I'M DYING TO FEEL FINE | PRIVATE

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If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] Winter was upon ColouredClan already. While the snow had yet to really show up, the frost had certainly taken hold of the territory and town's ground, creating a sparkling yet cold looking scene throughout the territory. And while Alfred personally disliked the cold with a passion, he was okay with looking at frost and snow. Preferably cuddled up next to Cassius with a blanket and pillow. You know, wintery things. Not to mention seeing snow again was going to trigger some dark memories that he wanted to leave behind. Things like being kicked out into the snowy streets at night because your parents were cruel bastards, or the memory of watching your childhood friend be shot in the head. Things like that. He wanted relaxing cuddles and winter food, not memories of death and child abuse.


    Now, the only reason Alfred had taken so much as a step outside while he'd really rather not was because he was stocking up wood for the fireplace, just in case they needed more. On his way in, however, he found something that caught his interest a little bit more, growing along the side of the wall, trying it's hardest to survive, though it would be in vain by the looks of it.


    Most of the flowers had been annihilated by the frost, but for some reason a rose vine along one side of the house had decided to press on, even though it was obviously killing itself in the process. The soft red petals were curving around the edges, brown and black. The stems below the flower itself weren't the usual vibrant green, but a darker shade, and it didn't look like it would hold up for another day or two. Many of the leaves had already shriveled up and died, laying in the snow pitifully. He had half a mind to end the misery of this last remaining flower, and so he did. He took his knife out of his pocket and sliced the bottom of the weakened stem. The blade sliced through too easily.


    For the next five minutes, Alfred worked at picking and snapping off the blackening thorns, only satisfied when they were all gone. He got a good look at the rose that he'd sliced off of the dead vine. Most of the flower itself was still in tact, at least. Only the edges were dead, but what hadn't been killed was still a dark red color, the petals still soft and silky. It wasn't exactly the kind of flower most would think of giving, but this was Alfred. This little flower here had meaning to him, it wasn't generic.


    Ten more minutes would pass and then Alfred opened the front door. He stepped inside and closed it quickly to avoid the cold draft from sweeping in, kicking off frost covered boots to set them in the corner. With the wood logs needed in one hand and the rose in the other, Al set the firewood down where it needed to be and checked to make sure no water had slipped into his boots when outside, because wet socks would be the worst.


    Once he decided he was safe, he went on with his daily routine after returning home to stay there for good, kicking off his jeans and yanking his shirt off with them, throwing himself down onto the couch to try and let the fireplace warm him back up. He looked at the flower while doing so, blue eyes catching how the light from the flames caught the petals softly.


    He hadn't seen Cassius so far, and thought he may have just been doing something else in their room or something. Maybe keeping the snakes warm, or doing some alien sh!t. Either way, cute. "Cassius...!" He was cold and tired from dealing with people all day, now he just kinda wanted cuddles. Was that so bad? Not to mention, he wanted to show them what he'd found.


    He took his glasses off and tosses them lightly onto his pile of clothes, which were to the side of the couch. There. No damage.


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    [size=5pt][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe

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    “TALKING” [i]‘THINKING’     (REFLECTING)

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    His fork scraped against against the plate. He had a meal of peas, mashed potato and carrots. Corn. No meat though. It was one of those microwaveable meals.


    Cassius opened the freezer door, flinching away from the cold air that spilled into the room he'd struggled to heat up with a fire. He reached in, taking out one of the microwavable meals he'd gotten. He closed the freezer door, picking the frost off of the package with his nails on the way to the microwave. He peeled open the lid of his meal, opening the freezer door and putting it in before dialing the time. After that point he dug through the dresser for some cutlery. He was a vegetarian, most foods he ate didn't...require knives. It's why they only had butter knives. Well, that and another reason.

    He decided to look down at his feet while he rocked back and forth on his heels, looking up at the timer every once in a while. For some reason it felt impossibly slow. When it did beep, he quickly walked towards it and took out his meal. Condensation clung to the lid. He tore it off and spun a fork he snagged from the drawer around in his hand while he poked around the meal. Nice. Nice meal. He went to get a plate, putting it on the counter and turning the box upside down to get the food out of it. It was a meal of peas, mashed potatoes, corn and carrots. No meat. He didn't need that.

    Something was wrong though. Missing. He went into the fridge and dug around for the hot sauce. He put that on the counter and took out a thing of salt. He put salt on the carrots, peas and corn. Hot sauce and pepper for the potatoes. Goods. Good. Delicious actually. He'd been watching Hells Kitchen as if it was the most credible research material available to date. You'd think he'd be a better chef from watching it, but really all he'd learned was how to yell at people in a kitchen. Putting the things away, he cleaned up his mess. People always said he left a mess behind, but he was pretty thorough with his cleaning. Little details didn't escape him. He didn't simply 'Miss a spot.'

