open, the wood slamming against his bedroom door viciously.

Henry stood past the threshold, his eyes red-rimmed and a lone tear running down his flushed cheek. Sal was sure he looked much worse than his father, especially when Henry's gaze softened into something somber, something far more heartbreaking than the word 'sad' could truly encompass.

Sal launched at his father, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing. Henry rubbed his hands up and down Sal's back, trying to soothe him, comfort him in the only way he possibly could.

"I'm sorry," Sal cried, his tears wetting the front of his father's shirt, his shame leaking onto the solidity Henry brought him. "I'm so sorry."

The grief that overtook both Sal and his father weighed even more than the after effects of the drugs he had been abusing for so long. Burdened them more than the depression and pain that Sal had been suffocating with all this time. All of his problems were sharp pins and he was the voodoo doll. It all came back to drown him-- and now it was drowning the people he cared about most.

Sal spilled everything the moment he and Henry sank to the floor. He relived the exact moment he confessed what had happened to Ash just a few months ago. Once was enough, but twice couldn't be a coincidence.

How many times was Sal going to blame his bad luck before he could finally see that he was the one tearing himself apart now?

On the floor, a heaping, sobbing mess before his father, Sal wondered how he'd be able to pick himself back up whenever his actions had thrown himself down this way. Henry tried to tell him he understood, that Sal was never to blame. That Sal never deserved all these things that happened to him. But Sal had resolved his mind to one thing-- falling apart in front of his father like this was something he never wanted to do again. Ignoring his friends and family, neglecting his Gizmo. They were all things he never, ever wanted to do again for as long as he lived.

He didn't know if he'd get better, but the least he could do was try, right?

With Sal's permission and a conversation with Lisa, Henry helped in admitting Sal into a rehabilitation clinic.

It was the scariest and most revitalizing thing Sal had ever done for himself. Even if he wasn't sure about what he wanted from life anymore, it at least showed that some deep, hidden part of himself wanted to live. Maybe not for himself, but for those around him, at least.

Sal made some friends during the weeks that he spent away from streaming and away from the temptation of tearing himself apart. The first week and a half was miserable. He had to learn to survive without the help of more drugs than he needed. The dosage of his anxiety medicine was lowered to better accompany his journey toward healing. Worst of all were the constant headaches and nausea of withdrawal. Part of him believed his attempts to improve were in vain, especially during the sleepless nights where, sometimes, he could hear that monster clawing at his barred windows.

But, then the headaches began to go away. He was able to eat more than just crackers and soup once a day. He felt like going outside, walking around the garden that his clinic had. And, damn, he felt like talking when he and his hall-mates would meet with a counselor to discuss their day and their thoughts.

Not being alone in his darkness inspired him. And that was when the writing began.

Sal's pen flew across the blank sheet of paper he had taken from the lounge down his hall. It hadn't been the first time he'd done this-- the past week, he had filled up a full stack of paper with words that came from the darkness that had tainted him for all these years.

This paper, though. This one mattered the most.

He hardly had to think, his gaze flying across the page and his pencil scratching against the paper. It just came so easily to him.

"Preserve my youth
Through words I write--
Forbidden truths
Soaked with venom in the night.

Enslaved to my pen,
Chained in this cage;
Ink stains on my skin
For my friends beyond the page.

Blood soaked rose thorns
And bones for my quill--
Trapped in beauty that adorns
The violence of a kill--"

Sal blinked when the paper slipped out from beneath his pencil, no doubt leaving a long, graphite mark across the page.

He whipped his head to the side, looking at his roommate who pursed his lips at the paper. Sal relaxed a bit upon seeing him. He may have been Sal's roommate, but he'd also quickly become a friend. Quite a curious friend, at that.

Sal didn't know much about him, but the man encouraged his healing habits. That seemed like reason enough to consider him a friend.

His friend picked up another paper that lied on Sal's small desk on his side of the room. He glanced over it, his lips quirking up in a little smile. A smile that made Sal suddenly grow nervous. Poetry wasn't new to him, but he hadn't realized he had such an affinity for it until he'd come to rehab. His counselor had instructed his group to write a poem about their healing journey a week ago and Sal realized he'd loved the escape that came with it. It was about as freeing as playing his guitar, but much more creative and meaningful than the mediocre poetry he'd written before this.

Sal snapped himself out of the memory when his friend began reading the words on the page he'd just picked up.

"Look at what I've become--
My mother's careful knitting is undone.
Sixty stitches and a price never paid,
Might as well have sliced me with a blade.

All gaping wounds and pity,
Disgust has never looked so pretty.
My own disgust or theirs;
Or is it just hospital rooms and wheelchairs?"

Sal snatched the paper back before his friend could read anymore. This one was personal and he didn't want all of his internalized anguish out in the open.

"That's enough," he rasped, tone quiet.

His friend frowned. "It's good stuff, Sal. Don't be ashamed." Sal took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way the man's smooth, captivating voice seemed to lull him into feeling false confidence. And still, his friend continued. "Why don't you like people reading your work? You didn't read yours during the meeting the other day."

"It's embarrassing," Sal grumbled. He could feel his cheeks burning up beneath his prosthetic. "Give me the other."

His friend raised a defiant eyebrow.

Sal rolled his eyes as anxiety gripped him whole. He gestured to the paper and, through gritted teeth, forced out, "Please."

His friend grinned at him. "I'll give it back under one condition."

Sal sighed, beginning to grow frustrated, but he heard his friend out.

"Whatever the issue is, whether you're just shy or if you don't want people to see the scary parts of yourself, your poetry's good. That's undeniable." His friend's grin softened into a reassuring smile. "I have a band back home. We're just starting out. Why don't you write music for us? It would give us an excuse to be friends after all this."

Sal's lips parted in surprise. Write music for a band? He hadn't considered giving his poetry to anyone.

Sal's voice was hoarse as he managed to say, "I-- I don't know..." His poetry was his. He felt possessive of it-- he couldn't possibly let anyone else express his mind, even if it were through sound, could he?

His friend shrugged, handing his poetry back to him. "Think about it," he said to Sal. "No one has to know you write the lyrics. Might be a good way to express yourself and heal, you know? Music has been healing for me. Maybe it can do the same for you."

The man gave Sal a gentle smiled then walked out of their shared room. Sal watched him leave with ideas swirling around his head.

Recently, he had begun to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Eating properly, going out into the sun, admiring the sunset, reading literature and poetry, writing poetry again, making friends... it had all begun to mold into this infectious hope. Something he thought he would never, ever feel. And now this opportunity to write music for a band... he felt like he was standing at the door that let in all the hope that swelled within him. He just had to choose how he would walk through that door and if he would take the offer his friend extended to him.

The tides had turned. Maybe music could be an escape for him again.

He thought about his friends proposition, considered his options, thought about all the other things he could do in his life. He thought about his friends back home, thought about his streaming career, other projects he'd been working on before things started to go downhill.

He made his decision, but he'd talk to his friend about that later.

Until then, he'd scratch away on his paper, pull the last broken bits of him out of his body and splatter it against the page.

Chapter Text

"Good morning sleepy little princesses!"

I scrunch my closed eyes, wincing at the bright light that pushes past my eyelids.

"Fuck, Ash," I hear Larry groan frustratedly. I open an eye and peek over, noting Emo Buff Daddy himself throwing an arm over his eyes. "It's too damn early!"

The Faces and I camped out in me and Ash's partially empty living room last night-- well, some of The Faces. Todd and Neil ditched us for their own apartment, which is fair. But the other two men decided to hang out.

I'll say that sharing an air mattress with Ash has been quite an experience. I've slept in the same bed with her before, but this kind of bed just causes her to naturally gravitate toward me. Every night lately, I wake up at some point with her legs wrapped around mine in some kind of sailor's knot that I never imagined was possible.

As for Larry and Sal, I have no idea. Sal goes to bed late and he wakes up early. He's a fucking freak of nature.

"Oh, come on, you whiny little bitch," Ash teases her male twin playfully, ripping the blankets off him. "It's nine in the morning! We're going to y/n's to start packing up her stuff at ten. It's wake up time!"

That's true. I glance at the stacks of boxes around the wide expanse of our living room. We don't have furniture yet-- we still need to buy some and wait for the last moving truck to bring the bigger things Ash is taking from Nockfell. But for the most part, we've got everything here, which means my stuff is next.

With a little more grumbled complaints from Larry, the four of us finally leave our new apartment and meet up with Todd and Neil to start heading to my apartment on the other end of town.

An Uber the size of a soccer mom's mini van drops us off in front of my apartment complex and the group of us file out. Todd is busy telling Neil about the diner I worked at literally about two weeks ago-- not that he knows that.

At the mention though, I look over at the diner, feeling a little nostalgic. That is, up until Ophelia walks bounds up to the front door. I blink at my friend, furrowing my brows. What are the chances?

I yell her name, let Ash know where I'm going, then jog over to my friend who looks so pleasantly excited to see me.

"Y/n, holy shit!" She exclaims when I'm close enough, careful not to say my name too loud since Mike undoubtedly told her that The Faces didn't know about me at the time. "Girl, where have you been?"

"Um, back in my hometown, actually," I tell her with a little grin, enveloping her slightly taller figure in a tight hug.

"I heard you got fired," she cringes upon stepping back, looking down at me worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yea!" I answer, retaining my easygoing smile. "I'm streaming with The Faces. It's proven to be good income. We haven't done any videos lately because we're busy moving into a new apartment, but things have been fine otherwise." I stop my ranting and focus in on the apology I've been meaning to give her. "Also, I am so sorry about what led to me getting fired. Please relay that to Mike, too. I thought he was going to have a heart attack in front of The Faces."

"I know," Ophelia cracks up, covering her mouth with a hand. "I was watching from the bar. Poor, Mike. He could not keep it together! The sperm bank thing was hilarious." She sobers up to tell me, "But congratulations on everything else. I'm happy for you!"

I laugh with her, giving her another hug. "Thank you. But seriously, once I'm settled in my new apartment, I'll invite you guys over to hang out. I miss you," I say honestly, holding her close.

"We'd love to!" She gasps excitedly, squeezing me tight before backing away. "Just send me a text and we'll be there."

"Sounds good," I tell her. "It was nice seeing you! Have a good shift."

"You too!" She says, waving. But she pauses thinking about her words, furrowing her brows. "You don't have a shift. Forgot," she giggles to herself as she backs toward the diner, giving me little finger guns. "Love you!"

"Love you, Lia," I call back with a bright smile. She's such a character.

I walk back to The Faces quickly and lead them up to my apartment, unlocking the door and letting everyone in. I haven't been here in a while.

The day after we came back from Nockfell, Ash and I stopped by to grab some clean clothes and necessities, but I haven't been back since.

I haven't seen my dad since I left LA about two weeks ago. I called him to cry about Ash inviting me to live with her and he fangirled with me over the phone, but besides that, we haven't spoken much.

And Travis, that little ass. When I came back earlier this week, he had left a sticky note on my bed that said, 'Since you wouldn't let me send a dick pic to the singer, here.' He proceeded to scratch out three failures before finally settling on the most mediocre drawing of a dick I've ever seen in my life. But he tried, I guess.

The point is, being back home is nice-- even if it technically isn't home anymore.

Ash, ever the goddess, brought a ton of stuff to cook lunch today. I think pork chops, french fries, and snack packs of chocolate pudding cups. Though, I think it was Larry's influence that got us the snack packs.

Ash sets up shop in my kitchen, outraged at the fact that Dad bought normal salt and not Himalayan salt for her 'exquisite five star meal.'

I sit with the rest of my friends in the living room and make the split second decision to start streaming from my phone. Since I'm not doing anything right now, why not? I've got to make this bread.

I turn my phone around the room, earning a middle finger from Sal who's laid back on my couch watching some kind of play through of a Call of Duty Zombie's Easter Egg. Odd stuff. But he seems to enjoy it so I don't mind, especially given the circumstances of him moving here.

He's been really quiet this week.

Todd and Neil wave, and then I flip the screen to show me and Larry. The man has his face squished against mine so he can get into the screen. I have to adjust my mask with my free hand to make sure the squishing doesn't reveal me at all, but I have a good laugh with him anyway.

After about fifteen minutes, Ash finishes her lunch so I show my subscribers her lovely food then end the stream, grabbing a plate of food to eat with everyone.

As soon as I finish my last bite, there's a knock at my door.

I rush over to the door, ripping it open to see a grinning Nate with a plate of brownies in his hand. What a godsend.

I hop up on my toes to give him a tight hug, feeling about as giddy as I can possibly be. I haven't seen him in weeks at this point.

"Hey, Ducks," Nate drawls in that silky, deep voice of his. His free hand wraps around my waist, his head leaning down to rest against my shoulder. His voice is muffled by my hair as he continues speaking, "Looks like you didn't die back home. Shame."

I swat at his arm, taking an opportunity to snatch the brownies away from him. The smile I give him is a bit of a petty one, but it's a smile nonetheless. "You'd never get that damn screwdriver back if I died, just remember that," I remind him, breaking away from his embrace. His warm palm follows my body though, attached to the small of my back.

Nate rolls his dark eyes, tongue in cheek as he contemplates my reasoning. "Fair enough. I guess it's a good thing you made it back." His gaze has fallen on the rest of my friends now though-- the friends who watch us silently. Ash's cheeks are painted a lovely rouge color but she somehow manages to look our way.

Seeing Ash all flustered around a guy of all things is hilarious. She's so confident with women, and now she's fumbling for the right reaction.

"These are The Faces, as you probably know," I tell Nate, a happy sigh falling past my lips. I start naming them from left to right. "Sal, Ash, Larry, Todd, and his boyfriend, Neil."

Nate nods his head in greeting, lips pressed into a tight line-- his version of a smile at the moment. It's the best he can muster up, poor guy. He absolutely abhors meeting new people.

