Meow~

He might not be in touch with his own emotions but he surely does notice when yours changes, the way you’d sigh even more than usual when you’re in his presence, the way you wouldn’t look up at him as much with those beautiful doll eyes when he speaks to you or how your cheeks remain untainted by red when he teases you as per usual. Yang wouldn’t speak on it at first but his brow sure does raise when it continues throughout the day until he becomes irritated at the abnormalities, “Speak… what is it that’s bothering you?” His golden eyes may appear as cold when he forces you to gaze up at him, gripping at your chin tightly but you know the strange emotions that linger despite those few dangerous seconds of silence in between. “It’s n-nothing, I’m fine. Really.” You can see the way his eyes narrow, grip tighten at your chin before he simply dismisses everyone with a simple — “Leave. All of you.” Lan and Fei merely wish you good luck before leaving, followed by the others.

Yang almost immediately ushers you onto his lap when he finally has you alone, a usually rough and harsh hand rests gently at your waist as he pulls you closer. It is uncharacteristic of him to possess such gentle touch as if he’s touching a China Doll, it’s frightening and that alone makes you shiver. Despite knowing how easy it would be for Yang to end your life right there and then, you couldn’t help but to melt into his touch. Eyes becoming more glossy as yours met his shimmering golden ones, “Now, tell me. What’s bothering you? I won’t ask again. Unless you want me to force it out of you.” Those tears didn’t fall because of his harsh words or the wicked grin across his lips but rather of comfort, after all, it isn’t often that Yang care for you like this. It didn’t take long before those sniffles became soft cries as he dry your tears with the pad of his thumb, “If you ever show this face to anyone else… I’ll kill you.”

Seeking comfort from a man like him is almost bittersweet, having to guess whether it is an empty threat or a literal threat when words come spilling from his lips. But Yang knows better, though his interest in keeping you on your toes even during moments like this remains— he knows you need him. “Let it out… I’ll just have to hold you accountable for dirtying me later.”

DANTE FALZONE

he resigns himself to immutable culpability, unable to be eroded by the shifting sands of time. his thoughts are consumed by all his missteps, how he should've proceeded when reconciling his feelings for you. dante assumes full responsibility for his inaction, though he's unwilling to explore the nuance of your feelings for someone else— was it truly a matter of words unsaid or was he never a contender altogether? this must be fate, and he believes in its permanence. just as you can never love him, he will never love again. he did this to himself, and so, he must accept the consequences. dante walks a tightrope of detachment... or so he would like to believe. in actuality, the only rope between the two of you is the one you've unknowingly fashioned into a marionette string. he's a helpless puppet, still manipulated by you. while dante denies his interest in you, he's still swayed by each and every of your decisions, miraculously and devotedly showing up whenever you need him. dedicated to you even as you pledge yourself to another. it's sinful for a man of god to idolize another, yet dante worships you as he always has, words of dissent empty.

the scant hours of sleep that he's allotted are spent committing you to memory. he's fearful of your commitment to another, how it could cause a rift between you and him, and that you will be fated to the hollow existence of a memory. dante tosses beneath sheets, each woven fabric burdening his mind, the stitching scratching at him as if the ask the grating question: were his tracks covered?

it was dante's personal mission to ensure that there was no confusion about his feelings towards you, that he had never once thought of the union of the two of you. he would politely soak up whatever information you cared to share about the object of your affection, only to wring it out with despair in private, oscillating between a never ending cycle of why isn't that me? and it's my fault it ended up this way. the only place things are as they once were are in his dreams, but his reality was far too soul crushing to inspire any fantasies.

