A curious voice had startled him. A young girl. "Y..Yes." Truth be told, he wasn't sure. He had just received a text from a co-worker that a band he liked was coming to their bar.
  âA get well bouquet,â she curled a bit of her hair around the tip of her finger and hummed thoughtfully, âthere are a few flowers that would do thâ trick. We got peonies, daisies, hydrangeas anâ pansies.â
  All of which were in stock, though her peonies and hydrangeas werenât as popular as the other two. It was a little disappointing, really, since those two were her absolute favorite. Madison wouldnât share this, of course, since it was his bouquet to choose.
  âI got plenty of time, donât you worry.â She chuckled softly and, with a small wave of her hand, motioned for him to follow. The shop wasnât as large as she would have liked, but it took more than a couple of steps to lead him towards their stock of daisies and peonies.
The array of flowers he was lead to was a charming bunch, the peonies catching his eyes the most. Atticus, beginning to move closer to them, reached a finger out to glide it through the petals. Whoever the receiver of this bouquet was would surely relish the sight of these.
"These will do..." A smile blossomed on his lips as he looked back at her. "Would a mix of white and light pinks be appropriate?" The notion of having his own bundle of these flowers at home somewhat excited him inside. Though, he didn't think he had a spare vase lying around.Â
Slipping his phone out of his pocket, the male briefly checked for any new messages. To his disappointment, there were none. You're killing me, man. He would just have to call the man while she would set up the flowers. His eyes wandered back to the flowers as he pictured them in his small living room. Atticus parted his lips and added, "And, I think I'd like a few of those for myself."
|| č || :: The redhead didnât get to do that often, after all, pampering someone or cooking for someone. She lived alone, and though she loves cooking, making something and eating them yourself didnât make her appetite rise all that much. And surely, the male seemed to be nodding off a little by minute, showing how he probably wasnât a morning person, opposite to her. Another random fact she learned about him, then, she noted mentally. A blink, followed by the way her cheeks rose in colors at his compliment to her eyes probably gave away she wasnât used to it, getting complimented.
"T-Thank you⌠Yours are⌠nice.. as well." How does one deal with a sudden compliment like that, though!? The Suzaku was just feeling her cheeks tinted in a deeper red while her heart skipping a small beat. Surely, they didnât get a chance to be close to each other like this, huh. Since last night was⌠another subject and interests than observing.
"R-Rightâ!" Why was she stuttering? Really, though she didnât flinch away from his touch, something she noted must be because she spent the whole night in his arms and her body was growing accustomed to his warmth and touch. How the distance between them was minimal and she stuttered out in nervousness when he cupped her face. Their faces were⌠close, after all. Though him closing his eyes and having his face that closed had her wonder⌠Did they.. kiss.. last night? Sure, they did⌠a lot more, but kissing. Hnn.. She wondered.
"Youâre⌠not much of a morning person, are you?" Shifting a little, her head tilted and waited. She wouldnât know where the kitchen is, after all. If she did, she might just go to make him breakfast and told him to stay in bed if heâs still sleepy.
Her periodical exhales were merely caressing the surface of his features, their faces being much closer than he had intended. The rouge flush in her cheeks seemed to never leave her visage, he thought, as he gently brushed them with his thumb. Skin soft under his thumb, he grew curious and applied slightly more pressure, running it down the structure of her face and then eventually squishing her lips. Yes. He remembered these being very enjoyable.
A short-lived groan hummed from his throat, audible to no one but her. Â "Hmm." Atticus inched nearer, bumping his nose to hers. "Not really." Breathing in deeply, he rose up from the bed and rubbed his eyes gingerly. This stranger was rather generous with her offer, inciting wonder of her origins in him. He looked forward to eating a proper home-made breakfast, really, but his lackadaisical expression hinted otherwise. Atticus massaged his shoulders, eyes distracted by the light reaching through the curtains. However, he couldn't let go of this persistent feeling, a feeling that he didn't deserve to have such an act of kindness propelled towards him in this way. That he should be alone at this moment.
