9/JAN/20XX
been a minute since i stayed in my room all day by myself.
once upon a time, that was a pretty common occurrence.
and maybe i still won't, but it's how i've spent today so far.
feels a bit different now that i'm actually lifted off the ground.
while stretching out as much as i could, i accidentally knocked something off the bed with my foot. lazily rolling over to see what it was, there was no real intention in me to get up and grab it.
a stuffed plush of a bear laid pathetically on its face.
i glanced back at the other stuffed animals on the end of my bed.
"...but these ones feel special for some reason."
"must be the fabric quality."
..that's what i'd thought the day she won them for me, right?
they're not particularly notable in quality, in honesty.
still, they do feel special.
sliding off the bed and landing on my feet next to the bear, i lifted it to meet my face.
the stuffed animal's beady eyes, obscured partially by fur, returned my stare.
"you're only special because of her, huh?"
i can tell myself i'm not a stuffed animal person.
i'm not the type.
i'm not a sentimental guy.
and it'd probably be true,
if it weren't for her.
the other plush creatures had been arranged by size at the foot of my bed, resting against the baseboard.
the doing of a neater skeleton than i.
and, the un-doing of a messier skeleton than he.
sitting myself in front of the wrecked arrangement, i tried to recreate how they had been previously.
two equally exaggeratedly fat animals start the line off at the largest size - differently colored chickens.
floor bear is the dead-center of the grouping. it's got longer brown fur and a small gold ribbon tied into bow around its neck. the bow and the animal's eyes are somewhat obscured by the fur length.
then, a creature i can't quite determine between raccoon and squirrel which it might be.
either or, whatever that one is has a little fall cardigan on.
smallest, final of the line, is a something that is decidedly not an animal.
stuffed shape is more fitting, it being a heart; that kind of semi-shiny, soft material.
"I never want to be ap-heart!"
reads the front.
the embroidered font is fancy and silvery.
texturally, the words are rough.
really, they're the exact quality one expects from festival booth prizes.
so to be displayed on the end of my bed like this...
it's more a sentiment to the memory surrounding them.
another day like that would be nice. can admit to myself now that i really would enjoy it.
friends can s
the festival setting in particular isn't quite the part i'm thinking about.
where around here could we
....
properly seated, the stuffies feel like an audience in a way i hadn't noticed before.
on the other hand, putting them anywhere but on my bed feels like disrespect.
for now, i'll turn them the other way.
——
turning them away feels wrong in a way i'm not sure i could specify if i tried, so i rotated the bear back to me.
it's a show of innocence.
of normal-ness.
friendshipness.
(the friendship-adjectives are getting out of hand.)
i held my hands up to further prove to the inanimate object that innocence.
i put them back down because hands don't have anything to do with this.
"you're a gift from a friend. no other way to see it."
not entirely sure at this point whether it was really the bear i was convincing - or entirely sure why i was bothering doing this to begin with - i moved on.
...
i already noted the amount of "friendship" adjectives i've been coming up with over time to excuse things.
𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.
sure.
unspecific enough.
"friendship" is a nice label you can put over things that you don't wanna give any 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 labels to.
labels feel like making a choice.
labels feel concrete.
labels feel like 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.
and, uh.
you know something?
never have been the kind of guy to act first.
another thing calling it "friendship" is good for is...
can't call it "cowardice" when i won't vocalize (or similar) what's occupying my mind
if it's still called "friendship."
maybe the fact that i'm trying to justify it at all should bring light to somethin'...
but that kind of self awareness is reserved for therapy calls.
and i'm hanging up the phone for now.
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Sleepless, Snowy Nights
Pairing: (Wine/reader)
~~~~~~~~~~~
You sigh as you watch the falling snow, your breath clouding around you for a moment, before dissipating. You have work in a few hours. You should at least try to get some sleep. Yet, your bare feet don’t move from the cold concrete of the back patio. The brisk chill of the winter air should feel frigid, but after the nightmare you just had, it grounds you. These past few days have been full of stressful, restless nights, and you’re starting to feel the effects.
The end of December, and the first snow of the season is finally here. Chunky, full flakes fall delicately on the grass, slowly yet surely covering up the green.
It’ll be a snow day tomorr- er, later today.
But for now? It’s just quiet. A quiet that only a good night-snow creates. Cars rarely fill up the roads, it’s too early for the plows to be out, and it almost seems as though everyone else in the world is peacefully asleep.
Except you.
“MY LOVE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE IN JUST YOUR PAJAMAS?” You hear your ‘mate’s voice call as the back door creaks open.
And Wine, apparently.
“Just watching the snow.” You answer softly, exhaustion creeping into your voice.
You turn your head to peek at him over your shoulder, to find him approaching you with a blanket. He drapes it over your shoulders, effectively covering most of your body, besides your feet. It doesn’t take him long to notice that, either, because just as he settles in, hugging you from behind, he lets out a small gasp and pauses in the kiss he was about to leave on your shoulder.
“STARS! NO SHOES EITHER? ARE YOU TRYING TO GET SICK?” He chastises, adjusting his hold so that he can instead scoop you off of your feet - holding you in a “princess” style. Once there, he uses his blue magic to tuck your toes under the blanket and cocoon you in. “THERE.” He smiles, satisfied with his work, only to falter when he meets your tired gaze.
