ilyamatic

[ilyamatic]

I have come back from the dead to say I got sucked into BG3 and I keep getting distracted because I made Andrico too hot

#andrico the soft chaos boy/girl/barrel of crabs #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #this is what i have been doing instead of writing

[ilyamatic]

I wrote another poem because I had Big Feelings

#poetry #grief #grief for so many things #and no i don't really care who sees it #at least i made it into something beautiful i think

[ilyamatic]

“My Christian grandmother and my Muslim grandmother in Palestine”

- Shared by a Palestinian man on Facebook

[ilyamatic]

Oh How the Days Go By

Days Go By by SBTRKT & Toro y Moi

Art by Ace of Swords

But first a word from our sponsor:

Bonswa tout moun, it is I Abby, back with a pirate au!

"Abby," you are probably thinking. "Didn't you already have a pirate au?"

And the answer is yes, yes I did. A wonderful one too, all about vigilante justice against slavery and empires. The thing is... Researching information about the slave trade as a Black person is incredibly triggering LMAO. And some personal things happened as well that definitely would effect the story at large. So, it got scrapped.

But the idea of my OCs sailing the seas and being menaces to society wouldn't leave me. So here we are, another pirate au. This time sorta set in the Arcanaverse, with magic, mayhem, and a hell of a lot more romance. I hope y'all don't mind.

Time moved far too quickly. It felt like yesterday he was young and sprightly, holding his tiny daughter Alexei in his hands. Now his bones creak when he gets out of bed and his hair is thin. Now his tiny Alexei, the one he could hold in both his hands, is tiny no longer. She stood tall and proud, her face a mirror of his own, a mirror of his mother. A mirror reflected in Alexei’s own daughter, his precious Shoshanna. The light of his life, a joy to him in his old age…

“Zeyde!” Shoshanna said as she pulled him along to the den. “You promised me a story!”

… and a pain in his tuckus. 

“Shoshi,” Ilya complained. “I just walked in the door. Have mercy on an old man!”

“You weren’t old yesterday,” she countered.

“That was yesterday. A lot can happen overnight.”

He heard his daughter snort from her place at her desk, scripts and music sheets strewn about. How little things had changed in 30 years, ink stained fingers a permanent fixture as soon as she learned her letters.

Different, smaller ink stained fingers grasped his own, pulling him towards an overstuffed chair in front of the fire. Auburn coils and curls bouncing as Shoshanna stomped over to the seat. Ilya didn’t have to see it to know her lips were downturned into a determined little mou.

Soon Ilya found himself pushed into a chair with a lap full of an excited seven year old, dark eyes looking up at him expectantly. Oh, how little things have changed.

“Alright you little tyrant,” he said with a sigh. “What story would you like tonight? Shall I tell you about my childhood in my shtetl?” 

“No, Maman said you can’t tell those anymore. Too many bad ideas and too many bears.”

Ilya shot a look over his shoulder to Alexei who shot him an unimpressed look back. 

“Fine. What about my time traveling through the Empire?”

Shoshanna wrinkled her nose. “Maman said that you don’t tell the good ones.”

“How would she know?!”

“Because Zaza told me so,” Alexei replied smugly. 

He felt his eye twitch. Damn it Asra.

“Fine. How about I tell you… about the time I was a pirate.”

Shoshanna first looked intrigued, then skeptical. “You were a pirate? Don’t your ankles swell when you’re on a fishing boat for too long?”

“I was young once!” Ilya said indignantly. “And in my youth I sailed across the Seven Seas with the notorious crew of the Solanase and her captain, the Djab of the Turquoise Waters.”

That seemed to catch his granddaughter’s attention.

“Really? The Djab?” Shoshanna asked excitedly.

“The one and only," Ilya answered with a smile.

“Will there be action?”

“Of course!”

“And adventure?!”

“As sure as the sun rises!”

“And love?”

Ilya cracked a smile. “Yes shefele, there will be love. So much that the seas could not contain it.”

