is it possible if we can see any interactions with Chance and iTrapped? (High school au)
I’m obsessed with your high school au eifhekduenekek
Okay so like in this au chance is the biggest nerd you’ll ever meet, quiet kid, good grades and never talks to anyone except his teachers..
I also like imagine itrapped being a lot with chance after this and the whole school goes like “is that kid like his favorite now???” And chance is immediately known as the quiet kid who somehow is friends with the school’s hottest person. (His parents make him wear that slick back)
Okay under cut there’s a little thing I wrote in context of this
(Ignore typos)
When I think about it, deeply through it, I notice it was all obvious.
He was always talking about forever, as if it was a promise. But his forever was only until convenience expired. I kept on polishing his mirror, until my reflection vanished, until all I could see was him, his face, those eyes I so deceptively wanted to look at me in anything else but hatred and dread. Touch that once felt warm now burns with memory,
and I cannot tell where his hands end, and my scars begin. He wore his beauty as a weapon, knowing our cruel word was a sucker for visuals, knowing our world would do anything for a pretty face. And I was no different. The light once hit him wrong, and I could see a crack in the mask. I could see his mask slipping, I could see the ever so hidden hatred in his eyes, attempted conceal. And I, a willing planet, mistook gravity for love. He consumed, consumed every gaze that lingered on him for too long, every time my breath hitched when he got too close. He consumed, and I let myself so desperately be.
It’s the first thing I realize, how the red fit so well with the snow. Polar opposites some may describe it, the pooling of blood melting the way of snow in such beauty I could only imagine. I blink and the sky suddenly tilts. The warm blooming in my chest seeps through my silk shirt, the warm feeling of sticky, dreadful blood. To the steel plunged through my chest with such hatred I would never imagine humane. Isaac was always humane to me, he kept saying to himself, kept convincing himself and pleaded me to see that he’s not humane. But now I have proof he is, the dread and pain he stares at me in now, there’s no possible way something inhumane could feel this hatred so strongly. No matter how many times his sword buries itself deep in my chest, nothing will ever change the profound feelings I have for him. Even in this moment, his sword piercing my heart, itll always belong to him. He whispers something, my name perhaps, I don’t know. Though it sounds foreign now, like it belongs to someone who still believes in gentle things. I want to reach for him, I wantto trace the line of his jaw one last time, to feel the tremor of his pulse under my fingertips. Need something grounding to anchor myself to. proof that he’s still real, that we were real. But my arms don’t listen. The body is so strange in its dying; it remembers pain but forgets purpose.
Even as dark swallows me whole, I can feel something, not fear... not pain… but the weight of loving someone you deeply. The eight of loving someone you knew was going to destroy you in the end, leave you rotten. the snow drinks the rest of me slowly. the red blooms across the cold snow, spreading wider, crawling toward him as though it too cannot bear to be apart. I watch his eyes flicker. there, for a second, I think I see it again: the boy who once spoke of forever, the boy who smiled like he was made of light. The boy who promised to not break my heart. I try to lift my hand, but it feels like lifting the world. My fingers barely brush his own before they fall back into the snow. The cold is numbing, merciful almost. His face blurs at the edges, and I can’t tell if it’s the tears or the fading light. Deep inside me I hope for tears, hope he feels regret.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words slipping out in a trembling breath. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.”
The way his eyes widen it is unbearable. He shakes his head, frantic, his mouth opening to speak, but I cannot hear him anymore. The world hums softly, like it is apologizing too on hid behalf
If I could stay one more second, i’d tell him that it was never about being enough. That love was never meant to survive like this pierced through, bleeding into snow. But my chest grows heavy, and my thoughts scatter like feathers in a storm. His hands are on me now, pressing, pleading, but the warmth is leaving. Still, I smile small, barely there because even dying like this, even broken and ruined, I loved him. I always did.
