Professional Overthinker

To dance he needed a song, and so he hummed a careless tune, utterly, entirely meaningless. And yet it meant everything to him, this lightness in his chest, the void in his mind.

Nothing meant anything anymore, so he could do whatever he wanted to.

He was free.

His humming evolved into syllables, chosen at random, dragged out as long or short as he wished to.

Everything was just as he wished it to be.

That is why, twirling up onto the wide, open windowsill, he turned to his dorm mates. Unlike him, who was buzzing and bursting with energy, they stood still under his signature spell. 

Waiting. 

Obeying.

"Sing" he ordered, and part of the students started to sing.

"Dance" he commanded, and another part began to dance.

At the little fraction of students still frozen in place, he pointed with his blot soaked fingers.

"You, get us food, drink, instruments -- we shall celebrate to our hearts content!"

Normally, he would've been annoyed at the sight of the Lounge, filled with chaos.

But this was his chaos. And oh, how rapidly he grew to love the noise, the overstimulating mess.

He felt nothing and everything at once.

Between everything there was and wasn't, he did register how the accessories of his new, freeing form jingled as he resumed his dance. 

And maybe also how another laugh bubbled up his throat. The sound was utterly unfamiliar, but he wasn’t sure if that was because his voice gave a distorted echo off of these walls, or because he had never heard himself laugh this loudly before.

After that, everything became a blur to him. A flash of sensations, fleeting and numbing.

He felt himself falling into this chaos. Bit by bit, his mind seemed to dissolve and merge with the black around him.

He was ready to lean into it and salvage every spark of excitement given to him.

At least until suddenly, he saw clearly again...

... and it was you that he found himself staring at.

The moment you locked eyes with Jamil, the tiniest hint of sense and reason flashed through his gaze. But as quickly as the crack in his facade had come, Jamil had already mended it back together.

"Oh, darling, came to enjoy the party?"

Jamil had always put up a different face in front of you, you realised. But whatever you saw here wasn't the lie he had served you all the time.

You weren't sure if you were still looking at a true person in the first place. Rather, it was pure madness, manifested to destroy its vessel and everything around him.

He was unlike any other overblot you've seen before, and honestly, you weren't sure if you preferred this over the other students leaping at your throat when they overblotted.

"Jamil, what… what are you doing??"

The sight of him had you startled at first, so much to the point where you initially had forgotten to avoid eye contact, and therefore risked being pulled into his spell. But either Jamil didn't care to eliminate a minor threat like you, or he was already too messed up in his head to realise you still had your own will.

Now you made sure to not meet his gaze, although it was difficult to not look at him at all. His aura had become positively magnetising, as if the essence of his “Snake Charmer” was filling the air. Like a faint whisper urging you to give yourself to him.

You clenched your fists harshly, begging for the pain to keep you conscious.

Despite addressing you, Jamil had not spared your presence any other effort of interaction. Instead, he was tiptoeing on the windowsill like a careless child that had yet to learn what it meant to fall.

In a way that made your heart twist in pain, you found his dance enthralling. Each step was light as a feather, chaotically placed and yet precisely executed. The students played a horrible melody, out of sync, out of tune. The other part seemed to lack a text to sing, so their voices have morphed into a choir completely lacking any life or emotion.

The sensory overload was completed with the stench of blot filling your nostrils. You felt like you had to bring up more strength to breathe in this thick, toxic fog.

The longer you watched you realised the pain you felt was pity.

Pity for this man, dancing towards his own death... with the brightest smile one could possibly pull.

"Jamil…!" you called out again. "You're going to die at this rate!"

Standing amongst the dancing crowd, you fixated your gaze to the floor, as if that would help to keep yourself steady. Even as another distorted chuckle escaped Jamil's lips, you did not move.

Only when suddenly, you noticed him coming to a stop right in front of you, you flinched a little.