#self rb #again lol #the arcana #julian devorak #new pirate au #fan babies #abby's adventures in fic

[ilyamatic]

… Alexander didn’t even have time to turn around before his magic lashed out, sharp and cracking like a whip. The dim lamps suddenly flared hot blue-white, casting the tiny room in harsh light. In his periphery he could see a tall, imposing shadow stalk towards him, cloaked in a large coat and face obscured by a beaked mask with glassy red eyes. He barely had to move, a single tensing of muscles and an empty glass jar flew from the shelf, striking the intruder square in the head. It hit true with a sharp smash and clatter, and the lamps immediately extinguished. The room was plunged into near pitch darkness, the intruder stumbled to the floor with a dull thud. The tang of smoke cloyed Alexander’s lungs, and he felt lightheaded. As he righted himself and let his eyes adjust, the lamps flickering weakly back to life as he did, he realised he recognised the voice. It was one he hadn’t heard in three years, from a man he’d used to know. The bolt of panic he had felt initially immediately boiled into anger as white hot as the flames he’d conjured. The man was stirring, the mask knocked off his face to reveal a long pale face, a shapely mouth and aquiline nose, and a mop of curling auburn hair. Scarlet blood was streaked across his forehead, the jar was in pieces beside him. No doubt about it, Alexander knew this man.

Two strides, and Alexander yanked the man up roughly by the collar and slammed him heavily against the back wall, pressing them nose to nose, feeling the cool puffs of the other man’s breath scattering on his skin. A steel grey eye met Alexander’s own, stern and challenging. Alexander’s voice was low, a growl that rasped deep in his throat,

“Get out.”

…

Alexander’s heart was pounding in his ears, and had he not balled his fists into the man’s coat his hands would have been trembling. And then, alarmingly, the backs of his eyes were burning, the sharpness of hot salt biting at him. His breath hitched and he swallowed hard, quashing it down; he could not cry, he would not let this man see him cry, he would not let this man be the cause of his tears.

- excerpt from my as yet untitled rewrite, ch 1

Or: tfw your sort of ex breaks into your other sort of ex's house after disappearing for three years with no goodbye and you’re not sure whether you want to smack him, kiss him, cry, or all three. I wrote this scene and apparently liked it so much it’s been in my head ever since.

Alt versions under cut

Because Alexander originally had red hair and I can’t let it go oops

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[ilyamatic]

Oh How the Days Go By

Days Go By by SBTRKT & Toro y Moi

Art by Ace of Swords

But first a word from our sponsor:

Bonswa tout moun, it is I Abby, back with a pirate au!

"Abby," you are probably thinking. "Didn't you already have a pirate au?"

And the answer is yes, yes I did. A wonderful one too, all about vigilante justice against slavery and empires. The thing is... Researching information about the slave trade as a Black person is incredibly triggering LMAO. And some personal things happened as well that definitely would effect the story at large. So, it got scrapped.

But the idea of my OCs sailing the seas and being menaces to society wouldn't leave me. So here we are, another pirate au. This time sorta set in the Arcanaverse, with magic, mayhem, and a hell of a lot more romance. I hope y'all don't mind.

Time moved far too quickly. It felt like yesterday he was young and sprightly, holding his tiny daughter Alexei in his hands. Now his bones creak when he gets out of bed and his hair is thin. Now his tiny Alexei, the one he could hold in both his hands, is tiny no longer. She stood tall and proud, her face a mirror of his own, a mirror of his mother. A mirror reflected in Alexei’s own daughter, his precious Shoshanna. The light of his life, a joy to him in his old age…

“Zeyde!” Shoshanna said as she pulled him along to the den. “You promised me a story!”

… and a pain in his tuckus. 

“Shoshi,” Ilya complained. “I just walked in the door. Have mercy on an old man!”

“You weren’t old yesterday,” she countered.

“That was yesterday. A lot can happen overnight.”

He heard his daughter snort from her place at her desk, scripts and music sheets strewn about. How little things had changed in 30 years, ink stained fingers a permanent fixture as soon as she learned her letters.

