“I can taste her lipstick and see her laying across your chest” One of the Adulttrio your pick. I’m an angst hoe
The first time you see her, it is two in the morning and your first time in bed together.
It is only a shadow of a silhouette, looming oppressively over your shoulder as Chrollo drapes an arm over your waist. She disappears as soon as your strangled yelp interrupts your kiss, the smell of something distinctly floral wafting in the room.
She sits in the living room, just at the corner of your eye, disappearing as soon as you turn, the rushing of waves ringing in your ears.
She’s there against the wall, boring holes into your skull as Chrollo plants kisses along the nape of your neck, and the air becomes so salty it forces you to squint.
She visits in chunks, appearing for days on end and disappearing for months at a time, leaving with her the scent of the sea and jasmine blossoms in her wake.
There never is anyone there, you never truly see her, you doubt she truly even exist. But you feel her presence in every hidden laugh, every longing touch, every smile you shared, and you know that she is real.
And each time she appears, Chrollo’s eyes grow blanker, his touches more draining, and you start tasting her even in his kisses.
“This isn’t normal.” You say one day.
“But maybe it is,” He smiles gently, and the shadows the moonlight casts starkly contrast his pale face, his lips twisted into a simple smile, “maybe that’s just how things are meant to be.”
You shake your head, “You don’t love me.”
He chuckles, the implied mocking rattling your ears. With practiced familiarity, he pushes a strand of flyaway hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You are after all, his silly little doe, too caught up with their own emotions to think straight.
“Of course I do, why would you think otherwise?” He lies as easily through his teeth as he breathes. The usual casual grin spread across his face that accompanies this making your stomach churn, and the strength of which you grasp his hand with could crush bone.
“Stop playing these games. There’s someone else, isn’t there? Don’t lie, I feel her too.” You stop him before he could reassure you with more false reassurances. He slides his hand away from you, and his blank face is the response you need. As he stares coldly down at you, grey eyes calculating and cold, the mask he wears is shed, and only a stranger is left.
“What I have, what I am, what I can give… It’ll never be enough, would it?”
He looks away, and the expected sigh that rolls of his chest doesn’t hurt any less than empty gaze he adopts when you’re speaking, the glazed way he stares of into the distance whenever you hold his hand, or the cold frown his mouth twists into whenever he is inside of you and think you wouldn’t notice. Every single laugh, every act of kindness, you peeled back the layers of deception and it all fell into place.
The faint wafts of jasmine drift past and the feeling in your chest blooms in ways that expands and fills each hidden crevice of your heart, and you simply just cannot believe this. You have had your fair share of lost loves and fractured relationships, but this?
Cruel laughter bubbles at your throat, your mirthless laughter burning the night air, yet your pleasure at his slightly alarmed look does not soothe the ugly beast threatening to crawl its way out of you. You extend a single accusatory finger in his direction.
“Chrollo Lucilfer, you’re a man suffering from heartbreak.”
“I’m not.” He murmurs, barely audible even in the dead of night.
“You are.” The frown he makes with pursed lips remind you of sour cherries.
“I’m not.” You push, tasting the hint of sweetness even as the sourness consumes you.
“I’m not.” He repeats those words with such confidence that your resolve waver, “you’re wrong.”
You get to your feet, soles thudding heavily against the plain wooden boards as you storm towards him and grab him by his collar, forcing him to look down into your eyes,
“Do you think I don’t taste her when we kiss? Or see her in your dreams? It’s in everything you do.” Each shout feels like an arrow to the head, and the feeling in your chest releases its explosion, “You are drowning in it, Chrollo. It’s all around you, like a storm that won’t stop, and every time we touch, I see her too. So don’t you even dare deny it!”
He slaps you hard, right across the face. It is the first time he’s ever lashed out at you, let alone physically assault you. Gingerly, you paw at your nose, and the dark shade of red that drips from your nose shocks you less that the fact that for once, he finally dropped his mask.
Immediately he is before you, crouched down to your crumpled form as he gently cups your chin in his hand and tilts you head up.
“You don’t know anything about me. So don’t ever put words in my mouth again.” There’s a coldness in his voice, an unfamiliar harshness from the detached way he brushes your cheek. Far away, you hear the distant crashes of the ocean.
You lean into his touch, battering your eyes, sneering when he curls his lip in disgust. “Do you miss her? Do I remind you of her?”
He squeezes your jaw so hard you hear a pop, the blood from your nose dripping in steadily down his fingers.
“Does it really feel that good to lie all the time?”
His hands tremble, ever so slightly, and your eyes water when they meet his. You love his eyes, endless depths of liquid silver that shine with intelligence. But staring into those dark, hurtful pits now, you cannot help but to simple fall apart.
He lets you fall to the floor, eyeing you with the same empty look he gives whenever you both kiss. It’s late, you just want to drift into the unknown and let all of this just float away and kept tucked away permanently at the back of your mind.
“It’s not enough isn’t it?” You ask, closing your eyes.
Just as suddenly, he pounces on your like a starved beast, pushing you against the floor and whispers six simple words into your ear:
You smell salt and something indescribably sweet when he forces his tongue against your lips, patiently coaxing them open. He brushes against them, once, twice, fingers roughly carding themselves through your hair as guides your tentative hands to entwine themselves around your neck. And you think you see her too, a perfectly frame face with delicate eyes and plush lips, it’s not difficult to see why he cannot move on. Eye lashes fluttering with tears, you ignore the drying blood trailing your face and let out a whimper when he bites down hard on your bottom lip. It does not take long for you to reciprocate his feelings, and the guilt that overwhelms your senses taste just as bitter as you had always assumed.
Even when he’s holding unto you as though his life depends on it, you smell her perfume and eye the shadow of her imprint lying across his chest.
His heart belongs to another.
But he is grinding against you desperately, pawing at your breast as you slowly shed of your shirt, trailing a line of kisses along the curve of your jaw.
Yet he is panting, nipping at your collarbones as he rushes to grip your hips, forehead resting on yours.
You cry out, partly out of the pain when he finally pushes himself into you, partly because of the hurt that lodges a deep crack in your heart.
He grabs your hands, fingers curling around them. You cannot help but be mesmerize by how pale they are, how soft they feel, or how they easily envelop your whole hand. You return his grip, fiercely and fight back your sob.
With only a fistful of empty promises and filthy desires, filled with useless efforts only you can do, you wait, simply drowning in the shadow of his touches, the lonely ghost of lost love continuously waltzing in repetitive steps as you return to uncovering your hearts and baring each layer of your soul to sing your lamentations, lying to yourself that this was what you want, and what you both needed.
Even if you continue to play second fiddle.
Even if you forever remain second best,
You feel him smile against your kiss, and the tears that pour feel like a torrential downpour, swallowing you whole.
dededos
annaxmalina
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