    People said he did, but he was pretty sure he'd catch himself or his mess or whatever. Now he did leave the package for his food on the counter. Sort of missed that. He caught himself before he left, putting It away. He was trying to be less of a slob. He finished up in the kitchen, turned around to go enjoy the rest of his time upstairs. He his hoodie on. The alien hoodie. Not the normal one. This one was red,, it had little stars and ufos on the back. His infatuation with space only seemed to become more and more obvious. He of course, was an adult man and he wouldn’t do...stupid or childish bullsh!t, but he did...put the glow in the dark stickers everywhere. Only the high quality ones though.

    He was a firm believer that the cheap ones where for babies. Mostly because a true space enthusiast would want accurate models to represent space and the stars. From memory when using his stickers, he could just about make an accurate map of the sky in the conspiracy room. He just wasn't sure if he should mark the stars that went supernova here or not. Funny thing though, was that he noticed something while mapping the stars. It was another part of his theories. They weren't on earth. He was certain. He mapped out everything, he had his telescope. He noticed something strange. Other planets he recognized, but different star patterns. Right now they were looking at the wrong side of Sagittarius.

    Of course, the sun. He wondered what star was in the sky. He wasn't sure, but he was sure it wasn't the sun. He was sure the little distant sky clusters where just different perspectives on the zodiacs maybe. Now he didn't have any evidence per se , but he was pretty sure he had this. (He didn't have this.) Of course though, coma theory would also explain the shifting star patterns. Cassius entered the conspiracy room , sitting down on the wooden chair next to his desk, scraping potatoes and peas off of his plate with his fork and eating absentmindedly as he looked up at the roof, cursing how he ran out of stickers before he could tackle Orion. Also..f#ck, why where the carrots chewy?

    He rolled them around in his mouth, quietly looking out the window at the frosty area. The cold. He shivered subconsciously, putting down the plate and then closing the blinds. Once he was satisfied he went back to eating. He continued to eat until the food was done. He then added it to the stack of plates on his desk. Slob? No...naw....nuh-uh. He chewed his food, going through his files. He had a red marker, and he made little notes on old newspaper prints. What was Permafrost fighting that one night? What destroyed half of the town? He swallowed back his food, looking at it. It looked like an alien. That’s what. He cut it out then put it on the new and improved wall of knowledge. When he pinned it down, he pulled his hand away to see his fingertip was sticky with blood. F#ck...did he cut himself?

    He sucked on the finger for a few moments, brushing it off on his pants and paying no further attention to it. He turned around and saw someone in the doorway. He jolted. His eyes focused. No one there. No one. The doorway was empty. 'Cassius?' The person in the doorway was talking to him, but that didn't matter because they weren't real. He chose to stop mentally acknowledging it. It didn't even regester anymore. He could still visually see it, he could hear it...but it was as if he stopped doing anything with the information. It suddenly didn't exist at all. When he walked through the door way, the voices and hallucinations stopped.

    He looked down at his hand to see it was no longer bleeding. He chose not to think about this. Deny , deny , deny. Deny and it would eventually go away. It worked every time, it worked this time. He wouldn't let those sort of things bother him. They wheren't even that vivid anymore. Just little parts of the memories he refused to acknowledge. He heard someone calling him from downstairs. He knew that voice though. Alfred. Alfred was home. Cassius flew down the stairs just about, stopping right behind them. Its funny because he he didn't make an noise with his steps aside from the occasional squeaky floorboard.

    He gave them a hug then, standing behind the couch and wrapping his arms around their shoulders. He rested his head on their shoulder. “Howdy doll.” His voice was the usual monotone, he was poker faced as usual. Still though, he was happy to see them. He just didn't express that was all. Hopefully how fast he ran down the stairs explained that for him. He came around to stand beside them, quickly pulling up his pants a bit and sitting on the couch beside them. “Whatcha' got there?” He asked quietly, leaning into that thing they brought into the house. He chewed onto the inside of cheek while he looked at it, a small dorky grin on his face.

    ...Oh he almost forgot something. He got his knees up on the couch, getting up on couch to give them a little kiss on the cheek. He sat back down , leaning into the thing, because no seriously was that a flower? How the hell did they find that?

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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=BLACK;border:1px; BLACK;width:470px;height:autopx;font-family:verdana;color:#99342b;line-height:11px;letter-spacing:.5px;font-size:7.5pt][b][color=darkgrey]☆-I'm singing 'la la la' in empty rooms that carry sounds like hollow caves
    [size=6pt]'La la la' just to prove you're not the only one that can occupy a borrowed space
    [/fancypost][font=verdana][color=snow][sub] [color=darkgrey] plot [color=darkgrey]+     [color=darkgrey]8tracks [color=darkgrey]+     [color=darkgrey]appearence [color=darkgrey]+    [color=darkgrey] info
    [fancypost borderwidth=0px;border-bottom:2px solid SNOW;width:470px;margin-top:-9px][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] It never got old to him how Cass would run in like an excited little puppy or something when he came home. Since his promotion he had been out of the house a lot, doing work and keeping up his physical condition and strength. His job was, after all, to defend. Guard. Sh!t like that. To be honest, the only reason he did his job was because he still had the mind and mentality of a soldier. Do your job, do it well, and don't die. He could live his whole life based on that alone, but where was the fun in that?


