how do i love you less?

snow is one of those things that saffron likes as a concept but isn't interested in experiencing for herself, like riding in an aston martin racecar or going to coachella. she brushes off the wet chunks before the chill can seep into her scalp or slip beneath her collar, huffing. "i don't want to throw a snowball at you," saffron retorts, "this is partially my own fault. i heard this was supposed to be a shortcut to the fireworks show and i didn't want to miss the beginning." she could almost laugh how absurd it sounds now. it seems like a frivolous thing to be concerned about after being pelted in the head with a snowball.

               "   i   don't   have   my   driver's   license,   how   else   would   i   get   anywhere   ?   "   there   was   actually   a   lot   of   ways   she   could   get   there,   but   luna   always   found   issue   with   all   of   them:   javi   gave   too   many   lectures   about   safety,   seba   wanted   too   much   in   return,   drew   always   frowned   when   they   brought   up   urban   exploring   (   she   hated   making   him   frown   ),   and   it   felt   dangerous   to   have   an   uber   drop   them   off   at   an   abandon   building   by   themselves.   they   watched   a   lot   of   discovery   id.   the   bus   was   the   safest   option.   but   that   was   logic   she'd   keep   to   herself   on   account   of   hyori's   slow   descent   into   madness.   luna   just   needed   her   to   keep   it   together   long   enough   to   get   to   the   actual   haunted   house,   and   then   they'd   mention   most   of   the   dangerous   she   should   be   aware   of.   they   would   be   fine.   "   flashlights   are   a   no   go   because   ⸻   "   they   technically   would   be   trespassing,   but   she   doesn't   want   to   give   that   away   yet   either.   "   ⸻   it's   rude   to   the   spirits.   too   bright.   you   have   to   come   in   soft,   with   the   dim   glow   of   your   phone.   it'll   be   enough.   "   luna   assured.   she'd   done   it   plenty   of   times.   "   we   can   get   some   snacks   though,   we   buy   some   for   the   spirits   too,   thank   them   for   hosting   us   and   some   incense   since   i   don't   have   sage   on   me.   "   she   clicked   her   tongue   as   they   opened   the   gas   station   door   for   hyori   to   walk   through.   "   the   one   time   i   don't   pack   sage.   "   they   murmured   to   themselves,   following   in   after   their   friend.   

She wiggled her brows as she handed the other their protective gear. ❝I was thinking you might really enjoy it too. You know, just letting loose and smashing stuff. And I feel like you really need it.... No offense, of course.❞ Did Aiv think they look like they needed a release? Yes. Hence, why she took them to the rage room. She wore her safety goggles, gloves and helmet before moving to look at the array of hitting equipment laid out on a table. Aivryn pursed her lips as the thought about her weapon of choice for today. ❝Whatcha thinkin' of using, hm?❞

"it's not the saint's patience," hiyori says with a shake of her head. "it's probably the fear of confrontation . . . or disappointment . . . or maybe the people pleaser in me." maybe it's all of it, she thinks to herself, and is about to make a joke about how she doesn't really want to unpack that even in therapy, but then decides against it, seeing as how she has just met this person for the first time. she takes the medication and takes a couple; she does feel a headache coming on, and maybe a conversation with yazmin coupled with some ibuprofen will ensure that it goes away quickly. "that is very kind of you to offer, for a stranger," hiyori remarks. "if you won't tell the kids, i won't. we tell them things all the time that aren't true . . . or that we kind of don't follow . . . anyways, what matters is i'm away from them and they're away from me." she purses her lips, rocking back and forth on her feet. she doesn't really have anywhere to go and no one to be with, but it feels weird to ask to hang out with a stranger. "so . . . um. i'm hiyori. uh. are you here with anyone? because if not ( or, maybe if so ), can i kind of just tag along? if that's okay, i mean." hearing how it sounds, she immediately blurts out, "i'm not trying to be weird—swear. i could just use some company that's above 3 feet and actually washes their hands."