Different, smaller ink stained fingers grasped his own, pulling him towards an overstuffed chair in front of the fire. Auburn coils and curls bouncing as Shoshanna stomped over to the seat. Ilya didn’t have to see it to know her lips were downturned into a determined little mou.

Soon Ilya found himself pushed into a chair with a lap full of an excited seven year old, dark eyes looking up at him expectantly. Oh, how little things have changed.

“Alright you little tyrant,” he said with a sigh. “What story would you like tonight? Shall I tell you about my childhood in my shtetl?” 

“No, Maman said you can’t tell those anymore. Too many bad ideas and too many bears.”

Ilya shot a look over his shoulder to Alexei who shot him an unimpressed look back. 

“Fine. What about my time traveling through the Empire?”

Shoshanna wrinkled her nose. “Maman said that you don’t tell the good ones.”

“How would she know?!”

“Because Zaza told me so,” Alexei replied smugly. 

He felt his eye twitch. Damn it Asra.

“Fine. How about I tell you… about the time I was a pirate.”

Shoshanna first looked intrigued, then skeptical. “You were a pirate? Don’t your ankles swell when you’re on a fishing boat for too long?”

“I was young once!” Ilya said indignantly. “And in my youth I sailed across the Seven Seas with the notorious crew of the Solanase and her captain, the Djab of the Turquoise Waters.”

That seemed to catch his granddaughter’s attention.

“Really? The Djab?” Shoshanna asked excitedly.

“The one and only," Ilya answered with a smile.

“Will there be action?”

“Of course!”

“And adventure?!”

“As sure as the sun rises!”

“And love?”

Ilya cracked a smile. “Yes shefele, there will be love. So much that the seas could not contain it.”

#self rb #the arcana #julian devorak #new pirate au #fan babies #abby's adventures in fic

[ilyamatic]

Sometimes I think I'm funny

Original for reference

#the arcana #andrico the soft chaos boy #fan apprentice #julian devorak #asra alnazar

[ilyamatic]

Oh How the Days Go By

Days Go By by SBTRKT & Toro y Moi

Art by Ace of Swords

But first a word from our sponsor:

Bonswa tout moun, it is I Abby, back with a pirate au!

"Abby," you are probably thinking. "Didn't you already have a pirate au?"

And the answer is yes, yes I did. A wonderful one too, all about vigilante justice against slavery and empires. The thing is... Researching information about the slave trade as a Black person is incredibly triggering LMAO. And some personal things happened as well that definitely would effect the story at large. So, it got scrapped.

But the idea of my OCs sailing the seas and being menaces to society wouldn't leave me. So here we are, another pirate au. This time sorta set in the Arcanaverse, with magic, mayhem, and a hell of a lot more romance. I hope y'all don't mind.

Time moved far too quickly. It felt like yesterday he was young and sprightly, holding his tiny daughter Alexei in his hands. Now his bones creak when he gets out of bed and his hair is thin. Now his tiny Alexei, the one he could hold in both his hands, is tiny no longer. She stood tall and proud, her face a mirror of his own, a mirror of his mother. A mirror reflected in Alexei’s own daughter, his precious Shoshanna. The light of his life, a joy to him in his old age…

“Zeyde!” Shoshanna said as she pulled him along to the den. “You promised me a story!”

… and a pain in his tuckus. 

“Shoshi,” Ilya complained. “I just walked in the door. Have mercy on an old man!”

“You weren’t old yesterday,” she countered.

“That was yesterday. A lot can happen overnight.”

He heard his daughter snort from her place at her desk, scripts and music sheets strewn about. How little things had changed in 30 years, ink stained fingers a permanent fixture as soon as she learned her letters.

Different, smaller ink stained fingers grasped his own, pulling him towards an overstuffed chair in front of the fire. Auburn coils and curls bouncing as Shoshanna stomped over to the seat. Ilya didn’t have to see it to know her lips were downturned into a determined little mou.

Soon Ilya found himself pushed into a chair with a lap full of an excited seven year old, dark eyes looking up at him expectantly. Oh, how little things have changed.

