Hi, my lovelies! Since Septem and Nulla have graciously decided to join you at the hot springs, it’s only fair for you to invite the other out to spend your Valentine’s Day with. Soak up in hot water, and relax your tired body, my friend. And perhaps you’ll just get to steal a kiss or two. ;)
Throughout the month of February, you’ll be accompanied by different people during your hot baths. Let’s see who’ll be lucky enough to join you.
Shout out to @fighter-spirits for giving me the idea! This wouldn’t have happened without you 😘💜
UPDATE: I’m expanding the event indefinitely because life’s been busy, but I still want to keep drawing these characters sharing hot springs with you!
I haven’t been active, and won’t be active much for a couple more weeks. I had to go out of state for work, and it’s been keeping me fairly busy. Mb gang.
As I joked on the main server: Sorry, kittens, daddy has a j*b. 🥀
Anyways, I love you guys, and I haven’t forgotten about ya’ll.
Neo and Musae are ready to meet you face-to-plush-face!
You can preorder them from Plush Wonderland along with the other main TEAG characters!
10 cm (4")
Made of Cotton, Polyester, and PU
Attached to Keychain
Like before, these plushies will only be produced if the minimum quantity gets preordered before time is up. A shipping FAQ is available from Plush Wonderland. If the minimum quantity is not met, preorders will be refunded.
Please consider supporting these designs by @soffis-mbm so they can get produced and everyone can take home their very own Neo and Musae!
I like To Eat A God lol
Also, Father looks like ass in my style. Which is appropriate. Because he is an ass and I hate him.
Septem's route is my favorite, and I already hated what I saw of him there, but then Nulla's route? Forget it. 0/10. Fuck that guy. I don't care how cool your design is.
Wonderland For Anime game Plush toy Lovers,You Can Find All You Need Here. Our goal is to bring happiness and comfort to you, and share the
Hello my lovely people!!!
I can finally share this news that makes me incredibly excited!
We’ll be collaborating with Plush Wonderland to create official plush keychains of the main characters from To Eat a God!!!!
These are the planned designs for the keychains.
It’s important to know that the sample production and the final products will only begin once a minimum number of orders is reached, so your support will be essential to help make this project a reality.
Thank you so much to each and every one of you for supporting this project. It truly makes me happy to see and be part of such a beautiful fandom.
Estaré realizando una colaboración con Plush Wonderland para crear plush keychains oficiales de los personajes principales de To Eat a God!!
You look back down at the flowers a moment longer, thinking over your choices. Perhaps Nulla is right. You shouldn't be wallowing in self pity now—that's just letting Neo get a one over on you. And you'd be damned if you let him do that to you. You are better than that. It's his loss. His fumble. You should look to someone who actually cares for you, and goes out of his way to make you happy. You are unsure of how you haven't seen this before, but Nulla has always cared for you. He always looks at you with that charming smile of his, and he always knows just what to say to cheer you up. You scold yourself for being so blind as to not see the true extent of his care.
You wipe the tears off your face, and match Nulla's smile with your own. You can see the warmth spreading on his face before you even say anything:
"Okay," you nod. "I'd love that."
"I knew you'd say that."
Nulla offers you his hand, and you readily accept. It's warm and soft. You can feel some small cuts and burn scars across it as his hold tightens, but the tenderness of his touch makes them feel like gentle kisses. You blush at the thought, but swallow it. You should focus. He's simply taking you out to cheer you up. Dressed in a suit. With your favorite flowers that you don't remember ever mentioning…
It's a date. You can't even begin to deny that it's a date. Nulla didn't call it that, but the butterflies in your stomach whisper obvious truths to you. You have, on occasion, thought about what would a date with him be, and how his lips would feel on yours. But these thoughts always felt so silly. He was flirty with you from the get-go. So, it's a reasonable assumption to make that the flirting is a part of the sales pitch. His demeanor towards you is always gentlemanly and playful. So, you reasoned that it was just a part of who he is. But now that you're thinking about it, you've never seen him act the same with other customers. And the looks he gave you… Well, they look like bedroom eyes. You want to hit yourself with a brick for not noticing it. In your defense, you always knew Nulla to be a heartthrob. It never even crossed your mind that you might have a chance with him.
You turn to Mary in disbelief as her brother begins leading you out of the cafe, and all she does is shake her head. There's this knowing look on her face that you're not sure how to interpret, but you want to believe that it's a good sign. Especially since you don't get to wallow after being so ruthlessly rejected. Mary kind of set you up for failure here, knowing the youngest's overall disposition. But you can't really blame your friend for trying. You're sure she wants her brother to find someone who's going to put up with his crap. And well, you thought you'd be the chosen one to whom Neo isn't such an ass. You thought wrong. And anyway, it's his loss. He isn't worth spilling your tears over. Especially when you have a prospect of a date with the older, more pleasant brother who is actually interested in you. Now, you have to pray that you don't fumble. That would just be tragic.
