BLOOD & REPLAY

emilio delgado; you'll find me, climbing to heaven.

[ofrebellium-blog]

olivia-bee:

Olivia lived in a tiny apartment in the midst of campus. Well, Edinburgh was a city, so the lines between school and streets blurred together. She knew she lived within a walking distance of Campbell’s art history class though. Olivia liked her apartment. It was a quaint place; tomato red linoleum floors, rain boots by the front door, the thick smell of patchouli wafting through every room. There were plenty of her old bedroom knick knacks scattered across every surface too; lace doilies, porcelain cats, rosaries made in primary school, nail polish bottles. Olivia was however looking for a roommate. There was an extra bedroom (or maybe it was a big closet) and the landlords charged too much only because she was a student. So she posted an ad. Not soon after she received a call from a very exuberant woman. She was surprised at first, because she was expecting another student, but soon learned that it was for her son. Olivia thought that she should be thankful anyone would want to live with her, so she complied before even knowing who exactly he was. She would not have agreed if she knew who would be on the other side of her door today. 

Olivia blinked a couple times, unable to speak. She could not believe that of all people, Emilio would be her new roommate. To be fair, he did not know either, so it was just as big a surprise for him as it was for her. He didn’t act too surprised, though. Emilio was his same, indifferent self, waving at her and leaning against the door frame. She would have closed it, only if he entirely in the way, so she tightened her jaw and drew a thin smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Come on in.” She said. 

It didn’t immediately register to Emilio that he was supposedly going to be living with Olivia; he was preoccupied with taking in what he could see of the apartment from his position at the door. The decor was eccentric, to say the least, and it could all be likened to Olivia from how much her personality shone through the set-up of the apartment. Emilio didn’t feel any particular way about it at the moment; he merely found it interesting. His fellow dreamer never expressed herself openly around him unless he provoked her to do so and that couldn’t even constitute as openness considering the mild animosity between them. And so, inquisitive as he was, Emilio was intrigued by all the visible traces of Olivia scattered all across the living space; how bare and exposed it all was. The limbo induced by his curiosity didn’t last though and it eventually hit him that he wasn’t just going to observe all of this as an outsider, it was going to be his home from now on---his shared home. Emilio couldn’t help the aggravated sigh he breathed once he recalled how vague his mother had been when mentioning the ‘friend’ who owned the place; she probably didn’t care to give him any details assuming it would be an ideal living situation just because he would be sharing it with another Somniatore. He was definitely having a discussion with his mother about this but even so, if he wanted to leave, his only other option was going back to his old apartment and that was simply out of question.

“Drop the pleasantries, we both know this isn’t what either of us had in mind.” Emilio drawled, dismissing her tight smile with a wave of his hand before he stepped inside. He left his bags near the door, signifying that he was as hesitant about this whole thing as she was; he preferred his home to be a safe space, free from any tension aside from fussing about paying his rent on time and getting sculpting clay stains on his carpet. He couldn’t guarantee he would have that here and he wasn’t going to make a decision until he could. “I could say the same to you,” He responded, taking a seat in the living room. “You seem well-acclimated here. Why were you looking for a flatmate?”

[ofrebellium-blog]

[ text ]: i care .. i just dont want to / [ text ]: i care .. i just dont want to / [ text ]: respect for real art is my biggest turn on .. / [ text ]: usin my last 1% to let u kno im thinkin bout u

To: curls n cheekbones (purple heart emoji)

tell me about it :\caring isn’t always a bad thing thoughdepends on what you don’t wanna care about i guess

-

To: curls n cheekbones (purple heart emoij)

what a way to interrupt a rant, curlsur so randomi mean i had my tongue down your throat literally two hours ago???....not complainin though pls elaborate further

-

To: curls n cheekbones (purple heart emoji)

no surprise there (sideeye emoji) (wink emoji)but for real i do think about you toomainly your faceand not in an entirely innocent way yikes... its 4 am and u caught me off guard so if i ruined what was meant to be a heartfelt conversation i blame u

