1. a colour intermediate between red and blue.

we all just suffer, 'cause no one feels that bad  independent multimuse oc please read rules before interacting | heavy trigger warning

　　Head already a little jostled, along with the nose and being pulled, she pinches the bridge of her nose once she still again, brows furrowed as her head loops the tiniest bit. Tipsy still isn't great for being dragged around, and she thinks about hitting Seto before he's able to talk over the new wave of music, and reminds her that she's the one who was worried in the first place.

　　“Oh,” She says, staring up at him, with an expression she'd describe as dumb if she saw it. “Okay... You're acting really weird. It's freaking me out.”

　　Even with the music somehow being quieter than Elliot's loud-ass fucking voice, the confusion and movement has her feeling a little overwhelmed. She rummages in her pockets for a second, and then glances around, before her eyes land on an exit.

// " I... I am? "

This was a surprise to Seto. Sure, there were people he'd never act this vulnerable around. Clients, strangers, people he barely knew... but his inner circle, though rare, had seen this side of him at least once. Perhaps this illusion of closeness he had built with Tem... somewhere along the way, he had begun treating her like she already knew him. Not with any conscious effort to deceive, but rather he never felt the need to up until now.

After all... Seto really liked her.

Enough apparently, that he forgot there were sides of him she had never met.

He couldn't stop. Not until he'd rifled through every sheet. Every single note. Every single factoid about her. His eyes scanned over and over--re-reading in case he had somehow missed a key word that might clue him in.

But there was nothing.

There had to be something.

Pupils constricted as he crammed the papers close to his face. He was long past the point of hiding his desperation. His frustration. He perplexing loss at the situation. His fingers felt dry and raw over the edge of the pages.

Was he a masochist? The way that he was looking for blame? Why did he want it so bad? Why did he want her to despise him? Why did that feel fair? Why--why did he care so much about it being fair?

He ruined her life.

He caused her death.

WHY WASNT SHE ANGRY AT HIM?

Oliver dismissed himself from the room. Louis remained in his spot. Papers were abandoned on the table as he held his face. As he heard CZ start to speak, he interrupted.

"--don't--don't tell me anything comforting." He snapped. "I know whatever melt down I'm having doesn't make sense. I know--" He felt his throat tighten against the strain of his words. His chin dimpled.

"--I don't get it."

"I deserve it. I sincerely deserve it. To be hated. To be scorned. To be despised--I deserve all that. I always deserved it. I'm a piece of shit that profited off her fucking misery."

"...why isn't she mad at me?"

"Why does knowing I got off scott free hurt worse than being blamed."

// Cheng Zhi let the quiet settle for a moment. He only could imagine the type of thoughts running rampant through Louis' mind. He sat close and didn't get up, but he didn't reach to touch him for now.

He doesn't tell Louis that he's wrong, nor that he's right. That was never his prerogative. In these short three years he had known him, he knew that as soon as Louis decided he was deserving of punishment, he would seek it out even if there was none. And tragically, no amount of love Cheng Zhi could provide would change that.

Cheng Zhi quietly began gathering up the papers, tucking them all neatly into a pile. He poured water from the little jug that stood stagnant for the hour that they searched and slid the cup towards Louis.

" I don't know what Petra thought. " He finally said. " Neither would these papers. "

He didn't expect to be pulled into him. There was a short burst of shock, the need to remind CZ that they were somewhere public. But he knew, duh...and nevertheless, he was doing it. A gentle kiss in his hair. It was simple, gentle. And yet, it was somewhat comforting. More than he anticipated with his vague explanations.

"The last thing I wanna do is interrogate people about her last words. That's just implicating the hell outta myself and asking for trouble." Louis groaned at the thought. "It's a nice thought though, thank you. Sorry, don't mean to shit on it." He lingered in his hold for a minute until it felt too crowded to do so, pulling away just as the waitress was bringing their meal.

"Regardless of the final reason...it's my fault. The source of the issue is me." He eventually answered. He seemed bothered by that statement, restless. Guilty. He didn't seem willing to take the dismissal of his wrongdoings. He almost laughed at the thought, really. "I'm making a profit off them. Any blood that's spilled is on me. Its that simple."