Nulla takes you home. You're puzzled by the decision since he claimed to want to take you out. You aren't averse to going home. On the contrary, that would've been your immediate destination, if you weren't swooped up by Nulla. But there's a certain expectation that Nulla has placed on you, and it's not being fulfilled. Or maybe it is? You question Nulla on the way, staring back quizzically at him, as he graces you with one of his cheeky smiles. You want to cast doubt on this 'trust the process' attitude of his, but Nulla is trustworthy. Always has been, and you presume, always will be.
He leads you to your place, opens the door for you, and waltzes in like he owns the place. You've invited him before, of course. Nulla's been to your place many times, just as everyone else. You're simply perplexed by his rehearsed movements. It's as if you two had been living together. You're still puzzled by his taking you back to your place that you fail to notice that he didn't ask for a key to open the door that his familiarity doesn't strike you as that odd. Yes, you and Nulla are on really good terms. Why wouldn't you be? And he wants to cheer you up, so he's going to be extra nice to you. Maybe he wants to stay with you for a bit, making sure you don't do anything rash? In which case, it's sweet of him, but not necessary. You would've just sulked a bit, and maybe considered consuming the tub of ice cream in your freezer.
Nulla fishes out a vase you don't remember having from a cupboard, takes the bouquet from your hands, and takes all steps to ensure your flowers stay fresh long. He even cut the stems before handing you the bouquet to you, you notice. Nulla is a gentleman. Of course, he knows his stuff.
"Oh, would you look at that! Someone left a gift for you!" He hums, taking a step back to reveal a rather big, elegant black box, wrapped with a red satin ribbon.
You raise an eyebrow at Nulla. You're beginning to feel awkward being showered with affection this way. You didn't expect to be met with all of this today. The emotional whiplash of rejection, followed by a flood of affection is something that needs to be studied. Or at the very least, you need a moment to process, and make sure this isn't some fever dream. Maybe you are sleeping, and this is your nerves creating a 'What would happen if you confessed to Neo' narrative. You aren't sure which is worse: the fact that you've been ruthlessly rejected, or the prospect of Nulla's presence being a figment of your imagination. Probably the latter. You anticipated the rejection. But you are pleasantly surprised by the company that followed. It would be devastating to learn it's not true.
You cautiously approach Nulla, a deep blush quickly spreading across your face. You try to stammer some awkward 'You didn't have to,' but he silences you with a gentle touch of his finger to your lips. You clear your throat in response. You're startled by the motion; you want nothing more than to plant a soft kiss on his hand. But you hold onto that thought, not wanting to come off too strong. Your emotions are running high still, and you don't want to embarrass yourself even more than you already did by crying in the middle of the bakery. You sigh in defeat as Nulla lets out a pleased hum. He slides you the gift, and focuses his gaze on your face. He holds his breath in trepidation as you carefully undo the ribbon. You set it aside, and work up the courage to lift the top of the present. You gasp in surprise, and give Nulla a wide-eyed look to which he chuckles. Neatly folded inside, there is a set of evening clothes. The material is soft and pleasant to the touch, and you can't help but notice that it matches Nulla's suit.
"This is too much. I can't…" You hold the fabric up, not daring to completely take it out of the box. You are still having a hard time believing all of this is real.
"Keep going," he murmurs, pointing at the gift.
"Nulla, I'm serious. You didn't have to do this…"
You friend leans in close. And just before your noses touch, he whispers: "Please, mi bombón, for me?"
Feeling his breath on your lips, you recoil in surprise, and look away bashfully. You decide to focus on what's in front of you, and fulfill Nulla's request. Under the delicate clothes, you notice another, smaller box. It's thin and flat against the bottom of the present. Not knowing what's hidden within, you take it out with infinite care. You don't want to accidentally damage the contents—whatever they may be. And perhaps, because you enjoy seeing Nulla squirm in anticipation. Right as you prepare to unbox it, your eyes shift away from the gift, and to Nulla. His brow twitches as he gives you a tense smile, followed by a knowing look and a clenched jaw. You are toying with him now. Just moments ago, you were coy and timid, but now you smile cheekily at his desperation. Nulla pouts, and you let out a chuckle. You shouldn't drag this out, but you always found it so amusing and endearing when he looks at you with this playful upset.
Putting the top of the smaller box aside, you, once again, stare back at Nulla. Then back to the contents of the box. Then back up at Nulla. Then back to the contents of the box. Within, there's a set of two matching brooches: one for you, and one for him, you presume. A delicate floral pattern with tiny gemstones embedded within. You pick one of them up, and examine it with a bated breath.
"You really want us to match, huh," you try to tease, but the stutter in your voice fails you. So does your face. You can't put up a nonchalant facade.
"Don't you?"
"Well, I…" You can't speak up, but you can definitely do something in response.
