✦ 𝓠. “I don't want to share you with anyone.” @docurios.
“Who says you have me?” They tease, slipping away from his grasp as if they were made of water. And as they rest their back against the tree, biting their lip to hide a smile, there is both a kind of performance to their playfulness and an unintended sharpness. The same old rehearsed play, repeating itself even in the safety of their shared intimacy. The performer in them wants to attract, lure, be pleasant, something pretty that won’t get hurt, that will never be abandoned. While the sharpness resents even the idea of belonging to someone, it wants to say they’ll be with whoever they damn please, no matter that their eyes are unable to look away from them. No matter they can’t even see the world outside Daemos, outside the pull of them— and that too is terrifying, infuriating. They want to claw at him to push him away and dig their claws in so he’ll never leave them.
But whatever this is between them still remains unspoken. It hangs in the uncertainty of longing stares and the pauses in between words, out there outside their reach, making them dizzy every time their mind dares to wander anywhere near its borders. What even lies beyond its uncharted trails? Worse yet— does it have an end, a limit? Is there an edge they might fall over? Find themselves alone at the end of all of it? They wouldn’t survive it. How could they?
They manage to compose a practiced smile, but their features are a canvas exposing every brushstroke left behind by a fleeting thought, every splash of emotion. Are you mine? is what they want to say, but it sounds too raw, too pathetic. Instead they cross their arms, looking anywhere but at Daemos.
“It goes both ways, you know?— You as much as look at someone else and I’ll rip your throat out.”