“Alright you little tyrant,” he said with a sigh. “What story would you like tonight? Shall I tell you about my childhood in my shtetl?” 

“No, Maman said you can’t tell those anymore. Too many bad ideas and too many bears.”

Ilya shot a look over his shoulder to Alexei who shot him an unimpressed look back. 

“Fine. What about my time traveling through the Empire?”

Shoshanna wrinkled her nose. “Maman said that you don’t tell the good ones.”

“How would she know?!”

“Because Zaza told me so,” Alexei replied smugly. 

He felt his eye twitch. Damn it Asra.

“Fine. How about I tell you… about the time I was a pirate.”

Shoshanna first looked intrigued, then skeptical. “You were a pirate? Don’t your ankles swell when you’re on a fishing boat for too long?”

“I was young once!” Ilya said indignantly. “And in my youth I sailed across the Seven Seas with the notorious crew of the Solanase and her captain, the Djab of the Turquoise Waters.”

That seemed to catch his granddaughter’s attention.

“Really? The Djab?” Shoshanna asked excitedly.

“The one and only," Ilya answered with a smile.

“Will there be action?”

“Of course!”

“And adventure?!”

“As sure as the sun rises!”

“And love?”

Ilya cracked a smile. “Yes shefele, there will be love. So much that the seas could not contain it.”

#the arcana #julian devorak #new pirate au #fan babies #abby's adventures in fic

[ilyamatic]

I am back from the dead and let me tell you this piece revived me. I have been considering revamping my pirate au and this was the perfect motivator. Thank you so much Abyss for working with me and making my vision come true!!!!

We are free, finally.

A comission for @ilyamatic of Julian and (very handsome, just incredibly handsome)Andrico, trying to get hang of the ropes.

This piece was a journey, and I learned a lot trough it. Thank you so much for hiring me.

Comission info in the pinned post

#arcana oc #julian devorak #julian the arcana #andrico the soft chaos boy/girl/barrel of crabs #new pirate au

[ilyamatic]

it’s thursday girls

[ilyamatic]

a double minded existence

#poetry #abby writes #pls poetry is not my usual thing but i had to get this out

[ilyamatic]

I've been thinking about the fandom for The Arcana, and I have come to the conclusion that it's weird as hell. In my 20+ years participating in online fandom spaces, I've never seen a fandom quite like this one. I've seen drama, sure, but the core of most fandoms is a large community of people who love the same media and come together to celebrate it.

The Arcana fandom is not like that. From the very beginning we're more fractured, more factional, more fragile than most. You just have to look around at all the posts lamenting the death of the fandom every 2 weeks to see that something is really wrong here.

And I think a lot of it has to do with the nature of the canon. I am not saying this to criticize The Arcana, the devs, Dorian, or my fellow fans. I have just noticed that, as a piece of media, this game occupies a very unique space that is reflected in the way its fans interact with canon and with each other.

Welcome to the TED talk ain't none of y'all asked for.

Part of what makes this fandom unique is the evolution of fandom as a whole in the face of new types of media. As gaming becomes more mainstream and games themselves become more complex, the way we engage has necessarily changed in response.

Books/ movies/ shows are slightly more static in terms of canon than video games; canon is what it is and how you interact with what is there is largely to do with who you are. Everyone has the same base material to engage with, and that results in a certain amount of constancy. You can't interact with The Princess Bride in a way that changes the movie, only in ways that change your own perception. There isn't a whole lot of room for OCs without rewriting canon, so fans tend to consume OC-based fiction and art with the assumption that it's likely to be self-insert wish fulfillment fantasy time. That isn't always true, but there is a reason the term Mary Sue was coined.

Otome games and other choice-based video games make a very different fan environment, because the way you interact with canon is completely different. You have to build a character in order to interact with the story, and your choices directly impact your experience of canon.