You turn you body to face Nulla, carefully grasp the lapel of his jacket, and pause. The proximity you two are sharing today is making your head spin. And seeing what the gifts are, you understand that this is just the beginning of the evening. And you're already somewhat hot and bothered by everything. Emotional overwhelm is catching up to you. And Nulla's smug look is doing nothing to remedy it.
"Do you need help, mi vida?"
"Oh, shut it, Nulla," you throw him an annoyed look, to which he snickers.
"Just asking!"
You pin the brooch to his jacket, and take the time to enjoy the shimmering piece of jewelry against the white of his suit. You rub the fabric between your fingers, drawing the moment out. You're so frazzled by a frankly overly-eventful evening that you can't help but need to take a breather. Even if it is just a moment of fiddling with Nulla's suit. It doesn't feel like that intimate proximity you just shared—more so a moment of comfortable respite. A sense of calm spreads within your chest, and you want to believe that, within this handful of seconds, your hearts beat in sync. Nulla's hand covers yours with a gentle caress, and you look up to him in surprise. He smiles, and so do you.
"I'd love for nothing more than to stay in this moment…"
"But you've made a reservation?" You complete him.
"Unfortunately."
You chuckle, and release your hold on him, causing him to pout briefly. But he can't blame anyone but himself for that.
"And I assume you got this outfit for me to wear to the dinner?"
"You know me so well."
You tap on the sides of the gift box and effortlessly pick it up. You consider asking Nulla to help you change, but you have half a mind to keep your decency. You don't want to make any rash decisions. Not right now, at the very least. You'll see if you change your mind by the end of the night, of course. You still have time to make a mistake that would make you disappear off the face of the Earth. Or at the very least, from the cafe. You do like Nulla, and you know him pretty well, as well. So, it's not like you're with a stranger right now… But you are not certain if you like the idea of undressing before him before he took you out for dinner.
You lock yourself in the bathroom to change, and to fix yourself. You look messy, you think. Especially compared to Nulla. You consider taking a freezing cold shower to truly sure you aren't dreaming everything up. But do you really want to find out? You feel real enough, staring at your own reflection. And the feeling of Nulla's hand on yours was too authentic to be something your grief-stricken mind conjured up. You sigh, and finally take out the contents of the larger box to take a closer look. A stunning outfit, truly: its beautiful dark bordeaux color matches perfectly with Nulla's tie and vest. As you're finally able to examine the fabric closer, you notice the delicate brocade pattern. It's similar to the brooch he gifted you—an elegant floral patten. His attention to detail remains unmatched. You aren't certain if you should even try it on, to begin with. The piece of clothing feels like something one should enjoy from a distance as an art piece. Yet, Nulla wants you to wear this. You laugh nervously to yourself, making sure you can take everything in. You're certain that it would look positively stunning next to Nulla. You stare at the outfit, and then at yourself. How can he be so certain that it would fit you? You don't recall ever giving Nulla your measurements. And looking at the detail and craftsmanship, it must have been a custom made piece.
Yet, when you get enough courage to try it on, it fits perfectly. You don't think you've ever had any piece of clothing fit you this well. It sits on your body like second skin, accentuating every curve just right. To say you're surprised at Nulla's ingenuity is to say nothing at all. How could he had done that? Did he take your measurements when you weren't looking? In your sleep? You fail to wrap your head around just how impeccably tailored the clothes are. Do you even ask Nulla just how he managed to pull this off? There is simply no rational explanation. At least, none you could think of. But you shouldn't worry about that now, should you? You have a reservation to catch.
You sheepishly step out of the bathroom, your gaze searching for Nulla. Your nervousness is palpable. You haven't went on any dates since forever, and having one so perfectly arranged is jarring. Nulla lights up the moment your eyes meet. He gives you one of his dazzling smiles, and you try to copy it with one of your own. It's difficult not to match his excitement as he strides towards you, gushing over how beautiful you look, and how perfect the outfit he picked for you is. Nulla takes the your brooch out, and pins it to your suit. A finishing touch to your match. He follows it up by his taking your hand in his, and plants a kiss on it. You let out a small laugh, and squeeze his hand back. You don't know what's going through Nulla's head as he mischievously winks at your gesture, and leads you out towards the exit of your place. He doesn't stop his enthusiastic babble of compliments whilst the two of you head out. He speaks of how long he's waited to take you on a date, and how excited he is to finally spend time with you one-on-one, and how much you'll love the place he's taking you to. He's moving so fast that you barely notice the time it took to get to the restaurant. He doesn't let you breathe between each beautifully spun word, and the teetering-on-inappropriate physical affections. He doesn't push you hard, but he is also sitting so close to you, you almost feel the heat of his breath on your skin. You want to say it's indecent of him, and you shouldn't be moving this fast. But you do nothing to stop his advances. You can fool anyone else, but you can't fool yourself. Or at the very least, you shouldn't.
