INASSOUVI

Their definitions of meanness differed-- a contronym, similar to the way left means two different things that exist on contrasting ends. One being left behind and the other actively abandoning. Will resigns himself to the best and worst of himself when it comes to her, that rendition of his viciousness manifesting often. Sometimes he is exceptionally cruel, and other times he barricades his bitterness from seeping too deep between them. Malevolence comprises him being unfair as well.

She doesn't look pathetic. Perhaps irresponsible and something vastly misunderstood, Will wanted to renounce their boundaries and pluck away at everything she hid from him. He wanted to know her as thoroughly and intimately as possible, untangling the knot from string and letting the truth fall loose. It was a singular fixation, unfortunately. She found herself at the epicenter of Will’s awareness.

Rosaria was certainly far more forgiving in her version of Will. He, on the other hand, knew better. His mask was soldered to his bone, unable to be removed without doing substantial damage and exposing all the vulnerable organs.

regardless, she will not focus on what she lacks, be it the quality to be human, or in this moment, the lack of choice. her only option sits next to him, offering to move her from the confines of a ward to the confines of his — at least she will eat well.

“ i guess i will have to. ”

she accepts the milkshake, whether approved by the doctor or not. her playfulness is absent under the effect of medication, and so is her fight; by the end of her milkshake, gone is her last shred of patience, and she keeps glancing at the door, waiting for her doctor to come by and discharge her — much like a caged animal. every now and then, she looks at will too. if he weren't here, she might've simply broken her way out.

❝        you  have  the  worst  appetite  in  the  universe  because  you  keep  eating  air  all  day  ,      and  then  eating  butter  potato  chip-flavored  air  when  it's  too  late  for  your  wakened  body  to  process  anything  worth  a  darn  before  you  get  in  bed  .        ❞        yes  ,      he's  taking  a  jab  at  the  lays  .      he  will  always  take  a  jab  at  the  lays  ,      just  because  he  doesn't  like  the  texture  .      they're  so  smooth      --      chips  should  not  be  that  smooth  .      just  the  thought  of  it  makes  his  entire  expression  scrunch  up  like  he's  just  eaten  one  himself  .

the  meals  are  easy  to  prepare  .      he  lets  the  oven  heat  up  while  he  takes  them  out  of  the  box  and  pokes  little  slits  into  the  plastic  covering  .        ❝        do  sharks  scream  ?        ❞        he  asks  that  ,      pauses  for  a  moment  ,      and  realizes  ,      a  second  later  ,      that  she  might  be  talking  about  humans  screaming  .      a  very  reasonable  assumption  to  make  when  she's  making  mutant  two-headed  jaws  :      sharksharknado  .        ❝        never  mind  .      yes  ,      i  can  make  the  shark  noises  .      and  the  screams  .        ❞        he's  still  wondering  what  sharks  sound  like  .      will  they  roar  ?      can  mutant  sharks  technically  roar  ?      does  it  even  matter  since  they're  not  real  sharks  ?      maybe  one  of  the  heads  has  vocal  chords  to  do  all  the  roaring  .

❝        okay  .      can  you  turn  the  movie  on  while  i  wait  for  the  oven  ?        ❞        while  she  does  that  ,      he  triple  checks  to  make  sure  he's  got  the  oven  preheated  to  the  right  temperature  .      he  only  has  to  check  he's  set  the  timer  right  twice  once  he  places  it  in  there  .      and    ...      start  .

his vendetta against lays makes her giggle; such a silly man at such a silly age. his complaint against her irregular eating habits, however, is accepted without pushback. she has been better with meals, now that he is in her life for good, only derailed when she hits specific manic episodes.

for every ten movies they watch, one or two will manage to capture ryland grace's attention; even then, he is prone to distractions, especially one named after her. still, her passion leans towards obsession, which is why she had developed a habit of offering him the privilege to her personal narration to the few movies she finds important.

“ this movie is kinda yuck. ” it needs to be studied, how casually his vocabulary bleeds into hers, replacing pointed, sharp syllables with softer, cuter sounds. “ but i'm sure you won't be fazed. you have a talent in closing your eyes when it gets exciting. ”

once he settles next to her, she clutches onto his arm naturally, running fingers over his scars for routine inspection; they don't ooze but often flare in fever and redness. she reaches for her ice cream cup and runs its side over the hypertrophic ridges, then hands him another, not at all considering how he is supposed to eat with only one free hand.

five minutes in, together (2025) already tells you what will happen: like the dogs, the protagonists are going to drink from the underground pond; like the dogs, they are going to fuse into one. while whether love demands absolute unity or not seems to be the theme, it is nonetheless a stimulating film with plenty of body horror; however, it won't reveal the linkage between shark wedding and surgery until the eighty-minute mark, which means a handful of nauseating scenes.

as predicted, grace is half asleep on her shoulder when they hit the forty-four minute mark. they have finished their ice cream cups, swapping flavours half way through, now both reclined at a lazy angle. the oven's timer goes off in the kitchen, and rosaria only locks her arms around him in response.