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You are Ava’s roommate, the main reason you are wrapped in this spiraling mess.
Recapping the day when these demons came into yours and Ava’s life. The day was scorching hot, the middle of summer. The fans hum, about three of them scattered on your desk. between the two bookshelves, a desk comfortably squeezed in the center, your shared computer with Ava.
Your digits press against the keys, a satisfying click you’ve been hearing for about an hour or so. College exams have gotten you distant from Ava, the work stretching and ripping your friendship apart ever since you got accepted.
Sitting hunched in the chair, creaking as your weight disputes forward, leaning into the computer, squinting. The sun blazes tho the windows, your skin tingling under its ember feel, the harsh rays of sun reflect off the computer. The screen glares from the light, making it hard to see the recent words you’ve written.
Your elbows rest on either side of the keyboard, your head tilting down, supported by your hands curling around your head. Letting out an audible sigh, you question yourself, “What and why am I doing this…” you groan in disbelief, a knot forms in your stomach, wondering if all this was worth it, the weight between schoolwork and blooming fun from the outside world.
Memories fog up your brain, playing old memories, good times before locking your cell and throwing the key. Disorienting from reality, the computer in front of you warps into a face, a familiar one. The hues in her eyes were like crimson to a light pink, her darkish-purple hair soft and wavy, laughters heard. It rings in your ears painfully. Now you’ve doubled knotted your stomach.
Sometimes you feel like you have a sapphic for her.
As you daydream in your memories, replaying what made your hands tingle, what made you feel warm, and what made the knot tighter.
Suddenly, the click from a door. The memories wash away, instinctively, you twist your body around, the chair squeaking as you do, in the doorway, there stands Ava.
Her, darkish-purple hair stands in ways you didn’t know was possible, crimson that sets into pink, bags under her eyes despite the amount she sleeps in, and wrinkled clothes that haven’t been changed in about two days.
Ava speaks up, her voice raspy and drained, “Today’s trash day, right?” She rubs her eyes sluggishly.
Silence fills the space, suffocating until your voice cuts through, “Yes, your turn Ava…” you observed her hair, dissecting the way their hair forms a clutter of hair, “When’s the last time your brushed that birds nest…?” Your voice overlaps with a faint chuckle, laughing at your own joke, loser.
Ava lets out a groan, her head slumping to the left, “I’ll brush it out later…geez.” Her voice low and fussy.
With your feet, you swing your chair to face the computer, your hands find the edge of the desk, fidgeting. You can hear Ava’s footsteps, the grunting and struggling to take out the overstuffed trash.
You take a moment to just listen to Ava move around, shuffling to put her shoes on and walk out the door. Sometimes you feel like a total creep with your over observing-self. You tilt your head to the left, staring out the window, there’s nothing to see expect another tall apartment building and the viewing of people rush to work, or walk to a coffee shop, the possibilities are endless.
It makes your head hurt to overthink about little things.
Everything warps back to the current moment, your daydreaming ending. The fleeting moment flutters away, the warm blooming erases itself as you gain back self-conscious. These other worldly hot and strangely sexy men have made you and Ava grow back, roots embedding, tangled together again.
You stand in the kitchen, the sun ends their walk in the sky as it descends behinds buildings. The sky bleeds into various warm hues of orange, pink, yellow, and purple, clouds swirl and twist, moving above and hiding the faint stars that glimmer in the purple mix.
Ava said they’d be back by now, maybe some difficulties with the mischievous demons that run loose in your shared apartment. You wonder if anything has gone wrong, probably has. Maybe Leif K.O a grandma, Asch burning down a building, Noi following Ava like the lovesick puppy he is for her, Rhys trying his best to herd them like sheep, and Ava fainting from the sheer pressure.
Your hands rest against the cold marble counters, the sensation numbs your nerves. The kitchen is painted in warm hues, the rays of sun caresses you, enveloping its heat along your goosebumps. The seasons pass along like streams, new, and now cold.
The light hits your face, coating your features in a beautiful orange and pink hue, everything felt at peace, starting at people, trees fading their color into season, stray leaves making their journey across the waves of the air. For a little while, all your worries faded.
As you dissect every little detail about the sky, the way people dress as you stare down the window, trees dancing their branches with the wind in a beautiful dance.
DING!!!