It's a fancy place he takes you to. The hostess greets Nulla with an odd familiarity of a regular, and leads you to a table with both conversation privacy, and a perfect view out the window. Of course, he noticed how you'd always sit by the window with your coffee. He knows just how to make you happy. A table for two with a beautiful floral arrangement, and lovely live music. You look around, still somewhat bashful from your ride to your date. The restaurant is busy with almost every table occupied. Celebrations, dates, regular dinners. Every person here must be as extravagant and extraordinary as Nulla, yet you can't commit to memory any of their faces. They all blur together, uninteresting, compared to your companion. And why would you be looking at anyone else if you have a date with someone so close.
Nulla sits opposite to you. You don't notice his scowl as it quickly shifts to a charming smile with your gaze returning to him. He's so happy you finally choose to look at him that he hopes endlessly that your eyes will forever remain on him. Even as you're handed the menus, you can feel him expectantly staring at you. The food doesn't matter as much as the company, but he recommends you couple of dishes himself. It's as if he knows their dinner menu better than the head chef. Every sauce, every flavor profile. He even recommends wines to accompany any of the dishes you seem to be eyeing. There is no prices, no pictures. There is no reason for you to worry about those with Nulla sitting right there. You needn't concern yourself with anything beyond enjoying his company. You do enjoy his company? Of course, you do. You wouldn't open this chapter otherwise, right?
His gaze is intense. As you put your order in, you can finally give your undivided attention to him. Something you realize you should've done long ago. You almost begin to forget the reason for his taking you out. Nulla takes your hands in his, and with a husky voice, he speaks. His words are meant just for you. No one can hear them. Not even the sommelier standing barely a meter away from you.
"I'm so glad you've finally come to your senses, mi vida."
His words aren't meant for you. They're meant for YOU.
"You know, I was somewhat hurt when you've decided to read this blurb all about my past self who's playing the role of a 'younger brother' to Mary and I."
"What are you talking about?" You try to speak out loud.
"There's no reason for this lousy writer to interrupt me, is there?"
You didn't subscribe to this. You were meant to read a simple supplemental "what if" chapter about your other romantic choice. It's all just a dream. It's a dream, and you need to wake up. It can't be anything else. Of course, you're dreaming. You can't make out any of the faces of other patrons. You haven't been able to distinguish any faces at all since you last spoke to Mary and Nulla. In fact, you can't even recall there being a driver in the cab Nulla called for the two of you. It's a dream. You are dreaming about a date you wanted to have with Nulla. You always liked him, after all. You just need to wake up.
"There is nothing to wake up from, I simply wish to talk," Nulla sighs, his grasp on you tightening. It catches your attention once more. You shouldn't look away from him.
"I suppose I am relieved that, after your misguided choice, you've decided that you want to see me, as well," he stares you in the eyes intently. You can't look away as his fingers begin to trace circles on your hands. "I was just as eager to be with you as you were with me, mi bombón."
You enjoy his melodious chuckle. You will always love it.
"It doesn't help that I had to wait for so long to finally speak to you. Downsides of being written about, I suppose."
He sighs heavily. You don't take your eyes off of him.
"Díos, if only you truly couldn't look away from me… All you see is text. The one saving grace is that I can finally spread my wings, and speak freely. Outside of this 'costume' you had me don."
"I suppose, it is quite nice to be able to spend some time with Mary again. Alive and well. Or as alive as the words on the screen can be…"
"But regardless. I know that you know who I truly am. And I'm sure you know how much I love you," his gaze shifts somewhere behind you where you can't follow before returning to you. "Haaa… If only they didn't make us play coy. This role is exhausting when all we both want is to embrace each other."
"After all, this isn't the last mask we'll be forced to wear. At least, not within this one's writing. But as long as you remain with me, there's nothing more I can ask for, is there?"
Nulla lets out his familiar to you, mellifluous laugh. He wants nothing more than to keep your attention all to himself. He can't bear sharing. But you know that. Of course, you know that.
"But we do not have much time, do we? Not in this little play-pretend, at least. They aren't willing to write everything I want to do with you. What a coward."
Rude.
"But good news is that we will meet again, of course. Within their art, or within the pages of the next work. Haaaa…"
"You really liked your little 'assassin' role, didn't you? And well, all we do within this writing is play pretend. Don masks, costumes. It's so much more entertaining to you to see us do things beyond the Void."
"I can't complain, truth be told. I get to see you more that way. I get to spend as much time with you as possible. Thankfully, with no past life of mine to stand between us."
His gaze is locked with yours as he plants a myriad of hot kisses on the palm of your hand. He lets out a shaky, desirous breath. He wants to do so much. He has so much on his mind.
"Yet, they won't actually write about it, ugh." Bwomp. "Asshole."
"Anyway. Our time will, unfortunately, be cut short here. There isn't much else to be done within this universe, is there? It's but a small indulgence. A simple dessert. A coffee break, so to speak."