"Don't fret your little head over that" he said, a hand reaching out to cup your cheek. Now more than a shiver ran down your spine, at the gesture, so unfitting for his usually so reserved self… and at the immense magical energy emerging from him.

The blot burned into your skin. You felt sick in your stomach, but as if buried under endless dunes, you couldn't muster up enough strength to take a step back.

"Don't… don't do this" you continued, concentrating to keep your gaze lowered. The blot snakes at the ends of his long hair were inspecting your arms curiously.

An unsettling thought flashed through your mind, wondering if they had fangs you should be afraid of. For now, they would only flicking their tongues against you, leaving a tingling, goosebump evoking sensation on you.

"I don't see the issue~" Jamil hummed. "This is the best day of my life."

You frowned. "And the last one, if we don't stop the blot from forming inside you."

He let out a taunting laugh. In one, smooth motion, Jamil let his hand glide along your jawline, faintly holding your chin between his fingers before he turned away from you. Judging from the sound of gold clicking against each other, he had continued his dance.

Why he wouldn't just use his unique magic on you remained a mystery, but one you planned to take advantage of.

"And what's so funny about that?" You asked, daring to raise your head. 

"You talk as if that's something to be sad about" he answered. "It is over anyway."

Now you were the one to let out a huff.

"What, so, you came up with one plan that didn't work, and now you're just going to stomp your feet like a little child and call it quits? That's pathetic."

He stopped. Slowly, his arms lowered. Somehow, the sight of his back became more unsettling by the second.

Oh no.

"I don't see a problem" he said again, but it didn't sound carefree anymore. The bliss in his voice was gone.  

"Finally, I have all I want," he continued. "I am in charge, and can do whatever I want. I am finally seen."

You shook your head.

“... This cannot be what you truly want” you began, catching a glimpse of the expressionless faces on the dancers surrounding you. “This is nothing but one, big lie. Look, I… I don't know what you are going through, but it should never be a reason to throw-”

“You are right.”

His words cut through yours like a knife, carrying a more than hostile tone.

Jamil raised his palms, and you were able to faintly see pale flames burn up in his hands before you averted your gaze in fright.

“Everything is a lie.”

His throat sounded hoarse as he spoke, slowly, calmly. “And I've had enough of it.”

You were sure he was turned back towards you, to this lonely frame amongst everything he had under his control.

The blot on the floor had started gathering into one big pile, and from your past experiences, you knew it was going to form one of these horrible blot monsters.

Despite your fears, you bit your lip, and uttered a last question to him.

“But is it really worth throwing your life away?”

Jamil let out a single, soundless laugh. Not taunting, not manic.

Just utterly full of pain and resignation.

"... Oh, hey, Jalim!"

At a ring to Ramshackle's door, Berri hurried over to welcome whoever had come to visit.

Said "Jalim" had been ready to give a normal greeting, but now raised his eyebrows instead. He should've been used to Berri's antics by now, seeing as they were in the same club. And yet she always managed to throw him off guard juuust enough to pull sich reactions from him.

"... Should I start messing with your name too, or would that just reinforce your behaviour?"

"I will never stop" Berri said with the proudest smile. "But you're welcome to try!"

"Thought so."

Watching Jamil's signature sigh pair with the faintest smile, Berri then stepped aside to let her fellow clubmate in. "Clover's running around somewhere in the dorm, we're a bit busy right now."

"Yeah, she told me… Apologies for intruding." Jamil followed her into the dorm, picking up the smell of baked goods somewhere in the distance. "I was on my way back from the store and wanted to drop by quickly, to grab some of my stuff."

At that, Berri threw him a quick glance, but decided to just let him see for himself.

Instead, she twirled around onto the stairway, hinting that they'd part ways now.

"Sure, she'll be happy to see you. And if you can't find her or anything, I'm upstairs and cleaning the guest rooms."

Jamil raised his hand in a goodbye.

"Thanks, Rebbi" he said casually, then continued to make his way.