// " Don't be sorry. It's a mere suggestion, not an order. "

No use being bitter about it. What Louis wanted, was Cheng Zhi to provide of course, but his love extended far enough that he could accept the areas he could not fill.

Later, like Louis had said, Oliver was a resourceful one. Cheng Zhi wondered how much he was paid to have gathered everything within a day. By the evening, a thick folder lay in front of Louis and he wasted no time in looking through it.

Police reports, inventories. Medical records, financial statements. Enough paper to account for an entire life. At some point Cheng Zhi joined the two in flipping through it all. Searching for a name.

Estimated Time of Death: Unknown Manner of Death: Apparent Suicide. Asphyxiation. The body was discovered in a state of advanced decay, estimated 10-20 days.

Then her age. Her sex. Date of birth. But no name.

No diary.

No letters.

No final statement.

No note addressed to anyone.

Not even a page torn from a notebook.

Cheng Zhi had stopped reading several minutes ago.

Louis hadn't.

He continued turning pages one after another, eyes scanning lines of numbers and official stamps as though a confession might suddenly appear between them.

For a moment, Cheng Zhi found himself wondering whether the neighbors had stolen it.

Whether the police had misplaced it.

Whether Oliver's contact had missed something.

Then he understood. They were all asking the same question.

Not where the note was.

Whether there had ever been one at all.

His gaze drifted back to Louis. Perhaps that's why he kept looking. Because if there were no note... there was no answer. No explanation, no blame or anyone to forgive. Her silence would grant him no relief, the perfect punishment. And what was worse was that she probably hadn't intended this.

She was a statistic. A line on the ledger. But Louis turned her into a name, a person. He searched for a personal connection that never existed and he was right. He didn't know her at all.

It would be normal to notice these things, but when clouded with adoration for his one and only being in his presence at all times, away from the world of bother, hidden with hood and even venturing without needed escort most nights - only meant great things to this Wyvern. He didn't need to look out for humans being rude, nor harmful, he didn't need to seek out disguises always to visit his delight in taverns or inns, to waste money upon food of diners or watch them leave him for long hours at the gates because he didn't want to venture into the human nests any more that week.

So, no - in the hindsight of his beloved being solo in his life was not seen as a bad thing. Hermits were a valid outcome for many creatures with knowledge seeking needs. Luit saw his mate as nothing more or nothing less than a man with a mission to learn as much as he could, experiment with his herbal collections and keep his eyes on the ball of his own path forward…

What did catch the Wyvern's eye though was the lack of movement for hours on end. He understood ink stained papers were a world of escape for many, addictive and moreish in every tail recorded, but he also knew that humans needed to eat frequently, often, at set hours of the day much like his own species. The sizes of their stomachs in their current state mimicked that of his human lovers. Though he could eat a lot, it was never a good feeling being full to the brim - so he maintained portions well.

Soup, bread, fruits and cheeses. A good blend of needs for the evening low-lights but when Luit was finished, dished up even - he called for his Ueda, only to be silenced out. Believing them to be finishing a paragraph - he sat at the table. He ate, slow… then stopped. An hour, two… by the half, he moved from the table to reach out and slither his fingers through the auburn strands of their head. Scratching light with nails and directing their head backwards. "Ueda… mate, it's been two and half hours since I called you." Gaze moves, left eye before the right - locking onto the book with a curious glance over the etchings but seeing it wasn't anything too complex, he didn't question it.

// " Mhn...? Ah-! " His eyes moved together with the text, his mind not fully registering that his book was lifted out from his hands. He hadn't even felt Luit's initial gesture to his hair. It was a low blow placing the book so high up in the pile, but it was the right choice, as Ueda's hands had begun to follow it, only to stop short when he recognized the futility of reaching it without gathering a stool.

Ueda wiggled his legs that swung free, like a naughty housecat caught doing something bad. Back on his feet again, Ueda felt the urge to hug Luit, and he didn't fight it, wrapping his arms soothingly around him. His scent was homely and reminded him of how stiff and tired he felt from sitting there so long. Perhaps that was why he didn't allow himself to spoil his body by cuddling up to Luit, it would be impossible to get back to studying.