Larry cracks the code immediately, walking over to Nate and offering a hand. "Nice to meet you, dude," he starts with a cheeky smile.

Nate cracks a smile, grabbing onto Larry's hand and shaking it. "You too."

The rest of the males in the group shake his hand, but Ash simply waves from her spot across the living room. She doesn't move in.

Oh, so she's got it bad.

Still holding onto Nate's brownies, I move toward my kitchen to set them down on the cabinet. "Ash was nice enough to make lunch," I tell my friend, gesturing for him to follow. "We've all eaten already, you can have what's left."

Nate trails in behind me, watching everyone in my living room since the only thing that separates us is the island table. I put down the brownies then move around the table to sit down. Everyone else is busy watching Ash's stream from last night. She gave a quick tour of our new apartment, explaining why we won't be active for a few days and whatnot.

Plate in hand and still the sole occupant of my kitchen, Nate leans against the table opposite me and digs into his food. With just one bite of a french fry, his eyes widen a bit and he tilts his head as if he's just switched realities. "Shit's pretty good," he murmurs, focusing on his plate again to finish his bite.

I watch him with a fond smile, fisting my hands beneath my chin.

That is, until a tatted hand surfaces at my side and snatches a fry off the platter beside me. Nate and I both focus in like a cat to a laser, watching the hand move.

I follow that hand to see Sal leaning against the table, his hair hanging over his shoulders and prosthetic face aimed at Nate while his shoulder brushes mine. I search for his eyes to get a read on him-- figure out why he's here-- but with him facing away from me, the attempt is futile.

Worse though, he doesn't say a word. Just watches my friend. And Nate watches him, a contemplative expression beginning to take over his face.

Are they sizing each other up? My antisocial, shy Nate is actually looking Sal Fisher dead in the eyes without cowering?

I fight the urge to sink in on myself as I watch them and ponder what to say. I don't even know why they're looking at each other like this. It's getting tense. So tense that it suddenly feels difficult to breathe within the boys' general vicinity and I just have zero clue of what's going on.

Then, Sal snaps his head to me. I flinch when his vibrant eyes meet mine.

He looks into my eyes before his gaze begins traveling over my face. He glances here and there, taking in each curve and tilt of the mask shielding me from him. His hand lifts toward me, pushing a strand of hair away from my mouth and I blink at him. A torrent of abusive flutters infest my stomach and my body grows warm. I beg myself not to blush, wishing I could stomp down every single thought about Sal being sweet that suddenly floats into my head.

Everything begins falling apart.

"Oh," Nate mutters from in front of us. I turn to address his sound only to find his eyes a little wide and his mouth gaping a bit. "Oh," he emphasizes the word.

In my peripheral, I catch Sal switching his attention to Nate as well.

Nate immediately throws his hands up in surrender. "I think-- I think I get it." His voice is low, wavering. "We're just friends. It's not like that."

It's my turn to widen my eyes. Are they communicating telepathically or something? Is it just a weird, guy thing? Nate deciphering Sal's wordless claim is even freakier than him claiming me in general.

Sal ignores Nate's words at first, simply looks down at the plate full of fries and grabs another. "Good."

And he's gone.

I stare at the spot Sal populated just a moment ago, flabbergasted beyond belief. Just the slightest touch was a warning, a claim, and acknowledgment all in one. I can't quite process it, but thank God Nate did it all for me.

"What the fuck," he hisses lowly, leaning over the table to talk to me more privately. "You have something to tell me?"

I look at Nate again, noting his hyper finger-tapping and dilated pupils. He just got his drama for the week. No, the entire month.

Meanwhile, I'm short-circuiting. I'm still living in the moment when Sal's fingers brushed the corner of my lips and his gaze pierced through every layer of my skin. But the icy cold, overwhelming fear that suddenly slices through me like the dagger on Sal's neck brings me back to the present. Because Sal just told Nate that we're fucking without saying a single word. Now someone knows.

I can trust Nate with anything, I know that, but I'm dreading the conversation that comes with his knowledge of the situation.

Panicking, I leap up from my chair and lean toward Nate, slapping a hand over his mouth. "Not a word," I whisper to him, trying my best to keep my voice as quiet as possible. "We'll--" I pinch my lips together, shake my head. I can't believe this is happening to me. But I ground myself and do my best to remember that things are fine. Everything's okay. For now. "We'll talk about it later."

Nate nods vigorously beneath my hand, so I slowly pull it away-- watching and waiting for him to screw something up. He doesn't, but he starts conjuring up an evil plan. I can tell by the rabid smirk that begins to form on his lips. "You know I'm going to fuck with him, right?" he whispers to me, narrowing his eyes in some kind of psychotic glee.

Sighing, my head droops and I dread the full day ahead of us. "Please don't," I practically beg him.

"Even getting on your knees won't stop me from taking this opportunity," Nate cackles, grabbing his plate and moving around me to the living room. He even has the audacity to plop down beside Sal, giving him a cheeky grin before popping a fry into his mouth. Sal watches him incredulously before turning back to my TV.

The Faces, Nate, Neil, and myself spend the entire day clearing out and packing up my room. many of my belongings were already packed, seeing as I only moved to LA a year ago. We didn't have to go through the trouble of figuring out my drum kit since it's already in a bunch of boxes.

By the time nightfall came and went, we all grouped up in my living room. Surrounded by boxes and eating food that Larry so graciously ordered for us (Raising Canes, to be specific), Ash took the courtesy of trying to turn some music on to aid the relaxing atmosphere after a hard day's work.

My dear best friend is standing in front of my dad's speakers, scrolling through all of my music to pick a song while the rest of us sit in a circle. To my left, Nate, then Neil, Todd, Sal, Larry, Ash.

The balcony curtains are open to let in the beautiful city lights that manage to reflect into our apartment. Green's, blue's, and yellows engage in a passionate dance along the lines and grooves of my living room's ceiling. Such a hypnotizing light show for myself and my friends.

Ash finally settles on a song, grumbling when an ad plays as soon as she comes over to sit down. "I'm trying to play sad Bullet For My Valentine songs and Spotify won't let me!" she exclaims, plopping down on the floor beside me.

"Sorry," I snicker, dipping a fry into some sauce. "I refuse to give them any of my money."

"I'll pay for it," she scoffs, sending me a playful wink to say she's just joking. I simply roll my eyes and eat my fry, enjoying the lax atmosphere.

We fall into silence for a few minutes and I try not to look over to where Sal sits. He's been incredibly tame today-- so much so that I find myself worrying for him a bit.

He's sitting in front of my sofa, his head laid on the seat cushions. A few tendrils of his cerulean hair clash against the dark color of the fabric. And with his head bent the way it is, I can pick out just about every dip and curve along the length of his throat. A constellation to map out with my lips when the time comes.

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" Larry suddenly asks, probably put off by the silence or expressing his boredom.

I pull my attention away from Sal, especially when he picks his head up to look over at Larry.

I turn to Larry too, finding him fidgeting with his septum piercing and gazing at nothing. So his question was for anyone, then.

"I've got a story," Nate says from beside me, his tone a little too chipper for my liking.

I've mentioned before that Nate and I go way back. I mean, way back. So far back that he and I have witnessed the typical teenage depression and feeble attempts to be badass. The difference is that Nate and I went a step farther. We didn't just attempt to be badass-- we were badass. Not that I regret it, but it's something that I sickeningly assumed he would bring up at some point tonight to 'fuck' with Sal. And, dammit, Larry just gave him his opening.

In a moment of weakness, I grab onto Nate's wrist and throw him a look. Furrowed brows and wide eyes to portray that I really don't think this is a good idea.

Nate mimics my look though, leveling with me. This will be his one statement for the night and he's done. That's what his look means... but is it worth it?

I spare a glance at Sal and immediately regret it. His gaze is set on me and Nate's connected limbs, making me immediately let go of the man's wrist. Sal's already jealous enough as is-- I think that's more than enough.

But, my mind wanders back to the time Sal had a woman nearly sitting on top of him when we were in Las Vegas. All the times he was a jackass to me. You know, maybe he's better now, but that doesn't mean I can't screw with him a little too, right?

I wet my lips then turn back to Nate and give him a little nod.

I'll probably regret this later.

"Okay, so," Nate starts, scooting in closer with a winning grin on his face, hands in the air to accentuate his story-telling. I start counting my blessings. "Back in high school-- junior year I'd say-- y/n was dating this total asshole, right? I mean, this abusive, two-timing, unfaithful--"

I cut him off with an embarrassed cringe. "Get to the point, Nathaniel."

"Right, right." He rolls his eyes, waving me off. "My bad. So anyway, yea. He fucking sucked. He was also my best friend at the time." Nate tips his head toward everyone, earning lots of 'oohs' to add to his already hugely inflated ego. He continues with a dramatic bravado. "I caught him cheating again, so I let y/n know. Also cut off my friendship with him by that point."

Ash snorts. "As you should. Continue."

Nate's grin morphs into a bit of an evil smirk as he turns to Ash, talking directly to her now that she's shown more interest than everyone else even thought they're still listening intently.

"So y/n had finally had enough, thank God." He shoots me a pointed look that I only raise my eyebrows at. "And she broke up with him. She was mad. I mean, so mad that the next day she stomped up to me in the hallway, and-- get this-- with no hesitation whatsoever, said to me 'Let's fuck.'"

I hide my face in my hands at the same moment lemonade spews out of Larry's nose.

I hear a few muttered curses from Ash before Nate continues with the story.

"And I was game, duh, but I had to ask what the occasion was 'cuz the day before she was holding hands with my ex-best friend. So she explained everything to me, and..."

I peek through my eyes to see Nate who's smiling proudly at me, giving me an opportunity to continue the story. So with a breath, I lower my hands and try to ignore Sal's blazing gaze on me.

"What better way to get revenge than to fuck your ex's best friend?" I say tentatively, shrugging.

"Best part of that was he got a pic of me hitting it from the back." Nate leans away from the group with a content smile stretching across his face.

Ash giggles while Larry and Neil reach over to fist bump him. Sal looks a tad amused by the prospect too, but a completely different emotion overshadows his pretty eyes.

Todd, ever the scientist, has his own inquiries about the situation. "So, did you two ever date? I can't imagine neither of you were confused after something like that."

I shake my head. "We'd set up ground rules," I answer him. "Nate was a lousy lay," I can't help but chuckle when Nate lightly punches my shoulder. "But revenge made it erotic, I suppose." I continue, at least giving my friend a couple props.

"So no other feelings?" Ash asks, clarifying with her hands held out.

"Never," Nate declares. "No feelings other than the coolest fucking friendship in existence."

Aw, that's cute. I poke out my bottom lip and turn to him. "That's so sweet, Nate." He sends me a genuine smile that almost makes me feel bad about my next words. "But your mom's still cooler than you."

Nate groans, shoving a hand into my face. "The both of you probably beat me up together in your dreams. I don't know what the hell she see's in your evil ass."

I laugh heartily, catching Sal standing up in my peripheral. My attention leaves Nate who starts talking about the many times I was present for his chancla chucking mama's outbursts. Sal walks into my hallway-- most likely heading for the bathroom.

And you know what, I have things to confront him about right now. For one, I need to know how things are going to progress after Nate finding out about us and I can't necessarily wait to find out.

So I wait for a minute before getting up with an excuse about needing something in my room. Then, I wait in front of my bedroom door-- right across from the bathroom.

When Sal opens the door and shuts the light off, his head instantly snaps up to meet my neutral expression. He glances toward the sounds of our friends conversing from my living room then looks back to me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I hiss quietly, gesturing toward the hallway with a hand.

Sal takes leisurely steps toward me. "I should be asking you that," he challenges, voice low and words clipped. He's certainly not happy.

"I think I have a good reason to ask first," I counter, crossing my arms over my chest. "Nate knows about us, so what do we do?"

Sal doesn't answer right away, not until the toes of his shoes tap against mine. I suck in a breath and hold it when his prosthetic nose bumps my mask's. His nonchalant response is, "We fuck."

I swallow against the monsoon of butterflies that suddenly start flapping around my insides. We must stay focused, brothers.

"That's not--" I try to start, but cut myself off. I don't know what to say.

"That's not what?" Sal asks, stooping a bit lower and twisting the knob of my bedroom door. I stagger backward when the door gives.

My heart begins to race, pounding away at the fortress of ribs in my chest as Sal backs me into my room, softly shutting my door behind him. He follows me, cornering me against a wall. I can't even look at him, not when my face is flaming hot and my body is having these ridiculous reactions. I can't even confront him without freezing up now. His anger, his dominance, the upper hand he always has. Something about it is just so enthralling.

"Answer me," He says, voice a bit louder this time. "That's not what?"

"That's not a good excuse," I say quietly, taking a step to the side to move around him. But my attempt at an escape is met with a hand gently wrapping around my throat.

I swallow against his hold, imagining he can feel the action across each of his fingers. He watches me curiously as if that's exactly what's going through his head.

"It's not an excuse," he repeats my claim, tilting his head a bit to look me in the eye. "Was your story about fucking your friend an excuse, then?"

I open my mouth to say something, but shut it. I shouldn't have let Nate tell the story. It had the desired effect-- Sal is clearly feeling some kind of way about it, but I feel like it definitely wasn't necessary. What was the point?

"Are you going to fuck him again?" Sal asks, dropping every hint of emotion to portray how serious he is about the topic.

"No," I rush to say, tripping over the word. I catch my breath that won't stop running from me. "It was once. I was... I was being honest when I said he was a lousy lay. We were seventeen." I mentally apologize to Nate, knowing he wouldn't care either way because I doubt I was any good at sex either.

I haven't talked with Sal in a while. Not one-on-one. Not since right before we left Nockfell, which was nearly a week ago at this point. Everything else has been the two of us sneaking glances and scooting past with a quick 'Excuse me.' Was I so desperate to get his attention that I had to make him upset to do it? I could have just texted him on Discord or something.

