i just want you to love me as much as i think about it
giving your boyfriend the silent treatment after an argument ft. anaxa, sunday, blade
notes: gn!reader, attached/obsessive men, sunday being both manipulative and pathetic somehow, blade is a warning, song from here
༄ anaxa:
✣ droves of students come out through the doors of one of the many science buildings, yet the one sight you actually came to see is nowhere to be found. a despondent sigh exits your mouth as you stand and accept your defeat.
how pathetic it was — you were the one who started this childish ignoring game when you found yourself on the back-burner of anaxa's priorities once more. truly, you'd thought this would knock some sense into him and make him realize how much he missed having you around. instead, you stand like a fool on a campus you don't even attend, coming to terms with the fact you seem to care about him much more than he cares for you.
"oh, are you waiting for professor anax?"
you glance up to see a vaguely familiar face. one of anaxa's students, clearly, and one you assume you've met before. the fog in your brain must be showing, because he just laughs and tells you his name after a brief apology from yourself.
"no worries! i don't expect you to know everyone. the professor just brings you up a lot, so it's hard for us not to know who you are."
interesting.
"he does?" you ask with an even tone, not trying to seem too eager. "complaints, i'm sure."
the student only gets a couple of words about how 'prof anax looks super dopey when he talks of you!' in before a loud cough echoes besides you two, making him freeze as the smile quickly drops from his face. you peer and see the source of your problems himself, eye slanted and foot tapping in a staccato rhythm.
the young man besides you seems to stop breathing as anaxa coldly breaks the silence, "i was sure the work i assigned was ample enough to keep you distracted, but i see you still have other priorities."
with a curt nod, the student rushes away as anaxa makes his way closer to you. bitterness overtakes your thirst to win, and you mutter, "so he can speak," just loud enough for him to catch the resentment in your voice.
"if i recall correctly," his lip twitches into something mirroring your displeasure, "this childish escapade only happened because you were insistent in your own misguided assumptions—"
"that is the problem, anaxagoras," you cut him off, moving on from your yearning spell to being defensive of his criticism. "whether i'm in the wrong or not, the way you dismiss and belittle me for it still makes you an asshole."
he brushes off the insult with ease, "an asshole who's partner is speaking to him again. a net positive, if that slipped your mind."
the remark makes your brow raise. really? that was his mastermind idea?
"what, piss me off to make me stop talking to you, piss me off more to make me talk to you again? that didn't seem like a stupid plan to you?"
"if it was stupid, it wouldn't have worked," he says with a final tone, taking two more steps towards you until he's able to grasp your hand. one, two, each of your knuckles is kissed with intent. an apology in every touch.
"if for even a brief moment, you've questioned the severity of how much i crave you, i have my doubts about who is the true imbecile of this relationship."
never-mind. still an asshole.
༄ sunday:
✣ "my love," sunday begs, matching the way you speed your movements to try and shake him off.
you don't even react, staring straight ahead as your footsteps echoed on the sidewalk. according to sunday, the only thing worse than fighting with you was not hearing from you at all. in turn, you're not surprised at not only the level of desperation he feels to try and satiate your indignation, but the fact he hasn't stopped vying for your attention since the moment it originally started —
"two days, seventeen hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty one seconds," he starts with stiff timbre, "is more than enough time for us to sort out our disagreements, isn't it? i'm sure you're aware of how deeply remorseful i am by this point, darling."
still, your conviction is unwavering no matter how pathetic his displays become. he always tries to sweet talk and love-bomb his way back into your good graces, knowing how achromatic his entire world becomes the moment you're not with him.
images flicker in your mind, not conceived of your own imagination. the true magnitude of his grief is prevalent, as he normally would never allow his telepathy to be so carelessly mismanaged. in his frenzied state of trying to subdue his emotions, he's allowing his thoughts to leak from his brain without consequence.
barely perceivable, you glimpse at him for what must be a millisecond, but he hones in on the action like a starving animal.
a throb pierces your head ; more of a pleasant singe as opposed to any real pain. you stumble slightly from the unexpected feeling, and sunday is in front of you before you could even figure out you were going to hit the ground. a satisfied smile worms it's way onto his face as you land in his hold, and his arms constrict quickly so you have no chance of getting out.