GILBERT REDFORD

there's no honor in suffering in silence. he resists allowing this development to spiral the three of you into melodrama, refusing to sensationalize his descent into despondency. instead, gil embodies a chivalrous mindsent, asserting that this is certainly a matter of the best man winning. he's not a man to adopt a fatalistic approach to the relationship between the two of you. rather, gil demonstrates his attributes fairly, broadcasts his affections valiantly. never once does he make it about the person you're interested, as all gil's efforts are reserved to build the two of you up rather than tear down whomever has captured your heart. there is somewhat of a high to indulge in during this battle, though gil would resent to have it reduced to some game. he takes the two of you seriously, and if in the end he cannot measure to your standards, gil loses with grace. that's not to say it wouldn't tear him up, but your happiness takes precedent. what kind of man would he be otherwise?

"i'll tell you every chance you give me," gil purred. his lithe fingers encircled your wrist as you turned from him, and he exacted the perfect amount of grace in twirling you back into his chest. your eyesight became an onslaught of pinstripes, mind eased by that warm carmalized scent. "there's nothing i want more than you." slowly, gil's hands found their way to your waist, and when they found no resistence, they continued to traverse. "how shall i prove it today?" it was then that his fingers kneaded the back of your thighs, sinking in and hoisting you into his arms. with your legs secure around his midsection, a cheeky grin blossomed across gil's face. "like i said, i'll tell you how much i want for you at every turn... but what does it really mean if i don't back it up with actions?"

NICOLA FRANCESCA

his yearning for you is suspended in the frozen lake in the cavernous final depth of hell. never would nicola francesca betray such a sentiment before your very eyes. of course, he's liable to tease you when you begin to stray too far outside his reach. nicola has watched you fawn over another for quite some time, and as the days become weeks and the weeks become months, he percolates over the thought of pulling the rug out from beneath the object of your affection. the musing drips through the cracks of his better judgement like some form of torture, and he ultimately capitulates to the need to actualize his attachment to you in the form of sinking his fangs into the one that caught your eye. whatever deeper feelings nicola allows to remain unsaid between the two of you, he allows himself to take out on others, all the while causing whiplash to you. it's an intense game of hot and cold until he intimidates your darling into abandoning whatever was coming to fruition between you. with the satisfaction of your liberation set before him, nicola finally raises his glass to toast his feast: you.

"where's that little bird you used to hang around you?" his voice remained even, unassuming as the two of you fell into simultaneous step. with practiced fluidity, nicola eased the bag you were carrying to his own arms, playing up the angle of nobility he was perceived to harbor. "that's a shame." nicola whistled upon hearing that things were left unresolved between you and them. just for a moment, he allowed his veneer to evanesce and the ghost of malice manifested on his face in the shape of a smile. nicola had made short work of your darling, subtly bullying them into giving you the cold shoulder. never would he so flagrantly threaten the life of an innocent party, but he would not take responsibility for their fears coming to such a conclusion. "what do you say to a cafe au lait to make up for it? it'll be my treat." nicola sank into the shared routine you two shared. he had felt a progressive sense of urgency to rid the obstacle between the two of you, though now that it was eliminated, why not resume that teasing speed until his resolve was finally broken?

ORLOK

he's hyperaware of you, yet lacks the literacy to read your feelings on that person you're always eyeing. orlok just knows it's different. he knows that he's not reflected in your eyes in such a tender manner. what begins with a hunch actualizes before his very eyes. much like dante, orlok is met with the proclamation of your love; however, it's not for him. he's not equipped to process this unrelenting sensation of loss, as he had failed to discern the bleeding gradations of his feelings for you. it stunts his ability to articulate his confusion, and orlok's days are tainted by apprehension. never once does his presence waver, but he finds himself second guessing what it means to do all these things for you when you defer to someone else first now. you rely on him less. is this him fading into irrelevancy? in desperation, orlok seeks the guidance of gil. clarity. that's all he needs. even if it meant his worst fears were unraveling before him.