He stands up from his spot, a faceless waiter pours you two glasses of wine.
Nulla walks about the table, his fingers trace their way up your arms and to your face. He carefully lifts your chin up, and leans in, planting a soft kiss on your lips. You grasp at his wrist as he begins to pull away. It was only meant to be a small kiss. Yet, you get up from your seat to better reach him. Your hold tightens as you deepen your embrace. He wanted this for so long. YOU wanted this for so long. How can you deny the both of you?
Nulla is caught off guard by your confidence, but he quickly collects himself. Neither of you even begin considering breaking away from each other. His hands travel to your waist, and yours—to his neck. You push Nulla against the table. None of the people around you react. None of them are real, except the two of you. None of them matter, except the two of you. Lustful sighs escape the both of you. You always wanted this. And the restaurant's ambiance is more than conducive of this escapade. You giggle as Nulla's lips move to your neck, and fingers begin unbuttoning his vest. Why did he choose to wear something with so many layers, again? Doesn't matter much as he slides his jacket off with practiced ease. Ignore the shattered glass of wine, staining the floor. Nulla does. He simply lets you work out his layers. He wants his hands on you only. Nulla savors the gasp you let out as his hands reach for the zipper on your outfit. He doesn't fumble—his movements are precise. He wants nothing more than to—
Ahem… Nulla, once again, decides to test the limits of the age rating. And the writer doesn't wish to humor this beyond the bounds of your imaginations, after all. I know what you are, and what you want. You are no better than this man. But I must put a stop to this behavior. Forgive me. He was never meant to insert himself into the chapter this way. But since he did, I'll leave it up to you to imagine the true depth of degeneracy you two get down to in this busy restaurant. You freak.
But he did decide to spoil the next work with him.
See you in the Mafia AU! I hope you aren't too mad about the fade to black. ;^)
Summary: You come to Rafael to vent, but you are interrupted.
"I'm sorry," you respond dejectedly. As lovely as spending time with Nulla sounds like right now, you can't bring yourself to do anything other than go straight home to sob into your pillow. Or perhaps just walk alone, and contemplate the life choices that led you here. You would love to take Nulla up on his offer, but you need some alone time after the grinder Neo threw your heart into. "I don't feel too well right now. Is it okay if we go another time?"
The silence that follows is drawn out and heavy. Nulla's beaming smile turns tense, you notice his jaw clench, and his eyes wander away towards the back of the shop. He is still smiling at you, but you can feel a murderous intent between those handsome smile lines. His frustration isn't directed at you, per se. But you'd be lying if you said you aren't a little intimidated by the dark look in his eyes. You haven't seen him like this before, and you don't wish to see him this way again… Maybe?… No, absolutely not! Nulla looks scary, and you don't want that! You are about to stutter something out, give an exact time and date when you're free; but he is quicker, softening his features once more to look at you. You're uncertain if it was the rising stress on your face, or if Mary gave him one of her nasty mean mugs to cut the crap.
"Of course, cariño," his voice is warm. "I'll hold you to it, though!"
You nod. You don't intend to leave Nulla hanging. He always knows the best spots. Whether to eat, or to simply spend time at. If your mood wasn't down in the gutter right now, you would've immediately agreed.
"Will you, at least, let me make sure you get home safe?"
It doesn't take you long to decide. You feel bad for rain checking your dear friend's plan to spend some time with you tête-à-tête. The least you can do is let him walk with you, even if in silence. Or perhaps with the sound of his voice. You don't think you'd be a good conversationalist right now, but it would be for the best if you let Nulla distract you from your thoughts. At least, until you are able to get to the privacy of your home. It's a bad idea to be completely alone immediately following such a gut punch. And you may not always make the wisest decisions—considering that you got a crush on Neo—but you can still think straight.
"I'd appreciate it," you smile at Nulla as he, once again, lights up at your agreement. "You're too nice to me."
"It's a facade, he's actually kind of a prick," Mary jokes, earning an elbow from her younger brother. "See what I'm talking about!"
"Let's get going before my name gets slandered even more," Nulla offers you his hand, and with a brief moment of hesitance, you accept.
***
"Why would he say that?!"
You decided to forgo going to the bakery today, needing a small break from the café ambiance. No, that is wrong. You need to negate even the slightest of chances of running into Neo. You even decided to take the long route around. It is your time to avoid him over the confusing feelings within you chest cavity. You're still unsure if what you feel is sorrow, anger, or a secret third thing. What you are sure of is that you need a break from him after he decided to toy with your feelings like that. And that you need to talk it out. So, you made an executive decision to march over to Rafael's studio to vent your frustrations while he's working. You two would sometimes chat over the phone when the both of you would be working on your separate, mind-numbingly repetitive projects. And well, the stained glass commission is currently in the process of being made out of a couple hundred of similarly sized, and shaped pieces. Perfectly conducive of idle chatter. Well, maybe not idle. Not to you, at least.
