Work Text:
•.—°.•♡•.°—.•
•Mitsi
Victim's leg is bouncing under the desk.
It's been happening for a while now, and I'm starting to wonder whether it's just a habit or if something's bothering him. He's constantly in his office. I can't find any pattern or figure out why that's happening. It simply exists and I'm helpless to soothe it, but what's concerning me more is the fact that he refuses to talk about why. Even if I ask him.
But I'm willing to know, and if there's a will - there's a way.
His leg is still moving as I approach him, my surroundings becoming more and more visible thanks to the lamp decorating his messy desk with yellowish light. I don't touch him, don't try to peek at the bunch of papers he's working on. My last attempt ended up with him swatting my hand away and getting too defensive to not be worried.
“Hello, Vic,” I greet him softly.
He takes some time to reply, “Hey.”
Okay, now what, genius?
Okay. No. Focus.
I've read so many articles about how to communicate with empathy, how to make the other person feel safe and heard, but the knowledge is so hard to recall when all I can focus on is how tense Victim is, when all I notice is the way the floor shakes with each bounce of his leg.
“You're tense.” I finally start. “Are you alright? Is there anything you need?”
“No, I'm fine. Don't worry.” His response is instant, and he doesn't even look up from the drawing he's making. Those words, despite being spoken with a neutral tone, sting my brain like needles. Clearly, he's not ‘fine’, and yet, he decides to lie.
Does he not trust me enough?
“Why don't you want to talk about it? You've been acting off for a few days now,” His hand pauses. ”I'm worried.”
“Don't be. I'm fine.” He ensures. His voice changes a bit to match my gentle one.
Yeah, he won't tell me, will he? I sigh silently, trying to not get into my thoughts too much no matter how hard it is.
“Can I at least sit with you for a while?” I ask.
He turns to face me, and for a moment, that beautiful way his eyes look when spotting mine is all I can see. They're not exactly soft, but close to that. And his voice is calmer,
“Go to the living room, I'll join you in no time. Promise.”
He said that before, and came to the living room after I'd fallen asleep. It's an empty promise. I nod and do as he says anyway.
Turns out willing is not enough to find a way.
•.—°.•♡•.°—.•
•Victim
Those papers are flooding my desk and my mind. I've tried to clean them up. And yet, I can't seem to organize them, even after such a long time. There's just so much of it, and I keep drawing and thinking more, trying to make it make sense, understand it.
Why was he doing this to me? Why??
Did I deserve it? Why?
What was the point, anyway?
Did he get something from all of this? Money? Peace? Satisfaction?
I'm exhausted.
Was I created to be pushed around? To be hit and shot and killed, destroyed, over and over again? Will he get me and do it once more? Will others find out and do the same, will she do the sa—
The door opens. “Hey Vic. Aren't you ‘bit hungry?”
Mitsi. She's got such heartwarming soul. She wouldn't do the same. And I don't deserve her, no.
A plate of cut apples and peeled oranges quietly clicks as she puts it on my desk. I turn to her and can't help but smile when seeing her beauty.
“I got you some ‘somethings’.” She states.
Somethings. I love it when she says that.
“Thank you.” I reply.
Mitsi smiles back.
Her eyes are gray. It's a mix of different shades of that colour, and gazing into them feels like watching a time-lapse of growing roses on an old black-and-white TV. Like a winter evening. And they shine like a million stars.
Fuck, I could just look at her like that for an eternity and one day more.
I like the shape of her eyes.
Unfortunately, she breaks our little staring contest and unfolds a blanket which she then wraps around me. Her fingers brush against my shoulders. I'm absolutely not complaining.
“Figured you might need some warmth.” She explains. Her voice is flowery.
The heat of her hand contrasts with my cold one when I grab it and let a stupid urge win - I plant a kiss on her palm. Her smile widens, and it's the best reward I could ever get.
“Thank you.” My thumb brushes against her knuckles. I'd never ever describe myself as the affectionate type, but for this woman, I might change that.
I want to deserve her. I'll work on myself, I'll work things out in my head so that it can think clearly when I'm around her. I would give her the world if I could.
I wouldn't say any of it to her, though. Words aren't for me. I'd stumble over them.
“Hey.” I whisper.
“...Yeah?”
“C'mere.” I pat the space next to me. “I wanna eat with you.”
And once she's beside me, I push all those stupid pieces of paper aside and wrap my arm around her.
•.—°.•♡•.°—.•
•Victim
Today's Valentine's day. I had no idea such thing existed until I heard it from our neighbours. They said it's a day for couples that can give each other gifts and go out on dates.
So I've decided to go for flowers. Because her voice is flowery, and I have no idea how else to describe it.
Shady (aka Agent Smith) agreed to distract Mitsi while I went to the closest meadow to grab what I needed for the bouquet. I remember her telling me that she loved daisies, and I knew that my focus should be mainly on those.
Once my hand starts hurting from holding all of those flowers, I decide to finish picking up more and go back to our house so that I can add the final touches.
It's a bit silly. Taking all this time to make a bouquet. Is she going to like it? And where do I put those daisies when their stems are so short?