The sound of the toaster makes you scatter your thoughts together in a jumble as the machine startling you into a frenzy. A quick yelp escapes your lips as you tumble backwards, the counter that sits behind you saves your fall, hands latching on the edge of the marble coated counter.
”Wha…fuck-…” You curse, now the smell of smoke and your early night meal gone. Ava barely has any groceries, so that means this luxurious sandwich is gone until next month.
You sway your hands back-and-forth trying to get the building smoke away from your face. You push yourself off the counter, one of your hands pulling your shirt over your nose. With your freehand, you unplug the toaster, the sparks of ember stop in the effect.
An audible sigh leaves your lips, lately you’ve been disorienting with reality too much. You think of maybe indulging with help, since this little habit has spread like cancer.
You look at the toaster, thick smoke arises in the celling of the apartment. With the window in front of you, you pulls the latches that keep the window locked, now open. With all your strength you pull the window up, sliding the toaster near the opening, smoke now leaving into the atmosphere.
”I heard a yelp…-“ he pauses, “-Are you alright?” Voicing his concerns for you, cute.
A deep rich voice comes from behind you. The way he speaks, it has always calmed you, warm, alluring.
Looking towards the obviously damaged toaster, then at him.
You look behind you, turning your head to the right. He stands closer near the couch than the kitchen, his features drowned the same orange and pink bleeding hues that coat both of your faces, “Yes..-“ you groan in disappointment, “-Just some problems with the toaster.” You run a hand through your hair, your digits get caught in tangles, roughly pushing through until meeting the end of your hair.
Observing his features, you take in everything, his stern eyes that wraps itself in iris that are a beautiful lapis color, rich tan color that coats his skin, tall and looming frame, his muscular body, a black tight shirt clinging to his abs, his dark-brown hair ties into a pony tail which is usually neat but now messy, strands of silky hair dangling, his curved blue horns with their natural carvings, black-inked tattoo with intricate patterns on his left arm, a blue robe that hangs fully off on his left, loose pants that are messily tied, pointy ears that are slightly reddish at the tips, blue jewelry hangs on his ear, on his left arm, armor shines, fur hanging out on the edges.
For a guy that feels like he’d keep himself presentable, he looks like a clutter.
You stare too long, far too long. Enough to catch Pierce’s attention, “You are… staring.” He bluntly states, eyes squinting slightly, “Is there something wrong with me?” His usually monotone voice snaps you out of observation fantasies.
”O-..oh!…Aah..” You stumble over your words, worry lacing your expression and tone, worrying you’ve possibly had made Pierce uncomfortable. “Sorry, sorry.” You apologize quickly, probably way too fast to be audible.
In embarrassment, you tilt and slightly move your head and hair in an attempt to hide the rush of blood that pigments your cheeks. For a second, your eyes flick up, expecting to see a blank expression of possibly a face of disappointment.
Instead, there’s a flash of crimson hue on Pierce’s cheeks, before regaining his composure, “I see that…-” His eyes glaring over the smoke that arises from the toaster, “-the… toast-en..? Have you angered the toast-en?” He says with genuine worry.
Even with their skilled combat and possibly the smartest in their own dimension, here everything crumbles. Asch the man-child, Noi the lovesick puppy, Rhys the only reasonable person here, Leif the obsessed killing machine, and Pierce the one who responds with either ‘yes’ or speaks wisdom.
But in their own ways, they have their charm to them. They aren’t that bad at all, they are fun to be around if you’re being honest.
As quick as this dialogue felt like, you realize blue hues over shadowing the ember ones, the early night enveloping the sky in its star cluster cape. The sun makes its leave, only leaving strips of golden behind. The moon rises, and the sun descends in a never ending cycle.
The breeze from the open window hits you, the cold prickles and caresses you, goosebumps forming where the cold recently trailed upon. You can hear faint chirping from the morning bird’s voicing their last call before surrendering to a slumber.
Silence stretches between the both of you, it felt intimate in strange ways, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.
”I have a question.” His voice smooth like honey, Pierce’s voice mixes with uncertainty. Heard footsteps come closer to you, but unseen to your eyes as you look at out the window, your eyes landing on the pale moon.
”What is your…well the definition of love to humanity?”