"Do you need to use the bathroom? I could start up the stove first while you go do your thing."Â
Atticus flashed an award-winning smile at her, not sure what he was doing. He began to occupy his hands by pushing the buttons of his shirt through their respective slits. Getting on his two feet, the cold floor pressed to him in reminder of his slippers he had left in his study room. Atticus dipped down to kiss the redhead's cheek, though ended up pausing before his lips met her vulnerable skin, and simply grazed them against her before he drew away to the kitchen.Â
It all felt so foreign to him, for some reason unknown. Maybe because it had been awhile, he tried to convince himself.
|| č || :: Her running thoughts were interrupted at the sound of the bathroom door opened, tearing her eyes away from basically empty air towards the male who seemed a little more calm after his shower. He wasnât⌠exactly meeting her eyes per se, though the Suzaku couldnât help blinking almost innocently as he rolled down on the bed, and somehow that brought a small grin to tug at the corner of her lips? She couldnât help finding the sight a bit adorable, perhaps. Hand reaching out, unconsciously tender, and toying with his hair a bit until he caught her arm and she was pulled to him.
A small squeak was all it was, and she found his light brown eyes upon her scarlet ones. His question caught her attention. Apples? She wondered why all of a sudden.
"Apples are nice.. I suppose. I do like them."Â The question was random, and she didnât know what he was thinking but at least the atmosphere around them appeared a little lighter now? Cheeks rose in color to a rosy hue, and she shifted a bit so that she wasnât dumping all her weight onto him. Not that she weighted anything much with her lithe figure, but better be safe than sorry.
"âŚWhat do you want for breakfast?" A rather casual inquiry as she had her eyes on him still. After all, she didnât think she knew anything about him, even his name she had just learned so it wouldnât be too late to start on that now? Another blink where her free hand came to softly brushed away his bangs from his face, an affectionate gesture that came almost instinctively. "Do you usually have breakfast? Some⌠eggs or toasts, probably? I can make those for you."
The subtle touches of her hand were dangerously lulling him, as a desire to grab hold of her again cultivated his senses, his arms beginning to slither around her waist before he stopped himself. Atticus really wanted nothing more but to just fall into another deep slumber with her as his pillow, though his pillow was offering to make breakfast after an exhausting night. Breakfast was a rarity in his household, for he often succumbed to having brunch most days due to his ability to continue sleeping after being woken by his alarm.
"I must say your eyes are nice to look at." It wasn't the best way to put it, considering the intimate moment, but he was drowsy and all he could think of was the correlation between the reds of apples and her deep irises. He wasn't able to observe them this meticulously last night, since it was dark and the two of them were pretty busy. "Really nice."
"I have eggs...maybe some bacon." Atticus felt like a kid again with this acquaintance playing the role of his mother on a Saturday morning. How did it become like this. "..."
Looking closely at her face, a wave of Spring smell came at him, recalling the first time he laid eyes on the stranger. His face neared hers, eyes widening at the revelation. The male didn't stare too long, disrupted by a growl from the pits of his stomach. Atticus fluttered his eyes to a close, conquered by his own appetite. Allowing a moment to pass before blinking them open again, he captivated her face into his hands, suggesting in a husky voice,
                             [ 17 ] || Headquarters || 20:00
"You know what we can do. All of us. You, me. Every single one of us together."
This wasn't him, the dear friend he once knew. The dear friend that picked him off the ground, told the bad kids to go away. Or was it? Was this really him, and he had been so blind? No, he knew. He knew for awhile now and he had been avoiding being alone with him for so long. It was only now that everything had been pushed to the very last edge.
It was true, these words flashed sights into his head. The powerless crushed beneath their people, the rhythms of their pulsating hearts ending with a flick of a finger, crimson blanketing the world until they were satisfied. Though these were sights he never wished upon the awful world that he knew.