"and, i mean, the lionesses are the real badasses anyway. the male lions are useless." he feels like there's some joke in there about human men being the same way, but he's not self-deprecating enough to call it out. zaid snorts, "yeah, i don't know human anatomy either, so i guess we can just assume that's how it works. sounds right, anyway. tendons... muscles... all that stuff! i believe you." then he sighs in faux dejection, "well, that's too bad. settling for extra hand sanitizer stations seems doable enough. cleanliness is a dying art form among the youth, i fear. bring back the olden days when the children did every chore." he teases.

hiyori laughs in agreement. "well, now that i'm not a child anymore, i can say i'd sign that petition for the kids to do the chores. why even stop at their own chores? i'd like them to do mine, too. free up some time and space. who needs child labor laws?" she makes the joke, and then immediately notices a few concerned stares and glares sent her way, so she turns her back to them in the hopes that if she can't see them, they can't see her. "so . . . ! what brings you to the zoo and can i convince you to run away with me to the arcadium instead? i should probably finish out my volunteer time but the imaginary fatal mauling has be inspired to play hooky."

nikhil smiles when she offers her attention and a compromise. he leans forward, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he takes her in. there's a softness about her that he wasn't expecting, not with the way she held herself, but that is what they love most about people. there are always surprises. always secret songs hidden inside everyone, even if they couldn't sing, even if they couldn't hear it themselves. "oh, my friend, if a few drinks is all you need to belch out your favorite song, i'll open a tab right now!" he says, though it's not a joke. "a karaoke go-to song . . . what a question . . . ! i've never quite thought about it . . . let's see . . . " they mull it over for a few seconds, sipping on their watered down drink, thinking back to all the karaoke times. "hmm . . . let's say r u mine, from the arctic monkeys. there's just something so fun about that song—a desperation hidden between the drums. it's fun to sing on stage, and most times, people will join in. but . . . " he drops his voice as though he's about to tell a secret. "if it's just me and the mirror, my go-to song nickelback's rockstar." he laughs softly. "your turn to confess."

"man down?" nikhil repeats aloud, testing the way the syllables take space in his mouth, checking it against his memory. yeah, that sounds about right . . . but before he can fully confirm, there's a snowball flying right for their knee, hitting it just as fast as they realized it was coming. nikhil reacts late, jerk back even though they've already been hit. "you, sir," nikhil says, awe lacing his words, "have impeccable aim. and speed! insanity to see in 4d, truly." nikhil scoops up snow and tries to shape it into a ball, but it's lump and a little too big for his hands. "i declare this war, then," he says confidently, though he's still messing with the snow. "three hits and you're out! what say you?"

"what kind of goat food is... the good kind?" he asks, almost cautiously. he finds rafael's mind to be a fascinating place, he's never quite sure what sort of answer he's going to get. it's one of the things adem loves about him. he chuckles then, shrugging, "i've been cooking since i was pretty young, so it's been a lot of trial and error, honestly. lately i've been adding spices you wouldn't necessarily except to things — like a dash of cinnamon to something savory. but also, clearly, i've been trying to use more things i've never cooked with before. like these," he holds up the garlic scapes, "or recently, i cooked duck for the first time." he grins, "are you getting more into the culinary arts as of late? making anything fun?"

"cinnamon to savory?" he feigns a gasp. "you're a mad scientist, adem!" he doesn't really know what it means though. not that he doesn't know what cinnamon is or savory means, but rafael has a difficult time imagining what those two would taste like or how they'd come out of the kitchen and onto a plate. at the very least, adem must truly have a strong stomach, one made of something harder than steel, to be able to process all those trials and errors ( rafael himself should know, considering the amount of times he's sent himself to the bathroom ). "that's pretty cool, though," rafael finally says. "it's kind of like leveling up. super saiyan training. you'll be a kakarot in the kitchen, adem!" then, rafael beams proudly and says, "that's right—ya boi's been doing crazy shit in the kitchen! . . . alright, not crazy shit. i've just been trying to bake. it's really hard, actually. i have to measure so much shit. one time, i tried just, like, fuckin' eyeballing it and shit, right? dude, that stuff tasted awful. i had to throw it away because no one would eat it and i don't think luna or seba would've liked it if i fed it to their pets . . . even though it was pretty wasteful . . . "

saffron is not participating in the snowball fight. she cannot stress this enough as her silhouette zigzags across the battlefield, ducking and dodging because she was hoping that this would be a shortcut to the fireworks show that would be starting soon. she freezes when the cold, wet snowball smacks her on the back of the head, gobsmacked for a moment. "you either have horrendous aim or you were completely ignoring me when i said, repeatedly, that i'm not actually playing," she grumbles, using her gloves to sop up the droplets that were now descending the back of her neck.