Sal's quiet, letting me think about the consequences of my actions, I'm sure. But the longer he doesn't speak, the more I notice the aggression in his eyes lessens.

His thumb slowly begins to rub along my pulse point, feeling my erratic heart race the same way he did the first time he ever gripped my throat. The skin on his finger is rough, calloused. Guitar playing hands and all. The repercussions of art scratching along such a sensitive part of me.

He taps against a spot on the side of my neck, his gaze snapping to the area he's focused on. "I want to bite you right here," he murmurs quietly.

I guess he's been craving me too.

"So do it," I whisper, drunkenly taking in the way his eyes suddenly meet mine again. I don't need alcohol when Sal's around. He's proven to be more than enough intoxication.

"I can't," he replies lowly, a slight rasp to his voice. "If I do that, I'll fuck you."

I bite down on my bottom lip and think about my poor friends who are waiting for us to return. I also think about how much I've worried for Sal and how badly I've wanted to be near him all week. I can just tell them I dragged him over here to help me look for what I needed, right?

"So do it," I repeat myself, giving him the go ahead.

Sal closes his eyes for a few seconds, probably weighing his options like I just did. It seems that lust wins his internal battle though because within the next second, he leans toward me, buries his prosthetic face into the side of my neck.

I turn my head toward him, shutting my eyes when the scent of his hair envelops me whole. His azure hair, silky against my cheek, moves with him as he trails his nose lightly along the length of my throat.

"I've wanted to taste you all week," he admits quietly, the words a breathy whisper that I can hardly hear due to his prosthetic.

I try my hardest to suppress a shiver, but I can't help but clutch his hair in my hand, tugging at the long strands.

Sal hums, releasing my throat from his grip to hold me to him by the nape of my neck instead. His other hand ghosts up my body, softly trailing up my side and across my breasts all the way over to where he hides against me.

He pulls away from me just a bit, pulling his prosthetic over his head before returning to his place against my neck. I can't help but hold my breath as his scarred lips skim along my throat, leaving the smallest of kisses only when he feels the need.

I pinch my lips together and tug on his hair again when he drags on the slight touching for far too long. He chuckles quietly before finally obliging me, digging his crooked teeth into the spot he so desperately wanted to bite earlier.

I yelp, melting against him just as he pulls me closer to him with a hand on my waist. He slaps the other hand over my mouth to shut me up and I blink at the action, just a little miffed up until he licks the abused skin to soothe it.

He sucks the flesh on my neck into his mouth, leaving marks in a horrendously obvious spot that I know I'll regret later but... I don't regret it now. I can't even find it in me to care about having to hide the dark red marks he'll leave on me.

Sal continues mapping out his artwork along my skin, holding me hostage against his body. His leg finds its way between mine and he lifts his knee, creating friction against my clothed clit. I moan against his hand, making him press harder against my mouth. I grab at the hem of his shirt, squeezing the fabric in my fist as my other hand buries itself further into his hair.

I feel faint, not because of a lack of air, but because of a lack of him.

Sal moves his way up my neck kissing along my jaw before pausing in front of me, his marred nose brushing along mine. His lips are parted and swollen, the tips of his canines peeking past his top lip. And his gaze tethered to the hand that covers my mouth. I watch him, crumbling a bit as he pushes his knee into me again.

He smiles a bit, showing of a hint of that dimple that could bring me to my knees faster than anyone or anything else.

I gently bite down on his finger, causing him to slowly pull his hand away from me. I gasp for breath when his hand finally moves, running my tongue along my bottom lip. Sal's eyes track the movement and I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

His knee drops and he pulls me just a fraction of a centimeter closer to him by the back of my neck.

Something about the way his gaze doesn't leave my lips makes me freeze up.

No. No.

"Twitterpated." The word leaves my lips before I can even realize I thought of it.

Sal's hands are off of me the exact moment I formed the first syllable and he takes a baby step away. I warily watch the way his eyes widen, like he's surprised himself. And he's still close, just a hairsbreadth or two away, but he has room to regain some clarity.

I'm about to apologize when a knock sounds on my door, followed by, "Ducks? Can I come in?"

I gasp, my knees going weak for a moment-- and this time it's not because of Sal.

Unceremoniously and without reason, I shove Sal away from me. He stumbles backward, catching himself with a hand on my bed and an offended grunt.

I reach a hand toward him to offer help that's far too late, my eyes wide as I cringe at the sheer audacity that this situation has slapped me with. But remembering that my dad is literally outside the door, I motion to Sal's prosthetic that's limply hanging from his left hand.

"Put it on!" I whisper harshly.

Sal realizes I'm saving him, saying his thanks through wide eye contact alone as he buckles the prosthetic to his face again.

"Um," I say, loud enough for my dad as I glance around my room. I spot an Amazon box and chuck it at Sal, managing to smack him in the prosthetic he just finished placing onto his face.

He throws his hands up and narrows his eyes at me while I mutter an embarrassed, "Fuck!" To my surprise, Sal chuckles.

I take a breath and sit down in front of my computer, ripping the drawer on my desk open to look like I was rifling in it. "Yea, dad," I call and I watch Sal's body go rigid in my peripheral. "You can come in."

I glance back at Sal who frantically unfolds the flaps on the boxes, practically burying his head into it. I can't help but laugh at the visual.

My dad cracks the door open, peeking in with a hand over his eyes so he doesn't see anything unsightly. "Sorry, just wanted to check in. I'm stopping by to grab my laptop and, apparently, Raising Canes. Then I'm heading to the airport." He gives me a reassuring, gentle smile.

I stand up, ditching my prop excuse and walking over to hug my dad. "No problem, we were just..." I look back at Sal who's finally poked his head out of the box. "Looking for Nate's screw driver," I continue, turning back to my dad.

My father, Bruce, bacon king himself, slackens his expression to tell me he's not buying it and I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I rub a hand over my forehead before gesturing to Sal. "This is Sal," I tell my dad, "Sal, this is my dad."

"Good evening, sir. Nice to meet you," Sal says politely and it takes everything in me not to snap my neck on my way to look at him incredulously. Where the hell did these manners come from?

My dad smiles at Sal, waving to him. "Nice to meet you too, son."

Then he leans toward me, his grey eyes beyond amused as he says, quiet enough so Sal doesn't hear, "You have a hickey the size of Australia on the side of your neck, sweetheart."

Oh my God.

I loose a pained breath, slapping a hand over the side of my neck that Sal had attacked just moments ago.

"Other side, honey," Dad says and I think I'm seriously going to faint while I slap my other hand to the opposite side of my neck-- just in time for him to cackle and continue with, "Just fucking with you. You were right the first time."

I watch my dad with wide eyes, fumbling around my brain for words. All I manage to come up with is, "Is blood really thicker than water, Bruce?"

My dad chuckles lightheartedly, clapping a hand onto my shoulder as an apology and squeezing gently. "I'll leave you be, Ducks. I'm going grab my things-- I'll check back in a bit to say goodbye."

And then he shuts the door again. That bastard, I hate how much I love him.

I turn back to Sal with a troubled sigh, but I feel a bit revitalized when I see the mortified look in his eyes.

"Oh my God," Sal voices my thoughts and I laugh lightly, walking over to take the random Amazon box from him.

"Don't worry, he isn't crazy," I try to reassure Sal as I drop the box into the corner behind my desk. "Can't say the same for when he heard about me and Nate though."

"If you were seventeen, I can just about imagine," Sal murmurs more to himself than to me. "Sorry. About your neck." He says a bit louder this time, but remorse taints his tone. "About all of it."

His tone and words tug at my heartstrings. "Don't worry about it," I tell him, making my voice a little gentler than normal. "I was..." I pause, thinking of how to word my reaction properly. "Scared."

Sal snorts. "Me too. I didn't mean for it to look the way it did, I was just fascinated."

"When are you not?" I quip, closing the drawer to my desk.

"I thought we were being nicer to each other," Sal counters my statement with one that bites. I turn my head over my shoulder, noting the fire in his eyes. He's hungry for a fight.

"Since when?" I turn to him, leaning back against my desk with a minuscule, barely there smile on my lips. "I thought our arrangement was sex, not friends."

Sal tilts his head a bit. "We're not friends?"

I straighten, blinking at him as embarrassment flares within me again. A tremor of flutters makes my heart skip a beat at the same time and my mind goes completely blank.

"I--I mean--" I rush to say, swallowing past the stutter. "Yea, we're friends. I guess. If you want. I don't--"

Sal laughs. He closes his eyes as the lovely sound echoes around my room. Then he stands and saunters to my door, quick to make his exit.

He turns the knob, back to the door as he says his parting words. "You don't stand a single chance, y/n."

No, I really don't.

I sigh, grabbing concealer and foundation to dab onto the pretty mark on my neck, making sure it's covered as much as possible before I follow after Sal.

When I get through the hallway and resurface in my living room, I find my dad standing right outside my friend's little circle on the floor. He turns to me when I walk in, his dad radar making him look directly at my neck. When he finishes his visual examination, he throws me a thumbs up. I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the shame coursing through me.

"Hey, Ducky-Duck," Ash chirps from the floor. "The guys and I are about to head out. Are you coming tonight?"

I smile at my dear friend. "I think I'm going to stay here tonight, hang out with Nate before I move out for good."

Ash nods her understanding, bright smile still lighting up her entire face. "Sounds good! We'll start bringing your things over tomorrow, right?"

I nod back to her, "Yep, I'll be up bright and early."

"Cool," she says, looking over to Nate who watches the exchange. "And you're always welcome at our apartment too. Just so you know." Her smile widens a bit.

Some part of me thinks they're going to end up hooking up somewhere in the future.

I watch the moment Sal realizes he has nothing to worry about. Nate smiles wickedly at Ash, all but confirming that we can expect that to be a thing at some point.

I hug my friends and my dad goodbye, watching as they file out of the apartment. When I return to my living room, Nate's sitting on my couch with a joint between his fingers.

I fight the laugh that bubbles up my throat, especially when he glances up at me with raised eyebrows, asking an unspoken question.

"Let's go to the balcony. Dad would kill me if I burned his couch," I say, grabbing Nate's arm and pulling him up to drag him outside.

We keep the doors open, sitting beneath the clear night sky while passing the joint between the both of us. Smoke materializes in the air through various, white puffs that dissipate as they climb higher and higher.

It's quiet for a bit-- well, as quiet as city nightlife can be. Muted laughter, music, and car honks echo off the wall of my apartment. Makes my nights a little less lonely.

"You gonna tell me what all that was about?" Nate breaks our silence, taking a hit from the joint before moving it toward me.

I take it between my index and thumb and examine it. "We've been..." I pinch my lips together as I ponder the situation I've gotten myself in. I take my own hit before passing it back to Nate. I blow the smoke into the open air before continuing my explanation. "We've been fucking around for... jeez, like, two months now."

"Two months!?" Nate repeats, flabbergasted as he holds the butt of our shared joint between his index and middle fingers. "That long?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "Yea, it's been a while. It started online, shockingly."

"Damn." Nate releases an audible breath, dark eyes glancing between my own. "Phone sex?" He quirks an eyebrow.

I grin. "Yea."

He fist pumps the air, giggling to himself. "So, does anyone else know? You seemed a little apprehensive about me saying anything."

I shake my head. "The rest of our friends would tell us to call it off if they found out, which is why we haven't said anything-- or, well, that's what I think they'd do. No one else knows. Just you-- and my fucking dad now." I rub a hand down my face at the reminder, whimpering at the sheer fact that my dad knows that something is going on between Sal and I.

Nate chokes on a cackle, leaning forward in his chair to launch into a coughing fit. I watch, pretending to be unimpressed even as a little smile works onto my face. I guess it's a little funny. What are the odds, right?

"Your dad? That shit's priceless," Nate sighs, catching his breath. "Why not try a relationship?"

"God, no," I shoot the words out immediately. I don't even want to think about it. "He and I have an arrangement. It's just sex. Neither of us have hinted at anything else. And besides, I don't want a relationship." My voice grows quieter toward the end.

Nate's expression is filled with pity. "Y/n, I know your last relationship wasn't great. Hell, we relived that bullshit tonight with the story." He laughs lightly at the reminder of everyone's shocked reactions to him and I hooking up in high school. "But don't let that stop you from pursuing anything new. Sally Face seems to be pretty into you," he continues gently.

I snort, looking away. "It's just basic attraction. I think he has his own shit to work through and I do too."

"You're throwing excuses at the wrong fucking person," Nate says knowingly. "I saw you stealing glances every two minutes."

I turn my head to him, glaring. I throw a quick, discreet punch at his arm and don't feel bad about it when he hisses in pain.

But I have to think about what he said too. Sal and I had a rather frantic run-in with each other tonight-- one that ended just as frantic as it began. I used our safe word for the first and probably the only time ever. Part of me feels guilty about it, but another part remembers that I was justified. Sal has always been understanding. He wasn't mad, backed off as soon as I let him know.

I let the thoughts marinate for a few moments before expressing them to Nate.

"I think he tried to kiss me tonight," I admit quietly, cracking my knuckles as I watch the stars light up the sky. My cheeks grow pink as I voice the idea, afraid that it'll somehow prove to be true.

I catch Nate's head turning toward me in my peripheral. "And how do you feel about that?"

I laugh humorlessly. "Not great considering I used our safe word."

Nate sits up a little straighter, still looking at me. "Oh, damn. That bad?"

I nod, tilting my head down with a mixture of shame and fear. I don't know how to feel about it because a small part of me wants it, but the rest of me is terrified.

Nate takes a deep breath. "If it's what you said, a sex arrangement, then you have nothing to worry about. It's surface level, right? So what's wrong with a kiss? I'm honestly pretty shocked you haven't kissed at this point. Most people do, especially for hookups."

He has a point.

"I know," I tell him honestly. "When things started, the prosthetic was still a barrier. He's... he's started taking it off around me though. So we've been able to do... more."