" Hard...? Well... something like that. " Ueda released himself quickly from the embrace and sat himself down in front of the food, thanking Luit for his efforts and digging in before his mind could drift into thought.

True, the books he read were simple in nature. Maybe one or two rare tomes, but they were never hard to understand. How these text connected to each other would be an enigma, the only hint connecting them were that they were themed with human physiology.

"No--I mean, yes, but that's not the main issue." Louis started. "I..." He stopped.

...Sera had been talking to him about CZ recently too. And though they talked, CZ promised that he could be trusted, Louis found himself wondering if it was truly safe to be vulnerable with him, too.

He didn't feel like he had anyone to talk to. At the same time though, would he really say anything?

"...she's was someone I knew." He answered softly. "Someone way too fucking young to be killing themselves. If she implicated me, it'd be valid, though I don't want it for obvious reasons so now I've gotta check that shit. Then there's telling the other workers and dealing with that. If word gets to Frederich if there is some kinda uproar, I odn't want him sniffing around in my districts." Ugh. He already had a migraine. And he knew that he shouldn't. If it were Frederich, he wouldn't lose sleep over it. He shouldn't. Yet...he did.

Eventually he leaned on the table, running his hands down his face, pulling on his eyelids and cheeks to try and drag some fatigue off them to no avail.

// There it was. Louis was swallowing guilt that wasn't his. He could say that his attention to the situation was pure business, but it now seemed like he was searching for an answer, a meaning to her death. There must have been something that led to it being so sudden, she had been living fine for a while and now without reasoning, like on a whim, she decided it was time.

Was it foul play after all? Cheng Zhi thought, as he pulled Louis' head into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. He could care less who saw at the moment. " She must have been significant enough... was she a popular person at the establishments? Maybe people closer to her would be able to tell you what she was thinking in her last moments. The last thing I want for you is throwing energy blindly when it could be nothing at all. "

He found himself obsessing over it throughout the day. Sam's statement festered in his brain, all their interactions rolled themselves over in his skull. He kept pondering what he could have done differently to change it. Could he change it? Had he really done the most that he could?

Did he even have the right to ask that?

It was his fault. He could hear her scoffing as he said that, but he remained certain of it. It was his fault.

He wondered...if he had died, ended it before this like he fantasized time and time again. If he died in the club the night he overdosed...would she have lingered for longer? Taken the medical treatment from Sam or someone else? Or was he as disgusting as she thought he was for wondering if his life might have been enough to change her plans--

--he hadn't realized that he'd been lost in the thought again until CZ reached for him. The touch of his hand made him realize he was tense, fists clenched. He relaxed them, looking at the indentations of his nails into his palms. He felt how stiff he was from holding that position, a rough snort of air through his nose as he forced himself to relax. A weak smile was offered up to CZ.

"I'm good." He started, adjusting himself in the booth. "What are we getting?" There was a pause, a breath of silence.

// " I already ordered. " Louis had already forgotten that he have waved at something random on the menu.

" To not wait up or worry for you when you're like this, is asking the impossible of me. Are you worried over being implicated? We will find a solution... " Cheng Zhi knew that this was not the answer, but part of him hoped that it still was. It was the easiest to resolve. All it took was a couple hundred to line someone's pockets and Louis would be himself again.

"I don't know what she'd do. That's the problem..." Louis sighed, starting to pull at his hair subtly instead as he thought it over. "She hated my fucking guts--but wanted me to know that she would never revel in it. But also--" ...but also...

--he wasn't sure what he'd find more comforting either; her thinking him irrelevant or her hating him loudly and proudly. He stewed in that thought until the stench of the carpets teetered him over the edge, pulled back to reality as CZ was a third-person with no heart in the situation. He was grateful.

"Yeah. I'll get Oliver on it." He sighed, pulling out his phone. Once more, he was careful as he took his steps. Unable to help it though, his eyes fell back down onto the decomposition stain on the carpet. The floor was marred from whatever else had made its way into the house, but there was no denying the outline of a body. He swore he could see how she'd fallen. Where she laid. He could imagine how her flesh shifted. How her body suffered even if she wasn't there--

Its not fair.