But most western choice-based games are in the context of a larger RPG universe, e.g. Fallout or Dragon Age. There is a lot more to the story than the romance plot and so there's a lot more world to experience, contextualize, and build upon. There's certainly plenty of unhinged ShepxGarrus erotica, but there's also an abundance of fanworks that engage with the plot, the worldbuilding, and the canon characters with relatively little of the player's character needing to be on the page at all.

By contrast, most otome games that make it to English-speaking fandom spaces are Japanese. The romance is the point, but we also start from a place of wariness of our fellow fans. Because there's a huge difference between "harmless weeb" and "orientalist fetishizing creepo," and you know going in that both ends of the spectrum are possible, there is an amount of caution. We curate our space, looking for the creators who align with our expectations and values before we ever begin to interact.

The Arcana falls in a very unique and odd space because it is an otome, but made by Americans, with an attempt at a diverse fantasy cast. It's intended to be for American/ English-speaking audiences and is marketed as such. But making a romance game in America is challenging. Our way of approaching online media, especially smartphone-accessible media, is super fucked up, right? We are constantly trapped between the dichotomies of moral duty (Must Protect The Children) versus appealing to the customer base (Boom Anime Babes with Tig Ol Bitties). Because this is a mobile game, the developers can't make money if the game is removed from the app store, so they want it to be rated teen at the most. But the enticing bit, the thing that captures a potential fan's attention, is the flirtation and sexy implications. So from the jump they're in a weird space purely because they chose to make a mobile game instead of an indie video game released on Steam or similar.

So now you have an inherently split audience: mature adults who know they're getting into a potentially explicit romance game, and young adults/teens who have grown up in a more insulated internet culture where normal words are replaced with Orwellian doublespeak, like "unalive" and "spicy time".

THEN you add in the fact that the developers tried to build a diverse fantasy world, which is a fantastic idea both from an inclusionary standpoint and a broader audience standpoint. But because they didn't employ any actual sensitivity readers (did they think they didn't need them because fantasy can't have racism? Did they justify it as not being in the budget? Would love to know what's going on there) they fell right into a lot of the classic traps. We've been over these time and again, so I won't get into them here. Suffice to say, there has been Discourse. The presence of those issues means that more experienced fans will see those things and call them out, and that criticism causes even more of a split: the zealous apologists versus the critics. And critics can fall into two further categories: those who love the canon and want to see it do better, and the bitches who just love having something to bitch about.

Unfortunately, this combination means that there are inherently factions to this fandom, with staunchly opposed approaches to the media. So even before you enter a fandom space, it's already wildly fractured simply because of the nature of base canon.

THEN add to that the fact that this game is a dating sim. And to engage with a dating sim, you have to build a character and make choices based on that character. Some people will approach this work as storytelling, and some will approach it as an escapist expression of self. Neither of these ways of engaging with canon is wrong. Enjoying a dating sim as Me But Better is fun and completely valid! Engaging with a dating sim as a storyteller collaborating with the developers is fun and completely valid! But the two approaches are opposed in purpose, and that can make it difficult for the two types of fans to engage with one another's work.

Storytellers will well and truly invest in building a character. They may even build out communities, countries, cultures, and languages to make their world all the richer. They are investing hours of blood, sweat, and tears into Their Craft, pouring themselves into an opus of quality fanwork. Unfortunately, this can sometimes lead to big feelings. Fan artists and writers may feel underappreciated if all they get out of their hard work is 2 likes and a gif of a wolf making AWOOGA eyes. They may feel that critique of their work is unwarranted, or that there's no point creating if no one will engage.

The romantics will engage with canon and fanwork from the perspective that "this is my fantasy romance time". Their OC isn't so much Original Character as Optimized Characteristics--that is, their perfect self. They are here for wish fulfillment fun times in the relative privacy and anonymity of the internet, and good for them! But that may mean that criticism of canon or their fan work feels excessively personal--it is very hard to detach the ego from the OC when that OC is a projection of your best self. They may view any critique as a personal attack as opposed to a good-faith attempt at engagement or conversation. This can lead to defensiveness, or to leaving the fandom outright if it feels too hostile.

