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Apol was mad again.
They weren’t sure why. They don’t know what they were mad about.
They just… were.
That was usually how it was.
There was rarely ever a beginning to it. No obvious trigger, no single sentence they could point to and say, “That's what did it”.
It was beyond all rhyme and reason.
Apol would be sitting somewhere, doing absolutely nothing, and suddenly there it was.
That familiar pressure behind their ribs.
The tightness in their jaw.
The uncomfortable energy crawling through their arms. The type of energy that made them want to rip their wrists open with their bare hands.
It just appeared. The anger.
The anger that felt like it was going to eat them whole.
They liked it. They liked the feeling of being angry.
That was probably the worst part.
Being mad felt good.
Not good in the way that being happy felt good.
It’s not as though it was warm or pleasant.
It didn't even make them smile.
It was something else.
It felt as though anger gave them purpose.
Something to hold.
Something to feel.
Something that belonged to them.
Belong to them in the way that Mocha belonged to them.
Usually they’d feel hollow. Nothing at all. An emptiness in their chest that they felt nothing could feel.
But with anger?
Apol sat on the couch with their arms folded, staring at the wall.
The room was quiet.
Very quiet.
Their leg bounced.
They stopped it, but when they did, it just started again.
“Annoying…”
They didn't know whether they meant the room, the wall, their leg, themselves, or something else.
Maybe it was everything.
Apol leaned their head back against the couch.
They could feel the irritation sitting inside them, perfectly content sitting there.
They didn’t need to do anything about it.
They could just be angry.
There was something comforting about that.
They know it’s terrible. They know. But the anger comforts them.
They love to feel anger as opposed to nothing at all.
The feeling of their blood heating up and rushing to their heart.
Their heart being faster, as if it was going to break the ribcage it sat in, and the heat that appeared around their body when it did.
If they were angry, they didn't have to figure out why they were constantly sad. Or, at least what they think is sadness.
If they were angry, they didn't have to think about how exhausted they were. Or, at least what they think is exhaustion.
If they were angry, they didn't have to admit that there were days when they felt like they were drifting through everything without really being part of it. Or…
…
…That was the one feeling they were sure of.
Fuck.
Anger was easier.
Apol could understand anger.
Their phone buzzed in their pocket.
They took it out and looked at the contact name:
Mocha.
Apol stared at the notification.
Before they could answer, another message appeared.
Mocha: You alive 😂
Apol rolled their eyes.
Apol: unfortunately .
Mocha: Dam
Apol snorted despite themself.
They hated that.
They hated when Mocha managed to make them almost laugh when they were trying very hard not to.
Apol: shut up
Mocha: No
Apol locked their phone.
For a few seconds, they stared at the ceiling.
It buzzed again.
They ignored it.
Another one.
Bzz-
God, fuck! It was seriously getting on their nerves!
Apol grabbed it, typing back at him furiously.
Apol: WHAT
Mocha: Nothing 😭
Apol stared at that message. Their irritation flared immediately.
“why ru like this” they typed.
Then they deleted it.
They typed it again!
Then they deleted it!
Wow, Apol! You really can’t do anything, can you?! Burning garbage heap, you!
Apol: ur annoying
The indicator that showed he was typing appeared.
Then it disappeared.
Then it appeared again!
Wow, Mocha! You can do everything until it has to do with communication?! Usual disappointment, you!
Mocha: Ye.
That was it? Apol frowned.
They were almost disappointed(?)
They put their phone down.
A minute later, there was a knock at their door.
Double you tee eff.
They already knew who it was.
“Come in.”
The door opened and Mocha walked inside.
He looked completely ordinary.
That was one of the things Apol found most irritating about him.
Mocha could walk into a room where Apol was practically seething with rage and somehow he’d still look like he'd just stepped out to buy a drink.
He glanced at Apol, then at the wall they were sitting in front of, then at Apol again.
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“You’re maaaad."
“No.”
“Okay.”
“I said no.”
“Yeah.”
Mocha sat down.