It was never fair.

She shouldn't be dead.

He blinked. He took a deep breath. He stepped around the stain, albeit with a glance back.

// There was really no telling what danger Louis might have placed himself in by coming to the apartment instead of waiting for a third party to do so. If the police were watching the place due to whatever information they gathered. Cheng Zhi didn't urge Louis out, but his arms were stiff when he made the gesture out the door.

By leaving the circumstances of her death so public and yet so in the shadows, she must have known that Louis would come running. Just the thought made his blood boil, just what was this woman to him?

For now Cheng Zhi set aside his feelings and burning questions, he had to make sure Louis was somewhere safe. That he was fed, his basic needs met. He would make sure meetings were attended to on time, anything to keep Louis from thinking too much about it, even if futile.

This was all his fault.

Why was it Petra that was dead?

Sam was right. The place was a fucking mess. It reeked, sour in that special way that only came from rotted flesh. It was tore to hell. You could see where the cheap jewelry box was ransacked. The fridge and panty doors open for people seeing what free shit they could grab.

He squeezed CZ's hand back lazily before separating to take a step in. Even if he didnt want to, he felt it was necessary. He kicked up the papers with a shoe as he went along, seeing if there was anything important. His sole hesitated at a decomp stain, meandering away from it after a long stare, a ponder of how long she sat. Was it flies that made people call? He no one checked in on her sooner? He slipped gloves on before starting to open the drawers. A soft huff of breath.

"Jesus." He bitched to himself. "Even if there was something of importance here before, it's gone now. If it was a regular person, that's fine. But I still gotta know what the police have. I fucking hate talking to that correspondent. He's a fucking dick and asks for exuberant prices for bullshit--why am I even doing the talking?" Talking made the scent stronger. He eventually pressed the back of his hand to his face to try and decrease the smell for himself. He stood for a minute before placing the items back.

// Cheng Zhi slunk back a little as Louis combed through the apartment to take a moment to pray for the deceased. He did not know what faith she followed, but it didn't matter, the guesture came as naturally to him as breathing.

He knew Louis took death of anyone under his watch poorly. As if all was due to his own personal failing. But this was different. Whatever ties he had to this woman ran deeper than his responsibility as a manager.

And Cheng Zhi hated not knowing why.

A wound which origins were unknown to him. Grief that he could not understand. All Cheng Zhi knew was that a woman had died, and taking a piece of Louis with her.

" Perhaps... she didn't want to leave anything behind? Would she be the type to leave a note? " Could she have hated Louis this much to implicate him? The papers on the ground were nothing but bills. There was no journal to reveal her thoughts, no paper trail to her bank accounts and certainly no suicide note. Yet the drawers had been overturned with such enthusiasm that Cheng Zhi could not help but wonder if someone had been looking for the same thing they were.

'...she's more free than she could ever be.'

"Yeah..." His tone was flat. He felt like that was a shitty answer. Shitty that they had to say that death is a freedom. Shitty that death was the only option she felt she had...--

whatever.

He exited the facility. He tried to maintain his composure, but found his breath shuddering when he was finally out of the building. His chin dimpled, a frown pressing. It sustained itself painfully for a few seconds before he caught himself. He blinked a few times, a soft swear under his breath. Trying to maintain himself, he unlocked the car and sat himself inside quietly, turning the ignition and putting on his seatbelt.

"Tell my assistant to cancel the next meeting. I have to stop at a couple places." He mumbled. His hand ran through his hair, catching on a few curls sustained with gel. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to do any of this fucking shit today, or any day. "Petra's dead. And the fucking police have already been sniffing around." He took a breath as he put the car in reverse.

// Always one to hold it in... perhaps Cheng Zhi could coax it out of him later when he finished all that he needed to do. By his order, Cheng Zhi informed his assistant and kept his hands to himself after.

" If she passed away by her own hands, it's likely that her neighbors reported the body, naturally police would come around. " He assumed. If Louis left it alone, it would be ruled a suicide and the case would close... but Cheng Zhi could wager that maybe Louis wanted to see it for himself.

Indeed the place was looted like Sam predicted.

