I Am The Darkness

Vi watched him as he brought the glass to his lips, idly mimicking him and taking a sip for herself. She could barely even taste it anymore, since she’d polished off a few glasses already. Now it was just fuel to keep her going, keep her feeling numb and laid-back. “You wanna talk about it?” The spirit asked after a few moments of silence had passed. She knew Tate well enough to pick up on when he was feeling particularly down, and her curiosity was getting the better of her.

His face cringed slightly at the fruity yet dry taste. Alcohol was definitely not his thing. Violet’s question only caused Tate to cringe even more, his eyes falling back to the ground. Did he want to talk about it? If anyone understood him, he guessed it would be the girl he loved. Sighing, he sat back in the chair, his hand swirling the glass still filled with wine. “I like....I like this girl,” the blonde said, hesitantly. “...She found out about everything I’ve done...and she wants nothing to do with me.” 

Dream A Little Dream//Tate & Violet

It’s not my first time, Damian. I’ll be fine.

Turning to face him in a quick moment, Vi’s expression didn’t say much. She looked at him for a moment, and it was true —- he looked absolutely miserable. “Wait.” She requested, her voice low. Ghosting away, it took her less than a minute to return. With her, she’d brought another bottle of wine and an additional glass. The ghost moved quickly to take her seat again, after setting the bottle and glasses down on the small table between them. Pouring herself another glass, she then pushed the bottle toward him. Now, whether or not he’d want to drink —- she wasn’t sure, but the gesture couldn’t hurt, right? “It might help,” she shrugged lightly, sinking back into her seat as delicate fingers cupped the glass in her hands.

The brief moment that Violet was gone Tate sunk down into the chair, his eyes stuck on the floor. It wasn’t until she showed back up with more wine and glasses that he looked back up from his spot--his eyes now resting on the glasses. He had never really liked to drink, his mother and her actions making him less than enthused with the effects alcohol had; however, tonight he was willing to make an exception. Pouring some wine in the empty glass, he mumbled a small thanks before sipping at the drink curiously. 

Olivia retracted her hand, setting it back in her lap. “I mean it, Tate” the witch said, moving to stand up. “I just need a little time to process this, that’s all.” She looked down at his comment, glancing over to her bed. “Before you go, I have something for you,” Olivia added, shuffling over to her bed. She kneeled down, pulling out the old Valentine’s Day present. Quickly, she grabbed the envelope from the top and stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans before she stood up, walking over to the ghost. “It’s a sweater,” she said as she held out the gift. “Red and grey stripes… You don’t have to open it right now.”

Tate paused at her words--his body still tingling from the almost ghosting he had just been preparing to do. Eyes following her as she went to the bed and came back again, his eyes fell to the present she held out. Hand closing around the box, the blonde still couldn’t meet Olivia’s eyes. A small nod was the only indication he gave before ghosting away. 

Olivia stopped her motions, looking over to Tate - finally at his face, watching him stare at his hands. “It’s just a lot to put on one person,” she said after a moment, pressing her lips together. “… I could try, Tate. One day,” the witch added in a quiet voice, nodding her head. She hesitantly held out her hand, waiting to see if he would take it. “As your friend.”

Tate’s expression deadened at her response. He seemed to always lose the people he cared for most because of his past actions. Maybe it was better if he was alone in the end. No sense in getting tied up with people who would only turn away. “One day,” he repeated, before standing, and looking down on her. “Sure.” He couldn’t help the disappointment in his voice, as he looked away. “I should go.” 

Olivia paused at Tate’s response, letting out a faint sigh. “I see,” the witch murmured quietly, unable to look over to him. Blue eyes were glued to her hands, which were playing with a ring on her freckled finger. “It’s just…” She trailed off, chewing on her lip. “I’m happy to help you, Tate, but is my help enough for you to be better…?”

Tate’s eyes were glued to his fingers as she spoke. He honestly didn’t know what was enough to help him. Constance had believed Mr. Harmon would be able to help him and look what happened there. His shoulders slowly lifted into a shrug before dropping with the weight of defeat. “I want you to be.” 

Tate's expression turned pensive as he thought about her question. What had he done to make him a better person? He hadn't killed people since the one Halloween massacre...but she didn't need to know about that. He had been steering clear of anything or anyone that could have ended up with him causing bad stuff to happen, but when all was said and done he hadn't really done anything. "I've...been around you..."

Tate sat–his mind completely blank, but with eyes still stained from the earlier tears that had escaped during his conversation with Olivia. Everything had become so messed up in such a short amount of time that he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Hearing the familiar voice, the blonde looked over to see Violet sitting down. She seemed happy–which only served to make him bitter. “What did the dumbass do for you now? Draw a nice crayon picture?”

Lips dulling into a thin line, Vi’s gaze lost that bit of shine they’d gained from the alcohol. “Good talk,” she muttered sarcastically, before boosting herself up and out of the seat she’d previously plopped onto. She should have known better than to try and be friendly out of the blue like that.

Watching the brightness dull in Violet's only caused Tate to feel worse. "Wait, Vi...," the blonde started, one of his hands coming up as if to stay her. "I'm...I didn't mean it." Eyes dropping to the ground, he lips pressed to become a white line. He didn't want what he and Violet had gained to be lost in one moment--it was just hard to see her happy when he always seemed to be miserable.