[ofrebellium-blog]

[ text ]: everything gives me anxiety

To: sleeping beauty (creepy moon emoji)

sounds to me like ur using it as an excuse to just feel like shit over everythingjust sayinif u stop taking everything to heart i bet it’ll do wonders for u and ur mental health

[ikilledtherpc-deactivated202011]

BLACKBEAR TEXT STARTERS

a compilation of tweets from blackbear (tw: negativity, anxiety, death)

[ text ]: i care .. i just dont want to

[ text ]: i wish i never saw the real u

[ text ]: im only doing this 4 u

[ text ]: im getting good at playing dead

[ text ]: i wanna disappear (sent with confetti)

[ text ]: were not us anymore

[ text ]: pretend the shower head is me (sent with invisible ink)

[ text ]: mood: not in the mood

[ text ]: ever wanna check up on someone but its just not ur place anymore

[ text ]: when is god gonna kill me?

[ text ]: everything gives me anxiety

[ text ]: i fucking hate myself (sent with shooting star)

[ text ]: all of us are done for

[ text ]: id let u run me over with a bus

[ text ]: usin my last 1% to let u kno im thinkin bout u

[ text ]: dont text ur ex on my wifi

[ text ]: i dont wanna kno if ur playin me

[ text ]: lets chill with ghosts

[ text ]: sext: im suffering from depression

[ text ]: how to avoid everything : a novel by me

[ text ]: im never havin kids only puppies

[ text ]: sry i cant hang out im havin an existential crisis

[ text ]: crying but also turned on

[ text ]: update: u still suck

[ text ]: my biggest regret in life is that ill never be ciara

[ text ]: respect for real art is my biggest turn on ..

[ text ]: u make me wanna punch shit repeatedly

[ text ]: hulu & hang?

[ofrebellium-blog]

edenbaresi:

Attacks against Eden weren’t uncommon - they weren’t welcomed, but they were realistic and he understood where they came from. Like ivy they grew and they burgeoned and they didn’t stop unless he pulled them out by their roots. He was defensive, absolutely, and his words were cutting. But it was tame when attackers were directed towards himself. He only took wounds at the surface level - people didn’t know him, they could only judge from afar. Those judgments didn’t sting. Actions that harmed other people, especially those he felt close to, were not as easy to brush off. 

“This,” he hissed, pulling the crumpled poster out of his bag as they walked, one hand holding it while the other pointed to the obvious writing that didn’t match the rest of the design. “Un-fucking-believable. As if,” he looked around, lowering the tone of his voice, “Campbell deserves to be wrapped up in this.” There was a knot forming in his stomach like a vice, spiraling and circling ever inwards. Nothing could be done to unravel it until he found justice. Eden gave Emilio a brief sideglance before turning to round a corner towards the building’s entrance. An exit. “We have to do something,” he said, earnest, harshly pushing the door open and stepping through. It was a statement without a solution, which was rare coming from Eden. The reality was there was little he could do given the circumstances, even less so when the the wool wasn’t just pulled over his eyes, but glued to them; he truly felt there was nothing he could do to find the answers he needed. Not without help.

“This is a smear campaign. I was fine when it was only affecting us, but now it’s Campbell, and his work deserves to be shared with the world, not tarnished by this…” Eden paused, treading lightly, “crime. I mean, this is the last thing Thomas would want.” Speaking on behalf of someone who couldn’t speak for themselves wasn’t something Eden was unused to, but it felt somehow wrong to do so when he had heard their voice speak for themselves. The knot in his stomach tightened. “At least, I would imagine so.”