His poor heart, beating at such a rate that he couldn't even feel its presence anymore. Those eyes he was staring at, he no longer knew. They spoke of blood, rage, revenge, death--things he never wanted. "We can't--"
"Fucking stay with me, Atty. Don't you leave. You're not leaving." But god, he was already shifting so quickly, darting his whole figure in increments backwards, away from the snarling man. His clutch on his chair was only strengthening, knuckles washed away of blood into a deathly white, and he felt that the structure was going to give out any moment from all of the unnatural dislocations. His breath was shuddering in a way he never knew it could, trying so hard to regulate itself. But it was proving to be rather difficult while having someone who could pierce terror into your heart in close proximity.
            "You're with us. Or you're not."Â
A heavenly voice barked from outside, "What the fuck is going on there?" He never knew how sweet someone's words could sound. But the voice faded out despite of its clear protest. His attention was immediately taken away with another outburst.
"They took them away, not as people, my family, but pieces of test subjects. We're not test subjects. Are you? Are you?"
Where. Where. Where. Desperate for an escape.
"We were made to be like this. We were made to be the fucking dominant ones, and it's time they get what they were supposed to get a long time ago. No more hiding or pussy-ass bullshit, Atticus."
No. The next words to roll out of his mouth, Atticus didn't want to hear. Any of it, no. The shrill ringing in his ears finally exploded.
"Atticus. Atticus, stay wi t h m e--"
He flung his eyes open to liberated space a ways from the factory. The beach. Chest heaving with shaken gratification. Augmented vision oscillating azure and red. Hands falling into a subsiding tremor. It was interrupted by a familiar chime from his pocket. Atticus knew he wasn't going to like this phone call.Â
"Sorry about that, Atticus. You know how he is. He just got a little--impatient--with our plans. Just don't mind whatever he said, okay?Anyway, hurry home, kid."
And with the click of the other line, all became silent.Â
.....................Sure.
                                                   Sure.
|| č || :: Did she say something wrong, she wondered. Somehow her telling him that she would make breakfast for him having him pause. Wasnât it something normal, though? Sure, she had never done something like this, as in being with someone like this, but offering to make breakfast shouldnât be anything weird, right? His question, however, came in a lower tone and grabbed at her attention. A blink was all she could offer before he quickly dismissed the inquiry, shoving her clothing towards her and just disappeared out of the room, seemingly hitting the doorframe as he did.
Holding the sheets close to her form, she gathered her own clothing, clinging it to her skin and pausing for a long while. His question lingered within her mind. Yes, it was. It was her first time, the truth being reminded in her thoughts, but it wasnât like she was going to demand anything from him, nor blaming him for it. She didnât plan to make a big deal out of that either. It was just⌠the past now, right? Limbs hugging her own body for a moment, before using the opportunity he was freshening up to get dressed.
A small ache visited her, notably when she moved and clothed herself once again, just sitting at the edge of the bed and running her fingers through her crimson locks. Vermilion hues darted to the bed, seeing the tangled sheets and messy pillows, where her mind drew her back to the moment she opened her eyes. He had his arms around her⌠and she felt.. comforted, at least.
No matter what happened, it wasnât forced or unpleasant, that should be all they needed to know, right?
.... The male let a sigh breathe out, feeling weary with rounded water droplets drawing down his jawline. He turned to face his towels and pressed one gently to his skin, patting until he felt dry enough to drag himself out the bathroom.
Before he did, he caught himself at the door in front of the mirror, still, with his eyes gawking at a hint of cherry-tinted strokes running from behind his shoulders. His loose shirt had slipped off a little. Twisting his shoulders to look at the rest of the marks, Atticus had a smile ease onto his lips, feeling the corners of his mouth falter. He fixed his shirt, covering her scratches briefly and continued to translocate right in front of his bedroom door.