He kind of left the whole situation way too quickly, though, so Jamil only heard Berri's chuckle at his attempt at a nickname… he spent the rest of his march wondering how cringe that joke must've been.

Stuck in his inner monologue of 'I should stop trying to be funny', he threw the living room a subconscious glance, surprised to see Clover sitting in front of the TV...

... wearing his white sweater. The one he wore yesterday when he was over.

The one he forgot and wanted to reclaim today.

Instead of walking up to her, Jamil quickly continued through the hallway before she'd notice him -- shaking his head in a soft smile that immediately melted away his frown from seconds ago.

Of course she'd be wearing it.

She always leapt at the first chance to put on his stuff after all.

… Just like he had planned.

You see, Jamil Viper was a petty little man. And petty as he was, he stopped in Clover's room shortly to grab some more of what was definitely not Clover's clothing.

Only then he'd return back to the living room to actually go greet his girlfriend.

With two of his hoodies, a pair of sweatpants and a shirt most visibly tucked underneath his arm, Jamil leaned against the doorframe and waited until Clover would notice him.

She was fumbling with the TV remote, trying to set up a "new" console (new by Ramshackle standards, they got it off Twisted Ebay for half the price). The first year squad would come together later to play some games again and apparently, she was stuck with dealing with the technologies. It therefore took Clover some time to turn around, but the second she did, meeting gaze with Jamil's, she fought a guilty smile.

"... haha-hey there, handsooome..." she began, plastering a thick layer of playfulness onto her tone as she got up. "You're looking dazzling, cute, and… pissed as usual."

Casually ignoring her bad acting, Jamil kept mustering her in this look of utter disappointment.

“This is almost too much to carry in my arms, ya hayati ” he gestured at his clothes.

Clover came to an abrupt stop.

“... You want a bag?”

And Jamil gave one huff.

“I think I'll just so manage, thank you…” After a moment, he gave her outfit another thorough look. “... You're looking quite comfy, is the sweater new?”

Clover let out another nervous laugh. “Dunno, this magically spawned in my room last night…”

And Jamil gave a second huff, slowly stepping inside the room. A sly smile was slowly but surely growing on his lips.

Clover's hands moved to press her fingertips together in her favourite stressed motion.

“I-it smells great too,” she continued, “like a super lovely person that would never get mad at his cute girlfriend… haha…”

And when Jamil gave his third huff, he came to a stop in front of her. A silence hanging between them, he calmly kept eyeing her attire with those sly eyes.

"...You DO know I need some clothes left to wear myself, yeah?"

At that, Clover hesitated for a moment…

… then, all of a sudden, it was her to let out a huff.

"And you DO know I saw you leave the sweater in my room before going home yesterday, yeah?"

There was this split second where Jamil remained silent, giving her a blink before crossing his arms.

The split second winning over the triumphant grin onto Clover's lips.

Got him.

"That's called 'forgetting', love" he finally said, but Clover was already coming closer to meet his pretty eyes.

"So you're telling me you managed to grab the sweater, take a thorough look at it, placed it back on my bed and then forgot about it?"

Again, silence. And, well, the growing blush on Jamil's cheeks as he was squinting at the rare sight of a confident Clover.

“... I was distracted.”

“Mhmmm…” Clover hummed. “Distracted, surely… My boyfriend would never be one to scheme such coincidences on purpose, now would he…?”

They held eye contact a moment longer…

… then Jamil gave up and looked off to the side, having to endure the giggle that escaped Clover's lips.

“Okay, look…” Clover gently cupped his cheeks, the sleeves of his oversized sweater long enough to cover her palms. "Why don’t we leave the matter be, you tell me I look cute and then we go test the cake I made, hm?"

Defeated, Jamil let his shoulders sink.

“... you could've said directly that you saw me yesterday…”

“I wanted to play along.”

“But now I feel like an idiot.”