Emilio was alarmed the moment he detected the rage which simmered just beneath the surface of Eden’s words; unlike Emilio, the man got aggravated over everything but with how expressive he usually was with his opinions, especially the self-righteous ones, it became quite easy over time to distinguish between matters that Eden got angry over just for the hell of it and others which clearly called for further inspection. Recently, the latter had mainly applied to incidents with people who hated them because apparently, that was the new norm among the dreamers. Man, how Emilio despised that. Taking a moment to inspect the crumbled poster, Emilio was silent and stoic for the longest time; the opposite of his friend who was practically vibrating with vehemence next to him. It would probably be a surprising contrast to some considering how they were both renowned for being the hot heads of the group but he needed a moment to register the fact that Campbell had been thrown onto the chopping block alongside them. It surprised him because thus far, people had mainly targeted the dreamers’ themselves but now that Emilio thought about it, it wasn’t that surprising with these lectures having broken Campbell’s radio silence since the incident. 

He couldn’t be expected to keep quiet forever especially when he was the figurehead of alleged murderers in the eyes of those idiots but still, what was he thinking? Did the mob mentality over the past few weeks lull him into a false sense of security? No. He was smarter than that. Emilio scowled, following Eden inside. “Look, I’m with you; I hate how they keep pushing us and we keep letting them because that is what got us to this point where they’re confident enough to do shit like this,” He responded, gesturing at the poster; he wasn’t explosive in his temperament as Eden was---at least not yet---but he was driven to act especially since he had someone backing him up for once. “But we need to be careful. You saw what happened after I swung a punch last week; it was like throwing a bone to a rabid wolf. It spurred them on to target me the most.” It was easy to get caught up in the rage, Emilio was intimately familiar with that but he also wasn’t an idiot and he couldn’t afford to be---non of them could. Not when things had reached the level that they did.

“Wake the fuck up, Eden,” Emilio suddenly snapped, though the heat in his words was directed more at the source of their problems rather than his friend’s misguided words. “Do you really believe they’re doing this because they think it’s what Thomas would want? They couldn’t care less about Thomas; they hardly knew the guy because he only hung out with us. They’re just using this shitshow as a reason to bully us because now they finally have a reason to!” He emphasized the word caustically, gesticulating broadly. “No longer do they have to stick to just shittalking us online and whispering about us in the hallways, now they have a justified reason to take it a step further and that’s all there is to it. They’re nothing more than envious fools and you must keep that in mind if you’re really gonna fight back.”

[ofrebellium-blog]

solitudincm:

Turning their face away from the plume of smoke, Avery huffed. It wasn’t like it was hard to go do it outside, there was literally an exit right down the hall from them. Never mind the fact that Emilio was now making them crave a cigarette with his egocentric ways. Which was stupid, because Avery never had the urge to smoke unless they were at a party or something. Situations like those really called for a cigarette or two, when hoards of people sucked the oxygen out of the room and the only way Avery felt like they could breathe was through a thin cardboard stick. And though it was only the two of them in this wide, open space, Avery felt the beginnings of social-induced panic racing through them.

Going into the bathroom now meant Emilio would find them out for lying, wouldn’t it? He wouldn’t let them live that down. With a sharp inhale, Avery cocked their head as though assessing his current state. “It’s not that dirty,” they told him. “I don’t think you’d want to wash your face in there, anyway. The single-stall bathrooms aren’t as regularly maintained as the others, so…there’re probably lots of germs that’d make you break out and stuff.”

“It’s not about it being dirty or not. It’s about the fact that my art would deserve better than to be immortalized in a bathroom,” Emilio emphasized the word with a momentarily affronted expression on his face. “Even though it would count as doodles more so than art, honestly.” He muttered, frowning for a millisecond at the afterthought. In all honesty, he wasn’t one of those people who would take a shit and slap the term ‘art’ on it just because he was labeled as an artist. Throwing that word around just because he spent most of his time molding and creating did nothing but take away from the value it held and he would rather put that label on a sculpture he’d invested blood, sweat and tears into rather than a fucking doodle inside a bathroom stall. He almost parted his lips to elaborate on that but swallowed the words before it was too late. There was no way in hell he was going to allow himself to be genuine around Avery again after their last encounter. He liked to think he had enough sense about him to never make a mistake twice.