"my angel," he coos with pleading eyes, covering the sides of your face from any bystanders. "i'll carve out my heart if that's what it takes to be blessed with your affection once more, but please don't deprive me of the melody from your lips."
you bite the inside on your cheek, glaring at him. even when you know he's trying to twist your heart to his liking, part of you can't help but want to just concede. the emptiness left behind from being adored by sunday isn't easily filled, not with nearly as much earnest emotion that he provides you. if nothing else, it wasn't a question if you were truly the world that he orbits.
with a sigh, you wriggle and push him away, standing straight up, noticing how the fabric of his gloves tightens from clenching his fist. you acquiesce in spite of better judgment, but still lace your first words with malice, "maybe if you got on your knees and asked nicely."
the instant the request is spoken into the air, he's on the ground, staring up at you with devotion so reverent you worry that ena is standing behind you. you quickly look around, praying that nobody sees such an insane display. you truly had thought he'd have too much pride to deny the outrageous suggestion.
"is this enough to placate your animosity? or would you rather i go further?" he asks with just enough smugness that you question whether or not it's actually there. maybe he's playing games, maybe he really is that needy, but it's gotten to a point you no longer can justify.
"for aeons sake, sunday. get off the ground," you groan, rubbing your temples. he complies easily, standing before you with happily fluttering wings and a pleased look on his face. even if you were annoyed, you were speaking to him, and you were sure he was filing this as a victory in his brain.
you roll your eyes and continue down the street, this time letting him follow next to you and grasp your hand in his own. you're not exactly happy about the outcome, but what's done is done. as a last jab as him, you grumble, "you're sleeping on the floor tonight."
"whatever you'd like, my love."
༄ blade:
✣ the buzzing of your electric toothbrush fills the bathroom as you finish getting ready for bed. even though nothing really happened today, every minute seemed to drag without your boyfriend by your side. no matter how many times you've begged him to at least send you a text to where he's gone when he gets pulled away for a mission, you're left worrying yourself sick every time he disregards your words.
evidently, actions are the only thing that will cause the gears in his brain to turn. if blade can't understand how you feel, then maybe a disappearing act of your own will shock him with realization. in turn, the past two days have felt like a horror survival game for you. avoiding blade is a task even his most slimy of enemies have a hard time achieving. when he knows your breathing like the creases on his palm, it becomes roughly twenty times harder. luckily, kafka had been in the mood to play and kept you in the loop of blade's general location while also concealing your own.
after rinsing off the bristles, you sigh and turn off the lights before heading for your bed. maybe you'll message blade tomorrow, try to get through by telling him it doesn't feel so good to ignored, does it?
when you click the remote to turn your fan on, two distinct eyes stare at you from behind it.
blade doesn't flinch at your ear-piercing scream. his gaze simply narrow as he slowly steps towards you, speaking lowly as if he's cornering his prey. which, considering the blood sprayed across his face like a careless painting, is exactly how you feel at the moment.
"did your time away give you what you desired?" he asks lowly and ice-cold. there's no room for joking in his tone. clearly your little game had irritated him to the highest extent.
you try to recollect yourself while dealing with what is going to be a very large problem. while you didn't expect him to be giddy once you were reunited, you also didn't think he'd be this irate.
"i couldn't locate you. no heat readings from your house, despite what's in front of me at this moment," he states grimly, close enough to grasp your chin in his hands. his eyes bore into yours with such intensity you feel as if it might light you aflame.
"… now you know how i feel?" you retort with a stiff chuckle, hoping to play it off like some ill-thought out joke.
he doesn't laugh.
his sword gracelessly drops to the floor as his other hand rests on the small of your back, pulling you closer. his forehead rests against your own, filled with such uncertainty that your entire theory seems like little more than cruelty towards your lover.
he lets out a shaky exhale, murmuring into the dark of the night, "even if you no longer decide i am needed, if this body is to no longer serve it's only purpose, there is nowhere in any galaxy where my hand will not reach you."
it's a promise he's made before, the one you hang on to during the nights where you're worried if he'll even return to you at all. this time though, the weight is much heavier. you don't know who he cleaved through in a mindless rampage to find you, and you're not sure you want to ever find out. all you know is how sincere he seemed to treat those words.
your lips part to apologize but he's on you faster than it can come out, kissing you with enough desperation to ensure you'll never try something like this again. when you whisper a quiet, "sorry," into the kiss, his hold on you tightens.
"never again," he says with a somber tone, as if he's already seeing flashes of the atrocities he'd commit if this were to ever occur once more. you can't help but agree internally, if not for the fear of everyone around you — never again, indeed.
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