Now he was the more vulnerable one, seeing that she was properly clothed compared to him. Atticus sauntered back inside, ignoring his own clothes still strewed on the wooden floor. Without directly looking at her he lowered himself back onto the bed, rolling near her as another sigh exhaled out of him. He shut his eyes, fingers combing through his dark locks.Â
"Do you like apples? I have those." His voice was wispy, the notion of falling asleep still in his mind. Atticus ran his tongue across his lips and forced his eyes open, taking her arm and pulling her down with him. The air around them was more calm now, to his relief. He stared into her eyes with such a stoic expression, but he was thinking about whether he still had that loaf of white bread.Â
|| č || :: She knew she was already burying her face into the pillow and everything, but hearing his words just made her want to dig a hole and jump in there forever. He probably didnât see it, but her face was reddening and spreading to her ears now. A muffled groan echoed as she could hear him chuckle. Donât be so amused, damn it. "N-Never mind. Pretend you  didnât hear anything."
Though she must admit he did have a point. There was a moment of hesitation but it was true, as much as she was curious about how it led to this, the truth stands that it happened and, as embarrassed as she was to admit, she probably did enjoy it during the time (and based on the pieces of memories she could recall about the night itself), she simply gave a nod to her head, peeking when she felt him move and quickly turning her head away as he got up to get dressed. She knew she shouldnât be this bashful with what happened, but still!
But it was his next words that had her squeak into the pillow again, a muffled squeak of embarrassment and face shot up to a full red. Goodness, how does one deal with this. Was she supposed to take it as a compliment!? "I⌠Iâ I donât know⌠if I should.. take credit.." Peeking her eyes out to the male, she gestured over to her scattered clothes on the floor.
"Uhm⌠c-can you.. get those for me? Then maybe I could make you breakfast so we could eat." She probably shouldnât be shy about getting dressed in front of him, but she still was. The Suzaku had never done this before, so she was just as inexperienced as a highschool girl. Heck, even highschool girl would handle this better than she does.
She had half a mind to just ask for his shirt just for convenience sake, but thatâs probably not a good idea. She didnât know anymore, seriously. He looked way comfortable. He probably had done this a few times, she presumed.
After hearing "breakfast," Atticus shifted his attention to the clothes she asked for, and then fixated back on her. He slowly crawled over her, pausing with his hands mounted into the bed on each of her two sides. Her skittish behavior had clearly pointed out that this wasn't really a habit of hers, though his thoughts were beginning to coagulate onto something else. Anticipation swimming in his brown hues, he surveyed the minimal skin that she spared to show, and tightened his fingers onto the sheets before asking in a lowered voice,Â
"Was this your first time?"
It wasn't long before he abruptly shook his head and murmured, "Actually don't answer that." He didn't want to know. It didn't matter. It doesn't matter. ..Was what he told himself, but he hurriedly grabbed her clothes from the floor, guiltily catching a glance of her panties before shoving them onto the bed. "I'm going to go fresh up." Atticus removed himself from the room rather stiffly, even leaving the sound of his shoulder bumping into the door stale in the air on his way out.Â
It doesn't matter. It shouldn't, he knew. But how did a gracious girl like her end up in his bed? In his bed, with something/one like him? In the bathroom, he glared at the asshole in the mirror as he drove his fist onto the light switch. With the light flickering on anxiously, the male lashed the faucet on and splashed water onto his face. Atticus even smacked his cheeks a couple of times before clutching the toothpaste tube from its peaceful slumber. Thinking that she didn't have her toothbrush with her, he decided to squeeze the paste onto his finger to brush his teeth with.Â
Atticus rubbed his finger against his teeth faster from recalling that he didn't thank her for offering to make breakfast.
  The ringing of the bell above the shop door made its way through the shop and into the back room, where the red-head was arranging a rather large vase of flowers. Leaning back as far as she possibly could, she peeked at the man that had entered. Good, a customer!
  Slipping the last flower into the vase, she made sure everything looked presentable before lugging the arrangement onto the shop floor. It was placed with a heavy sigh beside the front door, her hands moving to press at her lower back.