Of course, that only pulled another laugh from her. Clover spared him the obvious comment and instead squished his cheeks around a little.

“That's what you get for trying to guilt trip me, honey…”

He tried to wind himself out of her teasing, but without much honest effort, so her hands remained around his face as he continued to sulk.

"... nagging about it is part of the fun…" he mumbled in the biggest pout, which however was quickly consoled with a kiss to his frown.

“You're adorable” Clover mumbled against his lip. “And, you know… thanks for forgetting your stuff at my place… I love wearing your clothes so much…”

It took another second of gazing into her warm eyes before Jamil would finally drop the pout, then he wrapped his free arm around her waist.

“... sure…” he whispered, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

They remained in each other's warmth for a good moment before Clover eventually took a step back.

“Sooo… wanna go have some cake? We shouldn't eat much, as it's for later, but I'd like to get a professional opinion since-”

Clover was ready to head over to the kitchen, but Jamil pulled her back last second.

“... Jamil?”

And, eyeing her in his sweater once again, he smiled warmly.

“Wait, you said this first, then cake…”

As Clover only tilted her head in confusion, Jamil made sure to keep locking eyes deeply as he continued.

“You DO look absolutely cute in this.”

-------

Thank you for reading! Snake-mil gives you a little thank you kiss <3

7. Envy feeds off of my motivation, telling me no matter how hard I try, I could never compare myself to what others are able to achieve.

Therefore, Envy is Sloth.

What use is it to try my best? I remain a yucky otaku that can only dream of having friends outside of fictional universes. Because no matter how hard I try to impress you, to become a better person for you,

I don’t feel like I am enough.

I don’t feel like trying is worth it.

I don’t feel appreciated.

Is it because you actually don’t appreciate me?

Or is it Envy, forcing me to believe you appreciate everyone else more?

6. Envy causes a constant need for more of your attention, until there is enough, until it hopefully can suffocate all the bad things infecting my brain.

Therefore, Envy is Gluttony.

I don’t feel the happiest when I hold a new manga in my hands, or when I have just beat the end boss of an amazing game. 

I feel the ecstatic tingle of joy filling all my cells when you compliment me. 

Look at me. Smile at me. 

When you touch me, be it a hug, a fistbump, an accidental brush against my skin as we pass each other in the hallway. I am positive my body could feed off of your laugh and maintain a splendid self.

But those flickers of light within the darkness are way too short.

I need more. I need them all, or I feel like I’m about to starve.

The more I get, the duller do past experiences become. And then I need even more.

I need you, or Envy will layer the self-loathing over your light, letting room for nothing but my own, dark thoughts.

5. Envy is a fuel that keeps me on the look-out for an addiction able to distract me from the most tempting of drugs… you.

Therefore, Envy is Lust.

Of course I decide to hide within the fictional universes I create in my head.

They are my safe space.

Ruri-chan would never disappoint me, now would she? My favourite idol groups will always see me as their number one fan, right?

If it’s in my head, there is no one to be envious of.

It's just me, the way I want to be, and you, loving me like I want you to.

And that is so fucking addicting, being able to escape in my bubble of joy, where I am the star, where no-one can interfere.

Where I can pretend to be beautiful, thus silencing the screaming voice that tells me how much of the opposite I truly am.

4. Envy is a flame fueled by hatred, that I can never put out because my sole existence is the reason I feel hate.

Therefore, Envy is Wrath.

Honestly, it is almost unfitting that the element associated with me is water. Because every time I see you gift one of your precious words to anyone other than me, I burn.

It is a scorchingly hot sensation spreading within me, uncontrollable, unbearable. Triggered by the smallest events, every of our good times, memories that could have tamed the rage, they all light up into ashes.

I start wanting to force your attention onto me instead. I start wanting to shout at you.

I start wanting to hate you. It would be easier without you filling my head constantly.

I start to get uncontrollable, and unbearable.

