So...I usually ignore canon and pretend every ghouls and Papas are alive and well, but I wanted to write angst, so. Here. I don't know what that is, inspiration striked, I hope it makes sense even if most things are implied instead of flat-out stated. Also there's a quick mention of blood, and well, implied death, so fair warning.
Ifrit snarls and shakes his head, the uneasy feeling that settled in his chest this morning growing unbearably stronger by the minute. He managed to ignore it for the better part of the day, but now it's taking over, pulling him forward.
He's going to see Dew. The urge to check on him, to hold him, to curl around his lithe frame, went from an itch under his skin to an overwhelming need. Ifrit is not sure why, but he trusts his instinct more than anything, especially these days.
Since Terzo's forced retirement, there's an underlaying buzz of- something, a smothering feeling of anxiety in the air, that has everyone on edge, especially ghouls. Omega barely ever leaves Terzo's room, standing guard at the door every nights, even as Terzo begs him not to exhaust himself that way ; Alpha spends long nights drinking with Secondo, both trying to drown their anger in alcohol ; Earth tends to Primo's declining health with even more fervor than before ; Copia tries to fight off guilt by overworking himself ; the ghouls stick to themselves lately, avoid humans when they didn't feel the need before ; the Siblings whisper somberly and walk the hallways fast, eyes on their feet, none of their usual happy chatter to be heard.
Ifrit admits he's been more irritable than usual - something so very strange for him, who's usually bright and easy-going. But something just feels wrong these days. Maybe he just doesn't like change, or maybe it's how abruptly, unfairly, unnecessarily this change came. And now there's rumors. Of many failed attemps to summon a fire ghoul. It's not that surprising ; fire ghouls are notoriously hard to summon, fighting tooth and nail not to get pulled out of the flames they've been forged in. What bothers Ifrit is that they're trying. He's still here, isn't he ? He doesn't mind Copia, could get used to him, maybe even build a friendship with the man - and he definitely can play for him. So why try and summon a replacement ?
Well, it's true he's burnt a fair share of carpets and curtains in his time on earth, but it still feels like a petty reason to replace him. Not that he minds that much. He's just puzzled by this decision. Ifrit is nearly at Dew's door when Zephyr chirps at him from the doorway of their own room, calling for his attention.
"Hey, Fritter."
The air ghoul looks tired, dark rings under their eyes, leaning heavily on their cane. Ifrit's heart aches, and he instinctively steps toward them, gathers them in his arms. Zephyr trills, pressing their face in his chest, tail coming to curl around the fire ghoul's leg.
"Have you seen Pebble, love ?" they ask, voice muffled. "He was supposed to meet me half an hour ago, but he didn't, and he's not answering his phone."
Ifrit hums, chin resting on top of Zephyr's head, their soft hair tickling his face.
"No, but you know how he is these days. He's probably out in the woods, his phone left Satan knows where."
Zephyr nods against him, then pulls away with a smile that doesn't make their eyes twinkle quite like they used to.
"You where going somewhere ?"
"To Dew. Need to hold him. He in his room ?"
Zephyr shrugs.
"I'm not sure. Can I come with you ? I could use some company."
Ifrit takes their hand and presses a quick kiss to their knuckles, tangling their fingers together. They fall into step side by side, ignoring the cloaked figures -probably new initiates, who cares - rounding the corner behind them.
Even years later, Dew will never be able to look at the hallway where his former room used to be. The burns and claw marks on the floor, the memory of anguished screams bouncing off the walls, the blood he'll think he can still smell in the air, it'll all be too much.
But sometimes, Dew will sit in his new room, a flame he shouldn't be able to create flickering to life in his palm, and he'll estinguish it with his tears, mumbling apologies until his throat is raw.
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Please tell me you get that all I do is about performing not larry. That metaphorical comparison between performing and addiction is all over Walls: Habit, Aways You, Kill My Mind.
if you think that even one of Louis' songs or even individual lyrics is straightforwardly about only one thing I feel sorry for you, that you are missing out on the number one thing that characterizes his writing style- the clever overlap and interplay of meanings and references in every line- and for him, that his fans are out here completely oblivious to the thing he is, I would guess, proudest of about his lyrical craft, the thing that's his writing SIGNATURE, in favor of just being like "x is just About this and only this that's what he Means period end of". The Way I Do is or can be about lots of things, but that has nothing to do with the fact that for Louis to use phrases such as "it's not one thing it's everything" and "next to you" (and both in a single verse even) that had been catchphrases and slogans basically of the larry fandom for a decade at the time he wrote and recorded that does not exist in a vacuum and is kind of fucking unhinged (and there's literally zero chance he doesn't Know). And the habit reference is used the same as he uses it on Walls; as a fluid is it love or is it addiction is it love of a person or of the fans/ performing metaphor. Of course it refers to that! And that doesn't for one second rule out or even make less likely that it also refers to any number of other things, have some damn appreciation for his CRAFT and subtlety!
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