Bullseye

“Usually people eat cake if they like it, they don’t just stab at it.” Francis said softly, watching Del pick at his food. “You know Octavia?” /do you only like her for the food as well? Do you let her see you like this too?/ He swallowed back the burning…jealousy? Why was he jealous? Why did he care? Del was never his to be jealous about and now more than ever he shouldn’t /want/ him. “I uhm…let me know when.” He said, part of him wishing he could leave and go curl up in his bed where it was dark and quiet and safe. But if this was the last chance he had to be with del like this…even if he wasn’t supposed to want it, even if it hurt…he wanted it to last.

Francis couldn’t help but stare just a little. He tried hard not to but it was rare that he got to see Del out of armor, and he figured he wouldn’t get too many chances after this. He blinked, sliding the cake across the table. “Octavia made it. Help yourself.” He hoped he didn’t notice the many sidelong glances at him, his face, mouth, collarbone. /not yours./ He swallowed thickly, gazing down at the table. “I uhm…thank you…for agreeing to help me. It means a lot. If there’s anything I can do-i know I don’t have a lot of useful skills…yet, but let me know.”

Del swallowed down the ache of already missing Francis’ old demeanor and buried it as far as it would go. “Thanks,” he muttered, picking up the little fork beside the cake slice and taking a tentative bite. “Uh- don’t mention it, but- there was one thing, actually, that I think you might be able to pay me back with...” He took a deep breath, propping his elbow on the table so he could rest his head on it, run his fingers through his hair nervously. “Listen. You’re- into that fancy dance shit, right? Well, this is stupid. but when I was younger I’d always wanted to learn how to ballroom dance, and I never got around to it. Pretty fuckin’ obviously. I- Maybe... maybe...” He flicked his gaze up back at Francis for no more than a second, quickly returning them to the cake, which he was now too embarrassed to eat.

[Txt] Well you don’t have to feel responsible for me anymore. [txt, unsent] you don’t have to feel anything for me anymore. [txt] you can come meet me in the kitchen or the training room. [txt, a few minutes later] do you like cake?

[txt] It’s not right to have everyone else get blood on their hands just so mine can stay clean. [txt] I realize that now and I’m sorry I made you or anyone else feel responsible for me. I don’t want to do that any more and I won’t. 

[txt] I don’t want you to do it for me. [txt] I don’t want you or anyone else getting hurt trying to look after me. [txt] For once I want to be the one to hit back.

[draft txt] It’s kind of funny how yesterday I would have been over the moon to know that you care about me and today I’d give just about anything to know that you don’t. [draft txt] Maybe that’s just sad? It’s hard to tell which is which. [draft deleted] [draft txt] Thank you for trying to save me again. I’m sorry that you can’t this time. I’m sorry that even if you could I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorrysorrysorrysorrysor [draft deleted] [draft txt] I hope someone happens to you the same way you happened to me. I hope they make you happy. I wish- [draft deleted] [txt] Show me how to kill someone.

Francis blinked, looking down at the crushed up cardboard box on the floor. “That’s a box silly, that’s not a friend! I’llll be your friend!” He snickered, crowding into the other’s space. “I really need friends! And I can make out better than a juice box!” He smiled up at them, letting himself slump with his arms around their neck for support. “And I make lemonade! I can make you lemonade in the kitchen cause there’s like 18 lemons for the drinks but they only need like 5 and stuff. But first we should dance so your thirsty!”  He laughed, tugging the other weakly towards the dance floor. “C’mon this is my jaaaam I wanna dance with you! Cause you’re nice looking and I killed your juice friend.”

Oh. Oh jesus fuck no no no no no. This guy might be kind of cute but RO wasn’t fucking with any drunks tonight, that was a promise he’d made to himself. And to his beloved juice box. Rest in peace, sweet prince. You were a precious rarity among the infinite garbage that was both the attendants and the refreshment options of this godawful party. “No- No, let’s fucking, not do that. Yeah. No making out,” he recommended, squirming under the arms of the kid trying to escape. “Oh my god- Listen, I need time to mourn my friend and plan the funeral and shit. If you want to dance, go ahead, but I’m just gonna stay here... you.” Oh, balls. He’d done that out of force of habit and now the guy was gonna think he wanted to know his name. RO knew how this shit panned out- next it was gonna be his whole goddamn life story. No. No no no no no. Abort.

Francis giggled as he drained his cup, letting his tongue run along the plastic rim before he tossed it into what he hoped was the bag of recyclables. Did people have recycle bags at parties. People should totally have recycle bins at parties for mother earth and stuff. He hummed happily at the idea, swaying back and forth to the music blaring from the next room and giggling a lil as he wandered towards it. Man he wanted to dance. Dance and then make out. Lots of making out. God he was gonna make out so much. Make out with all the people ever ever. As he stumbled his way towards the main room he accidentally bumped someone, giggling a lil as he turned. “Sorry!” He managed to slur at them, waving and smiling. “I’m so drunk ‘m not straight….no wait…no I’m not straight like aaaall the time. I can’t see straight cause I’m drunk that’s the one.”

[txt] Dude for sure. You an Nel were like family. [txt] If it’s somethin for Nel I’m your man.