“I’d hate to think of how you came to realize that, Avery.” He responded with a glance upward at them, bringing his hand down to rest atop his knee again. Following their last statement, especially due to the way they delivered it, Emilio couldn’t help but erupt into a spontaneous fit of chuckles. He feigned a dramatic gasp, raising a hand---the one holding the death stick, no less---to his cheek. “That would be abhorring,” He stated, not registering that, for the first time, he was joking around Avery with humorous intentions rather than caustic mockery. “You’ve -- “ He paused to blink up at them several times. “-- I think you’ve just saved my face which equates to saving my life.”

[dvoyd]

What separates the wolf from the sheep is not a matter of good or evil. We all have teeth— but only some of us are willing to use them.

you either bare your fangs or your throat | m.a.w (via dvoyd)

[ofrebellium-blog]

@olivia-bee

Over time, his apartment had become nothing short of inconvenient. His upstairs neighbors often resorted to playing music obnoxiously loudly---apparently, it was band practice, but it wasn’t like that justification made it any easier for Emilio to cope with---and it prevented him from focusing on his art, his homework and more importantly, his sleep. It wasn’t even that he could avoid it at certain times; their ‘practice sessions’ were sporadic as fuck and when they weren’t practicing, there were banging sounds emanating from his ceiling at random times of the day and it basically became an unbearable living situation.

One call to his mother had been his salvation and in a matter of a week, all of his things were moved and he was transferred to a new apartment. He would have to share it with a flatmate which was irritating as Emilio valued his own space but his mother had explained that it was the only available apartment which was near the university and was, surprisingly enough, occupied by a Somniatore, if his mother’s claim that it was “someone from his friend group” was anything to go by. The apartment was also very spacious which further pushed him to not worry about possible complications.

One complication he certainly wasn’t anticipating, however, was currently glaring daggers at him and has been for quite a while; silence stretching long enough that it was becoming uncomfortable, to say the least. Emilio waved sarcastically at Olivia. “Why, hello there.”

[ofrebellium-blog]

pclimpsest:

she shrugged. ❛ arrogance isn’t the worst flaw to have. and either way, i don’t. i’m working off past experiences with you. ❜ abi averts her gaze to the books. he, like all the somniatores at different levels, was merely a distraction from her real work. however, he was rather good at what he did. and the mere moment he threw those words her way, they occupied a place in her mind — and showed no sign of lapsing. everyone had some kind of talent ; it was disappointing that this was his.

there’s a noticeably larger concentration of faces around than there were just a few minutes ago, and abi clenched her teeth. the fools — they always come around expecting the dreamers to spout demonic incantations or something, and leave disappointed when they discover that they’re human beings like all else. and naturally, he chose to entertain them, rather than ignore. emilio must find some humour in watching them scurry away, but for her, it’s as interesting as watching a group of ants flee from a cluster. ❛ must you encourage them, always ? ❜ she droned.  ❛ it’s the same reaction every time. ❜

❛ i know you’re going to study,  ❜ she says, tone rising to one of defence.  ❛ i also know that you’re not inclined to keep quiet when you do. ❜ abi let out a hum of satisfaction when she found something close to what she wanted. as she pulled it out, she made sure that the sound it made was crisp. something to punctuate her words. but while walking out from between the shelves, she paused. there were no empty tables in that section of the library, nor were there any persons whose company she’d like, not with all the gossip flying around.

     the dreamers were stuck together, for better or worse. she sat opposite emilio.

“Well, at least we agree on that.” He smiled, unabashedly acknowledging his arrogance as though it were a quality rather than a flaw. Settling down at the table with his books laid out in front of him, Emilio anticipated droning silence which he would ultimately break if it became too stifling but Abscissa ended up surprising him when she spoke up first, commentating on his reaction to the scrutiny. Emilio raised an eyebrow, pride surging up at the condescending tone with which she had delivered her words but rather than respond vehemently like she probably expected him to, he shrugged, slouching slightly into a more comfortable position.