I don't know.
But I'll figure it out.
And so I end up gluing those daisies to thin sticks so that they can pop out in the whole composition of random colours that somehow fit together perfectly. I don't have any paper to wrap them in…
Let's go for a different move, then. I ask the neighbors if they know how to make a decent bow, and thankfully, the male one did. He taught me, and I'll be forever grateful for the gesture, ‘cause now the poor-looking bouquet at least has a ribbon wrapped around it with a pretty bow decorating it.
As I wait for Mitsi to come back, I suddenly notice that weird squeeze in my chest. It seemed to be around for some time now, yet I didn't pay much attention to it, and it's not the good type of tightness I get whenever she's near me. I start rocking on my chair.
The front door unlocks. Wait, fuck, I forgot to change my clothes—
Great, Vic. Now you gotta stand in front of the love of your life with a collapsing bouquet of flowers and a shirt that has stains of soil on it.
“Vic?” Mitsi calls out, like usual.
“I'm in my office!” I respond and nearly jump off the chair, grabbing my creation, waiting for her. My chest squeezes harder. I feel nauseous. What if she doesn't like them? What if she'll…
She passes through the door to the room and stops instantly at the sight of the flowers. The corners of her lips, which were already turned upwards before she came in, curl up even more. Good sign. Right??
“Hey. Look, uh-” I can't stand those beautiful eyes right now. My hand reaches up to rub my neck awkwardly. ”I've heard today's Valentine's day, and apparently it's some ‘lovers day’ when they can give gifts to each other and just… appreciate their relationship, so.. “
Her head tilts to the side in awe. She walks up to me, softly giggling, “Are those for me?”
I nod.
She takes the bouquet from my hands carefully like it's something very important. I don't think it is.
“It's… a bit messy, I know, sorry. I just don't really know that much about making such stuff and-”
She cuts me off with a kiss on my cheek and a whisper, “They're perfect. Thank you.”
Holy–
That cheek of mine is burning.
“...Sooo you like it?” I ask. Didn't expect her to even think good of that gift, let alone like it. It looks horrible. I should've done better. She deserves better.
“I love it.” She tells me as her gaze goes up from the flowers to meet mine. “There's a lot of daisies. You remembered.”
“Of course I did.”
Of course I did. Hell, I remember her coffee order, favourite socks, favourite meal, preferred cuddling position, and even her shoe size. And her ring size. Of course I'd remember. It's obvious that I'd remember the smallest details about my absolutely favourite person in the Outernet.
I want to tell her everything. I want her to know just how much I love seeing her hair in the morning, how much I crave drinking stupid herbs with her, how much I want to hold her under a blanket every chance I get, how beautiful she is, how much I look up to her, and that I wiggled my legs from excitement once I was alone after our first kiss.
I want her to know that I love her boundlessly. And I will forever and a few days more.
But those words never leave my mouth, and I'm hoping she can read it all in the way I look at her for the rest of the day.
•.—°.•♡•.°—.•
•Victim
I should've told her. My wording was never the best, and my vocabulary could never explain all of the good things I experienced ever since I met her, but I should've found a way to tell her every sentence of appreciation that has ever crossed my mind. I could've written a letter. Or sent her a message. Or even stumble over my words right in front of her as nervousness would take over me.
I don't know if she'd say yes to me.
I didn't get a chance to ask her.
To kneel down and promise to give her a real star from the real world, despite the fact that it was silly and impossible.
She didn't even see the ring, or the small velvet box that was now wet from my sour tears.
I never fully opened up before her, and now it's my biggest regret, because I couldn't express my love for her in words. I couldn't tell her that I'd be ready to risk my life for her.
I could die for her.
But damn, she made me want to live. For her.
She's always wanted a cat. I always told her that we'll get one soon. Now she'll never be able to have a pet, because she's fucking dead and suddenly I understand those dumb lines from books about a part of a character dying from grief, because I can feel some deep piece of me wither after her disappearance.
On the day I desired to propose.
…
I've told her so much about my inner world, I knew so much about her. I trusted her in a way I've never trusted anyone else, not even myself. And when I finally decided to take action to show her how serious I am when saying “I love you,” she was taken away from me. Forever.
I'll never trust anyone like that ever again. I don't want to get attached to someone only to lose them just like I've lost her.
No, in fact, I'll never look for another love.
I'll love her, even when she's in the dead.
Because my love is boundless.
Forever and a few days more.
I don't think I was ever at a lower point in my life…
Her mug is still exactly where she's left it. Her slippers are still next to our bed, her pictures are on the walls, and the ribbon from that stupid bouquet from two years ago is still on her little ‘altar of meaningful things' on the shelf.
Her pillow still smells like her hair. Her shampoo is still standing in the bathroom, her toothbrush is still there, her calendar has a few events highlighted. Those events haven't happened yet. They're plans she won't be able to fulfill.
And at some point, my face dried because I don't have enough water in me to mourn the fact that I'll never get to see her absolutely captivating face in front of me, or feel her glossed lips against my own, or touch her warm skin, ever again.
Shady told me that she'd say yes.
But I wanted to hear that from Mitsi.