    He found himself smiling like the idiot he was when they hugged him, then came running around to the other side of the couch to sit with him. He twirled the rose in his hand slowly, looking at every petal starting to decay. Now he knew presenting a dying flower to your significant other was, in most eyes, a sh!tty thing to do. Why? Everyone wanted to gift their lovers the best gifts, as if to show off their affections. Not to mention the flower was, in fact, dying. But he didn't associate that with anything bad. The flower had fought the good fight.


    "Flower. Saw it on one of the rose vines out there, it was the last one standing. Thought I'd end the misery before the cold completely choked the life out of it. Held up pretty well." As Cass asked about what he was holding, Alfred gave them a vague rundown of the story, tapping him on the nose with the flower. The kiss on his cheek made him blush a little bit, as it did every time. Damn it, Cassius. You know what? He liked it that way. He'd take all the kisses Cass had to offer, thanks.


    [color=#FCDC3B]"And, uh...I thought I'd do something nice for you, so, here. If you want." He offered them the flower with a dorky smile, hoping it was good enough. Sure, this was Cass, but he still got worried from time to time that whatever he did wasn't enough. Guess that was what happened when you lived your whole life listening to people tell you that you really were a burden and couldn't do sh!t right...ever.


    But he tried.


    He wrapped his arms around Cassius, pulling him in for a good, wholesome hug. He was started to warm up a bit again, at least, and now the issue was fighting to urge to just sleep right where he was.



    [ f#ck me this is so short but i'm exhausted ]


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    [size=5pt][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe

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    “TALKING” [i]‘THINKING’     (REFLECTING)

    [fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 1px solid TRANSPARENT; width: 400px; font-size: 9.5px; line-height: 11px; text-align: justify; color: TRANSPARENT; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 3.5px; margin-right: 00px; padding: 4px;]
    Hey, hey. He was a man. He didn't need a flower tapping him on the nose. He moved his head out of the flowers range as if he was being sprayed by a water bottle. Once he deemed the area safe, he moved his head in again. Uh..closer the better. He was just inspecting the flower. His inner comedian wanted to crack a joke now. He couldn't help himself, he was a slut for his own jokes. “First animals, now plants. Al' I swear t' god you're gunna bring me a book and tell me to read it because it feels sad n' neglected.” Eyerolls didn't work when you wore shades, note to self. He did bring up an insteresting point though, even if he was just being a facetious dick. When he looked Alfred in the eyes, the rose was all but forgotten.




    'Theres m' book.' He mentally told himself. 'Theres m' book, and I'm gunna read it one day.' He wondered if Alfred could feel the intensity of his gaze there. Probably not. Shades. He loved the shades, and he was stubborn when it came to taking them off.... Of course, that didn't mean he'd take them off. Taking them off made his hands shake, and then he felt uncomfortable. It was like bearing his soul to someone, and he didn't know why. Maybe it was because of all the things he associated it with. He decided to stop being an ass, and to well...start looking at the rose. Unlike Alfred, he struggled to see the beauty in something as insignificant as a dying rose. He saw the smile on their face and how happy they seemed to be to give it to him, and so...he felt like there had to be something...uh, more to it. It's why he inspected it so closely.




    He didn't feel like they should of given him something better, (He didn't think they should of gave him anything, actually. He was pretty sure the action of thinking about someone like him was a cancerous enough task that you'd kill off a good few hundred brain cells by doing that alone.) He just knew they saw something in the flower he couldn't see. He wanted to see it too. He wasn't sure if it was lack of character or whatever...he just wanted to inherently see more in the little things, like Alfred. Maybe he was...too caught up in his own head to enjoy them. Rubbing his eyes behind his shades, he reached out to touch the flower.




    "And, uh...I thought I'd do something nice for you, so, here. If you want." He took it in his hands, and he held it. Held it and brought it closer to him. Looking outside at the cold day, he looked back at the rose. It survived out in the cold all the way until...well, december. That was impressive. He realized then that the rose mattered, because his heart rate picked up and he wanted to give them a tighter hug. At the same time, he found himself wanting to cry. He couldn't explain why, but he could sure try. It was one of the many damn things he was always determined to do. Explain and over-complicate everything until the original meaning was broken and lost - - ...Uh... Wait, positive thinking. He simply had minor issues with overthinking every aspect of his life. He gave his anxiety a little nudge and kindly told it to go f#ck itself. None of that negativity in his household. “...Nice.” He finally said, in the usual monotone voice. Of course, man of few words. He twirled the rose in his fingers with the ghost of a smile on his face, a sign he liked the gift well enough. Liked it a lot, actually.







    Or uh...he liked Alfred a lot, and he liked how they'd give him a rose. His thought process was broken when he was pulled into a hug. He held the rose tight, and he held Alfred tighter.