There had been a time where such demeaning remarks from fellow Somniatores spurred Emilio into a defensive tantrum faster than one could blink. At the time, he had been driven to prove himself to them; doubtful and unsure as he was still unfamiliar with the group’s dynamics and unaware of how all-encompassing they would soon become in his life but eventually, he learned to embrace it when one of them dared to egg him on or underestimate him in any way. It irritated him when it came from anyone else but with the other dreamers, Emilio sought to find entertainment in it more than anything.

“Encourage them? These idiots will glare and whisper no matter what we do so might as well respond,” He idly flipped through his book until he located his bookmark, throwing the words at his companion absently. “It’s not like being passive about it makes the situation any more in our favor.”

Emilio couldn’t help but smirk at the defensive shift in Abscissa’s tone of voice, watching perceptively as she paused to take in the surrounding tables and their watchful occupants. He chuckled softly when she ended up sitting opposite him simply because for a moment he’d believed her stubborn enough to actually occupy a different table just to get away from him. “And yet here you are, sharing my table. Funny how things work out.”

[ofrebellium-blog]

edenbaresi:

Maybe he was bitter. It wasn’t difficult to be, when the entire student body watched him wherever he went. Eden liked to shine brightly. How else could he command the attention of a room? No one liked a nobody. Nobody knew a nobody. Eden was somebody. And he had to admit, these days that wasn’t a good thing.

Maybe he was angry. Why should they cast judgements on him? Had he ever given them reason to? Eden was nothing if not vocal. He so clearly devoted himself to righting moral wrongs. Could no one remember his second year in student government? The work he did to convince the University president to incease grant funding for low-income students? But that had been all for nothing. It wasn’t as if he cared about how others saw him in particular, but there was a general feeling of unease, one with which he was not accustom to. He felt targeted - a bullseye on his back wherever he moved - and it was not a welcome feeling.

So he was irate. It showed. Whenver he was angry his fists would curly tightly enough for his fingernails to draw blood. The cuts on his palms proved it: things weren’t getting better. This became obvious when he walked into the locker room after a workout and found a group of guys talking. They stopped immediately once they noticed he walked in. Eden gave a forced smile. “No need to stop on my account.” But they did. And as they trickled out of the room Eden noticed what they had been talking about - a poster on the wall advertising a lecture series with Campbell. Underneath it someone had written, “and risk ending up murdered? nah.” Eden quickly changed and ripped the poster off of the wall. He didn’t throw it away. He stashed it in his gym bag and walked out, seething, accidentally bumping into someone he knew all too well. He didn’t think for a second before saying, “fuck, you should see this.”

A lot of things circulated about the Somniatores; rumors, conspiracies, and even secrets although in most cases those were mere lies spread around for the sake of gossip. The information about Thomas’s murder---including the autopsy report, police statements, school announcements and the dreamers’ own reactions to the incident---had supplied the student body with enough material to go on a roll especially due to the distinguished method with which Thomas was murdered. That, paired up with the fanatical, elitist reputation surrounding the group had prompted a slew of responses from people. Some made conclusions based on logical deduction, some had no opinions on the matter aside from acknowledging it for the horrifying ordeal it was, but the vast majority comprised of assholes who took it upon themselves to take up the mantle of justice. Those people were the core of the problem. And a fucking pain in his ass.

The dreamers had differing stances about it from what Emilio observed but he personally found it all entertaining at first; whenever he inspected the far-fetched scenarios and people’s vehement responses, he couldn’t help but snort. But with the way things were escalating recently, what with the attempts at confrontations and physical harassment, Emilio wasn’t laughing anymore. And he wasn’t being quiet, either. The intense bullying Moira had faced recently still lurked like a dark itch in the corner of Emilio’s mind; he hadn’t been present but he had heard about what happened and the fact that people were getting cocky and self-righteous enough to go to such steps eliminated his initial amusement especially because one of them had gotten hurt in the process and no one was doing anything. He wasn’t sure he would have intervened to help Moira considering Campbell was on his ass about the fight he had gotten into but he would have tried to protect them somehow.