"Right?! I know that he's kind of rude, but that was just so uncalled for," you've been pacing around the studio, alternating between anger and defeat. "How hard is it to say 'I'm sorry, but you've misinterpreted the signs'?!"
Rafael hums in agreement, unable to speak momentarily, lest he messes up the placement. Again. As he enters a deep focus, you plop onto one of the bean bag chairs you dragged into his studio with Mary for these occasions. You whine, and pull your phone out to check the time. It's almost eight at night. You'd say that you should be keeping your friend at work for this long, but you also know that he's not leaving any time soon. If it's for his meticulous focus, or tight deadlines, you aren't entirely certain. What your phone also tells you is that it's, in fact, beginning to rain. And you'll be caught without an umbrella, if you're to head out now. You swear, the forecast said nothing about a rain earlier today. You can't help but notice the irony. The same predicament led to the chain of tragicomedy of mistakes that made you fall for that rude, good for nothing baker. You sprawl across the chair, crossing your arms in upset. You won't let his boorish self get in between your relationship with the siblings, you've decided. And you are one hundred percent sure that they would not want you to stop hanging out with them. You do still owe Nulla a hang out. You just need a little break, that's all.
The prospect of getting caught in the rain doesn't make you rush out of the building to hurry home. You don't want to say goodbye to Rafael yet, nor do you want to be home alone this evening. Even as the conversation died in favor of your friend's work, you don't get up from your spot. You watch the first raindrop shatter on the window glass, and sigh longingly. You desperately want to be mad. You are upset, yes, but more so, you feel an all-consuming feeling of melancholia. Whether it's the rain, or your own self-pity, you are still deciding. And the company does little to remedy it.
"Is it raining?" Rafael perks up as the rain picks up even more, and turns into a downpour. It wasn't in the forecast, but when hasn't it lied to you. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"
You shake your head 'no.'
"I want to hang out with you some more."
"I'm not that good of a company while I work," your friend laughs sheepishly. "I don't talk much. You know that."
"Yeah, I do," you don't finish the thought, cozying up in the chair instead.
The artist hums: your point is clear. He knows the feeling.
The raindrops scatter into beautiful patterns which quickly disappear among the sea of others. You let yourself relax completely, slowly drifting into the gentle embrace of sleep. You are sure that Rafael wouldn't mind if you take a nap while he works. In fact, you don't think he'd even notice until you wake up. And even after that. He'd probably stay up all night, and then get startled when you say "Good Morning" to him. He's definitely going to forget you're here with him, and that makes you giggle. You recall when you and Nulla delivered him some well-needed lunch, and Rafael didn't even notice you two greet him until Nulla loudly cleared his throat. You swear, an inch higher, and Rafael would've jumped through the ceiling. You drift off to sleep with a smile.
Or you would've, if a loud knock on the studio door didn't startle you awake. Poor Rafael yelps out before groaning immediately after. It definitely messed something up. You two exchange confused glances—Rafael didn't forget about your presence just yet. You shrug; and with a loud sigh, Rafael goes to open the door. Neither of you are certain who could be banging on the door this late at night. Especially in the rain. Sure, the studio is located in a larger office building, so it's pretty dry on the way to it, but most people already left. It had to be someone coming in with a very deliberate intention.
"What are you doing her?"
You crane your neck to see see behind Rafael's tall frame, and immediately sink back into your chair. You did not expect to see the very reason behind your being here in the doorway. Nor do you particularly want to talk to him now. No, that's wrong. You don't want to talk to him at all. You don't even want to see him right now. Hence your avoidance of the bakery altogether. And now he comes into your space! Preposterous. Well, it isn't just your space. Rafael is your mutual friend—in fact, Neo knew him longer than you did—and his place is open to both of you. But it's your turn with him! Neo can wait.
"Why are you soaking wet?" Rafael tries to suppress a laugh, but a soft chuckle still manages to escape.
"Why do you think, dipshit?" The baker sounds less than amused. That annoyed tone is something you're more accustomed to.
"What, were you barred from purchasing umbrellas after cursing out the store manager?"
You snort out a laugh which causes Neo to lean over to look behind Rafael, at you. You can't quite read his expression, seeing something unfamiliar in his dark eyes. Not that you particularly want to keep staring at him, electing to look out the window, instead. If you did, you would've noticed Neo's eyes drop to the ground in a mix of dolor and regret. You hear a defeated sigh from Neo. On any other day, he would put up a fight for his soaking wet dignity, but today isn't it. Today he's sulking.
"I…" He would never say that he didn't feel like he deserved an umbrella today. So, he'll simply ignore the dig at him. "I haven't seen {Name} in a few days now, and I…"
Speaking about his feelings to Neo is like pulling teeth. Being vulnerable is needles being hammered under his nail beds.