    ---




    "I have this little theory." Cassius said, texting away at something that ultimately wouldn't matter. Andres was driving, he never took his eyes off the road, but he could here them go 'mhm?' as a sign to continue. "Nothing lasts, so there's no point in trying to pursue everything all at once." He paused a little bit, looking up from his phone and looking out at the window. “We can't keep doing this forever. I think maybe we should shift gears. Try something new.” Andres had never wished Leo was lounging in the backseat so much before in his life. He felt like he was going to have to have a conversation that would feel like an awkward talk with his grandmother.




    Cassius said some eerily mature things at times. He always found himself asking if the quiet guy knew something, and if they did...how they could keep quiet about it for so long. "All I've ever done is this. I'm not interested in doing anything else." Andres decided to say. He clung stubbornly to whatever he currently did. Maybe he all too easily got consumed by the little things in life. He wasn't totally detached like the red head. Kid hardly felt like a human at times, felt more like a robot. Andres on the other hand, was hopelessly human. Almost fatally so. "I've got my job, you've got yours. I think-" He stopped at the red light. "-You've got it pretty good here, with us." He'd hate to see them go, honestly.

    Cassius didn't talk for a while, and Andres honestly thought they'd dropped the subject. The light turned green when they finally started talking again - god f#cking dammit the delayed reactions killed. "No...no I mean, I'm content. I just...I'm worried about what we'll be doin' maybe...four years from now, for example." Andres didn't usually think of the future, since he already knew what his future held. He knew he'd get his revenge, and then he'd go back to brazil. Thinking about a backup plan struck him as odd at first, but then he understood what they where going at.




    ---




    He rested his head in the crook of their neck, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of their skin. Cassius rested his chin on Alfreds shoulder and quietly gave them the best hug he could. He let the rose go on the arm of the couch. He stayed there for a bit, focusing on their breathing with his eyes closed. He was wide awake, but something about the rise and fall of their chest almost made him want to close his eyes and sleep. It was soothing.




    “...You're a little cold.” he finally commented, resting his cheek on the cold patch of skin he'd found. Small pause. “Whats the uh...temperature like outside?”

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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=BLACK;border:1px; BLACK;width:470px;height:autopx;font-family:verdana;color:#99342b;line-height:11px;letter-spacing:.5px;font-size:7.5pt][b][color=darkgrey]☆-I'm singing 'la la la' in empty rooms that carry sounds like hollow caves
    [size=6pt]'La la la' just to prove you're not the only one that can occupy a borrowed space
    [/fancypost][font=verdana][color=snow][sub] [color=darkgrey] plot [color=darkgrey]+     [color=darkgrey]8tracks [color=darkgrey]+     [color=darkgrey]appearence [color=darkgrey]+    [color=darkgrey] info
    [fancypost borderwidth=0px;border-bottom:2px solid SNOW;width:470px;margin-top:-9px][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] Okay, so no flower boops. Got it. He'd have to remember that for the future.


    “First animals, now plants. Al' I swear t' god you're gunna bring me a book and tell me to read it because it feels sad n' neglected.”


    He'd paused a bit after that before laughing quietly, realizing how true that was. He probably would, huh? To be fair, he did have a reason. Now he knew a lot of people would probably look at him and laugh, or flat out call him pathetic, so he didn't say. He didn't even think he should tell Cassius, mostly because he was nervous about the possibility of country boy to do that exact thing. He'd just say "here's a flower, I got it for you". It worked and no other questions about it had to be asked. The end.


    He went quiet for a bit again, until Cassius asked about the temperature outside, and mentioned how cold he was. He let out a soft sigh. "Colder." He managed to say, shrugging. That was about it as far as his answer went. He didn't care for the cold and he was in a warm place now, and obviously that felt way better than trekking around in icy f#cking slush and mud.


    But for all his b!tchy complaining, he knew very well this was nothing he couldn't handle. People here wondered how he could run around with nothing but a t-shirt and jeans, but there was a simple answer for that. Get thrown into Germany or France during the winter with a torn up uniform, slick with water and blood, and then see if a little snow in f#cking ColouredClan did much damage. In fact, that was one of the reasons he hated the snow. All he ever saw was bad things, unless he was surrounded by Christmas lights or some sh!t. Snow by itself made him sick.


    He rubbed their back with one hand as they rested all pressed up against him, finding himself staring off at nothing again. He'd been doing that an awful lot as of late, just staring and thinking about the worst things imaginable. Even in a situation like this, where he despised that. It wasn't like he was trying to block Cass out or anything, he just...he had a lot on his mind and couldn't control when it decided to show.


    [color=#FCDC3B]"Hey, Cass..." He swallowed nervously, snapping out of his concerning silence and trying to think of how to word his thoughts. It was rather strange, but he'd gotten used to his thoughts being brushed off as strange or psychotic. But this was Cassius, so he really didn't know. The problem with confiding in him was that if Cassius did what he convinced himself he was so used to hearing, it would hurt even more.