  âPhew. All right!â There was no time to acknowledge the slight aching in her back, not with a customer around. A quick turn, and she began to approach while dusting her hands off on the front of her work apron, âHeya! There anythinâ I can help ya with?â
Atticus attentively watched the female as she moved with such precision and care, her forward air and friendly approach seemingly to have alleviated his troubled thoughts. "Well," he traced back the words of Master in his head, continuing, "I need a get-well bouquet....for someone." A someone he didn't even know, or where they were located. His lips pressed together at the unfortunate reminder.
"There are certain flowers for that I heard, which I don't really know too much about." She appeared to be the only one here, which was rather normal, but he had to take note of the tranquility she must feel here everyday.
"But take your time....really." Atticus pondered on what sort of gimmick Hsu was up to at this hour. He didn't recall any appointments, errands, research, or whatever in his schedule. Maybe a walk-in had arrived?Â
|| č || :: At that moment, the Suzaku wondered if she should still be embarrassed given⌠it was obvious what happened last night. But even so, she couldnât just shrug off the bashfulness so she resorted to just laying down on her stomach still, most of her skin covered by the sheets as she heaved a silent exhale. So he didnât remember about how it happened either, only what happened and she⌠surely didnât need reminder on that, based of the⌠countless red marks decorating both their forms. Oh dearâŚ
Vermilion hues followed him as he moved, however, couldnât help getting curious about him now. How could she not? They basically just⌠yeah, spent the whole night wrapped up in each otherâs presence and warmth, and as he bent over to get something, her eyes trailed down his back, noting the trails of white flowers plastered over his skin. A tattoo? They were quite faint, done with white ink as her hand unconsciously reached out, trailing the skin there towards the middle of his back, only to realize it a moment too late. Retracting her hand, her cheeks rushed to a full red.
"S-Sorry! They were⌠quite pretty.. soâŚ- Uhm.. yeah.." Right, donât you get too accustomed about touching him. Sinking herself back into the bed and under the cover, that slight grin and his words surely had her face rushed to a full red. M-Mindblowingly great!?
"W-Whatâ What do you even mean by that- It didnât-" Her words were halted almost immediately at another rush of memories, and this one was fairly vivid in details with how she did choking out breathless gasps and moans. The way her form trembled within his hold and how many marks apparent on their skins made her argument rather invalid, didnât it? Quickly burying her face into the pillow, she squeaked in embarrassment. Gosh!
"If you want me to say how good you were, I have absolutely no comment on that.â Now her voice was completely muffled. Even though, yes, as much as she recalled, it was⌠veryâ Okay, what are you thinking about, Akane!? Jeez!
With the ghost of her touch still lingering on his heated body, Atticus removed his cigarette from his lips, thinned smoke escaping from the brims of his lips in the opposite direction of her. A deep chuckle also shook out of him at her words, uncovering his absolute amusement at her muffled confession. "I never said for you to mention how good I was."Â
He brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking another drag as he bore his now mischievous eyes into her back. Atticus spotted the bite marks he left on her--"I meant that we both enjoyed it that well... So maybe how it happened doesn't matter." A part of him believed it, but it was an excuse for the complete and eerie lack of memory they had. You would think we would at least remember something.Â
Or maybe not. Atticus shuffled to the edge of the bed and left the cigarette in his mouth as he picked up his shirt and boxers, slipping them on without further ado. He didn't bother buttoning his shirt up, though. The light air in the room was refreshing, showering his chest and legs with a pleasing coolness as he pushed the covers off himself. The male was about to stand up until he looked back at the flustered Akane, softly sighing as he extended his arm to put out his cigarette onto the ashtray, dispersing the wavering smoke with his hand.
Falling backwards onto the bed, he had another glimpse from last night, furrowing his eyebrows at the remembrance of a particular position they did..when breakfast crossed his mind. Atticus rolled over to her, relishing in the comfort of the sheets once more. He cleared his throat, and uttered,
"You were pretty good too." Watching her writhe into the bed in distress was an interesting sight for him.
|| č || :: The more time passed as she looked at the male in the eyes, the more those memories and flashbacks came to her head and the clearer she could feel those sensations lingering underneath her skin still. How it was still burning, their voices, their words and what happened the night before. It was clear as day now that it wasnât a dream like she thought it was. Good Koryuu, what happened here? She couldnât⌠remember what actually led them into this nor could she recall she had anything to drink either. She wasnât intoxicated, right? Or was she? This was going to take a long, long while.