The coiling resentment was like a beast writhing within him, awaiting its opportunity to strike and it came forth in his sour mood and the shadowed expression on his face as he passed through the hallway. When someone crashed into him a moment later, his expression darkened and his fists clenched, but his disposition mellowed once he noticed that it was Eden rather than a stupid bully like he’d assumed. He raised an eyebrow questioningly then gestured for them to start walking when he noticed a few zone in on their interaction. “See what?”

[ofrebellium-blog]

solitudincm:

Friends. Avery had to scoff at the implication. One unfortunate and mistimed encounter did not a friendship make. You didn’t just talk to someone for fifteen minutes and decide you were friends with them, no, friendship involved knowing someone and feeling comfortable around them and having their back in situations of distress, all qualities Avery was certain could not be found in Emilio Delgado. They’d already met their yearly quota of opening themselves up to the idea of friendship with a guy like him, and now said guy was dead. Was—no longer with them.

Unable to help themselves, Avery shot Emilio a look of disbelief. Was he smoking in the middle of a hallway? Nobody could be that self-centered. Not even him, a walking, talking, douche-with-a-smoking-problem cliche. “You’re disgusting,” they said, both in reference to the cigarette and the crude joke. “A marker fell out of my bag, so I picked it up. It’s a natural response.” Glancing both ways to make sure no faculty were present, Avery crossed their arms protectively over their chest. “Were you intending to make art in there?” they asked, nodding to his (ink? charcoal?)-stained hands. 

“Ouch.” He responded casually, raising one of legs to prop his arm atop his knee, the cigarette dangling between his index and thumb; he was the image of ultimate ease. Nonchalant in every aspect of him; in his stance, his tone of voice when he spoke, and his facial expression which remained neutral aside from the occasional trademark grin. The only flaws in the guise were his hooded eyes and the flutter of his eyelashes every time he inhaled; signifying relief supplied with every gulp of the poison he relied on. But one had to know exactly where to look in order to detect these cracks in his mask and Emilio was assured by the knowledge that Avery certainly wasn’t someone who would be interested in---or capable of---scrutinizing him as such. Maintaining eye contact with them for a moment, he slowly raised the cigarette back to his lips; his expressionless face indicating all the fucks he did not give.

“Okay.” Emilio said, restraining himself from calling Avery out on their lie by pointing out the tiny smudge of ink on their hand. He was still determined to follow through with his decided tactic until he got what he wanted from them or lost interest and that involved holding back and being nice, both of which were somewhat nauseating to implement, if he were to be honest. Emilio blinked then glanced down at the hand propped on his knee, rubbing his fingers together again with the cigarette still held between his fingers. “Dunno how you thought of that absurd possibility but no,” Wouldn’t want my art to be anywhere near the bullshit people spew on those walls, he wanted to say, not that I’d even disrespect myself by making art in a bathroom in the first place. “I was gonna respect the rules for once but clearly, I don’t have it in me,” He drawled, gesturing with his cigarette. “And I wanted to wash my face. Still do, actually.”

[ofrebellium-blog]

solitudincm:

Leave it to Emilio to make bumping into one another outside a school bathroom as awkward as humanly possible. Avery tucked their hair behind their ear and cleared their throat, looking anywhere, everywhere, but at him. Ever since their encounter outside the school, Avery had made the active effort to avoid Emilio at all costs. Well—to be fair, they already did that, butespecially now. They’d gone back to their dorm and lie in bed for hours after the exchange, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating the things Emilio had said. The things they’d said. The things they’d thought. About how fucked up this whole thing was that it’d escalated to the point where they were paranoid of stalking, and that people were putting bloody rats in others’ bags, and writing stupid rumors on the god damn bathroom wall. Avery didn’t get much sleep, that night.