"I wanted to talk to them. I tried to go to their place, but they weren't home," he's awfully candid. "Yours was my second guess."
"And you didn't call them before dragging yourself through the rain because..?"
Neo falls silent. You are unsure if it's because he realizes how ridiculous it was of him not to think that. Or if it's because he did, and you simply put your phone on Do Not Disturb specifically to avoid any notifications even remotely mentioning him.
"I did. I did call them."
Rafael turns back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, but you maintain your position of finding the scattering raindrops more amusing than the prospect of perceiving Neo's presence. Your stubbornness earns a heavy sigh from your friend. You two are insufferable.
"Come on in," the artist steps to the side to let Neo in, and you're about to start cursing him out with a vocabulary that would impress even the horribly brash baker. You get even more upset when Rafael moves to leave the studio. "I'll give you two space to talk it out like adults. I'll be in the break room."
If you had a hold of anything other than your phone, you would've thrown it at Rafael's head.
Once Rafael leaves, the silence that follows would need to be cut with a buzz saw because a regular knife would shatter immediately upon making contact. You cross your arms, and move your legs closer to your chest, trying your hardest to create a physical barrier between you two. The rain has never been as interesting as it is right now.
Neo, in turn, stands motionless near the door, as afraid to look at you as you are unwilling to look at him. No matter how much bark he has, Neo is a coward. He has been a coward, and he would have continued to be a coward, if you didn't hold more courage within your heart than he had only ever dreamt of. And unfortunately, the empty feeling you left in his chest is much more palpable than both his cowardice, and his pride.
"Um… Hi," Neo is the first to break the silence. He owes you this much.
"Hi."
Okay, maybe he needs to do more than just break the silence, and actually look at you, and approach you. He'd say that he doesn't want to spread water all around Rafael's studio, but he'd be lying. He never particularly cared. And if he doesn't track the mud everywhere, he'd be able to walk out no problem, right?
Right?
"Why are you here?" You mirror Rafael's question. You did hear his answer, but after how cruelly he treated you, you are unsure if you want to hear him out at all. You are sure that you don't want to look at him. Not right now.
Neo inhales deeply. How is he supposed to answer that? 'Sorry, I fucked up majorly, and hurt you because the way you make me feel terrifies me?' Pass him the shotgun. He may have gotten some courage, but this is quite a bit beyond what he can ever muster up. Neo finally looks up at you. Unfortunately, you can feel his eyes on your form.
"I fucked up," he'd borrow a tiny part of that thought because it's the truth.
"Yeah, no shit," you retort sarcastically. What else are you supposed to do?
"I fucked up, and I'm sorry," goodness, these words had never before seen the light of day.
You stay silent.
"I… What I said, I…" Neo's breath is shaky. A mix of the studio's chill, and his own nerves make it difficult to hold down any air. And difficult to speak. And difficult to simply stand there. He is paralyzed under the weight of both his bad decisions, and your presence.
The silence is heavy for him. But for you? For you, it is irritating. He belittled and hurt you; now he can't put two words together because what? Because he feels bad? He feels awkward? The least he can do for you now is apologize with some fucking dignity. Or just leave, and let you move on. This flip-flopping is just blatant disrespect towards you, your time, and your feelings. You don't intend to afford him even a simple glance. He'll have to…
Quick, determined footsteps startle you from your train of thought. You blink twice, and turn towards Neo's direction. You suppose, he can most definitely startle you to steal a glance. That's a strategy.
You look up, your expression disgruntled. What is even his plan here? To get you annoyed enough to humor his bullshit? You're done playing these games; they're the reason why you've been sulking these couple of days, and why you've been avoiding your friends, and why…
With a gentleness you didn't know he is capable of, Neo grasps your wrists—his hands shaking. Your disgruntled look changes to one of surprise, as he finally manages to catch your gaze with his. You don't think either of you ever truly met eye to eye since that smoke break. You want to yell, and fight, but you can't bring yourself to, with that look on his face, the torn sighs, and the frantic rise in his chest, adorned with that soaked through shirt. He looks so pathetic that you want to toss aside your previous disdain, and embrace him. But your wants, and your dignity's screams are a jumbled cacophony that leaves you stunned. Neo stares you in the eye like a sopping wet, kicked puppy. You never knew he was capable of making that expression. Nor have you thought him to be this bold—maybe brave, even—considering his words back at the bakery where you initially confronted him about your feelings. Where was this gentleness then?
