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The hand-holding is a bit much.
The two are focused on one of Shadow Milk’s many games, sitting across from each other at a small table. Candy Apple Cookie and himself stand to the side as spectators. The scene appears to be (what is newly considered) normal, besides the fact that blue and tan fingers are intertwined beside the game board. It’s quite distracting, and Black Sapphire hasn’t kept up with the score for the past few rounds.
Candy Apple Cookie isn’t immune to it either, crimson pupils pricked to violent slits. Black Sapphire is barely holding back a scowl. How dare that… ingrate… come into any form of contact with his glorious master. Any common annoyance like Pure Vanilla Cookie would be eviscerated for even thinking about it.
Oddly, though, his master doesn’t seem to mind the touch. Black Sapphire (begrudgingly) notes that he was the one to initiate, though his initial theory was that it was a trap. That, as soon as Pure Vanilla even touched the other, he would decay into dust on the floor. Where he belongs.
But, no! Their hands are still simply linked together, sitting on the side of the table like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like Black Sapphire wouldn’t kill to be in that gnat’s position.
His master seems almost aware of his servant’s animosity, sparing him a subtle wink and something that is almost a smirk before returning his full attention back to what truly matters, Pure Vanilla Cookie.
Butterflies swarm in his stomach, regardless.
-
The hug is a bit much.
Although the spire doesn’t follow the menial rules of ‘time,’ it is what would generally be considered ‘night.’ The rumor-weavers have all gone to sleep, and the usual sounds of footsteps have fallen silent. The staircases and hallways are all empty, and the air is stale.
Black Sapphire would usually be in his chambers, drafting up another report on the juicy gossip he’d gathered that day, or getting some much-needed shut-eye.
Tonight, though, he is hiding.
Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk are speaking quietly in one of the spire’s many hallways. Their hushed voices are laced with unfamiliar fondness, and it’s sickening. Black Sapphire, despite his expertise in rumor-gathering, struggles to pick up on their words. It’s a small matter, though. He understands what they’re saying simply from the looks on their faces.
Shadow Milk has a hand lazily wrapped around Pure Vanilla’s waist, and a pointed smile paints his face. It’s surprisingly genuine for the Beast of Deceit, and Black Sapphire marvels in the fact that he’s never seen that expression on his master before.
Pure Vanilla Cookie also has a hand resting on Shadow Milk’s shoulder, and his dull features are a bit… lighter… than normal. Ever since taking the ‘Truthless Recluse’ name, Pure Vanilla Cookie hasn’t had any sign of his previous warmth or kindness. Now, though, a subtle glow extends from his body, and his eyes gleam more than usual.
Black Sapphire Cookie almost feels out of place, which is odd. He has every right to be near his master, especially if he is… conversing… with the enemy! Even if Master Shadow Milk Cookie likes to treat him as otherwise, Pure Vanilla is not a friend, nor a guest. He is a prisoner, a hostage, and he has no right to be this close to Black Sapphire’s master!
Their conversation extends for a few more minutes before the two slowly lean in for an embrace that nearly makes Black Sapphire faint. Their hug lasts for what is likely just a moment, but for Black Sapphire Cookie, it is his whole life.
It is his life dedicated to deceit, to pleasing and pandering towards someone who is now embracing another. A familiar emptiness fills his body that he hasn’t felt since he was freshly baked, since before he even was Black Sapphire Cookie. Jealousy and anger are smothered by pure hopelessness and anguish. A betrayal and sadness that doesn’t even allow him tears.
Wallowing in this feeling, he misses the moment when the two separate. Pure Vanilla exits the scene swiftly, but Shadow Milk Cookie remains. Black Sapphire belatedly realizes that he is looking at him.
His master, his beautiful, glorious master sighs. The smile that Pure Vanilla Cookie had created has faded, and now all that remains on his face is something sickeningly familiar. It is forced, and it is so deceitful that Black Sapphire can’t help but believe it.
“Oh, my sweet, sweet, sapphire. It’s your bedtime, you know!” Shadow Milk chimes in his typical voice, no genuine fondness remaining. Black Sapphire nods and promptly exits. This is all he gets. He doesn’t get a hand to hold or a hug goodnight. This is what he gets, and this is what he deserves.
-
The kiss is too much.
After that eventful night, Black Sapphire hadn’t necessarily been avoiding the two, but he’d certainly been following his master a bit less than usual. Which is to say, he took a day to wallow in his room before returning to his normal duties.
If Master Shadow Milk Cookie noticed, he surely didn’t say anything about it. Black Sapphire can’t tell if that hurts more than a punishment. At least being trapped in a card is acknowledging his presence. Instead, when he entered the room in the middle of one of their games, he was greeted by no more than a spare glance from Candy Apple Cookie.
He doesn’t care, he tells himself. His master has more important matters, like retrieving his soul jam. So what if Master Shadow Milk Cookie likes to play with his food? So what if they hold hands, or hug and share pleasant whispers when they think no one can hear them. It’s all part of the plan, he tells himself.
Is the kiss part of the plan?
When he enters the library of the spire, he’s not sure what he expects. He knew Shadow Milk Cookie was in here, of course he did. What kind of servant would he be if he didn’t know where to serve? He just… wasn’t aware of what they were doing.
The Truthless Recluse has his arms wrapped around his master’s neck, and Shadow Milk’s arms lazily link around the other’s waist. It’s soft and, dare he say, romantic. The candlelight glow of the library sets the cozy atmosphere, and it makes it abundantly clear that this is not a new occurrence.
Black Sapphire Cookie chokes before warping himself away. It’s a drain on his magic and energy, but honestly, he couldn’t care less. He realizes he’s in a bathroom briefly before emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
In between gags and dry-heaves, he thinks of blue and tan intertwined. He thinks of hands grasping and running through golden locks, and he thinks of gleaming eyes and pointed smiles. It does nothing to help the nausea, and it only serves to make him sob along with the vomiting.
When he’s too exhausted to continue heaving, he shakily stands up and sheds his clothes. He would much prefer going to bed and sleeping all this off, but the nightmares and the vomit crusting on his skin would keep him awake. He blearily turns the shower to the hottest setting.
When he runs soapy hands through his hair, he imagines they’re blue.