she's surprised, but they're horrified. guilt-ridden. they look down at their two traitorous hands as though they had committed a heinous crime, a disgusting murder, and honestly, with the way everything went down, he is two hops and a skip from it. "my god," he gasps. "what have i done?" he presses his hands to his face. "you have my sincerest apologies—i—i don't know what came over me. the evil adrenaline . . . the rush of alluring power . . . i must not have heard you repeatedly rejecting the premise of the game. in my excitement for war, i completely disregarded your desires. what have i become . . . ?" he looks at her sternly. "please. throw a snowball at my face. it's only fair." they turn their cheek to her.

rafael smiles, a big one that's easy and carefree now that he knows she's not here to actually make his life a living hell currently. "eh, i wasn't all that great either," he confesses. "guess we both dodged a bullet. i don't know if i'd say that i have the power to ruin your life but . . . i definitely would've ruined your year. at the very least your week." he thinks about it. "you know, that's pretty impressive, ruining someone's life. i mean, it's very powerfully chaotic evil. if it wasn't so, like, you know, generally awful, that'd be a pretty neat skill." he nods as if he understands what she's saying. he had asked her about her zodiac merely because he thought it was something he should do, but he doesn't really know what it means for yazmin to be a leo. he himself is a scorpio, and that still doesn't make any sense to him. what's a scorpion doing in the zodiac anyways? were insects still animals? weren't animals animals and insects insects? "how's that coming along," he asks, referencing her attempt to be a better person. "you didn't want to try being a better person, like, because in nyc? you wanted to move all the way down here for that?" responding to her question, rafael says, "well . . . for me, all of my family moved down here. i didn't have anywhere else to go. plus, my mom basically kicked me out and . . . well, if all of my cousins were moving down here, i might as well, too. they tell me i have massive fomo, but i just don't like it when other people laugh without me." rafael shrugs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ javi leans back in his seat , his arms lifting over his head in a confident triumph as the victory screen plays on the tv before them . ❝ i'm telling you primo , ❞ he responds , a soft chuckle in his voice . ❝ ness is just too good ! ❞ he reenacts their battle , his arms mimicking ness's pk thunder move . his eyes meet rafa's in the midst of his primo's theatrics , the chuckle now turning into a bubble of laughter . ❝ oye , ❞ his arm now falls around his cousin's shoulders , pulling him in for a one - armed hug . ❝ you bring no shame , and of course i still love you . you just let me win by not picking sonic after all ! ❞ the corners of his lips are pulled into a wide grin as he pats rafa's shoulder in reassurance . ❝ we rematch in a bit ? let a few more rounds go ? i've been eyeing the snacks for a while now . did you hear my stomach a minute ago ? ❞

rafael is extremely confused by her response—no, by her entire reaction. for a second, he wonders if she's playing a mean trick back on him, if she's going to pretend to not know him while she's here, then go out and make his life a living hell in other ways . . . he's not sure how, considering his mom essentially disowned him and he's here in chile with some dust in his pockets and the unending confidence that his cousins would never kick him out at least, so it's not as if there's anything for her to key or destroy, but . . . a woman scorned, as they said. but they he really looks into her eyes, checking her expression as she analyzes him back. " . . . yeah, my last name is cisneros," he says slowly. "oh, shit, you really don't remember me." he doesn't know if he should be relieved or mad—who's he kidding? he's absolutely esctstaic. thank god she doesn't remember him, holy shit. he was feeling sensitive that day; he doesn't think he could take being screamed at again in public. "you're a serial ghoster, too?" he says, gasping. ". . . .wait, there's a word for people like us? jesus . . . " he lets that sink in for a second, but like water off a duck's back—and maybe just as dumb—rafael bounces back quickly. "well, shit, we can just start over! i'm rafael cisneros, reformed serial ghoster! nice to meet you, yazmin—uh, i mean, what's your name, astrology sign, and what are you doing here at the end of the world for?"