The maleâs hand reaching for her didnât make her flinch like how she would be with a stranger. It appeared that what happened in the night had her body accustomed to his warmth and touch. Oh gosh, she was that used to his touch now!? Who would have thoughtâ Her thoughts were interrupted at least when he told her he didnât even know her name. Thatâs⌠so right. So true. So true.
As he rolled over and buried his face into the pillow, she rolled herself onto her stomach, sinking deeper into the comforter and covering whatever she could. Like it mattered now, actually, but still. Her cheeks rushed to deeper shade of red, feeling steam going off her ears.
"âŚ.A-AkaneâŚ" So this is how theyâre going to know each otherâs name? Great. Just⌠great. "Nice⌠name.. I suppose.." Was that how she was trying to decrease awkwardness? Now with so many questions and confusion within her mind, she didnât know where to even begin. And she couldnât exactly say that she regretted last night even though she had no idea how it happened, for another piece of memory coming to her mind was when she actually had her lips to his broad shoulder and muffled a moan fromâ Oh boyâŚ
"D-Do you⌠remember anything? Or⌠uh⌠how it.. happened?"
As soon as she had managed to reply with her name, the pillow seemed to be pulling him farther in and the sheets began to encase him into a cooling state. Face down, Atticus felt so defeated not knowing what had transpired. He snaked his fingers onto the bed and grasped it, forcing himself to sit up. How strange it is to exist.
Arching his shoulders backwards, he emitted an array of cracks, with especially louder ones from the rolling of his neck. The male looked down, realizing that he exposed himself to her from sitting up. Atticus whipped the sheets over his crotch, seeing that she was veiling herself with such bashfulness. Ah.. It was certainly quite the dilemma. Raising his hand to rub at his jawline, he dragged his attention somewhere else other than her, the nature of the other's trembling voice making him feel like he had committed something horribly wrong.
"....I was hoping you would--" Atticus clicked his tongue. "--ah. I only remember last night."
Rewinding fragments of events and trying to link them together was starting to take a toll on him. Just really quick. His fingers fumbled as he bent over to pull his cigarette pack on the night table towards him. The mass of clothes on the floor caught his eye, appearing so frustratingly foreign. I don't even remember stripping. Atticus bent over once more and pressed his palm to the floor as the vacant hand hastily slipped his lighter out from his pocket. Biting a stick out from the pack while his strangely stable hand flicked the lighter on, Atticus turned his back to her and swiftly got it lit. Well..
"I've heard that when it was mindblowingly great, you have some memory loss." He knew he was going to kick himself later for saying it, but they were both deeply disturbed about their inability to recall their own memories. Atticus couldn't help but crack a grin, turning his head to look at her for her take on it. "Hm?"Â Look who sounds like an asshole.
{ ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝  ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝  ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ ď˝Â }
drinker
smoker
done/does drugs
knows what a broken heart feels like
has committed a crime
suffers a physical disability (if you're one to count a mutation)
suffers a mental disorderÂ
has experienced severe trauma
{ ď˝ď˝ ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝Â }
> Biggest fear: Being caught up in rowdy business again, becoming apprehended as a subject, failing a patient
> Recurring nightmare: blood on the streets
> Something they miss: even though it was messed up, late nights with his old friendsÂ
> Biggest regret: NOT Saying what he wanted to say
> Pressure point: feet??/
> A secret: will one day wrap himself in a cocoon and then emerge as a flaming butterfly buzzing with nervousness, he translocated away from his partner before he lost his virginityÂ
{ ď˝ď˝ď˝ď˝  ď˝ď˝ď˝  }
fire or water
mother or father
to hurt or be hurt
eerie or gory
unrequited love or no love
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
romaincrisis
amandla
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
gamechangershow
2087