He didn’t even ask what happened. What an asshole!
Apol waited for him to.
They got nothing.
Instead, Mocha took out his phone.
“You aren’t going to ask?”
“What?”
“Why I’m mad.”
He shrugged. “I don’t think you really know.”
Apol paused at that. “...What?”
“I don’t think you know why you’re mad.”
Apol looked away.
It was annoyingly accurate.
“So I didn’t ask.”
Apol frowned.
They wanted to be mad at him.
They really did.
But Mocha's presence had already started doing something strange to them.
The pressure in their chest hadn’t disappeared, and the anger didn’t dissolve in their chest, but…
It felt a little less like it was trying to bite into them and swallow them whole.
Apol hated that, too.
They shifted on the couch.
“You know, you don’t have to sit there,” Apol said.
“Yeh.”
“And you can leave.”
“Yeh.”
“So leave. Not too sure why you came here at all, actually.”
Mocha looked at them.
“Neh.”
Apol glared at them.
“Why?”
No matter how much they loved their boyfriend, it kind of just felt like they wanted to be alone with the anger.
They kind of just wanted to be left alone with the anger trying to bite them.
To devour them while they’re alive.
“I don’t feel like it.”
“...That’s stupid.”
“Probably!”
Apol looked back at the wall.
The anger inside them wasn’t demanding anything anymore.
That was what Mocha did.
He didn't stop Apol from being angry by telling them to, like, calm down or anything.
And he CERTAINLY didn't give them some ridiculous speech about taking deep breaths or thinking positively.
That’s cringe, lol.
He didn’t even say everything was going to be okay.
Because Apol didn’t want everything to be okay.
Sometimes they just wanted to be furious.
Mocha seemed to understand that.
Or, more accurately, he didn't seem particularly bothered by it.
Apol could be angry around him.
Mocha scrolled through his phone.
After a while, Apol spoke.
“I hate people.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“Alright.”
“I mean… Especially the people in the server. God, they get on my nerves. Why are they all so dumb?! And of course they have to judge the balances. God… They really get on my nerves. They’re stupid!”
“Most people are.”
“They’re annoying!!”
“Definitely.”
Apol looked at him. What is this dumbass doing? Agreeing with him?
“You’re agreeing with me?”
Okay, bitch.
“You’re making good points.”
Apol stared at the careless Mocha, who didn’t look up from his phone.
Apol’s mouth twitched.
They quickly hid it.
If they had a keyute(!) li’l tail, it’d be wagging frantically right now, and they wouldn’t be able to hide it, then. :3
“You’re stupid…”
“Yeh.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
“Okay.”
…
What a jackass, am I right?
Apol’s foot started bouncing again.
Mocha didn't mention it.
Apol noticed that he didn’t mention it.
They noticed everything Mocha didn't say.
Like how Mocha never tried to make their anger disappear.
He just let it exist, they guess.
That was different from everyone else.
People tended to react to Apol's anger in one of two ways.
They either became angry themselves, or they became concerned.
Both were irritating.
If someone got angry back, Apol felt like they had permission to become even angrier.
If someone became concerned, Apol felt like they were being watched.
Mocha did neither.
What an amazing bee eff.
…Sometimes Apol wondered if that was intentional.
I mean, Mocha isn’t the smartest person in the world, so was it really?
They’d asked him once.
“Do you ever get tired of me being like this?”
Mocha looked at them.
“Like what?”
“...Mad.”
“You were mad?”
Apol glared at them.
“Pft- hahahaha!” Mocha laughed, before continuing. “Geez, I’m just kidding. No, I don’t get bothered.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “You’re allowed to be mad.”
Apol remembered staring at him for a long time after that.
It was such a simple thing to say.
It shouldn’t have mattered to them the way it did.
But it did.
In fact, the words felt as though they were carving themselves onto their Apol’s very SOUL.
Because Apol didn't think they were particularly pleasant when they were angry.
They knew they weren’t.
They knew they could be sharp.
That they could snap at people.