"If he's taking the prosthetic off, then he trusts you. So why don't you trust him?"

Nate's question hits me a little deeper than intended. I gulp over the words, organizing them in my head and thinking hard about it. I do trust Sal. He hasn't led me astray, he's been kinder lately, he's always done exactly as I asked. If I express my worries about kissing, I don't have a single doubt in my mind that he'd take it seriously and accommodate me as best as possible. I just have to work up the courage to let it happen.

The next issue though...

"He played it off though," I sigh, shifting in my seat to face Nate. "He apologized, said it wasn't what it seemed like and that he was just fascinated. But, the way he was looking at me... I don't think he was telling the truth."

I peek at Nate through my lashes, noting his concerned, serious expression. "I think that your fear of it scared him. Maybe he didn't want you to call things off over that, so he didn't tell you the complete truth."

I tilt my head, considering. I've done the same exact thing with Sal-- fibbed and left out information to ensure that we'd continue our arrangement. It makes sense, as sad as it is.

"Are you sure you don't have any feelings for him, y/n?" Nate asks, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

I open my mouth to spit out a very loud 'no,' but I stop and think about it. Damn Nathaniel for making me actually think about things tonight.

Everything that made me hate Sal in the beginning is practically nonexistent now. All the anger, the pain, the fights. Sure, we still bicker here and there, but it's for fun now. It's never serious, never deep. It's a lot like Nate and I's friendly banter. Besides that, Sal has been excellent in pretty much every box on the check list.

So, do I like him?

"I mean," I whisper. "I definitely have a crush." I admit, albeit with a bit of force considering it's the last thing I want to admit.

"Well, duh. He's got a crush on you, too. Why else would you guys be fucking?" Nate sighs dramatically, flicking his wrist with a prideful flair I haven't seen from him in a very long time. I think he had fun tonight. The thought makes me smile.

I shrug in response even though the thought of Sal crushing on me does make me feel a bit gooey on the inside.

Wait, gooey?

I groan, slapping my hands over my face and grumbling a muffled, "Fuck."

Nate guffaws, his chair creaking as he sits up quickly. He shoves my arm. "You do like him!"

I shove his arm back, swallowing back tears of surprise, fear, and regret. The audacity of my own emotions. "If I do like him," I start, leveling a glare at Nate which makes him sober up quickly. "It's not enough. Nowhere near. And besides, he's still a shitbag." I don't mean those words as much as I used to.

"That's true," Nate mumbles to himself. "You two have a little feud online, don't you?" His brows furrow and he looks down at the small space between us. "Oh, wait." He snaps his head up to me. "What about that other guy? What was his name..."

"Oh, shit," I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand. I've been so blinded by Sal that I forgot about him. "North."

"Yea! That's it," Nate points at me, eyebrows raising now. "People online are saying you're dating."

I shake my head. "No, I've only met him a handful of times. Spoken even less. I think he's definitely got the hots for me," I snicker at the idea. "It's nothing like what's going on with Sal and I though."

"Doesn't seem like that online," he murmurs, brows raised suggestively. I scoff in retaliation, rolling my eyes at him. But then he narrows his gaze in my direction, scrutinizing me from the minute distance between us.

I watch with bated breath, waiting for whatever's brewing in his head to leave his mouth.

"Why the hell are you still wearing your mask? In fact, why are you wearing a mask at all?"

The reminder washes over me like a bucket of ice water. I suck in a quick breath, hold it as humiliation alters my expression. Nate takes my reaction seriously, sobering up the friendly banter we had going on for a bit.

"You're... going to get a kick out of this one," I whisper, chewing on my lips. At this point, the situations I've stuck myself in are becoming ironically hilarious. Who does this to themselves?

Nate's face drops as he seems to catch the hint that I buried myself in something stupid again. "What did you do."

Statement, not a question.

I suck on my teeth, averting my gaze to avoid seeing the dumbfounded look of pity and awe that'll take over his handsome face the moment I spit it out.

"I met him once. Before I ever talked to him online. He was at the diner-- he hated me. I... I panicked. So beneath the mask, my face is a girl named Lexi to him. She has no relation to myself or Vi." I spit the words out quickly, frantically, so much so that I worry he may not have been able to catch all of it.

I scrunch my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as my body grows warm. Saying it out loud feels so much worse than thinking it.

Why am I doing this to him? Isn't this just... insanely cruel? To look Sal in the eyes and play with his head. To know he thinks I'm two different people and never say a word about it.

I mean, at least he doesn't think I'm three people anymore. And besides, he took my reveal as y/n well, right? So maybe the same would go for Lexi's reveal.

"You're such a dumb fuck." Nate shakes his head, flabbergasted. "What are you going to do about that?"

Tongue in cheek, I ask myself the same question. What do I do? Hope for the best, that he just somehow never finds out or grows curious? Wait until he gets tired of me?

I blink around the frustration and fear that starts to rip at my insides. "I really don't know."

Nate hums, pursing his lips. "Well," he says, voice much lower now. "Seems like you have a lot to think about, huh?"

"When I'm not high? Yea. Definitely." I laugh lightly as Nate sends me a reassuring, friendly smile before turning to watch the sky. I mimic him, gazing at the cloudless night.

Every once in a while, I find that the color of some of the stars matches Sal's eyes perfectly. I wonder if he'd think the same.

Chapter Text

"Woah," A hand catches my elbow, clutching tightly to support my weight so I don't fall-- like my body was clearly planning to do. "Careful."

I sigh shakily, trying to ignore the raspy, mumbled words and the touch of his skin on mine-- especially the reminder of his first remorseful words to me months ago.

Sal releases my arm, lets his hand hover near my body for a moment before returning to helping me and Larry put my drum kit back together.

I bite down on my lips as I tighten a couple things and decide that Larry will take over the job of situating the kick drum because I clearly can't do it myself without threatening to fall on my ass. And given the fact that I'm being forced into close proximity with Sal right now, I'd prefer to not give him any reasons to touch me.

It doesn't help at all that I barely managed to stuff the necklace he gave Lexi into my pocket before he could see. He passed right by it while we were packing at my old apartment-- I thought I'd fucking faint.

After Nate left that night, I tried to throw it away, forget about the damn guitar pick, but... I just couldn't. Something about it felt so sacred. It was the one good moment I had with him and some sick part of me wanted to hold onto that.

But now I regret ever tucking it away under a ton of clothes in my dresser drawer. I should've chucked it into the fuck it bucket. I don't want reminders of the person he never truly was.

I don't like Sal. I don't know what I was thinking the other night. Nate's insane.

I've had time to think about it and to grow absolutely petrified by the concept. How can I feel something if I'm terrified of it? That's proof enough for me. I was just too high that night.

And it's definitely not like I'm avoiding Sal now or anything. I'm doing great! He's helping with unpacking my things... even though I was the one who begged Ash not to invite him.

She offered up the idea last night after we finally finished unpacking everything in Larry and Sal's home. I was hoping that, since we finished our part, I would finally be able to catch a break from his presence. I can't explain the way my heart dropped when she said the boys would get here in the morning.

Given how difficult setting up this kit is though, maybe she realized what I couldn't. And maybe I just need to suck up all of these difficult emotions and just... get over it.

Ash had frowned at me last night and said something that made me realize I'm probably going insane.

"You know he thinks of you as a friend, right?" She'd said, putting her phone down to talk to me seriously. "You two still bicker, but I think it's because that's your dynamic. Other than that, he's changed around you and that alone says he cares to some degree."

I hadn't responded. I still don't know how I'd respond.

But given that Sal mentioned just a couple days ago, as we were packing up my things, something about us being friends... I've been thinking that Ash may be right. I considered him my friend up until that moment too. I had been thinking about how much our relationship had changed, especially during our trip to Nockfell.

Now, though, I feel like I've reverted backward. Even farther back than when we were constantly arguing. I've gone back to how things were before I even met him. I haven't said a word to him all day today.

There's an ominous crack beneath my fingers that makes me pause. I suddenly realize that I've tightened something way too much... a bolt. and I've damaged it in the process. Great.

Larry appears through the gaps in the instrument in front of me, his brows drawn together. "Damn, y/n. You good?" He asks, deep voice filled with concern.

Sighing, I plop into a sitting position, giving my calves a rest after leaning on my haunches for so long. "Yea, just distracted," I murmur, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm going run to a store to buy a new bolt. This one's fucked."

"Maybe you should rest first," Larry offers. I look up at him, noting a raised eyebrow this time and a small frown adorning his lips. "Seems like you have a lot on your mind."

I swallow thickly, knowing Sal is hearing every second of this being that he's just three feet away from me.

"Yea," I try to agree in a spritely manner, but my voice comes out hoarse instead. I clear my throat and try again. "Yea, I guess I'll... rest. You guys should, um, take a break too."

Larry waves me off, his face moving a way from the gap and being replaced by the top of his chest. "Nah, we've got this! Your task for now is to chill. No if's, and's, or but's."

I roll my eyes, my lips twitching in a smile that I try to stomp down. "Yes, sir," I reply sarcastically before standing to my feet. Damn, my back aches.

I try to stop myself, my mind and heart trapped in an endless, opposing battle as my gaze snaps to Sal. He's on one knee, the other propped up and his head tilted at what seems like an awkward, uncomfortable angle to look at something underneath my snare.

I squeeze my eyes shut and speed-walk to the door when a dull flutter lights up my chest at the sight of him. "Thanks, guys," I say quickly before slipping out of the room.

I walk leisurely down the hallway, trying to rid myself of the tingling sensation on my skin where Sal held me. As much as I love the hidden, forbidden moments when he touches me, the remnants make me itch. There's some part of me that's cowering in a corner, captured by fear and I don't know how to conquer it.

Sal already has his own issues going on with this woman who hurt him. It feels cruel to put a rift between us because I have my own problems too now. I don't know what to do, which causes my mind to drift to darker places, think different things. Like... maybe I should end things between us.

When I walk past our kitchen and into the living room, the first thing I see is Ash sitting criss-cross on the floor with a building manual beside her, a half-put together IKEA TV stand, and, funny enough, Nate's screw drive limply hanging from her hand as she reads.

The warm, afternoon light splashes onto Ash's angelic form from our large windows that cover a huge portion of our living room, allowing plenty of natural sunlight in. The sun's rays cascade down Ash's hair, illuminating the brown strands and causing a deep, sparkling red undertone to shine through.

She's just so pretty. Every one of her angles is the right one.

I walk over to her and look down at the manual. "How's the building going?" I ask. My voice makes her snap her head up to look at me. The light catches her viridian eyes and I can't help but marvel at the beauty captured in he gaze. "Need any help?"

She smiles at me, her expression softening upon realizing it's me beside her. "Nah, I think I've got it!" She says cheerily, flipping the screwdriver in her hand. "Why aren't you setting up your drums with the boys."

I purse my lips at the reminder. "I broke something," I murmur bashfully. "Need to get a new part, so that's where I'm headed. Probably."

Ash's brows furrow in surprise and she reels back to look at me better. "You broke something? You, of all people?" She blinks, eyebrows raising now as the confirmation settles. "Well, that would make sense. We're all stressed with the move and whatnot." She waves the screwdriver and moves to return to her building, but she pauses.

Unease boils deep inside my skin as I watch the gears begin to turn in her mind. She turns back to me with her eyes narrowed and continues, suspicion and disbelief tainting her voice. "Unless..." she starts, tilting her head. "You're avoiding Sal."

I cringe, pressing a finger to my lips to hopefully silence my friend. Gosh, this genuinely could not be worse. I feel like I'm gonna puke.

"I'm not avoiding him!" I whisper-yell to Ash, eyes practically bulging out of my head.

"Says the one who asked me not to invite him over this morning." She puts her hands on her hips and gives me a no-bullshit look.

I sigh deeply, scrunch up my nose in complete distaste-- in myself, of course. I shouldn't have been so obvious. Arguing about it isn't going to convince Ash otherwise and it won't change that her assumption is true either.

I open my mouth to tell her that that's not what matters, but she beats me to it.

The woman leans her head back and screams Sal's name at the top of her lungs.

I nearly jump out of my skin, my eyes widening when the impending doom of Ash making Sal and I talk or-- worse-- spend time together settles into my bones.

I hear a muffled curse, a laugh to follow, and then a door shutting down the hall. For fuck's sake.

Sal walks into the living room, stopping at the threshold with his arms gestured offensively at Ash. "What?" he scowls.

The beauty beside me rolls her eyes at Sal's attitude while I turn away from him, my cheeks catching fire. I hate all of this.

"You should go shopping with y/n," Ash chirps, ignoring the fact that she just summoned Sal with some kind of death call.

I spin to her, mouth gaping as I fight to bite down the resounding 'no' that desperately wants to leave my soul. Why would she suggest something like that?

"Why?" Sal asks the question I didn't have the voice to. "She seems more than capable of doing that on her own."

Aw, that's kind of sweet.

"Because," Ash shrugs. "You're..." she seems to think to herself, trying to find a good excuse. This is preposterous. "You're the only person that knows instruments like she does. Forceful bonding!"

Sal sighs deeply. I don't have it in me to look at him as he walks over to us. "What about Larry? He--"

"Yea, Sal," Ash says, her voice loud and reverberating around the room. "What about Larry?" Her tone is aggressive, suggestive. Like she knows she's about to shut him down.

Sal goes quiet.

"So," Ash's chipper voice slices through the tension rising around the three of us. I turn to her, noting the grin splitting her face. "See you later, guys!"

My gaze cuts to Sal. He's already watching me, his eyes portraying a multitude of emotions and thoughts that I couldn't even begin to decipher. He's so him-- he feels things so differently compared to me.

"Shoo." Ash hisses. I watch her hand wave us off in my peripheral.

There's no use fighting her. I should just get it over with. If we go quickly, it shouldn't take that long, right?