he observes your hand clasped into another's, mulling over gil's words. it was an unintentional bout of a day late and a dollar short, which he was told implies that there is a lack of time and care put into something. apparently it was no fault of his own, mostly whatever knowledge he lacked. the corner of orlok's lips twitched in latent frustration. he was beginning to feel less of your equal and far more inferior as he obsessed over gil's words. this was inadequacy. and now you knew. you also understood orlok as inadequate. he was too young, too unsocialized, too unaware. the insecurity festered within him like some disease to which he was helpless in finding a cure for. whatever experience orlok required, he only desired to acquired from your active tutelage. instead, he would have to assume the rather passive teachings of gil, gradually learning to sort out the deeper feelings he had for you. orlok was willing to see this through, from a spark to a blaze and, if it so happened, to a snuffed flame. even if it weighed heavy on the two of you, orlok couldn't withstand the unknown. when the two of you were alone, he childishly questioned you: "what do you see me as? a younger brother?" fearing that he would never be a man in your eyes.

YANG

you were just as temporary as all things in life. nothing other than a fleeting pleasure, an ephemeral euphoria. while he mostly regards you with his usual disinterest, there are seemingly random, unprompted outbursts of his chagrin for being left in the dust. yang was possessive. to him, every union was a flag of fealty swaying in the wind, and he expected you to yield to his calling, declaring loyalties when he demanded them. now there were no longer any rendezvous to speak of between the two of you, and he was beginning to resent that perhaps it wasn't you that was a temporary fixture in his life but rather himself a temporary fixture in yours. what complex feelings for someone who wanted to entertain none of it. the thought of you was beginning to metastasize like a cancer. he blames you when he's angry, he disregards you when he can rely on someone else to fill the void in the shape of desire. he knows the mere sight of him lingering around you will scare away your new toy, and so he seeks to spoil all your fun.

"watch them run with their tail between legs." tendrils of smoke unfurled behind your head, distorting the retreating back of your darling. a haze of yang's smoke clouded your vision, though it was whisked away by him emerging into your direct line of sight. "what feeble provocation..." yang drawled, jaw tightening. "you're going to have a lot of making up to do for all this running around you've been doing." yang's hand grasped at the back of your neck, roughly canting your head so you could both make uninhibited eye contact. "it's rather annoying when my possessions grow legs that run with their thoughts. you're not just anyone, you're mine." his face was fearsome, twisted cruelly, before it conjured up images of bloodlust. "don't mistake this for some petty competition... i'll thoroughly dispose of anyone that thinks it is."

SECRET ROUTE

he's much older, and often the adage is with age comes wisdom... though the latter half and often unfinished sentiment is that "sometimes age comes alone." was he a wise man... henri wasn't quite sure anymore. wise men didn't foolishly concoct banal, asinine fantasies that hinged on the flighty young things, ones with brighter futures that expanded far outside his scope of possibility. henri was a man wasted, a man with one purpose, and he usually knew better than to let himself get so distracted. he went weeks without popping back into your life, and he was beginning to question if this lunacy was layered. henri was punishing himself to getting enamored, and he was punishing himself for noticing that in the lapse between being in your life that you had found stability elsewhere. he was tormented by this— whatever this was. henri finds himself keeping tabs on your darling, and he makes his disdain known when he digs up the rather unsavory parts of their life. while he agonizes over dedicating himself to you, he disapproves of whatever you have without so much as offering any solutions. henri is passively driving a wedge between you and them, inciting fear in your mind in hopes that you will decide the choice he's implying is the right one: him.

"you have to make the choice," henri urges. his voice is that usual melancholy drone despite his words phrased as a plea. never mind that he often thought ill of his fascination with you, and never mind that that one virtuous part of him couldn't demand that you picked him. he was contradicting himself at every turn, driven to his wit's end, and yet, you were there at every bend in his meandering thoughts. "i..." henri sighed, running his hand through your hair. he wasn't sure what to say. he'd given you all the details. he just hoped you made the right choice in the end in spite of himself. "it's all about what you want." the way he phrased it was like you wanted something bad, though henri wasn't sure if he was the bad thing or your darling was, even as he campaigned against them.