And so, with yet another weary sigh (this was probably the fifth or sixth of the day), they dragged their gaze to Emilio’s. “You mean like we have only one other time?” Avery asked, rolling their head back so that even if they weren’t eye-level with him, they at least felt like it. “The bathroom’s yours now, so…don’t let me get in your way.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. I believe the heart-to-heart we had qualifies us as friends now. No need to be so uptight.” Emilio exclaimed with an easy smile, thankful for the opportunity to distract himself even though he wasn’t interested in a recollection of that encounter and all that had transpired during it. Despite the perk of having learned a few things about his melancholic acquaintance that night, he’d fucked up. Not in the mild demeanor he had adopted because it had succeeded in prompting Avery to lower their guard somewhat but in the honesty that he had allowed the interaction to bring forth from him. For once in his life, he had expressed his thoughts and frustrations without the intent of tearing a counterargument to shreds or slicing at the weak spots of another with his cutting words. And in his rare outburst of sincerity, the encounter had faded into what could have been described as a moment of companionship. It was dangerous considering he was certain that in spite of their gentle, seemingly kind-hearted nature, Avery would not think twice before taking advantage of it in a tactic to disarm Emilio. He had no doubt it was something they were capable of implementing with enough malice in their heart.

But they seemed to carry mere resentment towards him rather than malice, he thought, for the moment, at least.

“Nah, fuck it,” He muttered then rubbed his fingers together in a half-hearted attempt to rid them of the dark blotches smeared on his skin---he had been drawing with charcoal or attempting to---before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. He lit it and then leaned down as it tilted from the corner of his lips to sit on the floor, leaning against one of the lockers next to the bathroom. He inclined his head to look up at them, exhaling a plume of smoke before nodding at the their hand which had just been holding a sharpie. “Even though I’m quite intrigued to see what you were doodling in there,” He tilted his head with a mischievous yet harmless gleam in his eyes. “Adding a new angle to the bodily fluids in my paintings theory, perhaps?”

[love-personal]

[bob-belcher]

[bunnygirl1998]

[ofrebellium-blog]

lilleprinscn:

As he felt Emilio smack wet kisses on his face and neck, his cheeks continued to heat up and were probably pink due to the alcohol he’d consumed (and absolutely not from his companion, not at all), Aleksander scrunched up his nose, feeling the lingering touches of Emilio’s skin on his lips. It seemed wherever he was kissed by the boy, he could feel the touch for hours on end afterwards, although he usually blamed that on his intoxication. They had never been intimate sober, although there were some nights where Aleks would intentionally not drink so much, as to see whether his emotions would change or he’d finally push Emilio away and see it as what it had to be, nothing more than drunk sex. However, he remained too afraid to try it completely sober, succumbing to the cans of beer handed to him each night as he lay waiting for the boy to eventually find him as he did each time. As if they both knew they’d always end up here.

With the dangerous thoughts floating through his mind, it seemed as if Emilio could read him entirely as he suddenly dragged his knuckles against his cheek, feeling the heat radiating off him. He couldn’t stop the giggle that came hearing his comment, one finger coming to poke his chest, pushing him back slightly again. “You are so cheesy,” he laughed, his mind buzzing from the compliment. Aleksander received many compliments, enough to desensitise himself from it all; his self esteem was high enough without someone trying to get into his good books, or his pants, with a clumsy phrase about him being an angel. However, when it was Emilio saying the words, it seemed to mean something else. Perhaps it was because they were friends, first and foremost, a respect and understanding there more poignant than the boys and girls who walked up to flirt with him based on nothing but a glance at him, but his words always seemed to leave him affected. There was a nervous quality to his giggles as he responded, “I can’t believe I put up with you sometimes, you’re lucky you’re so handsome.”

Sober, Aleks barely cared what he spouted out, and so filled with alcohol and the buzz of Emilio’s eyes on him, he barely took in what he had said. His hand spread out against the boy’s chest, before sliding up to the back of his neck once more. He was about to pull him in for another kiss when he heard a voice behind them, slurred and irritated. 