Unfortunately all of these factions cause rifts in the community. This sometimes turns into fandom vigilantism, where people begin to see any fan who doesn't wholeheartedly agree with them as an enemy. I've seen friends experience bullying and cruelty over their OCs and their art. I've seen predators use the isolated nature of the fandom to further isolate and prey upon already vulnerable individuals. I've seen some really shitty stuff.

But I have also seen beautiful community flourish. I've made friends who feel more like family than my actual relatives. I've seen people work through struggles and overcome deliberate attempts to tear us apart, finding forgiveness and friendship along the way. I've seen myself and others grow because of the community and inspiration we found here. And I saw all of that because I found my people. And I hope, Arcana fandom, that the rest of you can find your people too.

#well said beloved

[ilyamatic]

REBLOG if you have amazing, talented WRITER friends.

Because I certainly do, and I love every single one of them and their work.

[ilyamatic]

To Hold Me Like Water

Song: Who We Are by Hozier

The mess starts here

CW: Drug Use

Andrico wished he could look back at his time with Julian fondly. That when he was old and gray and telling his grandkids about “the good ol’ days” he could say Julian’s name with a smile. Tell them about how they met at a charity gala thrown by the local queer center. Tell them about despite the black tie dress code, the man showed up with his tux jacket open and his dress shirt barely buttoned. That despite the fact Julian was not Andrico’s usual type, he couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

Maybe he would have told his grandkids that they ended up talking all night. That they danced so close, that it felt like something straight out of a romance novel. Maybe he would tell them about how they kissed.

(Andrico would leave out the part where they ran off giggling to the sectioned off area of the venue, some historic courthouse or something. He wouldn’t say a word about the bubbly champagne turning to butterflies in his stomach. He wouldn’t dare breathe a word of how easily he fell to his knees.

“I just want to get my mouth on you,” he said as he fiddled the button on Julian’s pants.

Those red stained cheeks and lust-blown eyes were memories held close to his heart)

Instead, Andrico had this. A pounding headache and a breaking heart.

“I hope you don’t mind that I, uh, stuck around,” Julian began. “I didn’t know what you took so I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Andrico ignored him as he poured a bit of coke onto his coffee table. No better way to combat a cocaine hangover. Hair of the dog and all that.

“I don’t think you should do that,” the other man said, suddenly far too close.

“And I think you should mind your own fuckin’ business,” Andrico hissed.

“Dunya,” Julian said sternly. “It isn’t good to bombard your body with so much drugs after being sober for as long as you’ve been. You’re at risk of –”

“Oh what the fuck do you care!” he snapped.

“Dunya–”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Of course I care about you!”

Andrico’s laugh was sharp. An ugly, hurting thing.

“Is this how you show your care,” Andrico said airily. “Dazzling me with romance only to disappear when you get bored?”

Julian looked as if he were struck. “What are you talking about? I could never be bored of you.”

“You left me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Julian said, voice cracking.

“You did it three times.”

Andrico could feel his own tears well up. Goddamnit.

“You left me three times,” he continued. “And I took you back whenever you decided to show back up. Welcomed you with open arms even. How pathetic is that?”

“Dunya–”

“I said don’t call me that.”

Julian’s mouth shut with an audible click.

“I kept taking you back, forgiving you without question. And for what? For you to leave again?”

“Dun– uh, Andrico, please let me explain,” Julian begged.

“What is there to explain? What is an explanation going to change? Is it going to unbreak my heart? Will it stop you from ghosting me?”

Andrico could feel himself break bit by bit. But he refused to fall apart in front of this man. Not again.

“Honestly Julian, if you care half as much as you say you do, you would leave and stay gone. Delete my number, forget my face. Fuck it, die for all I care. Just get out of my fucking life!"

He hadn’t meant to shout it. He hadn’t meant to say it at all. But he had, the words bouncing off the walls like a death knell. Such a shame. Such a relief.

“Is that truly what you want?” Julian said, his voice suddenly so so small.

Andrico did not hesitate. “More than anything.”

A beat of silence. And then–

“Well, I suppose that’s it.”

