In light of Ao3’s imminent day off, I offer a behind-the scenes sneak peak. I hope this excerpt from next chapter (15 (which i am still very much not finished writing yet)) of my fic Maybe Then He’ll Chill Again helps get you through this painful time.
“You alright?” Velvette asked, barely warding off a yawn. Valentino swept his feet from the couch, planting them on the cold floor. The smoke didn’t feel warm anymore. If anything, the smell had started making him sick.
“Do you think…” What else could he say that he hadn’t already many, many times? Do you think Vox was serious? Do you think we did the right thing? Do you think he’s still angry at us? Valentino pulled his wings around himself like a blanket. “Do you think we could have, like… Do you think we should have seen it coming?”
Velvette stared at him, her phone screen going dark from inaction. The only source of light came from the neon signs outside—crude words, love hearts, arrows, all illuminated the room dimly, tinting them pink and blue and purple. Valentino wasn’t too confident in his knowledge of, like, literary terms, but he was pretty sure that this could be considered irony.
“What, like, before he lost his shit?” Velvette arched her brow. “Or everythin’ after?”
“Before. We knew he was being an ass, but… I don’t know! Should we have, like—” He felt his words come quicker, more confident. Too fast to stop. “We didn’t take it seriously! If we had taken it seriously, maybe Voxxy—“
“Maybe what, Val?” Velvette sat up, too, putting her phone face-down on the coffee table. It lay beside their untouched takeout, and her movement wafted the ugly smell of cold Chinese food in his direction. “By the time we knew somethin’ was up, it was already too late, kay? So don’t go beatin’ yourself up for it. We’re doin’ what we can now. That counts for somethin’.”
Valentino’s eyes returned to the neon signs, in all their mesmerizing brightness.
”I know, chica,” he said absently. “But…” his wings and shoulders lost their tension. He got lost in the glow, warm like his smoke. Warm like—Catching himself, he tore his vision from the window, eyes narrowing on Velvette. He had moved with energy, only when Valentino went to speak, his voice was painfully—unattractively—weak. Not even weak in a sexy, submissive way. Just… sad. “Did you expect him to get that bad?”
The look on her face was answer enough.
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