Not to mention, I'm the queen of avoiding absolutely anything and everything. My three identities says it all. If I can do that, I can do this. Sal won't even know what's hit him! We can let my awkwardness and issues fizzle out, let the silence consume until I'm better and then it can all go back to the way it was... unless it doesn't. Unless my sobering up takes weeks and Sal gets tired of me. Or worse, he starts asking questions.

With my luck, the latter will happen.

I run my tongue over the surface of my teeth then speedwalk to me and Ash's kitchen. Grab my phone, my keys to the apartment, and my wallet then I head to the door. My mind buzzes the entire way, especially as I skim past Sal both times. I hold my breath each time as if being in his proximity drags me into the depths of the ocean. He's the equivalent to Leviathan in his watery, dark home and I'm doing everything I can to evade his monstrous presence.

Though, he isn't the true monster in this story.

I open the door and leave it open for Sal to follow, which he does. The door shuts softly once I'm a few steps away and toward the elevator.

It's maddening. The silence. It encases the two of us in a mourning veil that's already become a safe haven for the tears, lies, and grief of what's been lost. It's poetic in a sick and sadistic way-- watching everything that was carefully built up teeter on the edge of what could be-- all to fall apart. Crafted and mastered by hands more skilled than a Roman sculptor; a musical antagonist and his chaotic protagonist.

I suppose, if I'm a protagonist at all, I'm not doing much good by shredding our agreement.

I pick up my pace and whirl toward the elevator, not giving Sal time to percolate in our tense disquiet. I put my hand against the sliding door and wait for his presence with bated breath.

The moment I see his fluffy azure hair pop up beside the door, I move. I press my knuckle into the lobby button and burrow into a corner of the elevator.

To pass the time and fill the silence that echoes around in my head, also to ignore the way his scent infects every one of my senses, I pull my phone out to search for a music store.

He smells the way he always does-- clean, a little minty, and some kind of hypnotizing cologne. I can never think straight when he's so close. Which, speaking of, he's very close to my safety corner. Maybe a foot away from me.

He knows what he's doing, the bastard.

But the scenario is becoming easier for me to work through. There's a shop that specializes in equipment for instruments only about 10 minutes away from us, so they should have what I need.

The elevator dings, comes to a sickeningly slow halt that makes my skin crawl with nervous anticipation. The moment the door slides open, I blast past the threshold like an inmate awaiting their release. Don't have to tell me twice; green means go.

By this point, Sal must realize I'm either in a rush or want nothing to do with him. My neurons are misfiring, ensnared in a battle of good and bad. I feel terrible for what I'm doing, but even more so, I'm horrified of addressing this entire issue.

I skitter through a door and nearly kick myself when the better half of my mind reminds me to wait for Sal before I take off down the road.

The man himself lets the door to our apartment building shut as he joins me in the hot, dry air of Los Angeles.

He glances at me, hair a perfect mess and a twinge of apprehension and curiosity in his oceanic gaze.

I dare to glance back.

"You're avoiding me?" He asks, tilting his head, hands in his pockets. The spitting image of confrontation.

Yea, the glance back could only last so long before I regretted it.

I hold my breath and spin on my heel. Fuck, he heard Ash.

"I looked up directions for a music shop. It should be a little ways down the road," I say instead of answering his question, pointing a finger downtown.

"Vi."

I don't look.

"I think a 10 minute walk maybe?"

"Y/n, you—"

"Let's get going before they close— for lunch." I cut him off, jutting my chin toward the bustling sidewalk. I take a step forward— one that's so uncoordinated that I just know I look like I'm scrambling away.

Then his hand catches my wrist. And everything moves in slow motion; you know, hearts surrounding the two of us, smooth jazz playing and a pink tint to our bodies.

I send a glare at the invisible cameras just in time for my body to jolt to a stop.

His fingers squeeze gently around my skin and I suck in a breath of air, too terrified to look at him.

"Look," he says, tone shockingly tender to match the way his skin rubs against mine. I swallow past the thoughts. Bolt. Bolt. Drums. Must get bolt. "I don't know why you're avoiding me, but if you want this thing to continue between us... we're going to have to talk." I hear his scuffed footsteps grow closer to me right until his voice is just an inch or two above my head. "I can't fuck you if you won't even look at me."

I do my best to suppress a shiver. He whispered those filthy words, laid a path of roses and sin with his voice alone to lead me back to him. And, God, I can't stand that I slowly start tiptoeing along the path.

I have to think about a lot of things. Most importantly, what he's just said. Sal is a man of very few words— when he isn't screwing me into next week, that is. But I can tell by his diction of choice that... maybe he thinks he did something wrong. He's caught on to the fact that I can't bring myself to look at him. And this is Sal. The first thing he's going to assume is that I've finally started to think he's ugly. If that wasn't a worry of his, he wouldn't still be wearing the prosthetic. Frenemies with frenefits or not, it isn't hard to get a read on his insecurities.

Second, Nate prepped me for this. We talked about what happened between Sal and me the other night, about trusting him. So shouldn't I fess up and tell him why I can't look at him? That it's because, secretly, somewhere deep down, I've been squashing this overwhelming urge to rip that prosthetic off him and kiss him until we're both breathless?

I can hardly even admit the last bit to myself.

You know what, in fact, I'm not interested in kissing him at all.

No. I'm just avoiding my feelings.

If I had a coin right now, and Heads was labeled as "I won't kiss Sal" and Tails was called "I will kiss Sal," I would flip it. And the moment it would land on Heads, the "I won't kiss Sal option," I'd realize that I've been lying to myself. Because I would be disappointed to know that I didn't get Tails instead.

Sighing, I squeeze my eyes shut, absolutely raving over the minute physical contact between us. This is turning into a problem for me. An obsession. I can't recall the last time I was so taken by a mere touch.

I turn to face Sal, my fingers quaking as I finally meet his pretty eyes. They watch me, narrowed and waiting.

"It's about the other night," I begrudgingly admit, my voice catching in my throat. "I— yea. We should talk."

Sal's eyes return to normal, no longer narrowed as realization settles upon him. "When you used our safe word?" He asks, but doesn't give me a moment to respond. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want me to keep the prosthetic on or a safe distance between us, just tell me."

There's a pang in my chest again. This one isn't as dull as the others have been though— this one hits deep and it's raw and real and so pitiful because Sal thinks it's his face. Thinks he's the cause for this.

What have I done?

His fingers loosen around my wrist, hand beginning to fall away.

I reach forward quickly, grabbing onto his index and middle fingers. "No—" I rush to say. "It's not you. You're..." I don't know how to word what's going through my head. I don't know how to explain that the problem was never him— it's me. "I'm shockingly always comfortable with you. You know, despite the blood lust and arguments. You take care of me. It's not you," I can't help but repeat.

Sal looks down at our partially linked hands and that's when I realize that maybe I reacted a bit too passionately. Quickly, I release his fingers as a wave of heat rushes across my face. This is so embarrassing. Annnnd now I can't look at him again.

"Okay," Sal says, the word low and muffled. He sounds nervous. Awkward. "Then let's talk. My statement still stands."

I nod my agreement, voice caught in my throat.

If anything, he's open to communication. As scary as it all is, I owe him an explanation, right? The worst that can happen is he realizes I'm just insane and he wants nothing to do with me anymore. It could be so much worse.

The two of us begin leisurely walking down the street toward the shop. He falls into step beside me, eyes on the pavement beneath his feet. He doesn't say a word, simply waits for me to find my thoughts and my voice.

If I'd go this entire trip without speaking, he still wouldn't push me to explain. I both adore and abhor every inch of that generous ideal of his.

But the issue still remains-- I have no idea where to start. I don't know how to even comprehend my own emotions and problems, so how can I correctly portray them to Sal?

"I don't know how to start," I admit at some point, chewing on my bottom lip while my entire body freezes over with embarrassment and shame. Who knew communicating was so hard?

"I understand," Sal says comfortingly. What the fuck happened to him? Is this his serious voice? "I had the same issue. My therapist told me that not understanding your feelings is part of understanding them, confusing as that is. Give it to me in pieces and we'll figure out the rest."

Wow. Two weeks ago, he would have pounced on the opportunity to see me crumble beneath my instability. Now, he's coaching me through it. How much changed in Nockfell?

You know, the truth of the matter is that the change began long before we went to Nockfell. I just have a hard time accepting that. Change is terrifying to me-- that's no secret, so acknowledging that it's there in the first place is hard enough. But in all honesty, the shift between him and I began the moment he apologized to me in the bar where Dark Autumn Complex played.

That's where my downfall was born.

Instead of focusing on the root of the problem, I pay close attention to the sprouting leaves. The present. We can't change the past, we can only work on what's happening now.

"Change makes me very uncomfortable," I tell him, painfully aware of how emotionally bare I am to him right now. I'm the first to know that putting my heart in this man's disastrous hands can make all the difference in how things proceed. But if I want a positive outcome, this is my only choice. "And we've changed a lot."

Sal nods beside me. "We have," he agrees.

I suck in a breath, the perfectly timed scuffing of our feet vibrating through my body. He knows how our relationship has done a complete three-sixty too.

"And I think it's scared me. The other day-- in my room. That scared me," I continue, quaking fingers twining into the fabric of my shirt.

"I remember you saying you were scared," Sal builds on my words. This turned into the tensest therapy session I've ever endured. But, he's surprisingly good at this. "What is it that scared you, exactly?"

"Um," I start awkwardly, tilting my head as I backtrack to the events of that night. I relive it all, every single step. And where my heart seems to seize is when I recall the look in his eyes as they fixated on my mouth. "It was the way you looked at me." The words burst past my lips as the realization settles. "I thought you were going to kiss me."

A quick, muffled sound from Sal reaches me. I turn to look at him, seeing his head still bent toward the ground, but a hand covering the mouth of his prosthetic this time. Is he... laughing?

I lean forward a bit and see that his eyes are scrunched closed as his chest vibrates with laughter that I can tell he's trying his best to hold at bay. Whether it's to prevent embarrassing me further or to hold up the genuine part of our conversation, I can't tell.

I don't know why he's holding back, but, damn, am I relieved.

"Are you laughing at me, you asshat?" I pick at him, amusement making my voice waver with giggles.

"Sorry." He chokes on a short, wild laugh before holding a hand up to me. "I know it's serious, I just--" He chuckles a bit more.

A smile blooms on my lips at his reaction. I'd give anything to see his handsome face right about now-- to watch the way his full, scarred lips curl into a bewitching smile. To see his sharp canines and slightly crooked teeth on display. To watch the dimple form next to his mouth, his nose scrunch up, his marred cheeks lift with happiness, his brows furrow as he tries to contain himself.

I blink when Sal looks over at me, his eyes squinted with obvious amusement. My smile softens, so as not to give the true extent of my reaction away to him.

"That's not something you have to worry about," he says, catching his breath. He straightens himself a bit but stops his walking, fully turning toward me. "I won't kiss you. It's something..." He tilts his head contemplatively. "It's rare for me. I've only ever kissed Ash and, funny enough, your damn cousin."

How do I unpack that? Easy-- I don't. The first words out of my mouth are, "You kissed Ash?"

Sal nods, the action a tad reserved as he averts his gaze. "We were young. Both had a lot to drink and Larry's favorite kind of dare is one that no one wants to do-- he dared me to kiss Ash. So I did. Travis was much different though. It was a lot more..." He trails off and that's fine by me. I don't need to know anymore.

"Got it," I continue for him, the words clipped to tell him he doesn't have to say more. He snickers lightly.

"I wasn't going to kiss you. I just think..." he trails off again and that's when I notice he still hasn't looked back to me. He's biting his tongue. There's something he doesn't want to say. But, "I think you're pretty."

My heart stutters in my chest as I watch him, toss his words around in my head a bit.

"Everything that I don't have, you do. Your face is so... symmetrical, lovely. I can't help but watch how you do things sometimes. I was being honest— it fascinates me." Nothing but honesty in his tone. Dripping with honey and all things sweet. I didn't peg him as a sentimental guy, but when I'm wrong, it works out. I don't think anyone's ever said something so kind to me before.

How the fuck am I supposed to sleep tonight?

I don't quite know how to work through or accept what he's just told me. He thinks I'm so pretty that he can't help but watch me? That's a line out of a Disney movie. No, even better, it's Twilight. A Hallmark romance.

But I appreciate his honesty. He told me the same thing when I said our safe word-- that I fascinated him. That it wasn't what it looked like. He was never going to kiss me, he was just admiring me.

I can't tell if that makes me feel better or worse. His words were the coin and the side that landed is unfortunately the 'I won't kiss Sal' option. Maybe it's better this way. I don't have to worry about things becoming something they aren't.

I suck in a shaky breath and nod my head to show him that I hear him. That I believe him. There's this nagging in my head right now though. A little sliver of my brain that's fighting to get to my frontal lobe, begging for me to compliment him the same way he did me. And that sliver manages to work its way to where it needs to be because I start saying way too much.

"I hope you know," I start softly-- I can't speak louder or my voice will waver. I'm so nervous, I feel like I've done blood work without breakfast. "That you're very pretty. I was thinking to myself earlier that I'd like to see your smile."

Y/n, you're off the show. Pack your bags. Go home.

Sal's head snaps to me in a moments notice, the action so quick that I feel like he's given both of us whiplash. I definitely shouldn't have said that.

"So you get it then," is what he says, the words mumbled. "We both fascinate each other. We wouldn't have this arrangement otherwise, so that's settled, at least." He pushes a hand through his hair, ruffles his fringe. "Was anything else bothering you?"

Nope. That was about it. But I am curious. "You asked if we were friends?" I throw the question into the air, refusing to look at him as the sign for the shop becomes visible in the distance.

Sal hums in a disbelieving way. "I would never. Did you hit your head?"

My mouth drops open. "You literally told me, 'aren't we friends?' That's asking if we're friends."

"You know I didn't mean it that way. Can't you tell when I'm fucking with you?" Sal counters, scratching at his chipping nail polish.