    He played with their hair a bit, just to keep himself calm enough to actually say what was on his mind for once. It seemed easy, but when you kept everything in your head for years...well, it became difficult to actually say anything. [color=#FCDC3B]"Have you ever felt like all this just....just wasn't real?"


    There was a big world out there, he could feel it. And yet, he wasn't there in it. Was he dead? Of course, he knew it. But he didn't feel dead. Dead meant no hope left for him, like he'd come to accept that and live this life as his own. He felt a stir of hope that he would one day snap out of it. He shouldn't have felt that. He shouldn't have felt hope. This wasn't right, he felt out of place. And he always had been out of place, from the first day of breathing air again since the war.


    He brought up one thought with Cass, and dismissed the rest.


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    [size=5pt][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe

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    “TALKING” [i]‘THINKING’     (REFLECTING)

    [fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 1px solid TRANSPARENT; width: 400px; font-size: 9.5px; line-height: 11px; text-align: justify; color: TRANSPARENT; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 3.5px; margin-right: 00px; padding: 4px;]
    He could feel the rise and fall of their chest while they rubbed his back. He wasn't sure why they where so quiet, but he wasn't going to complain. He didn't mind it at all to be honest. He didn't feel like words where a thing that needed to happen. Of course, he'd like to feel like Alfred was present and not...somewhere else. Hell though, he wasn't going to complain. It didn't hurt or anything...it was just a thing they did sometimes. He found himself almost falling asleep. If not him, then his arm. His arm was under them and it was...actually feeling kinda numb right about now. He didn't mention it. Naw...don't ruin the moment because of no pins n' needles. He wasn't gunna ruin no good time.




    “Hey, Cass...” ... “Howdy.”




    When they broke the silence, he tugged his arm out from under them. Around the time the country greet left his mouth. He could feel the blood rush into his arm. Funny thing is that the feeling made him want to grit his teeth and stop from wincing instead of being happy about it. Just another one of the ways the body liked to say 'F#ck you.' to it's resident. He cracked his shoulder audibly, though his arm was still numb after the small stretch. Suddenly they where fiddling with his hair. For some reason, it felt nice. He closed his eyes and he leaned into it a little bit. His eyes stayed shut, his face pressed against their chest. You'd think he'd smother himself like that, but he was doing just fine. Despite how his face was pressed against them, he was finding it easy to breathe. One of the perks of having a guy who didn't wear shirts. You wouldn't choke on the fabric. Something told him suffocating wasn't sexy.




    He scooted forward on the couch a bit so that they where the same height. It was just so that he could look them in the eyes. He wondered if they'd meet his gaze or not. Just waiting to see those pretty blues focus on him while he looked over their face thoughtfully. It was around the time they where trying to formulate their question. An elbow was prepped on the cushion so that he could a.. bit of vertical leverage. "Have you ever felt like all this just....just wasn't real?" Cassius held their face, practically demanding they look at him. His breathing had quickened.




    Blood it felt, was dripping down his arms. He didn't feel any pain, but he was aware his arms where bleeding down the couch. Where his scars where. They bled out, and he felt dizzy. The blood was another hallucination, but the dizziness was not. Alfred had just suggestion their reality was as real as the blood only he could see, the blood that bubbled out of his injuries on his..bad days. It had been five seconds. The vision, him zoning out... the conclusion he reached. All of it. Five seconds. He moved quickly. The conclusion that he reached...it was that maybe his brain was using symbolism to tell him something. His momentary panic, trembling hands...the gore. He refused to look down at his arms, to acknowledge. This was much like how he refused to acknowledged the voice in his head that kept whispering he was dead.




    ---




    "Why'd you do it? Why did you f#cking do it? Do you feel smart now, asshole? Was this what you f#cking wanted? To hurt me, to hurt us?" Cassius blinked sleep out of his eyes, blankly staring at Leo while they yelled at him. They where holding his shoulders, they where shaking him. While he was shaken his eyes calmly trailed over the room. He lifted up his arms, aware of a dulled ache. He looked down to see his bandaged wrists. He stared at them for a little bit. He blinked twice.




    ...Mission failed, huh? The fact that he could feel pain and look at his arms proved this was a mission fail. "Leo, I don't think think he thought it through," Andres's voice was a lot calmer, but they still made no effort to hide the anger in it. "Thank god, thank god you're okay...ahh...I was worried. Olivers voice, too. They didn't sound angry. They sounded relieved.




    ...That was nice of them, he guessed. He looked up at Leo. They weren't looking at him though. "What happens if you die, Cass? What about Thomas? What about the snakes, what about me?" Cassius wondered if unhooking the weird tubes from his body would kill him or not. A hand went to them and he yanked them off, but it just made a bunch of beeping happen. "What about our friends, huh? What will they think?" Andres said 'I'll be pissed off if you die.' From the back of the room, and Leo put his hand on Cassius's back, sat on the hospital bed and pointed at Andres. "Oi, see? Andres will be pissed." Leo's tone had softened, as if they'd realized they where worried instead of mad. Cassius didn't know why, but they managed to make him laugh. The laughs became choking sobs. Oliver sat up on the bed to pull him into a hug and rub his back.




