Heyy… Heyyy… How y’all doin? Okay, so, I’m not gonna act like I got into bl3 just to up and ghost it the moment the game actually came out. But in my not-so-good defense, I never said I was good at commitment LMAO. Anyway, I’m obsessing over Date Everything. She’s my new lover 🙂↕️ And if y’all don’t know me yet, hi. I’m Mae. Okay, that’s all you’re getting. Enjoy this coming-of-age short featuring everyone’s favorite: Dorian 🚪
Warning: anxious gender-neutral reader-insert (bffr it’s a self-insert but that feels cringe to use now), pop culture reference, possibly many passive written sentences (what is grammar 😔), OOC characters? Idk we’re trying it out #haveyoueverseensomanywarningsrightbeforeasimpleshort? #ahaha,dwaboutit
Word count: 2k
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“So,” Beverly started as she made me a drink.
I sit across from her in the Breaker Box. It feels weird being back in the club since the fight with Eddie and Volt. True, they’ve long since forgiven me and said I was welcome to visit their space any time I wished. I would just rather avoid being around them if I’m being entirely honest. I haven’t been back here since.
Eddie is fine and respects my need for space. It’s Volt I’m wary about. As charming as he is, I’ve found out just how scary he can be when angry. I really don’t want to try him again. I’m sure Volt doesn’t quite trust me either, not around Eddie. Both of us are hurt yet neither of us are mature enough to address the elephant in the room.
So… that leaves me in a rather tight spot. I couldn’t not come. Not when I want to support both Eddie and Volt for being strong enough to finally hire extra help (albeit part-time) around the club. And certainly not when that help was my friend Beverly.
She pours me a drink that she swears I’ll love. Considering my distaste for alcohol, I have a feeling I’ll be forcing a smile the entire night.
“Is this too weird?” Beverly finishes her thought. I look up at her startled.
“What? No! What?” Guilt washes over me.
“I don’t mind if you need to step out,” she says. She’s so considerate, but I don’t want to make this moment about me. Tonight is about her.
I shake my head and pick up my drink. “Nonsense. I’m serious.”
Something about the word must have stood out to her because the corner of her lips tick up into a rather mischievous smile. “Nonsense? What, do you dislike that now too? How cute, you’re picking up each other’s interests!”
I’m in the middle of taking a sip when she says this. I gasp and the liquid rushes back up my nose, burning everything. I cough.
“Try not to kill our human, Beverly…” Eddie sighs as he walks past us.
“Sorry, boss!”
Beverly, of course, is referring to my relationship with Dorian. Our relationship had started off as small hugs. My eyes would fill with life each time Dorian materialized to join a passing conversation happening around the house. He used to be so stiff and reclusive, but I’ve noticed that he’s making more of an effort to acclimate himself around the house instead of standing guard 24/7. It makes me so happy and proud to see him forming relations with the other residents.
But before that, it began when I went to him feeling vulnerable and at an all time low. My mood had been unusually unstable with the pressure of getting to know everyone around the house, and I needed someone to… I’m not even sure. I just needed connection. I’m not sure why I sought out Dorian of all objects.
I could tell he felt off-put from my awkward phrasing at the time, but I had leaned forward and simply rested my head against his chest. Nothing untoward he would have pushed me away for.
It was a familiar gesture anyway, me leaning against him.
Before I became aware of his presence, I had a routine of resting against the door. It had been my crutch. My way of establishing a barrier between me and the rest of the world. Now, I’ve finally become comfortable picking the habit back up after a year of knowing Dorian was… Well… Alive. So, I guess it really started with Dorian learning about my habits and becoming comfortable with my moments of vulnerability.
Only thing that’s different about my behavior is that my habit of hiding has evolved into seeking comfort from someone who makes me feel safe… And besides, there’s no hiding from the world when I have one inside my house now. Which also meant that, in such a tight-knit community, gossip was ever present.
Not before long, the other objects in the house caught wind of our particular encounters — and thus began the curiosity and rumors. Do I like Dorian? Does Dorian like me? Are we in a relationship?
“You know it’s not like that,” I reprimand Beverly lightly. My voice is tight from the alcohol. Her shoulders bounce slightly as she silently laughs.
“Who said I was implying anything?” I give her a disapproving look.
“Cheeky…” I grumble.
She bites her lip and I roll my eyes. She inhales, “Okay, but seriously. Do you like him?”
“No more than I like you? But that’s beginning to be rocky water.” I jest.
“Oh yeah? Where are my hugs then?” Beverly challenges.
“Oh my gosh…” I grin and scoff, a light blush coating my cheeks and the tip of my nose. I settle down and take a moment to think. I shake my head and sigh. “I don’t know.”
I don’t know if I’m starting to like Dorian or if I’m just being gaslit by the others into thinking I like him more than I do. “How would I know?” I ask Beverly.
“Well… Far be it from me to explain what infatuation means. It’s different for everyone,” she says as she begins to make a drink for another patron. “But I guess the easiest way to tell is if you’re comfortable seeing him with someone else, I guess?”