That they could be annoying, or unpredictable, or nasty, or distasteful, or obnoxious, or distasteful, or offensive.
That they could say things they didn't mean simply because saying them felt satisfying in the moment.
And sometimes, if they were being completely honest with themselves, they enjoyed that part.
There was power in anger.
People noticed anger.
People backed away from anger.
People listened to anger.
It made Apol feel like they occupied more space than they actually did.
They hated that they liked it.
They hated that being angry could make them feel alive.
But Mocha didn't seem frightened by it.
His presence worked because of that.
Apol didn't have to perform.
They didn't have to become louder or prove that they were angry.
It was great that they could just sit there.
And slowly, while sitting there, without even realizing it, they would stop being so angry.
Not because Mocha had fixed anything.
‘Cause he really hadn’t…
There was nothing to fix.
The feeling simply burned itself out.
That afternoon, Apol remained on the couch for almost an hour.
And beside them was Mocha!
They barely spoke at all.
“Are you bored?”
“Yeh.”
“Then leave.”
“Neh.”
“Why?”
Mocha shrugged.
“I can just be bored here.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Awww, sure it does.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Okay.”
Apol looked away.
“God, you’re weird…”
“So are you.”
Apol smiled.
Barely.
It was a small smile. Nya.
It disappeared before Mocha could see it.
Or at least, Apol hoped he didn't see it.
He did :3. He didn’t say anything about it, though.
That was another thing Apol liked about him!
Mocha noticed things without announcing that he'd noticed them.
He didn't point out every little change.
God, stuff like that is annoying. In fact, Mocha knew Apol found stuff like that annoying, which is primarily why he didn’t point out every little change. Because to Apol, it was annoying.
He didn't make Apol feel like their anger was being monitored.
A week later, Apol got angry at him.
That was different.
They were sitting outside, talking about nothing (RBP GTC revamp) in particular, when Mocha made a joke that hit the wrong place at the wrong time.
Apol’s expression changed immediately.
“Don’t.”
Mocha stopped. “Eh?”
“Just don’t.”
He looked at them.
Apol looked away quickly, their face red with embarrassment.
The anger came fast.
Way too fast.
They hated that.
They could feel their chest tightening.
Apol could feel the familiar heat rising.
Fast.
They wanted to say something.
Something mean.
Something sharp enough to make him understand that he'd crossed a line.
The words were already there.
They were ready and loaded into the gun that was Apol’s vocal cords.
Waiting for when Mocha had the audacity to say something stupid.
“Okay.”
Apol looked at him.
The hell?
Apol swallowed.
Their anger was faltering.
That was irritating.
“You’re not going to argue?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Hah- you said don’t.”
Apol stared at him. Their heart started to slow.
“You’re supposed to argue.”
“Why?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Huh. Well, I don’t want to argue. Not with my stunning partner!”
Mocha wrapped his hand around Apol’s and scooted over closer to them.
They sat beside each other…
Apol’s shoulder was almost touching Mocha’s.
And they didn’t move away.
How lovely! How cute! So keyute! So keyute! You know that one IShowSpeed meme, right? That’s what I’m referencing… It’s funny, cause I don’t really like or watch Ishowspeed. Man, I’m so jealous! I wanna go to Africa and do the dances too! I know I’m black enough for that, at least!
After several minutes, Apol spoke.
“I was already angry…”
“I know.”
“You just made it worse.”
“I know.”
“And now I’m still angry.”
“Yeh.”
Apol looked at him.
“You’re really not going to say anything else?”
“Neh.”
Apol exhaled and leaned back.
The anger remained.
But it wasn’t unbearable anymore.
“I hate when you’re reasonable…”
Mocha smiled.
“Yeh?”
“Yeah. I mean it. Seriously.”
“I know.”
Apol laughed.
It was a quiet and short laugh, sure. But it was a laugh, regardless!
They covered their face with their free hand.
“This is stupid.”
“What is?”
“You.”
“I think that’s fair.”
Apol shook their head.