    Oliver kept saying something soothing, and for some reason it made him feel...a little better. He didn't know why. Even Andres walked over to pat his head. He didn't know why. None of these guys where his friends. He was terrible to Oliver, (Who was terrible back at him,) and Leo and Andres where nothing but work partners. Still they...seemed to care right now. It was funny to him. He was just some stupid kid they picked off the streets who needed work and money. They just...used each other in some weird form of mutualism. He'd never felt like he'd had friends here. Andres poked him on the chest, breaking his train of thought. "Okay...cute, cute. Real talk; you going to try to kill yourself again?"




    ...His life was pretty sh!tty. His mom and dad where both dead, his girlfriend was murdered, his best friend shot...he'd been exposed to unspeakable horrors and he'd already killed people without living to see his own 20th birthday. This made it seem...a little better somehow. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking down. "No." He said. He didn't put any thought into the response , and yet...he knew he meant it.




    He didn't want to die anymore.
    Not when he realized he'd had something to lose after all.




    ---




    After his 5 second pause, he pressed his lips against Alfreds. He did it so that the touch was feather-light, as if he wasn't sure if he was going to follow through on it or not. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts leave him for a bit as he kissed at their bottom lip, slowly. Somewhat leisurely as if he was trying to stall. He...was trying to stall. He broke the kiss. Took a deep breath. Should he reply? He didn't even want to think about it actually. He decided to stall a little longer, kissing them again. It's funny because he was noticeably only half there this time. He was blatantly double tasking, distracted as if he was on the phone with someone else. Was this real? He couldn't be dead. If he was dead, nothing would be here. It would be.. nothing.




    He was shot in the head. Either he was dead or this was a coma, and he didn't believe in the former. Should he flat out say he didn't think anything was real? ...He wasn't trying to overthink it, but he'd had enough time to get hypothetical about it. He figured if he never woke up again, then this may as well of been real. Real as in...how the matrix was real to its inhabitants. Of course though, he wanted to wake up. He'd kissed the hallucination away, but not the doubt. He pulled away officially this time, chewing on his bottom lip while he walked to the window. He but a hand on the cold glass, and he stared for a bit.




    His hand felt cold. He could comprehend that it was cold. He could feel it. He could have separate coherent thought from the perceived reality. He guessed this was...as real as anything else. Real vivid coma. “...Real as anything else I s'pose. If it was fake, I can say it's had me fooled.” Or...guess He doubted at first, but it's act was getting more and more convincing.




    he wasn't sure anymore.




    Looking back at Alfred, he took his hand off the glass and he slowly walked over again, sitting on the couch and reclining a bit. He tilted his head back, laying against Alfred and closing his eyes. Still though, he had a knot in his stomach now. His leg bounced against the floor now. He was fidgeting, he was thoughtful.







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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=BLACK;border:1px; BLACK;width:470px;height:autopx;font-family:verdana;color:#99342b;line-height:11px;letter-spacing:.5px;font-size:7.5pt][b][color=darkgrey]☆-I'm singing 'la la la' in empty rooms that carry sounds like hollow caves
    [size=6pt]'La la la' just to prove you're not the only one that can occupy a borrowed space
    [/fancypost][font=verdana][color=snow][sub] [color=darkgrey] plot [color=darkgrey]+     [color=darkgrey]8tracks [color=darkgrey]+     [color=darkgrey]appearence [color=darkgrey]+    [color=darkgrey] info
    [fancypost borderwidth=0px;border-bottom:2px solid SNOW;width:470px;margin-top:-9px][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] For a while there he thought maybe he'd said something wrong and felt a twinge of guilt. He didn't know why that was the first conclusion he came up with, but it wasn't all that surprising for him. Maybe it would have nice to stop his habit of putting himself down all the time, but it was a difficult one to break.


    Hell, he had a lot of habits to break. One he guessed had already been broken, definitely the worst one. That was progress, right? It didn't look like he'd made any progress with himself, but believe him, he really had. Now that he thought about it...he didn't think Cass ever saw him at his worst stage in life, which was good. He wasn't...wasn't going back to that. At least, he hoped he didn't, or all his improvement was going right out the window. That, and he'd hate for Cassius to see the f#cking train wreck he used to be.


    Then again, when he thought about, he hadn't...really fully improved. He just took his violent behavior on himself and passed it on to other people. F#ck. He was never going to get better, was he?


    He wasn't sure what exactly, but he'd been waiting for something to happen when Cass leaned in to kiss him. He was a bit surprised at first, if anything, but it wasn't like he wasn't used to it or something. And he wasn't complaining here. Kisses were good, best with Cassius. And while it was brief at first, real feather light, it got better the second and third time. He would have gotten into it too, but then Cassius pulled away to head to the window. He wasn't one to whine, but instead just exhaled with an edge of frustration. He didn't know why frustration of all things, he blamed impulse and just getting the kiss cut off so suddenly.


