Silly Creature

It was rare for them to wake up before Liu, normally he was the early riser between the couple, which only proved their suspicion that he had been overworking himself, and so for several minutes they contented themself to simply lay there, their head propped up on their hand, and watch him. As sweet and gentle as Liu was, it was rare to see him look so peaceful, and they were intent on branding the image into their brain. However, despite their desire to spend the morning admiring their lover, restlessness overtook them, and the buzzing in their brain had forced their limbs to move, carrying them out of bed, careful not to wake the brunette. A critical mistake, they realized, as shivers shook their body, the chilly morning air seeping into their bones. They were quick to cover Liu with the blankets, shielding him from the cold air before they wrapped themself up in a bathrobe. It proved inefficient, however, causing them to glance around the room for a solution. Their eyes landed on Liu’s striped scarf, and an internal debate ensued. They knew how important it was to him, but would he really mind if they borrowed it just long enough to watch the sunrise and make some breakfast? Their gaze found their way back to Liu, still sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling slowly. They made up their mind, and with near silent movements, they made their way over to the chair on which the scarf rested, before wrapping it around their neck and heading downstairs.

It had taken Liu ages to feel comfortable enough around them to remove his high-riding scarf and reveal his face, and even after that point, rarely did he discard the cloth other than when he went to sleep, so to have his eyes flutter open only to find, not only his lover, but his scarf, missing? He was set on high alert. He always hated showing his face. He saw it as his failure as a brother. He was supposed to protect Jeff, to take care of him, and in Liu’s eyes, for him to have his younger brother carve him up like a frog in a biology class was him failing as a brother. Liu saw his face as an everlasting reminder that he failed his brother to the point of violence. Quickly, he rose from the mattress, and grabbed a spare mask he kept in the top nightstand drawer from the pandemic and looped it over his ears. Picking up his gun, fear fueling him, he made quick work of sweeping the second floor, then rushed down the stairs as quietly as possible, somehow missing the sweet aroma of coffee, bread, and raspberry emanating from the oven as he moved swiftly through the first floor. It was only when he looked through the front window and onto the porch that his shoulders slumped, anxiety flooding out of his body. 

Tucking his gun away safely, he moved to the door, and pulled it open, softly stepping out, years of tracking making him naturally near-silent. He took a moment, just standing there, admiring the sight of his beloved. There they sat on one of the porch’s adirondack chairs, nursing a steaming mug full of his favorite coffee, not theirs, and his scarf wrapped around their neck, rising up to partially cover their chin. He was frozen in place, there was something about the sight that warmed his heart as much as it made him ache. It was all just so domestic, almost all he could ever want. 

It was then that they felt his eyes on them, and turned their head, they warm gaze meeting his. 

“Goodmorning, Liu.” Their voice was low and soft and full of adoration, as they patted the seat next to them. “Come sit with me, the sunrise is so beautiful today, and there’s still about ten minutes left on the muffins.” As if in a trance, Liu’s body moved on its own, following their directions. Just as he sat down, they passed the warm mug to him, urging him to drink, as they laid their head on his shoulder. He removed his mask, took a sip of the coffee, his blend, a detail of care he didn’t fail to notice and proceeded to place a kiss to their head. 

Whoever’s trying to pursue you stops from that alone, and if they don’t, they just seem to vanish overnight. You think it’s a problem with the dating pool, Jack likes to keep it that way.

He always shrugs it off when you ask, so you don’t think much of it. Simply returning to your bestie dates and cuddling with him when you get home.

He’d never pressure you, but god if he hasn’t wondered what it’s like to be over you. To have you completely, to witness the way you fall apart under his touch.

Just the thought of anyone else seeing that part of you has him irate, and he can’t risk another stealing away his time with you. He loves you too much for that.

LJ’s playful to you. He nips at your cheek, holds your hand when you’re scared and wipes your tears when no one else will. You’re his special little human, and he’s doing whatever he can to keep you happy, no matter the cost. Even if his heart shatters into nothing when you come home with eyes brighter than the sun—

“I think I have a crush on someone.”

It’s fine. He won’t ruin your life because he’s jealous. It’s not fair to you. You’re the only person on earth that he thinks deserves a good future. A stable one, where you can thrive and settle down with somebody who’s treats you well. Somebody normal.

He’ll buckle up and deal with it because the guy makes you feel whole. And it’s not like you cast him aside, you’re too sweet to ever wrong him.

You even gift him a phone on his birthday. It’s not really his birthday, he doesn’t have one, but he made up a date to celebrate with you anyway. The cake and candles, your excitement in seeing him blow out the flames. He keeps the memories locked in box, revisiting them when he misses you and he’s lonely.

You text him silly updates, pictures and voice clips about your day. It’s nice. He’s happy. He sees you less, but it’s okay. He misses you more, but it’s fine. You still love him, and that’s all that counts. You are content with your lover, and he is still your best friend. So it’s fine. Everything is fine.

Until you start arguing with your boyfriend.

It starts small. Little things here and there. He doesn’t pick up after himself. He doesn’t listen when you speak. He forgets dates that Jack knows by heart. He calls you cruel things during spats that Jack would never open his mouth to say. But it’s fine. You tell him that your lover is working on it.

You tell him that your lover means well. You tell him that the man who makes you cry is still your one and only. So it’s fine.

And then, it isn’t.

Because after awhile, it’s not little things anymore. He refuses to pick up after himself. He won’t listen when you speak. He keeps forgetting the fucking dates and doesn’t apologize because he’s tired.

He begins coming home smelling like a perfume you don’t own. He rushes out the door when you need him by your side. He raises his voice and spits in your face when you ask him where he’s been.

You run to Jack every time. Hiccuping in his arms so hard you shake.

Asking him if there’s something wrong with you, if there is something unfixable about you. Why the one who holds all your focus is drifting.

He comforts you, he hushes you gently and promises that you’re wrong. He wipes away your tears because the man who is supposed to won’t. And it’s fine. He understands why you cling, knows why you want it to work so terribly. Yet, when you return to him the week after, your confession is different.

You tell him you think your lover has done something awful. You tell him you think you’re in over your head. You tell him you argued with your lover last night. You tell him that the man grabbed you hard enough to bruise. He sees the mark on your wrist, and swears you’ll be alright.

He cradles your cheeks and soothes you with all the endearment you’d taught him to nurture. He kisses your forehead and holds you with all the fondness you’d seeped into his heart. That day, he tells you he’ll take care of you, keeping your mind occupied with jokes and treats. It’ll be fine.