I pinch my lips together, a flair of frustration painting my insides red. "So what are we then?"

Famous last words. This is exactly what MCR wrote about before they broke up. I'm fated to a chemical demise and, jeez, why would I ask that question? I'm making all the mistakes today.

The answer is that we're nothing. We didn't even start as something.

To my surprise though, Sal's quiet. He doesn't laugh, he doesn't freak out, doesn't argue. Like he's genuinely pondering my question.

"I'd say we're definitely past the enemies part, right?" He asks, looking toward me for agreement. His bright eyes that capture the suffocating sunlight meet mine and my body goes rigid on instinct. I give him a stiff nod and he faces forward, continuing. "We aren't quite friends though. To me, friends are people who know my secrets and still choose to stick around. Ash, Todd, Larry. Chug and Maple back home. I mean, The Faces are more like family to me, but you get what I mean." He cuts himself off for a moment before continuing. "I'd call us acquaintances. And you don't have to worry about there being any more change because you're the last person I'd ever tell a secret to."

I narrow my eyes at him. This dumbass. "I've seen your face. Isn't that a secret?"

Sal slowly turns his head to me, blinks. "You really want to talk about faces right now, sweetheart?"

I swallow, slapping a hand onto my mask as I realize what he's hinting toward. Fuck. And he called me sweetheart-- I need him to stop... I don't know. I just need him to stop existing or something.

This is the first time he's ever said anything about my face. I knew I wouldn't be able to escape it forever, but I wish it could have held off for a little longer. This is dangerous territory he's walked us into.

I'm openly gaping at him, I realize, with wide eyes and my fingers gripping onto my mask. His brows furrow a bit before he looks away. "Don't look at me like I stole your cat," he murmurs, aggravated. "I'd never ask you to take it off."

He wouldn't? "You wouldn't?"

He shakes his head, strands of hair falling onto the cheeks of his prosthetic. "Would you have asked me to take mine off if you hadn't seen my face by accident?"

As curious as I had been of what he looked like, he has a point. I never would have pressured him or even asked for him to show me his face. If I'd have discovered his face in another way, it would have been on Sal's terms. It would have been if he wanted to show me.

"No," I whisper, gazing up at the store sign that's just a few doors ahead now. "I wouldn't have."

"Exactly," he says matter-of-factly. "Do you feel better now? Are you done avoiding me or am I going to have a couple more days to relish in the fact that I made you fold?"

I purse my lips, desperately resisting the urge to punch him in the gut. "No one folded, dickhead. I was just confused." I spin to him, point an accusatory finger at his chest. "You switch up quick, don't you?"

A mischievous smile that's hidden from me makes his pretty eyes squint as he grabs onto my wrist, gently shoves it away from his chest. "You love it, don't you?" He counters playfully, though there's still some bite in the way he speaks.

I scoff, grabbing the door of the store and damn thankful for the distraction. "You are the ground I walk on, Fisher," I murmur.

"Mmm," Sal hums, a seductive edge to his tone. "Kinky."

A smile works onto my lips at the familiarity of our bickering. I don't know if he's started this up for my sake or simply because it's so natural, but I'm thankful either way. Things feel normal. There's still an overwhelming, underlying desire to have every inch of him I can get, but not having all of him is okay so long as the rest stays the same.

This entire situation was selfish of me. Sal's battling his own demons right now; I mean, part of why he came to LA was to escape his past. Who am I to take away the one thing that gives him a little bit of comfort? I can't help him much, but being a happily willing accomplice to his most sadistic desires is something, right?

I don't reply to him, especially since we've reached the store. So instead of entertaining his bad behavior, I pull the door open and hold it for Sal as he follows me inside.

As tiny and insignificant as the store looks from the outside, it sure has a lot of personality inside. The aisle's stretch as far as the eye can see and suddenly I'm intimidated by a little bit of stacked metal.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, thinking through my options and settling on the only one I've really got-- I need to go ask someone for help.

"I'll be right back," I murmur to Sal, distracted by the looming towers of racks and displays. Yuck, this is my worst nightmare, but it's for the sake of music. "I'm going to ask someone where to find the bolts."

"Why be social when you have signs?" Sal replies with logic. I look over at his skeleton-tatted hand when he lifts it to point at the aisle signs hanging from the ceiling. "Thought you were smarter than this."

"Shut up," I gripe shamelessly, pursing my lips as I navigate my way to an aisle that has something to do with drums. I pause though and throw an insult over my shoulder-- one I've been holding back for a while. "Repaint your nails before you take another jab at me."

Sal scoffs, a little miffed but not as offended as I'd hoped. "Never thought you'd be the one complaining about my fingers," he replies, snarky and proud. I hold my breath as heat travels through my entire body. Embarrassment and lust and everything in between. He knows just how to manipulate every situation to benefit him.

I wet my lips and slow my steps a bit, just for Sal to catch up with me before I can think better of my action. His fingers brush along the small of my back, just over the waistband of my jeans. "I have the high ground, Anakin," he whispers in my ear, voice muffled and raspy.

Dammit, not the Star Wars reference. It's even worse that he's right. I dug this grave.

Doesn't change the fact he's a nerd.

He passes me up, head tilted back so he can look at the signs, showing off the lovely tattoo on his neck. It doesn't help that he's in a black tank top due to his and Larry's working on my drum kit. The flower vines and geometric tattoos on his arms are burrowing into my soul the same way they wind around his skin.

He's so pretty. I hate him.

"Look," he calls a bit farther ahead, his head turning to see if I'm near. "You needed bolts right?"

I pick up my pace to meet him, looking toward the area where he's standing. Bolts and bolts drum covers and directions of how to assemble drum kits, all that lovely jazz.

"Perfect," I purr in complete delight, grabbing onto the size I need. "Maybe you aren't good for nothing, Sally Face," I chirp for good measure even if it is sort of a low blow.

"You could just say 'thank you' like a normal person, you know?" Sal throws the words at me, tossing his hands up in a shrug that all but baits me to fight back.

"To you?" I ask, tilting my head down to give him my best incredulous look. I turn away from him and begin walking to the cash registers at the front of the store. "Never."

I think I'm imagining it, but I swear I hear Sal chuckle a bit.

I ignore it, grinning as I pay for my beloved bolts. Sal is suspiciously quiet by the time I get my receipt so I spin around, expecting to see him behind me. But he's not there. I glance around only to find him hovering near the front door, his phone pressed to his ear and a hand on his hip.

Probably Ash.

I walk over, choosing not to say anything so he can finish his call.

His eyes meet mine when I get close enough and he holds a hand out toward me, distracted as he says a quick, "Okay. Yea."

I raise a brow even if he can't see it. What is he waiting for? Does he expect me to hold his hand or something?

Oh shit, what if he does?

He wouldn't, would he? Regardless, my heart races as I gaze down at his hand and wait for further instruction. My brain is short-circuiting and I don't know what to do—

Sal folds his fingers toward his palm, pushing his hand closer to the bag I'm carrying.

Oh, that's what he wants.

Still a little confused and hocked up on adrenaline, I pass the bag to him. His fingers graze mine and suddenly I have to fight off a shiver.

Now that he has the bag, he looks away from me to finish his call, fingers gripping the plastic handles of the bag.

"We'll be back soon," he says a tad monotonously. I can faintly hear a high pitched voice reply to him— yep, Ash. Then, he snacks his lips frustratedly and says, "No, I'm not getting vodka for you and Larry. You two make me play babysitter enough." Nothing but animosity dripping from his pretty voice.

I snicker, covering my mouth with a hand in an attempt to stop myself. Sal hears anyway and he throws me a dirty look. Mmm, kinky.

Sal grumbles a couple unintelligible words, then snaps out an irritated "Bye, Ashley."

He pulls the phone away from his ear and I hiss. "Yikes," I say sarcastically, watching as he levels his dead stare at me. Whatever Ash called him for, it's set him off for the next couple hours. I wonder how much I can fuck with him within that time range?

Sal releases an exasperated sigh and pockets his phone, gripping the bag tighter. I feel my eye twitch when the muscles in his arms flex with the tightening of his fingers. I should have directed that 'yikes' at myself.

"We're picking up lunch," he tells me, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Oh," I whisper, the word barely audible. I swallow and try speaking again, using the power of God and anime to peel my gaze away from his bare arms. I am no better than a man. "What do they want?"

"Good question," he answers, opening the door for me. How... gentlemanly. I pass through quickly, watching as he follows me out before jutting his chin toward me. "Can you look up the directions? It's some Greek place that just opened up around here apparently."

My brows furrow. "Uh, is it called Ambrosia?" I ask, thinking back on the news update I got weeks ago about a new restaurant coming to my side of Los Angeles.

Sal glances to me, eyes narrowed inquisitively. "How'd you know?"

I slowly look toward him, keeping my stare as vacant as possible. "I'm psychic," I say, deadpan. Sal has the audacity to look even more suspicious of me, so I roll my eyes and pull out my phone, searching up the directions. "Because I live here, dummy. I heard something about it when we got back from Vegas."

"For your information," Sal starts up, elbowing my arm. "I'm pretty smart."

"Okay, Todd Morrison," I scoff, smiling down at my phone. Restaurant's about a mile from here. That could be a problem. The food would be cold by the time we made it home.

"I'm serious," Sal says passionately in a pathetic attempt to defend his supposed high IQ (which, I'm sure he'd say something about that too). His voice sounds a bit higher-pitched. It's no where near Ash's shrill, but there's competition. "Before The Faces took off, I wanted to work for NASA."

That's interesting.

I look over at him, choosing to pretend the early afternoon light isn't beating down on him perfectly right now. "Really? So, you're into science?"

Sal shrugs, watching his feet the same way he did on our walk here. "Sort of. I wanted to do more of the mathematical work, though. Since there's so much we don't know about space, I figured a space station would be interested in someone who knew how to code or was familiar with physics."

I blink, eyebrows raising so high that I'm concerned they may hit the back of my skull. Sal is so reserved, never talks about his interests. I'm thankful for even the awkward beginning of this trip with him because at least I'm able to hear this about him. Had I never broken that bolt, I wouldn't be standing here having the craziest conversation of my life.

"I never would have guessed that about you," I tell him honestly. I can imagine him in a white lab coat, surrounded by other NASA scientists as he stands in front of a whiteboard full of math equations that I'd never begin to understand. He'd probably be a great teacher; animatedly explaining his work with his hands, a deep understanding and passion for the logistics of space. It's sweet to think about. Maybe he'd have been happier working for NASA, maybe he never would have had so much issues with this mystery woman. Maybe he wouldn't have had to bother with me.

Sal looks at me again and the shape of his eyes shows that he's smiling softly. I feel bewitched in the moment, captured by the beauty of him opening up to someone. Watching someone learn to trust is even more captivating than lust.

"Wanna hear something crazier?" He asks, leaning toward me. He tries to hide it, but the tone he speaks with practically screams that he's excited.

I don't fight off my smile this time as I answer him with an enthusiastic, "Sure."

"I have a degree in Mathematical Physics and Relativity, and I minored in Astrophysics."

I gape at him, thoroughly shocked and amazed. This man has a college degree? In fucking physics? "You what?" The words explode out of my mouth and Sal laughs heartily at my reaction.

This absolute lanky tank of a freak walking next to me knows more about space and math than I know about my own body. This is tragic and terrifying and so amazing. I think I could listen to him talk about astrophysics for hours.

Yea, I think I'd really like that.

I shake my head in disbelief-- at myself, at him, at the fact that I never would have guessed this about him. This goes to show just how much I don't know about Sal Fisher. "Where did you have the time for this?" I ask, fighting past my braincells who rush to figure out the mind fuck going on right now.

"I graduated last summer," he provides me with the answer I wanted, but goes into more detail. I never knew I'd appreciate an explanation so much in my life. "I was advanced in math, so I started taking college classes during my senior year in high school. After that, I went to our local college and finished everything out there. Four year degree-- I finished at 22. Here I am."

He holds his arms out as if to show me all of him, like he's proud. I nearly gush at the sight, watching his eyes light up with excitement to talk about something he enjoys. I know our relationship is the opposite of perfect, but damn, do I admire him. I had no idea of the genius hiding behind that hard exterior of his-- but it's there.

I regret talking shit about his IQ. I probably have the brainpower of a limp spaghetti noodle compared to him.

I pause my walking, forcing myself to focus on the food issue for a moment. "Okay," I tell him seriously, holding my hands out to him in a 'stop' motion. "Ambrosia is a mile walk. I doubt you want to do that, so let's catch an Uber or a cab or something. I definitely want to hear more about physics though." I didn't think his expression could lift even more, but it does. I did that. And for once, his prosthetic doesn't look so expressionless. "Hey, side note," I continue, subtly cringing. "What's your IQ?"

"Ahh," he voices, looking upward as he thinks. Oh, that's terrifying. "I think a 133 the last time I took the test. But IQ's are an inefficient way to measure someone's knowledge, so I don't like to introduce myself with that kind of insignificant number."

Yea, his explanation said everything about how fucking smart he is. I turn my head away and keep a hand up to stop him. "Don't talk to me anymore," I grumble, and I can't tell if I'm being serious or messing with him because this information really is horrifying.

"Come on," he chuckles, taking a step toward me as his head bobs with laughter. He is thoroughly amused. "I need to talk to you if we're going to get to that restaurant. And not talking is the entire reason we got into this mess in the first place."

I shake my head ferociously. "Uh-uh," I tell him, pushing against him when he walks right into my awaiting palm. I can feel his heart beating calmly against my hand. "I've been fucking a dude with a higher IQ than James Franco."

"So what?" Sal feeds into this whole charade happily. "That just means I'm hotter than him. Case closed."

"Not another word from you," I hiss, cheeks heating up from his relentless flirting. He chooses the worst times to do this-- it's always when I'm about as unstable as a failed egg drop project... now I'm making physics references. Oh, this is bad.