His voice echos closer this time, now next to you. In your curiosity, you tilt your head to the right, the tall tanned demon bathed in moonlight. Joining you to gaze upon the moon as well. You turn focus to the moon, counting all the stars that shine along her pale beauty.
”What makes you say that?” You wonder about Ava, her harem has being going crazy, so surely this has to be about Ava, “ You going crazy for Ava too? Is she pulling on your heartstrings?” You tease him, hoping to get a flustered expression. Maybe you could help him win the competition for Ava, you do know a thing or two about what Ava favorites in a man and what not.
Instead, when you turn your head up, you see a worried face.
The man crouches down, his face a panic, “Has Ava put a seducing spell on us?!” His voice is below a forced whisper as if someone would lean into the conversation.
Ava was right, they do take everything literally. Your face deadpans after the question slips off his tongue, “Dude…-“ Your hand comes up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “-I’m taking about if you have a crush on Ava. Y’know, love?”
Silence stretches between the two of you. Realization creeps up on Pierce, his expression shifts towards disappointment to his usual stoic demeanor, “Oh…Yes, love.-“ He straightens his posture, leaning back on the counter, and crossing his arms, “-I don’t, she doesn’t play…my heartstrings…” He sounds uncertain at the last part as if he was figuring if it was the correct card to play.
You wondered if possibly Pierce had a crush on his many companions, if he did, you wouldn’t blame him. “Sooo…-“ You stretch your words, “-Let me guess, which companion-“ Instead of your sentence rolling out smoothly, an interrupting voice overlapping yours.
“It’s you.”
A towering figuring leans over you, shielding the moon from gazing its glow to you. His shadow stretches out before you, casting darkness on you. All that you can make out are his irises, lapis colored, truly a beauty. Two of his arms laid beside you on the counter, hunching over to somewhat meet your height.
A squeak of surprise escapes your lips, eyes widening as the sheer boldness of his man. Your body leans back in instinct, adrenaline drumming your heart to pound faster, “You’re u..uhm..a little close?? Don’t you think?” You strike him a sheepish grin.
Pierce doesn’t answer, his stoic expression softening. He tilts toward, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. The rhythmic rise from his chest quickens, matching the nervousness that strikes you too. Your face is laced with shock, stunned, you want to move, instincts tell you to move, as if Pierce is some sort of threat or used to be.
You feel Pierce’s body tilting closer, the coldness you’ve felt from the open window fading as something tingly blooms inside your chest. His cupping hands travels down to your hips, lower, and pushing you up onto the countertop. You feel hands now moving lower, goosebumps trailing, hands on your knees, and the hairs on the back of your neck straightens. You shut your eyes tightly, face slightly scrunching.
Pierce leans in, and you somehow prepare for the worst.
Is this really happening? Or are you dreaming? Feels like a dream. Too real for a dream. Your face feels hot, these train wrecks of thoughts crammed into your thoughts, feeling as if feverish. You wonder if you looked like a tomato in the mist of this romantic tension. Is it really romantic? Feels a little awkward for something sappy.
You may as well pass out after this.
Something soft presses against the corners of your lips, a slight warm breath mingles with yours. Hearing the shifting of fabric, you flutter yours eyes open. Pierce, this time, isn’t in your personal space. He looks more embarrassed than you expect, but his body language tells you more than meets the eye. His eyes gaze up to you.
Worry coats his face, unsure if this was the right way to uncover this confession he had carefully planned out, but it was more of like winging it. The blooming silence is cut once more and so will it be again, “This is how humans show affection…right?” In embarrassment, he cowards his head.
The rush of consciousness hits you, gathering all your thoughts to form one. “Ah…uhm,” words stumble out of your mouth, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings, beating around the bush it was. “Well I suppose yes but there is a tiny problem.” You empathize the word ‘tiny’ with a higher pitch.
Pierce’s eyes narrow, he stays quiet, expecting you to fill in the void with your knowledge. Weighing your odds against the blunt truth of ‘consent’ and the fat rules he broke, you lean in, your head resting on his chest. Broad, hard, hunk of a man am I right or WHATTT ANSWER IN THE COMMENTS IF PIERCE IS THE HOTTEST MOST SEXIEST FICTIONAL MAN ON EARTH IN THE COMMENTS PLEASE
”Well the problem is, you didn’t ask.” Your going monotone, usually when your explaining stuff, habits, huh?