“… WHAT’S GOING ON?”
That’s all it takes for your lip to start quivering, and your eyes to well up with tears.
“Oh Dear, Let’s Get You Inside, Hm?” You just bury your face into his chest to avoid answering.
You hate crying.
Shaking, whether from the cold or from the pure exhaustion you’re experiencing, you’re not entirely sure. Nor do you really care.
Wine squeezes you close to him, opening the door with his magic, and closing it behind him. You hadn’t realized just how cold you were until the warm air from your heated home engulfs you.
He doesn’t take you all the way to bed, like you were expecting him to. Instead, he beelines to the living room, carefully sitting on the couch, cradling you in his lap. You just let him adjust your body, too tired to bring your face from its hiding spot. His carefully manicured claws move to stroke your hair, and you feel his worried him reverberate through his ribcage from where your face his pressed against him.
He doesn’t push, or prod, or rush you, he simply lets you release a little bit of that stress into the embrace - and it doesn’t take long for your tears to slow to a stop.
Even crying seems to take up too much energy.
You risk peeking up at your ‘mate… only to find those knowing lights of his trained on your face.
There’s no hiding from Wine. Stars knows you’ve tried.
“IS THIS ABOUT YOUR DOG?”
“… kinda.”
“THE HARDEST PART IS OVER. HE’S OKAY. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S NOT OKAY. DON’T THINK I HAVEN’T NOTICED HOW YOU’VE BEEN SLIPPING AWAY FROM BED AFTER YOU THINK I’VE FALLEN ASLEEP.”
Busted.
“I-I just didn’t want to wake you. Just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”
“I BEG TO DIFFER, WE BOTH KNOW THAT I RUN JUST FINE ON A FEW HOURS OF SLEEP. YOU, HOWEVER, BECOME A WALKING ZOMBIE.”
You scoff.
“I do not.”
He deadpans.
“BUN, WHY ELSE WOULD I FIND YOU HALF NAKED OUTSIDE IN THE SNOW?”
“… I don’t find you funny.”
“THAT LITTLE SMILE YOU’RE TRYING TO HIDE SAYS OTHERWISE.”
“Wipe that smirk off your face.”
“NEVER.”
You grumble, knowing you’ve ‘lost’ this round. He is right, though, you can’t keep having sleepless nights… it’s really getting to you.
“WHY IS THIS HINDERING YOUR SLEEP? I KNOW YOU’RE WORRIED, BUT-”
“What if I wake up and he’s gone?” You interrupt, causing his jaw to click shut as his sockets widen ever so slightly. “A-and I would’ve had the chance to help but I was fucking sleeping, and he was just alone in the end?”
Oh, well, hello tears, nice of you to make another appearance.
“Oh, My Love… I Hadn’t Realized This Was Getting To You That Much. I Am So Sorry I Assumed You Were Okay.”
“‘s fine.” You croak, wiping at your face.
“It’s Not, Though, I Did Exactly What Those Assholes Used To Do To You.”
You bite your lip to hold back a rising sob, taking a deep breath, instead. Your next words need to be spoken with certainty, not shakiness.
“You’re not them. You couldn’t be, even if you tried. Despite not being a big fan of dogs, you’ve been loads more supportive than they ever were.”
“I Appreciate That, But I Should’ve Been More Mindful, I’m Sorry.”
In lieu of answering, you just reach up to flick his nasal cavity, causing him to scrunch his face up a bit.
“Stop apologizing for something that isn’t your fault.”
“OKAY, OKAY.” He cracks a smile at you. “BUT, YOU KNOW… YOU ARE SAFE TO SLEEP.”
“B-but-”
“HE’S OKAY. HE’S JUST RECOVERING AND HE NEEDS TIME. AND SLEEP. JUST LIKE YOU, BUN.”
“Okay, b-”
“AND, WE HAVE THE WORLD’S BEST ALARM SYSTEM, ON THE VERY UNLIKELY CHANCE SOMETHING DOES HAPPEN - HIS SISTER WON’T LET HIM MAKE A PEEP OF STRUGGLE WITHOUT ALERTING THE WHOLE HOUSE.”
You snort.
“… I guess you’re right.”
“I THINK YOU WILL FIND THAT I USUALLY AM.”
“Okay, mister, tone it down.”
“ONLY BECAUSE YOU’RE SO TIRED.”
“Lucky me.”
He just chuckles at your grumpiness, leaning down to press a skele-kiss to your temple. You can’t help but lean into the affection.
“MAY I BRING YOU BACK TO BED?”
“Are you coming on to me right now?” You tease, earning you a roll of his eye-lights. Your giggle turns into a squeak when he pinches your bum and all but tosses you over his shoulder as he stands up.
“ALWAYS, BUT WE BOTH KNOW YOU DON’T HAVE THAT ENERGY RIGHT NOW, SO HUSH UP.”
“Ppppprrt.” You blow a raspberry in response.
“MATURE.”
Your cackling takes on a little bit of a hysterical form, but it feels good to be laughing.
It’ll be okay.
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