And Sal's interest in space explains his Star Wars reference from earlier, so I guess that's something.

"I'll leave you alone," he laughs softly. "Just this once," he adds. I can't look at him. "But we're going to walk back to the apartments and grab my car. To hell with spending more money when I can just drive."

"Aren't you a famous streamer? How is money a worry? And what happened to you not driving in LA?" I hit him with so many questions that I start to wonder if his science is rubbing off on me.

"To answer in order: yes, it's not-- I just like to save, and California is a lot more open about disabilities than small town Nockfell. Are you ready to go now?" He grabs onto my wrist for the third time today and uses his hold to force me to face him.

I pinch my lips into a thin line and warily watch him. Though, I think my nerves are needless. I don't think I've ever seen him look so light before. He seems happy for once, the emotion reflected in the brighter color of his eyes.

Maybe Nate was right. Maybe I do like Sal and it's time to stop denying it.

"...Fine," I mumble, gently pulling my arm away from him. He releases me then spins toward the way we came, gesturing to the path.

On our walk back to our apartment building, I make the best decision ever and ask Sal about black holes. The entire ten minute walk goes quickly. He tells me about all kinds of math and physics things that I don't quite understand, but it doesn't bother me much because he's so excited to talk about it. The way he animatedly explains gravity and density reminds me of the time he recited Annabelle Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. There was so much passion in his voice then, but now it's amplified to the max.

By the time we get to the parking lot for the apartments, Sal is still explaining parts of a black hole to me. I'm enraptured more by his voice than the explanation, but I try my best to follow along.

He unlocks the car, lets me get in.

"-- and there's this point at the center of a black hole, called Singularity. It's badass-- compresses matter down to the equivalent of a needle point. Actually, infinitely smaller than that. But that's where all time and space is completely broken down. Everything you are, everything you know becomes nothing the moment you face the Singularity point."

He goes quiet and shuts his door, staring at me.

I blink, beating down the butterflies in my stomach with a bat. "Damn," I murmur. "Singularity would be a badass name for a song. Such a simple name for a terrifying concept. Imagine being completely erased from existence."

"Exactly!" Sal exclaims, turning his key in the ignition, making the car roar to life. "Funny that you mention music. There's a song called Singularity by a band that Larry introduced me to when we were younger. Ever heard of Sanity's Fall?"

I recognize that name. Larry's told me about them a number of times too. "I heard about them from Larry as well," I laugh softly. "Think it's related to physics?" I ask with a tilt of my head.

Sal snorts. "Probably not." He glances toward me, a smile still present in those pretty eyes. "But we can pretend it is."

He looks away and begins backing out of the parking lot, hand on the back of my headrest. I thought asking about his interest was my best decision today, but letting him drive us to Ambrosia definitely takes the cake. The hand-headrest move will always be my favorite.

But, as Sal began driving to the restaurant, an uncomfortable awkwardness settles over us. I don't say a word, he doesn't even glance my way. I realize almost immediately that we connected today-- after saying we wouldn't connect. I think Sal's realized it, too, given his abrupt silence after going on and on about black holes for so long.

We order and pick up the food quickly. Despite me arguing with Sal about how I can pay for my own food, he bought it anyway, claiming that, "Ash told me to get food, not you."

I hate it. I hate every second. Things were so nice earlier and now it's taken a complete turn because we've realized what's going on.

Making friends sucks.

We return to our new apartments, silent the entire way up to mine and Ash's apartment. We stand as far apart as possible, too wary to even share the same air.

Everything is unbearable to the point that I start counting the steps until we make it through the door. Even Sal in his sleeveless shirt can't entice me to spare him a glance right now. The weight of our day is just too heavy.

I burst through my front door with a relieved sigh, heaving a bag of food onto the kitchen counter. I shed a bit of my anxiety when Ash and Larry flock to the food, Larry ripping into the bag that Sal's still holding.

The man hisses when the food threatens to fall through the hole in the bag. Sal impressively chucks his keys onto the counter then grabs the containers before they can hit the ground, holding them up with a hand beneath them.

I watch him with pursed lips, turning away when his head turns toward me-- I won't wait for eye contact.

"Oh, sweetness," Ash chirps beside me in her sing-song voice, poking my arm. I turn to her with a pleasant smile to encourage her to continue. "Friday, I'm leaving for Anaheim. Got a meeting with some streaming execs. I'll be back Saturday afternoon."

I blink, letting her words marinate. "I'm gonna be here alone?" I ask to clarify.

Ash doesn't quite understand that the question was asked out of fear because she answers with an excited little, "Yep! You get to do whatever questionable shit you'd like-- just as long as you clean up."

I gulp. I don't have the heart or the lack of dignity to admit that being alone in this huge apartment seems terrifying. I mean, I should be fine. There's nothing to be scared of, especially knowing that people have to check in at the lobby to even make it into the elevators.

Yea, I'll be fine.

So I hesitantly nod, giving her a not-so-confident smile in return.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, a welcome distraction from the internalized terror that's yet to come.

I pull the device out, holding it in front of me to look while my friends flock around me to get their food.

@violove keep tagging our mother she needs to know that her bf has betrayed her
@toddslefttoe @VIOLETVIOLENCE @VIOLETVIOLENCE @VIOLETVIOLENCE MOM NORTH IS A NO-GO GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN
@veeveehehe he only ever wanted to hurt you bb, go fuck his bsf
@ashers10 i knew he'd hurt her, i just KNEW ITTT
@larbearrrr bruh i thought they were just rumors bffr???

I gape at my phone screen, quickly scrolling to see the hundreds of comments on my most recent Instagram post. They all consist of the same thing-- something about North betraying me.

With furrowed brows, I look up at my friends.

"Uh, guys?" I start, tilting my head as the gears turn in my head. What the fuck is going on? "People are freaking out in my comments saying that North betrayed me. Do any of you know anything about this?"

Ash mimics my expression. "I have no idea. That's... weird? Maybe someone spotted him in another girl's comments."

Oh, well, that's not bad. I don't care about him going after another girl. He and I haven't spoken in weeks. Still, I jokingly tut and reply, "Guess I'll have to start planning a SpeedBump Grave." I groan. "Men."

I smile a bit, ignoring Sal's gaze as I look down at my phone again. I'l just ask everyone to fill me in.

@VIOLETVIOLENCE guys i'm lost-- what's going on????

It takes about .5 seconds to start getting some replies in.

@lerryberryuwu @VIOLETVIOLENCE omfg you haven't heard?
@toodswithoutthed MOM oh thank god you're here we need to do damage control
@ashypoo99 ur never gonna guess
@veeveehehe STOP BEATING AROUND THE BUSH EVERYONE OMFG. some fan leaked that sally face and DAC are working together-- THEY'RE GONNA BLACKMAIL YOU AND GET REVENGE
@violove @veeveehehe no one said anything abt blackmail? they're just working on music.

Oh. So that's what it is. Maybe Sal is going to be playing guitar for a song. But this is also a leak, according to my lovely sources.

Begrudgingly, I look up at Sal who has his prosthetic lifted enough to show the bottom of his chin while he eats. For a brief moment, I wonder why he didn't just take it off, but I have to remember that it's his life. Just because I want to see him doesn't mean that he wants me to see him.

"Sal," I call out to him to distract myself.

He looks up, eyebrows risen as he situates his prosthetic back into place to listen to me.

I wet my lips and look down at my phone again, feeling my cheeks warm. "Figured I'd let you know. Everyone's freaking out in my comments because, apparently, someone leaked that you and Dark Autumn Complex are working on music together."

He curses lowly, the word full of malice. I hear his fork drop and that's when I look up-- but he's already rushing to our apartment door, ripping it open and slamming it behind him.

I watch the spot he was in just moments ago, letting the odd scene replay for a second before I address Ash and Larry.

Larry looks rattled, Ash just looks confused.

"I'm gonna go check on him." Lar says, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't think he wanted anyone to know about that."

And then Larry's gone with him.

It's not much of a shock that they're working together. They're friends; I know that. What's shocking to me though is all of my fans coming to defend me, and then Sal's reaction.

For now though, I hope that the situation gets figured out for Sal's sake. As much of an asshole as he is, no one deserves that. Least of all him.

Chapter Text

My favorite analogy to use in times of uncertainty comes from my dad. He once told me, "We're just two little frogs on a lone lily pad, floating down some hidden bayou in the swamps of New Orleans, Ducks. And that's okay, because at least we have each other."

It stuck with me throughout most of my life. When the depression was really rough, when the anxiety hit its peak, I'd scribble that line in notebooks. In pencil on my walls, erase the words when I felt whole again. Etch it onto my arm in pen, then scrub away at my skin for hours in the shower that same night.

For that reason, I feel like we can attach ourselves not only to people, but to words too. Which is why I find myself debating going and writing those words again and again and again in the emptiness of my apartment.

The week leading up to Ash's departure to Anaheim flew by. She and I unpacked, organized, and lazed about our home without seeing Sal, Larry, Todd, or Neil all that much.

That was fine, she and I preferred to figure things out on our own anyway.

The issue came with the moment Ash left in the early morning on Friday, after we'd had Sal and Larry over the night before.

I was left to my own devices, which meant all I could do was think about how much I've been drowning in myself. For months.

What's weighed on me most is Sal. I was never supposed to like him— it was never supposed to be more than simple attraction. I feel like I've failed myself and dragged Sal into something he wants nothing to do with. Feeling this way seems so cruel. He's his own person, he has his own shit to deal with. Why did I let it get this far?

For the entire day, I've sat here and told myself— scolded myself— that I need to calm things down and I need to get over this. Not just for me, but for him. Situationships, friends with benefits... those types of things do not end in relationships. They don't turn into happily ever afters. Me and Sal are nothing alike— I wouldn't even dare consider a relationship but if my feelings go far enough, I just might start to.

There needs to be some separation for myself. I need to put some distance, but I just don't want to. I genuinely like being around him.

Oh, this is such a clusterfuck.

I lay on me and Ash's couch, staring out of the huge windows that lead to the balcony as the sun goes down. It's evening. The silence is loud around me, messes with my senses. I keep thinking I see things out of the corner of my eye and every creak or crack of people moving around above or below me sets my heart racing.

Ash informed me that she'd be back by tomorrow morning, which is fine. I streamed for a few hours, ate dinner, then did some shopping to snuff out my Sal-centered thoughts, and then the unsettling quiet. I just didn't realize how anxious I'd get about being here alone once the moon took the sun's place in the sky.

It's not my first time being alone. When I lived with dad, I was alone most of the time. But this apartment is still unfamiliar to me. Being in a new place that doesn't quite feel like a home yet is perturbing.

The sky grows a little too dark for my liking, so I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flinching when the volume startles me. Anything to suffocate the silence that lurks around the dark corners of this room though.

I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with the dark hallway that looks back at me. Shadows dance around the edges of the vignette, mocking my fear. I'm worried that if I watch for too long, I may really see something staring back.

And I thought my tiny, barely there feelings for Sal were scary. All that needs to be done to reset my mind is put me in an empty room, I guess.

Turning my gaze back to the TV, I try to focus on The Crow. All the gothic notes and emotional aspects try to distract me... but I quickly learn that even my favorite movie and Brandon Lee's ethereal beauty can't steal me from reality.

I'm restless. I can't stay here a moment longer.

Sighing, I sit up and gaze at the hardwood floor. Dad's not home-- I could go back to my old apartment, but that's a fifteen minute drive. That's a last resort. I would go to Todd and Neil's, but they're over in San Francisco to watch Todd's favorite musical.

That leaves me with Larry.

Can I bear to be in Sal's presence with all the turmoil in my head? I don't know, but I can't figure it out until I try. Not to mention, knowing him, he'll be locked up in his room anyway.

Me and Sal's conversation last week made me feel a bit more secure. I know things can continue the way they have been and I don't have to worry about anything else, I just have to work on getting past exactly how much I feel now. The fact that we had to had to have that conversation at all is embarrassing-- even if he told me that it was okay. It feels so stupid to me now that it's all over. It feels even more ridiculous that I apparently haven't learned a thing and still want to put distance between us.

I stand up and grab my keys from the kitchen counter before shutting off the TV. Then, I'm out the front door like a bat out of hell. The quiet was overpowering me-- having such a big place is so eerie when it's just me.

In my diluted panic, I make it to Sal and Larry's apartment in record time-- hoping and praying that they'll let me stay.

I pick up my pace once I reach their floor, bounding up to the door and knocking. Each corner feels like it's leering, hiding evil that lurks everywhere I go. It's unbearable and I just can't be alone.

That, or maybe some depraved part of me just wants to Sal.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I tap my foot against the carpeted floor and try to pretend that I've got it together. I do anything to get rid of the adrenaline rushing through me. Readjust my mask, pick at invisible lint on my shirt, crack all of my fingers, look up and down both sides of the hallway stretching around me. It feels like I wait for hours even though it's merely seconds until the door opens.

My eyes snap upward, gazing into the eyeholes of Sal's prosthetic. He holds it against his face with a hand, the straps dangling at the sides. It's clear I've caught him off guard.

"Vi?" He asks, tone suggesting he's both confused and alert by my sudden presence. I watch him glance down the hallway the same way I just did.

When he looks back at me, he has an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Uh," I choke out, remembering that I kind of have to tell him why I'm here. "Is Larry here? I wanted to hang out. The, um, silence is... loud." I rush to explain myself, knowing full well that I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

But Sal looks like he gets it though, his gaze softening in understanding as the words leave me.

"Larry isn't here," He tells me forthright. My heart drops at the news. "He went to Anaheim with Ash. Didn't she tell you?"

I hum bashfully, embarrassed at myself and the circumstances as I shake my head.

"Sorry for bothering," I say with a sigh, trying to hype myself up to brave the quietude and darkness.

A beat of tense silence passes between us as I build up the mental strength, already feeling like I'm rotting in the lonely apartment back upstairs.