The police had taken the body days ago, and afterward no one seemed interested in the apartment. The door they had forced open still hung crooked on its frame. Word spread quickly through the building that nobody was coming back.

First one person wandered in. Then another. By the end of the week, anything worth carrying had disappeared.

No body, thank god. But the place was wrecked. Papers everywhere, clothes and anything that could hold items overturned. The air carried the sour stench of stale urine and human decay.

"I think its better to make an announcement. Let them say their goodbyes. Even if it starts some drama, some of them were close." He already heard Frederich bitching about it. Letting them 'get in hysterics' over a 'common whore', he would say. He was encouraging emotions in work. It was what made him weak and disliked amongst the owners, he was risking their livelihood because he couldn't harden himself. The condemnation continued to droll on in his head, but he continued to suppress it for his own sense of justice.

Justice...how fucking funny was that choice?

He's a piece of shit.

"So it was the police that found her, not us. That's a whole other set of tasks." He mumbled softly.

He deserved to die. Not her.

"I'll take care of it." Looking at the address on his phone, he tried to acknowledge it with a simple nod. "I'll make sure it is my detective that takes over the case. I'll let the workers know. I'll check out the apartment. Don't worry about it."

Why did she kill herself? Why didn't she accept his help? Why--

// Sam stared him down, hesitating. In the end she gave in.

" Petra believed that her life was over and no matter how much money you and I could offer, it wouldn't have stopped it. I'm sure right now, she's more free than she could ever be. " Louis was her boss, nothing more... but in the end he was a fellow human. She looked away from the final time, busying herself with reports.

-

The morning seemed gloomy whenever they parked outside this establishment. Meetings here were never long, thanks in part to Sam never liking to kiss up, which meant Yin Cheng Zhi did not have time to buy Louis his favorite breakfast. They had a lovely start this morning, Louis could hardly get out of bed without being coaxed with a couple of kisses. He hoped that his mood would keep up after Sam, but given how silently slipped into the driver seat, Cheng Zhi knew he was being optimistic.

The room suddenly felt restrictive and stale. Dirty. The taste in his mouth soured. He felt his throat tighten as he tried to swallow, making it a slow and rough process--breaking the very composure that he was trying to maintain. Here he said he had a guess, but this took him by surprise. His brows twitched slightly. Lips parted slowly before shutting again when he realized he didn't have a professional set of words to give.

She killed herself. She was gone. And--ugh, he hated himself as the first thought was 'she never accepted my help'. Guilt consumed him viciously and seemed to taint the mourning. But at the same time...he didn't know her well enough to truly mourn her besides being a failure of a boss.

And that made him uglier, didn't it?

It's ALL his fault.

"I see." He started simply, trying hard to keep composure. "...she wasn't accepting medicine, I know." He wanted to wipe the sweat from his face but he resisted. "Thank you for arranging the cremation. You know where to send the bill."

// " The other girls don't need to know... but I'm sure they could put two and two together when she stops replying to their texts. " It seemed right to offer condolences, then Sam remember that she was nothing to Louis, nothing significant. It wasn't as if she was a relative or a lover...

But with how sick he looked, she might as well have been. Sam steeled herself, figuring that between the two of them, one had to keep up the composure. It wasn't as if she disliked Petra, the news of her death did make her think: ' What a fucking waste. ' But she sealed her sorrow ages ago, knowing that something like this would happen.

HIS UEDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~!!

// Little mage is out collecting herbs.

"Sam--its early as fuck, you know." He murmured softly, suppressing a yawn with the downward tilt of his chin. It eventually made its way out, slowly. Trying to be subtle, he blinked a few times before settling himself into a chair. He really wasn't a morning person--he half wondered if she scheduled it early because she was hoping bad new would go better if he was half conscious.

Nevertheless, as soon as she called, he came. He had a few guesses on what she might be wanting to discuss. There was a bit of dread that sat in his guts when he came. Always when he came here. He hated it here...

it was suffocating.

// Sam was never one to beat around the bush.

" Petra hung herself. "

She let her statement hang in the air with the smoke, then took a slow drag from her pipe so she wouldn't have to look at Louis. Some tough girl she was, throwing that in his face without even looking him in the eye. She may as well done this over text.