    “...Real as anything else I s'pose. If it was fake, I can say it's had me fooled.”


    Cass was staring at the window, one hand on it for whatever reason. Alfred didn't question it, it was best not to. Cassius had sh!t on his mind, and it wasn't his place to try and assume he knew what Cass was thinking. People probably tried to do that already, it wasn't uncommon. But he wasn't going to do that.


    Shrugging his shoulders at the reply, Alfred blew his bangs out of his face and leaned back a bit against the arm of the couch. While Cass looked like he was contemplating life, Alfred unwrapped the bandages on his arm and set them aside with his ditched clothes. The scarred skin was visible to the world again, as it was every time he settled down for the day at home. He never thought he'd grow so comfortable with anyone seeing them, but here he was.


    He sat back up again when they walked over, leaning up against him and hopefully staying there. Hell, he didn't want country boy getting up again, even if that sounded pathetic. F#ck you, he had his reasons and they were valid. [color=#FCDC3B]"Hey, forget it. It's no big deal." He pushed his thoughts to the side, kissing Cassius's forehead and wrapping one arm around their waist. Look, he hadn't meant to cause any sh!t, it was just a thought he'd thrown out there. He still thought he was crazy for it.


    Shifting the slightest bit, Alfred wrapped his large wings around Cassius all of a sudden, a dorky smile appearing on his face. He placed a trail of light kisses up their neck to their cheek, getting both arms wrapped around their waist at the same time. [color=#FCDC3B]"Gotcha."


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    [size=5pt][color=transparent]© counselor dreamíe

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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=black; 1px solid TRANSPARENT; width: 450px;][fancypost bgcolor=#99342b; border: none;width: 460.5px; height: 40px; margin-top: -5px; margin-left: -15px; padding: 10px;][align=left][align=center][size=4]I'D RATHER KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT[fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; margin-top: -20px;][align=left][size=5]THEN SAY WHAT I CAN'T FINISH![/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; bordercolor=transparent; margin-top: -25px; color: #111111;][align=center][font=arial black]BABY I HAVE LIMITS![/fancypost][/fancypost]
    “TALKING” [i]‘THINKING’     (REFLECTING)

    [fancypost bgcolor=black; border: 1px solid TRANSPARENT; width: 400px; font-size: 9.5px; line-height: 11px; text-align: justify; color: TRANSPARENT; font-family: verdana; margin-top: 3.5px; margin-right: 00px; padding: 4px;]

    Cassius sad there , leaning over again to look at his hands. He moved his fingers a bit. His eyes weren't focused on anything as he tossed around the results of the test he did earlier. Alfred told him, hey. It wasn't a big deal. The ghost of a smile formed on his tan features. His head flopped against their side. With a content little sigh, he closed his eyes. From there, he got a kiss on the forehead. They shifted and wrapped their arm around his waist. Instinctively, a hand moved to meet theirs. “A'ight.” His monotone voice sounded indifferent, but the context said something else about the situation. He was just being thoughtful was all.

    A hand reached for the rose.

    Before he could grab it fully, a plume of feathers and wings had blocked him from getting it. As if he was never reaching for the rose, he put a hand on the feathery wings. His eyes still twinkled as he looked over them, then ever his man. See, he didn't figure out Alfred had these until just recently. He still had the curiosity of a child about them, and he just loved poking around them and asking too many questions. It's funny, since this could clearly be scientifically explained with the coma theory - (He wasn't sure what time this was. For all he knew, in this world it wasn't 2009, the year it was in his own life. It could of been hundreds of thousands of years in the future after the age of biogenetic engineering or natural mutations and natural selection. Wings gave Alfred, and ...Alfred's parents(?) an edge on the competition, which meant his family lived the longest, which means they had a higher probability of passing on their genes, therefore....making them part of a superior race of super humans or somethin'. He thought having a dystopian boyfriend who sort of resembled an angel was really cool. If he didn't know no better, this could have almost been enough to restore his long lost religious faith.) which was still a thing he liked to toss around a lot. It was easier to grasp then a multiverse theory, which resembled something along the lines of an imagination. His was killed off long ago.

    They shifted again, and suddenly they were kissing up his neck. A f#ck – he wasn't ready. That tickled. Maybe he could ask for a do over. His head raised a bit, a sort of breathy wheeze leaving his mouth when he finally made eye contact with them. He made eye contact after they kissed his cheek. Both Of their arms where around his waist now. Cassius Maxwell wasn't a touchy guy, that made the touches he did allow sort of sacred in a way. That’s why he relaxed into their arms and stopped thinking about all those other things that didn't matter. Existential theories? F#ck that. See, he clearly had to give this moment his full, undivided attention now. “Gotcha.” To make the position less awkward, he moved himself onto their lap. Now,, he reached past the feathers for the rose. He grabbed at nothing, then he had it. It was in his fingers. He pulled it up.