Then, Sal mutters, "You can stay if you want, so long as you don't mind me practicing. And don't make me regret inviting you in."

I watch him watch me, both of us hesitant and unsure. But what's more unbearable than being around him (which hasn't been all too bad lately) is being alone.

I clear my throat lightly then look down at my feet, nodding. "Okay, thanks."

I may come to regret this.

Sal leads me into the apartment, his slightly taller figure blurring as I take in the living room and kitchen I helped unpack just a week ago now. To replace all the boxes and uncertainty is a kind of clean organization that I just know Larry had nothing to do with.

Sal spruced up. It's orderly, uncluttered, and so him. It works because Larry isn't much different.

The climbing living room walls have various band, tour, and festival posters, records, guitars, a bass, signed drum covers. It's a metal-head's dream. There's just a little touch that screams 'this-is-the-house-of-a-streamer,' which happens to be the multi-colored LED's on the ceiling. But I'll give them a pass for that one.

Regardless, it's nice. And the kitchen, while not completely decked out, is doctor's office-level pristine.

I purse my lips, feeling a little apprehensive. This might be the first time Sal and I have been in each other's presence without a plan for sex or something related to it. We're just... hanging out. It's weird, but I'm desperate enough to put up with it at this point.

Sal's out of my way already, settled on one of the black sofa's with his flashy red guitar nestled on his lap and a laptop in front of him. Oh, and the prosthetic is gone.

My eyes train onto his pretty face. With all of this moving, I've hardly been able to see it. As crazy as it is, it's kind of been killing me. This recent revelation of mine has led to this insatiable urge to look at him constantly. I thought it was bad before, when this was all just a meaningless crush, but now...

I swallow past my raging thoughts. I've had enough to think about today.

Following Sal's lead, I plop down onto the adjacent, larger sofa-- right in the middle of it. I stare at the dark television and subtly gaze around the room in search of a remote. I'll be damned if I sit here with him in silence like this. Once again, I would much rather hot box in a car full of Larry's tamale farts.

Sal's head tilts upward in my peripheral so I look at him. He looks at me, his azure eyes surveying me before leaning over to a little table between the sofa's. He grabs a remote, then an Xbox controller and tosses them to me.

"You can play something if you want. Just switch to HDMI 2," he offers, turning his attention back to his guitar, strumming a quiet note. His brows furrow and he bites down on his bottom lip, shakes his head lightly. Those hypnotizing cerulean locks fall past his shoulders and shield his handsome face from me. His hair has grown in the past few months, hanging at least an inch past his shoulder by now--

--and that is not the point of why I'm here.

I murmur a quick thanks and lean over to grab the controllers, switching on the TV and finding my way to Sal and Larry's shared console.

There's a selection of games on here, some I've played, others that are on my TBP list (like TBR, but instead of to-be-read, it's to-be-played).

I hover around the Resident Evil 4 remake. For the past few weeks, I've been telling myself I'm saving up for it. I brought it up to Ash a couple days ago and she gave me a funny look then proceeded to remind me that, with my streaming career, I have around $4,000 in my bank account right now. I don't need to save for once, I can just get it.

Except I panicked and said I have to keep all my money in case of an emergency... so having disposable income is still new to me and I have no idea how to handle it.

I click on the game, biting down the excited grin that tries to build on my face.

I start a new game and nearly crap myself, doing my fangirl job by raving over the updated graphics and Leon's lore-accurate hair color.

For about an hour, Sal and I don't even spare glances at each other. It's nice, chill-- just two... acquaintances... in each other's presence without having to talk to enjoy their company. I play RE4 and he strums away on his guitar. A couple times, I become entranced by the melody he plays. Each time he plays longer, it starts to come together. Around the second time he played more than a couple notes, I realized he was composing. Creating a tune. Whatever you want to call it.

While a musician myself, I've mostly worked on covers of songs. I've only tried to write my own music a couple times and even then, I realized it was tough work. Watching Sal now-- how long it takes him to come up with all the notes and lengths for just one chord-- I do not envy him, but I do admire him. He's putting a lot of work into it, clicking away on his laptop when he finds something he likes.

Each second of him working on his music steals me away from my game though. I start getting antsy, missing infected people even if they're right in front of me in the game. Hell, I walked Leon into a wall two minutes ago.

I grit my teeth as I navigate through the village, heart beating out of my chest with every corner I turn because a horde of zombies is going to be on me any second now.

I need to be prepared, need to get all of these questions out of my head.

"You're making a song?" I ask Sal, staring at the screen in front of me with my knees pulled up to my chest.

Sal hums in acknowledgment, distracted by whatever he's messing with on the computer. "Yea. Has to do with that Twitter leak." His voice is soft, hoarse. I'm shocked he even answered me with how focused he is.

Ah, yea. That leak. Ash and I didn't hear from Sal or Larry for two days after they rushed out of our apartment. When they finally popped up yesterday to help us with some more unpacking, they briefly mentioned something about 'damage control' and 'whistleblowing bastards.' Don't know how that has anything to do with whistleblowing, but those were Larry's words, of course.

I nod lightly, dragging Leon to a ladder. "I take it you don't want to give me the drama on that leak?" I guess, stealing a glance his way. Damn his pretty hair and equally as pretty face.

As I'm glancing, he shrugs, bright eyes darting across his laptop. The color of his irises is enhanced by the blue light of the screen-- I hate him. "There's not much drama to give," he murmurs, clicking on something. Then, he sits back, his eyes snapping to me. "The leak was the bridge to this song. I've been fixing it up and messing around with it. I had a producer with me a couple weeks ago, he took a picture of my screen. The back of my head was in it and it inevitably got out. What are people supposed to think when this is the title?"

He flips the laptop to me and I lean forward, squinting my eyes to look at the screen. There's a lot of graphing and multicolored lines that look overwhelming as hell-- but I focus in on the bold words at the top of all the mess. "DAC COLLAB."

I pinch my lips together in a guilty smile. "Ah, so that's the mess. That fucking sucks," I tell him as he pulls the laptop back to him.

Tongue in cheek, he tilts his head to the side as if to say 'whatever.' He at least seems unbothered by the whole thing now. "It is what it is. It's going to be released at some point anyway. North was going to make an announcement next month when we'd made a little more progress. Damn asshole at that studio just did the job for us, I guess." He seethes a bit on the last sentence, brows pinching together.

I hum contemplatively, eyes trailing over his hands as they press into his guitar before I look back at my game. "I wouldn't let it bother you too much. You still get to make the song, still profit from it."

A tiny grin pulls at Sal's lips. "True," he says nonchalantly.

Silence builds around us, our conversation having fallen off rather than ending. We're still learning. Awkward moments have to come along here and there.

Doesn't stop me from getting killed within the following moments though. I'm so stressed about making things work with him and me... I shouldn't have started the damn game.

"I'll make you a deal," Sal suddenly pipes up when I get mauled a second time.

Growling frustratedly to myself, I pause the game and turn to him, waiting for him to continue.

He shakes his hair out of his face, letting me see all of him. He sets his elbows on his knees, showing off the veins in his forearms and the map of tattoos that trail up his skin just to disappear beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

I take a fortifying breath.

"Come listen to this and I'll help you past this part." He juts his chin toward the TV before looking back at me.

I shrug. Why not?

"Okay," I accept his proposal, scooting down the sofa toward where he is. His tattooed fingers type away on the keyboard before he turns the laptop so we can both see the screen.

"My taste is a little harder than what Dark Autumn Complex usually puts out, but I think we're getting somewhere," he tells me and for a moment, I wonder why he's trying to explain the music to me before I've even heard it. Is he nervous?

I simply nod my head. If I say something, he may get even more freaked out. I'm fighting for my spot on earth right now, man.

He presses the space bar then leans back, letting me listen.

I flinch when I hear the opening-- he wasn't kidding. It's similar to what the band usually does, but there's something sinister and death-metal-ish about the instrumentals. Sal seems to have a lot of control over the sound here. The double electric guitar, and heavy bass from a literal bass but drums too says enough. It's veering off the path that DAC usually takes.

Just because it's a little different doesn't mean it isn't damn good though. It's really good. Sal's cooking up a five course meal on his laptop here.

"Life slips by
In the blink of an eye,
Dripping through the gaps
In my hand which saps
This eternal time lapse
Of brutality.

Prophesy each of my regrets;
My mistakes chosen by the oracle.
A fool making bets
With possibilities so rhetorical."

I grin at the lyrics, at the sound, everything. I look over at Sal and he has a little smile on his face too, his expression so heavenly when his eyes meet mine.

"This is--" I start to say, but Sal cuts me off.

"Shut up. Listen," he whispers. So I do.

"An artist of malice--
My muse of persuasion.
Drink from my crimson chalice,
Submit to the composer's pervasion.

Aren't we friends?
This anguish and me.
Gaze through the rose-tinted lens,
Ignore the razor blade's sharp plea."

I blink, the smile falling from my lips in record time. Just days ago, Sal asked me that question. 'Aren't we friends?' There have been so many coincidences with this band. So many, in fact, that I genuinely thought Sal and North were the same person at one time.

There's more to this than what I've been told.

"You work close with them, don't you?" I ask, tuning out the rest of the song for now. If he tries to shut me up again, I'll shove a finger down his throat.

Sal doesn't look at me as he chews on the inside of his cheek. And-- wait... is he... blushing?

"Caught that, huh?" He asks, pausing the song but still refusing to look at me.

My eyes widen at his admission. "What exactly do you do with them?" I ask quickly, leaning back a little bit as a thousand and one theories pop into my head. Is he going to tell me that he is North? That he's been hiding behind that name all this time?

And if he is, would I finally tell him that I'm Lexi?

If North is Sal, a lot of things are going to change.

Sal's tongue swipes along his bottom lip. "I write every single one of their songs," he says, nodding to himself. "They put it together, make music with it."

Oh. I got ahead of myself again.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as my body suddenly grows warm with shame. It's time I put that theory to rest.

I furrow my brows though, thinking back on the lyrics. "Look," I start warily, "I don't want to seem full of myself or crazy or anything, but I swear--"

Sal shakes his head, his dimple forming on his cheek as a bashful smile grows on his lips. "You're not crazy. I hate that you correlated it, but... there are a few lyrics inspired by some of our interactions. When things make an impact on me, I usually incorporate them into my songs." Now it's my turn to blush. I need a moment to process, but, fuck, Sal keeps going. "For example, 'Wherein Christine Daaè Becomes Her Own Phantom' is about Ash. And then a couple lines in some other songs, like the one you heard in this one and 'Falling through like fingers in fishnets---' those were about you."

I gape at him. This genius made of multitudes and art and misery and physics. I don't know what to say, so I stupidly spit out, "Ash has an entire song about her? You gonna write one about me?"

As soon as the words come out, I narrow my eyes and internally scold myself. Not the time to joke, y/n. Not at all.

Sal strums a note on his guitar, in a completely different world as he mumbles, "Who says I haven't already?"

My head snaps to him and a full on, rainbow infested panic attack starts up. He was so serious, ditched all of his reservations when he said that.

At my silence, Sal glances up inquisitively. He takes one look at my face and his eyes widen a fraction. "I'm joking. You aren't that important for me to write a whole song about. Don't take it so seriously."

Do I snap at him for that or feel relieved?

I choose to glare at him instead and switch the subject. "North has a really nice voice," I say a bit too cheerily. Sal notices and I watch him stifle a petty laugh. "It's very melodic, goes well with the band's sound."

"Don't tell him that," Sal snorts, something a bit bitter taking the place of his previous amusement. "His ego's already huge as is."

Ash had some serious heat on North, and now Sal's looking like he has some not-so-good opinions too. Is North really so shady? What is it that everyone's so on edge about?

I recall the time Ash went on a rampage about North incessantly flirting with me and how she mentioned that he isn't exactly known for being in relationships, that he may not be what he portrays himself as.

Sal seems to be pretty open tonight. Maybe I can finally start to understand what the issue is.

I open my mouth but fail to get a word out. I contemplate saying anything at all, nerves consuming me at the prospect. But North isn't here, it's not like he's going to find out we talked about him.

"Is he really..." I start softly. "Ash hinted that he may not be the best person?" I settle on, peeking at Sal through my lashes.

Sal watches me, eyebrows drawing together and jaw working as he searches for what to say. I wait patiently, happy that he's at least thinking about answering me.

"Are you considering cutting off our arrangement to be with him?" He asks genuinely, nothing but seriousness portrayed in his expression.

All the air leaves my body. I hadn't thought about ending things with Sal for that reason, not even once. Plus, North and I haven't talked in a while. After Ash freaked out, I pretty much put the situation on the back burner. "No," I reply quietly. "It's just curiosity at this point."

Sal's expression softens and he blinks at me, holds me in his gaze before sighing heavily. "Everyone has their own shit to work through. He's no different. He has a lot of baggage though, lot of issues. He's told me a thousand times before that he doesn't think he'd be able to handle a relationship because of his problems." He pauses, grimacing as he fights for the right words, clearly not wanting to disrespect is friend. "North is a bit of a hit or miss. I can't predict how he'd be with you."

He sends me a devilish look, teeth on display in a stunning smile as he adds, "Definitely can't tell you if the sex is good or not. He wouldn't let me hit."

I shake my head at him and roll my eyes, a blush forming on my cheeks. "I did not ask for that last bit," I tell him pointedly.

Sal chuckles, standing up from his spot on the opposite sofa to sit beside me. I watch him with questioning eyes, my body falling into a frenzy because, oh God, Sal's close. Arms. Tattoos. Fingers. Neck. Face. Teeth. Mouth. Hair. Veins. Ravenous. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

Yikes.

He grabs the controller I'd been playing Resident Evil with and that's when I remember that other half of our last minute agreement.

"Figured I'd give you one last little push to keep fucking me and not him," he says as if that statement holds no weight, gesturing toward me with the controller.