3. Although maybe, Envy can also be associated with water.

With the endless depths of the ocean.

Where I sink down deeper, without anything to hold onto.

Where my own weight, my own self is the reason I’m falling in the first place.

Where my lungs collapse at the pressure, leaving me unable to word any cries for help.

Where darkness wraps me into its tight embrace, so I can never see myself the way you picture me to be. I can only assume I belong to the sea monsters that also lurk down here.

Yes, I am one of them.

Ugly. Abnormal. Lonely. 

This is what I am.

And therefore, I am Envy.

2. Envy is a filter that highlights whenever your ethereal self decides to lay their blessings onto anyone who is not me, urging me to act so your efforts shall not be wasted on anyone not worthy of it.

Therefore, Envy is Greed.

It is truly ridiculous how much one can focus on a person's every move, every word.

On everything you're not giving me.

I could have it all. So why aren't you bestowing your love onto me?

Is it wrong to ask this of you? I want you so badly, so… why does it feel like I shouldn't?

I'd cherish your everything… and give you every bit of me all the same…

So… maybe this isn't Greed at all?

Maybe… it might be just what love is?

1. Envy is the reason why slowly, the burning hatred despising my existence has started to spread onto every of those disgusting beings around me.

Therefore, Envy is Pride.

In all the times I've punched myself down as low as can be, I realised that, maybe, I am not the one at fault.

Maybe you are, for rejecting all that I could give you.

Maybe the others are the problem, for pretending like their love for you is stronger than mine.

Believe me, I do cherish you, with all that I am. You are my light. My muse. My inspiration, my… my best friend.

I am better than them.

Please, believe me.

I can also be a strong leader.

I can make you laugh and forget about all the hardships you face.

I can educate you, in fantasy but reality alike.

I can be fun, the boundaries of my room can be more fun than any outside place.

I can protect you, for all that my titles and powers are worth.

I can be endearing, while also keeping you on the look-out for surprises.

I can be just as good as my brothers.

I can be… whoever you want me to be, if that's what it takes.

But… please…

Take this sin away from me, and fill me with your warm lov-

"Levi?"

Leviathan knew it was the corridor's light blinding him, yet it felt like it was your presence in the door frame that caused him to heavily squint his eyes as his head perked up.

A gentle smile curled your lips as you waited for him to react. When he didn't, you opened the door to his room a bit more.

"We're about to leave for the carnival now. Are you ready to go?"

Opening his mouth, Levi searched for a response within him. Sat in his makeshift bed, curled up and hugging his legs as he was caught up in this spiral of thoughts just now, he slowly exhaled. He didn't even notice how his whole body had tensed up.

Levi had been dreaming about you and him at the carnival for days now. All the attractions you could visit together, all the things he could say to you.

He was looking forward to it. And he was happy that you - you - came to pick him up from his room.

As Leviathan was ready to return that smile, another head showed up in the doorframe.

"Yo, nerd, we ain't got all day. Beel's already tried to leave on his own four times, yellin’ about how the cotton candy will sell out if we don't hurry."

Mammon was so close to you as he positioned himself right into Levi's vision. Mammon earned a little chuckle from you.

Mammon had surely already asked you out on all the attractions Levi had been looking forward to.

Levi's lips curled downwards instead.

The corridor's light suddenly wasn't blinding at all anymore. Now it only cast a glooming shadow above Levi's head.

Levi got up onto his feet.

"I'm ready." He said, passing the both of you.

In the hallway, his brothers' distant chatting made the realisation final that you wouldn't be his at all today.

But he kept true to his word.

He was ready.

After all, he has been fighting the battle against this deadliest of sin for his whole life.

I am Leviathan.

Bestowed upon me is the sin of Envy.

The sin that puts pain into everything I am, do, and sense.

But also, it is the sin driving me to persist to be, and sense all the pain, again and again. To not let go of that hope that is your existence.