    The usually pokerfaced country boy held the rose in his mouth now, he wiggled his eyebrows a little bit. He pet their head with a hand. He then took the rose out of his mouth, this time placing it where it should have been. On the table behind the couch. Now he was good. Full, undivided attention. He swore. He just had to stop with the theories, the hallucinations...And he had to stop f#ckin' thinking about that alien theory he had. That sh!t wasn't relevant right now. Alfred. Focus on Alfred. Sober up brain, focus. He slid his hands up their scarred up arms until they rested on the others shoulders. Alfred kept blowing their bangs of their face. Cassius just sort of basked in the glow of their features. His poker face didn't shift for a second, but he was thinking about how they looked like one of those guys on those...perfume adverts. “Dang it, I s'pose I'm trapped.” He had this trashy way of saying 'dang' as if he was giving It all the affection your average swear word would get. Somehow he made anything sound vulgar. Maybe it was the drawl.

    “Maybe you're the one who's trapped.” He suggested, brushing their hair back himself and holding their gaze for a bit, quiet voice holding a bit of a challenge there. He leaned in for another kiss. Then he stopped moments before the actual kiss, just leaning in and stopping less than a centimeter away from their lips, chuckling like a criminal who'd just gotten away with f#ckin' murder. Real kind son, totally not being an ass to his boyfriend. He kissed them on the nose lightly, scooting forward while he wrapped his arms around their shoulders, giving them an actual kiss this time. He made sure to hold it for a long time. An innocent kiss for the man.


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    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=BLACK;border:1px; BLACK;width:470px;height:autopx;font-family:verdana;color:#99342b;line-height:11px;letter-spacing:.5px;font-size:7.5pt][b][color=darkgrey]☆-I'm singing 'la la la' in empty rooms that carry sounds like hollow caves
    [size=6pt]'La la la' just to prove you're not the only one that can occupy a borrowed space
    [/fancypost][font=verdana][color=snow][sub] [color=darkgrey] plot [color=darkgrey]+     [color=darkgrey]8tracks [color=darkgrey]+     [color=darkgrey]appearence [color=darkgrey]+    [color=darkgrey] info
    [fancypost borderwidth=0px;border-bottom:2px solid SNOW;width:470px;margin-top:-9px][/fancypost]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 400px; font-size: 8pt;text-align:justify; line-height: 120%][fancypost bgcolor=; border:0px; width: 75px; height: 75px; float: left;][/fancypost] He liked his wings, most of the time. He could probably fly relatively well at this point if he worked on it, but he kinda...gave up. Besides, he wasn't a fan of the feeling he got every time he crashed. Not really the pain so much, that he was used to. He didn't want to see a burning plane every time he hit the ground.


    However, the wings did give him some reasons to like them. His favorite use was wing cuddles, and he doubted that would change. Besides, Cass always looked so cute when they inspected and questioned them like they did. He could see their eyes light up, like now, and it just gave him a happy feeling in his chest that he didn't usually get to experience.


    See, that was the thing. He wasn't happy, not while causing trouble with Tara, not while he was hanging with Frightfur and Lucien, not even when he was doing his job as a bodyguard, which should have taken his mind off things. Nope, none of it truly made him happy. Don't get him wrong, he was really good at faking the whole thing, all the while feeling empty and like he was missing something. It was just like a hole where his heart should have been, no feeling, no joy, no nothing. He couldn't tell if his emotions were shutting down because his depression was strangling the life out of them, or if he just didn't feel satisfied. He was pretty sure it was the depression, though. He just...felt it. Being unsatisfied meant you still cared, at least a little bit. He didn't care at all, he wasn't happy. Not until he got home. See, that was a different story entirely.


    He hadn't thought he'd be happy again, nor did he think it possible to be happy at all. But here he was, arms wrapped around the one person he actually did give a sh!t about. His only f#ck in life was given to Cass, which was a great honor, because after that he had none left.


    He laughed quietly when they held the rose in their mouth there, petting his head. Ladies and gentlemen, this was the quiet loser who barely talked to anyone in a normal, social situation. No, but seriously, Cassius was adorable. He'd feel that way until the end of time, though he never said it out loud. You know, Cass had a manly reputation to keep up.


    “Maybe you're the one who's trapped.”


    [color=#FCDC3B]"You're probably right." There was a bit of blushing from him when they pushed his hair back, and he smiled like the dork he truly was. The personality under the mask of anger and snarky comments. He just smirked when they kissed him on the nose, right after teasing him like they did. How cold. There was no need to complain though, he did get his kiss. It was good and pure and innocent. It was nice. After the sh!t he had to go through, this was more comforting than anything else he could think of outside his home and from anyone else besides his man. Nothing could beat that, beat this. F#ck, he really loved this man lots. So, so much.


    He moved one hand from their waist up their back, actually hugging them so it was more comfortable. As they kissed him he sucked on their bottom lip gently, deciding against biting or anything like that. Innocent and pure sh!t right here.


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