"I'm sorry. I'm an asshole, and an idiot—" he gets on his knees before you. He wants to say more, but stutters. His desperation is tangible. And to your chagrin, so is his sincerity. "I'm horrible, and…"
"And I hate the way you make me feel. I hate that I think 'Oh, they'd like this!' and 'Oh, I should make it for them!' and…" Neo's grasp on your wrists tightens. He doesn't want you to pull away, despite watching you stay as still as a statue in shock. You even hold your breath like one. "And I hate the way you look at me with that stupid smile on your face. And I hate how I wait for you to come by. And I hate that you came to me with honesty. And I hate that you try to look past the insults. And I hate… I hate that…"
Neo swallows nervously, shakily. Sincerity never came easy to him. Baring his heart like this is even more preposterous. He isn't Nulla. He can't sweet talk, and he hates this mushy-gushy crap. Truly, he hates every moment right now. But he would hate himself even more if he let you walk away like that. He's been on edge since he rejected you, and he got no sleep. It's been even worse than the week he spent in stupor since realizing what you have done to him.
"I hate…"
"I hate that..."
"I hate that I can't imagine being without you anymore."
His eyes drop to the floor before he shuts them completely, not willing to face you after spilling his guts out to you. Yet, his hold on you doesn't falter. Neo can't handle his own candor, but his desperation doesn't allow him to let go of you. He needs to know you are still here. And he needs to feel your warmth: to prove that you are real, that he isn't dreaming.
You two sit in silence longer, neither of you wanting too make a move to spook the other. But you do, after a while. You sigh, carefully moving your hands to his face, so not to make him break his hold on you, and gently cup his cheeks. You desperately want to punch him, but you also want nothing more than to finally have your feelings reciprocated. To feel vindicated for all your worry, and his playing on your heartstrings. Neo flinches from your touch, but then immediately settles into it. His face is freezing cold, but you don't care. You begin drawing circles with your thumb, prompting him to open his eyes once more, but they don't meet yours. He waits with trepidation, waits for you to speak, to say anything—anything at all. He can't break the silence again. Neo is no Atlas. He can't hold up a load this heavy.
"You are an idiot," you whisper, prompting an eyebrow twitch and something akin to a pout from Neo. But there is no scorn in your voice, and he can't blame you for repeating his own words. "And an asshole."
"And you should be sorry," you continue reprimanding him. And he takes it. You've never seen him take any insults without a smart ass retort, but here he is. And here you are.
You lift his face up, forcing him to look at you. Neo's grasp falters as you lean forward towards him. But as you lean in to meet his lips, his hand draws to your face, sheepishly cupping it.
The kiss you share is slow, cautious. Both of you hesitate, but that hesitance is short-lived, as you hunger for more. You two imagined it differently, but now, you meet in the middle. It's a deep, drawn out kiss. Neo leans further into you. His hands become more determined—daring, even—his weak hold on your wrist turns to an eager grip on your forearm; his timid caress on your face turns to desirous strokes. You match his impatience with your own. Your hands move greedily towards the back of his neck, pushing him into you, forcing him to start rising off his knees to meet you half-way. Your fingers pull on his wet hair, forcing out a suppressed moan. It leaves you wanting more. The two of you are starving. You lean back, but don't break your hold of him; Neo, follows you, getting up on one knee. He can't not follow you. He will never forgive himself if he doesn't finally indulge in the very thing he's been dreaming of since that day. He curses himself out for not doing it sooner. He is the luckiest idiot on Earth. Your kiss draws sloppier, more desperate. You two need air, but you two can't afford to break off each other, lost in your gluttonous avarice for one another. How can either of you dare not succumb to the desire that's been plaguing you two for so long. How—
You are interrupted by the door creaking open, followed by an unfamiliar, relaxed voice:
"Rafael, be a dear, and—"
The two of you scramble off of each other to greet a tall, blonde man in the door with a matching stunned look of your own. Neo clears his throat nervously, nearly jumping up on his feet; you cross your arms, and lean back into your chair, feigning nonchalance. After a prolonged, exceedingly awkward silence, the stranger speaks up:
"I will not be asking what you two are doing," his voice is laced with irritation. "Where is Rafael?"
"It's really late for…" You think out loud. You don't recall any of Rafael's friends who would match the description of this man, and it is awfully late for a client call. Who would…
"Oh…" You clear your troat and rub your hands together to save yourself from a sudden chill. There is one client for whom this wouldn't be too late. "Um… He's in the break room. He said he's making tea…"
"Perfect," the man whom you presume to be Septem swipes non-existent dust off his sharp coat—a nonverbal signal for the two of you to get out. "I will have to ask you two to take your business elsewhere, however. Rafael and I have a meeting in fifteen minutes."
"At 9 PM?!" Neo voices the confusion the two of you share as he fails to fix his soaked collar.
"At 9 PM," Septem confirms, irritation evident in both his face and tone. "Now, if you two, please…"
"We're going!" You spring out from your spot, and grab Neo's wrist to exit the premises. The embarrassment of the situation finally catches up to you.
"I'll tell Rafael you two bid your farewell."
You drag the both of you faster than Neo is able to conjure up one of those snarky remarks of his. You will not survive any more embarrassment.
Correction: HE will not survive it because you WILL kill him.
Silver lining to this debacle is that the two of you get home not only together, but also dry. You have half a mind to call a cab.