Her words stick in my mind even after the bar closes. I quietly head upstairs to my room, drained from the social outing and the confusion of my relationships. With the last battery of my glasses, I materialize Dorian.
“Hello, love.” He greets formally. When he sees how quiet I’m being, he tilts his head ever so slightly. “Something on your mind?”
I don’t greet him back. Instead, I try to visualize him with someone else in my place. How does that make me feel?
I feel his skin against my chin, the side of his finger tilting my head up. “Ignoring me, are you?”
“No?” I say in a slight pout. He quirks an eyebrow. I can’t imagine how I’d feel seeing him with someone else. It doesn’t occur to me that I should feel jealous, or at least a little possessive of him. Something.
“Can I… Kiss you?” I ask. Part of me assumes he’ll reel back and look at me in disgust even though he’s voiced his lack of reservation towards more… intimate relationships.
“Very well.”
No disgust, no teasing. He’s being serious, and part of me is glad for that. I glance up at him, worry in my eyes. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable just because I’m confused. I don’t want him to feel like I’m using him either. My teeth grind together.
He places a hand on my head like he usually does when he’s comforting me. I rest my head against his chest.
“Am I doing this wrong?” I can’t help but ask.
“Kissing?” He asks, voice level.
I chuckle. “That too.”
I relax slightly as he combs his fingers through my hair. His hand feels heavy, even when he’s trying to be gentle.
“Do you want to kiss me?” He asks.
I pause to think again. So much thinking… I press closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. “I don’t know…”
“Then, no.” Dorian says.
“What?” I glance up at him.
“An inconclusive answer is still a no.”
I smile and rest my head back against his chest. Respect moves me to lean up and kiss him on the cheek, even if I hesitate right before my lips brush against his skin.
It’s not quite the kiss I was thinking of, but it’s close enough. Did I like kissing him? I can’t say I’ve kissed anyone else to be able to tell if I did or not. Kissing him felt… Foreign. I wasn’t expecting a kiss so solid, if that makes sense.
Dorian huffs. He has a soft look on his face that I wasn’t expecting. “Always thinking. Do you not know how to live outside of that mind of yours?”
My ears burn. I shake my head. “Not really?”
I glance at his mouth this time. Would it feel as solid as his cheeks? I shy away. He doesn’t move an inch and waits for me to do what I’m comfortable with. I force myself to rest against him. I relax my shoulders, my jaw, and slowly exhale the breath I’d been holding.
“Do you like me?” I ask.
“Are you trying to get me to decide for you?” He raises his eyebrow. I giggle, embarrassed to be called out so quickly on my poor judgements.
“Sorry.” I apologize.
“Do you truly want to know what I think?” Dorian asks. In a moment of weakness and exhaustion, I look up at him with a pitiful and pleading expression. He sighs. “I think you’re looking in the wrong place.”
His words sting of rejection at first. My heart clenches and I hold my breath. I subconsciously tighten my hold on him, mentally begging for him not to push me away. Is this bad? Our relationship? Am I pressuring him with my doubt?
When I don’t respond, he fills the tense silence. “Do you feel anything from the thought of kissing me?”
I look at his lips again. His bottom lip is fuller than his upper lip. My eyebrows furrow. How do I tell if what I’m feeling is excitement or anxiety? I tilt my head and try to envision what it would feel like to kiss him. Would it feel scratchy from his mustache?
He huffs and rolls his eyes. When he leans in, like he might kiss me, I flinch back and stare at him with wide eyes. My lips part but my gasp is stuck inside my throat. He doesn’t close the gap further. If anything, he looks smug.
“Did you just feint a kiss?” I ask in disbelief.
He pulls back and laughs. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Perhaps I have been training too much with Kristof because why the hell am I describing a kiss as an attack? Dorian laughs again at my scrunched up face. I can’t help but chuckle with him.
“Sorry.” I apologize for how ridiculous this all is.
He lets out a breath after he’s finished. I watch as he brings his hands to my shoulders, gently forcing me to take a step back so I can look at him properly.
“How do you humans put it…” He mumbles. “Have you considered you might be…” He lifts his hand before waving it, letting his wrist go limp.
I stare at him, a slow grin stretching across my face. “First of all, that’s wild. Where did you learn that from?”
“Oh please.”
Christ, sass and human pop culture? That has Phonicia written all over it. I’ve recently expressed the interest in exchanging culture since finding out that the objects have culture of their own. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, really, but I guess I’m still getting used to the living furniture thing. All the animists must be laughing in everyone’s faces since it’s been revealed that objects are alive.
It also means that I’ve got half the house repeating the same phrase to me, “Easy white chocolate”. Ironically, the encouraging vocal stim has made me feel more open around the house.
“Maybe I am thinking too much into it…” I relent eventually. He nods. “Thanks Dorian.”
“Anytime, love. Let me know how it goes.” He says comforting before ending the encounter for the night. I hadn’t realized I’d been limiting myself to men. My thought turns to the women in the house I’ve built a relationship with.
I get ready for bed and slide under the covers, my mind drifting to a scenario of what it’d be like if I were lying down in bed with Betty. I suppose I have something new to think about for tomorrow.