“Oh my god, get a room and make out with your boyfriend somewhere else, Nilsen!”

Hearing the words, Aleksander felt like cold water had been doused on him, immediately closing his eyes as if he could pretend it hadn’t happened. He was happy enough when he and Emilio didn’t speak about what they were to one another, because he wasn’t entirely sure, and the mere mention of the word ‘boyfriends’ had him wanting to run away and jump into the nearest rubbish bin. Instead, he braved it and moved forward to lean his head on Emilio’s chest, hiding his face from him as he wished for the ground to swallow him whole. Groaning, he finally said, “Sometimes I think we’re the only people with brain cells here, Emmy.”

When his face split into an unintentionally warm grin upon hearing the flutter of Aleksander’s laughter, Emilio couldn’t really feel bothered to rationalize it like he did with ninety percent of the actions he took around the younger boy. Namely, the actions that, logically, couldn’t be chalked up to mere lust or his tendency to be physically affectionate with his friends. It was always driven by impulse and encouraged by the inebriated---and therefore, unguarded---state Aleksander would often be in but it always happened during encounters that provided him with reasoning right then and there. And so, Emilio never really struggled to justify the tender moments that sometimes transpired between them which happened to be instigated by him---his mind always automatically latched reasoning and explanations to them. Smiling when asked about their relationship and how open they outwardly were with it, for example, could be justified by his amusement towards those who believed the charade. Things like that didn’t even occupy his mind because they were so easily resolved but whether that was in a subconscious method of reinforcing an illusion of detachment or simply out of a desire to look at it with a viewpoint that didn’t complicate things, Emilio wasn’t sure. And quite frankly, he didn’t want to be sure.

Sometimes he would linger on the ambiguous state of being that their relationship had developed into and it would entice recklessness within him rather than prompt him to veer away and keep it safe. With all the people he had been with before, there was always defined boundaries and a determined endgame; for Emilio, he would either grow bored and lose the excitement that tethered him to the individual or he would find someone more interesting and move on. With Aleksander, however, the lines were blurry enough that they sometimes escaped Emilio’s sight entirely and instead of shying away from it or seeking to reinforce said lines, which Aleksander often did, it only spurred Emilio on. It completely went against how all of his former relationships played out, so much so that it was probably the reason why he had just touched Aleskander in a dangerously intimate way and why that, in particular, made him take a step back. Because there was no reasoning or explanation for it and he couldn’t even understand why he had done it or what he had thought it could achieve at the time.

Taking a deep breath that strangely trembled as it poured into his lungs, Emilio leaned back slightly without removing his grip on Aleksander. “Well, I’m an artist so being cheesy, and by extension, developing attachment to cheekbones, is sorta unavoidable.” He said with a cheeky smirk, leaning in to meet Aleksander half-way before the slurred comment halted them both. With the aforementioned introspection in mind and upon seeing the way his companion immediately froze up, Emilio knew he had to be very careful with how he reacted. Although he was personally unaffected by it, he could see that Aleksander was and that any reaction he made would be noted by the younger man so Emilio remained quiet and still.

Grunting in surprise when Aleksander leaned against his chest, Emilio didn’t respond for a moment having expected the younger man to pull away but then he sighed, relaxing as he put his arms around him; one palm curling against the back of his neck, kneading at the tension soothingly while the other smoothed down his spine. “We are,” He whispered, forcing a chuckle. “Follow my lead, okay? Fuck these people.” Urging Aleksander to move with the grip he had on him, Emilio started moving them a few paces further down the hallway before they settled in a dim yet secluded area. He figured it was too late for privacy after the show they’d already put on for everyone but at the same time, he knew it wasn’t their actions that had affected Aleksander; it was how they were perceived by others. How they were perceived by the boy himself played a huge role in it, too, Emilio figured. “Aleks,” He said, prompting the boy to raise his head with a palm against his shoulder. “We’re away from them now. It’s fine.”

[elletao]