The feeling in their chest had changed.
I mean, it wasn’t gone. But it was different.
Their heart beat faster for a different reason.
They realised something then.
And no, it wasn’t that Stevonnie needed a buff.
That thought came, like, a week later.
What they had realised was that…
Mocha hadn’t calmed them down.
He wasn't some magical force that could reach into their head and switch that feeling off. It always lingered, after all.
If anything, Apol was still angry. At least, they think they’re still angry.
They could still feel it, after all.
The difference was that when Mocha was around, they weren't alone with it.
Maybe that was all they had needed.
Not someone to take the anger away.
Someone who didn’t care about it.
Funnily enough, there were times where Apol deliberately stayed angry.
Sometimes Apol would sit in silence, visibly irritated, and Mocha would recognize that they weren't asking for help.
They wanted the feeling.
They wanted to sit inside it.
They wanted the strange satisfaction of having something intense enough to drown out everything else.
And Mocha let them.
He didn’t let them sit with it forever.
Not when Apol was about to hurt someone.
Not when they were about to do something they'd regret.
Most of the time, he stayed anyway, though.
It was almost funny.
Nah, not almost. It was funny! Laugh! Hahahaha! Are you laughing? What if I said six seven? Would you laugh then?
Anyways, what was funny was that Apol could be furious about something completely meaningless.
A misplaced object. A stupid comment on their character buff choices. A notification. A noise.
Hell, they could even be furious about their own thoughts!
And Mocha would sit there, completely unbothered.
Eventually, Apol would look at him and wonder why they were still angry.
Then they'd become angry for not being angry anymore.
Oh, oh! Here’s a story! It’s a cute one. Promise!
One evening, they were sitting on the floor.
Apol had been quiet for a long time.
Mocha glanced over.
“You okay?”
Apol thought about it.
That question was usually difficult.
This time, though, the answer came easily.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
They weren’t happy. They weren’t sad. They weren’t even angry.
It was different from the hollow feeling they usually felt.
It was the feeling of just being present.
They were simply there.
And that feeling felt better than anger ever did.
“I think I like being mad,” Apol said.
Mocha chuckled.
“I know. <3”
“It feels good.”
“I know.”
Apol frowned.
“Is that bad?”
Mocha thought about it for a moment.
“I don’t think feeling something is bad. I don’t even think liking a feeling is bad, even if it isn’t a particularly positive one.”
“But?”
“Buuuut what you do because you’re feeling it can be.”
Apol leaned their head against the wall.
“I don’t want you to fix me.”
“Yeh?”
“Yeah. But I don’t think I’m broken.”
“I know.”
Apol’s eyes closed.
Right now, the silence didn't bother them.
They could feel the anger somewhere far away, dormant for the moment.
It would come back.
They knew that.
Maybe it would come back tomorrow. Or maybe an hour from now! Five minutes?
They didn’t know.
And Mocha couldn't stop it.
But he wasn't their solution.
He wasn't some perfect person who knew exactly what to say when to say it.
He still got mad at them, after all.
Half the time, he didn't know what to say at all.
But he stayed. And isn’t that what matters the most?
Apol opened their eyes.
“Mocha.”
“Yeh?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
Huh. For what? They weren't sure how to explain it…
Maybe it was for staying. For not being scared. For not treating their anger like a problem that needed to be solved. For letting them be difficult without making them feel like they were impossible to love.
“Nothing.”
Mocha smiled. “Okay.”
Apol wasn't angry anymore.
At least, not right now.
And for once, they didn't feel like they needed to be.
Maybe tomorrow they'd wake up furious at the world again.
Maybe they'd spend half the day simmering over something they couldn't even name.
Maybe they’d enjoy it. Or maybe they wouldn’t.
For now, though? They were tired. They were sure they were tired.
And Mocha was beside them. ❤️
That was enough for them. For Apol.
Their eyes drifted shut.
And while they were shut, Mocha stayed where he was.
In the quiet between them, Apol felt completely fine.