Andrico wished he could look back at his time with Julian fondly. Maybe even get a happy ending despite it all. Instead he had this. An empty apartment, the lingering scent of sea salt and burnt wood. Broken picture frames at his feet. Such a relief.

Such a shame.

#self reblog #the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana julian #ilya devorak #the arcana ilya #modern au #spicy sorta #andrico the soft chaos boy/girl/barrel of crabs #abby's adventures in fic

[ilyamatic]

saying something you know will make people laugh. And they do laugh.

[ilyamatic]

#unrestrained joy

[ilyamatic]

To Hold Me Like Water

Song: Who We Are by Hozier

The mess starts here

CW: Drug Use

Andrico wished he could look back at his time with Julian fondly. That when he was old and gray and telling his grandkids about “the good ol’ days” he could say Julian’s name with a smile. Tell them about how they met at a charity gala thrown by the local queer center. Tell them about despite the black tie dress code, the man showed up with his tux jacket open and his dress shirt barely buttoned. That despite the fact Julian was not Andrico’s usual type, he couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

Maybe he would have told his grandkids that they ended up talking all night. That they danced so close, that it felt like something straight out of a romance novel. Maybe he would tell them about how they kissed.

(Andrico would leave out the part where they ran off giggling to the sectioned off area of the venue, some historic courthouse or something. He wouldn’t say a word about the bubbly champagne turning to butterflies in his stomach. He wouldn’t dare breathe a word of how easily he fell to his knees.

“I just want to get my mouth on you,” he said as he fiddled the button on Julian’s pants.

Those red stained cheeks and lust-blown eyes were memories held close to his heart)

Instead, Andrico had this. A pounding headache and a breaking heart.

“I hope you don’t mind that I, uh, stuck around,” Julian began. “I didn’t know what you took so I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Andrico ignored him as he poured a bit of coke onto his coffee table. No better way to combat a cocaine hangover. Hair of the dog and all that.

“I don’t think you should do that,” the other man said, suddenly far too close.

“And I think you should mind your own fuckin’ business,” Andrico hissed.

“Dunya,” Julian said sternly. “It isn’t good to bombard your body with so much drugs after being sober for as long as you’ve been. You’re at risk of –”

“Oh what the fuck do you care!” he snapped.

“Dunya–”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Of course I care about you!”

Andrico’s laugh was sharp. An ugly, hurting thing.

“Is this how you show your care,” Andrico said airily. “Dazzling me with romance only to disappear when you get bored?”

Julian looked as if he were struck. “What are you talking about? I could never be bored of you.”

“You left me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Julian said, voice cracking.

“You did it three times.”

Andrico could feel his own tears well up. Goddamnit.

“You left me three times,” he continued. “And I took you back whenever you decided to show back up. Welcomed you with open arms even. How pathetic is that?”

“Dunya–”

“I said don’t call me that.”

Julian’s mouth shut with an audible click.

“I kept taking you back, forgiving you without question. And for what? For you to leave again?”

“Dun– uh, Andrico, please let me explain,” Julian begged.

“What is there to explain? What is an explanation going to change? Is it going to unbreak my heart? Will it stop you from ghosting me?”

Andrico could feel himself break bit by bit. But he refused to fall apart in front of this man. Not again.

“Honestly Julian, if you care half as much as you say you do, you would leave and stay gone. Delete my number, forget my face. Fuck it, die for all I care. Just get out of my fucking life!"

He hadn’t meant to shout it. He hadn’t meant to say it at all. But he had, the words bouncing off the walls like a death knell. Such a shame. Such a relief.

“Is that truly what you want?” Julian said, his voice suddenly so so small.

Andrico did not hesitate. “More than anything.”

A beat of silence. And then–

“Well, I suppose that’s it.”

Andrico wished he could look back at his time with Julian fondly. Maybe even get a happy ending despite it all. Instead he had this. An empty apartment, the lingering scent of sea salt and burnt wood. Broken picture frames at his feet. Such a relief.

Such a shame.

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