CYVERI

Being in a relationship with Floyd Leech was not for the weak.

He was unpredictable, clingy one moment and bored the next, and he had an almost supernatural talent for pushing every single one of your buttons. The worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing. And he did it on purpose because nothing entertained him more than watching your face go red, your voice rise, and then kissing the anger right out of you until you were melting instead of fuming.

Today was no exception. You’d asked him to pick up a few simple things from Sam’s shop after class, flour, sugar, chocolate chips, eggs. Nothing complicated. You wanted to bake muffins once you got back to ramshackle.

Floyd had grinned that sharp, lazy smile and said. “Sure thing, Shrimpy~ I’ll take care of it.”

And of course, when you walked into ramshackle that afternoon, there he was, sprawled across your couch like he owned the place, long legs dangling over the armrest, scrolling on his phone.

“Hi Shrimpy~” he greeted, flashing you a big, sharp smile.

You smiled back at him. “Hey. Did you get the stuff I asked for?”

Floyd tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm… oh yeah. I forgot.”

Your smile dropped instantly. “You forgot?”

“Yeah…” he said casually, sitting up and stretching like a cat. “I’ll just grab it tomorrow. No big deal.”

You felt the annoyance flare up immediately. You crossed your arms, staring at him. “Floyd, I wanted to bake today. I planned everything around it.”

He shrugged, still smiling. “You can bake anytime. It’s just muffins.”

That was it. You marched over to the couch, now properly upset. “You’re acting like a huge dick right now, you know that?”

Floyd stands up fully, mismatched eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re overreacting. The world not gonna end over some eggs and flour.”

That pushed you over the edge. Your voice rose. “I’m overreacting?! You’re so irresponsible and childish sometimes! If I annoy you that much, maybe you should just…”

He didn’t let you finish.

Floyd surged forward, one hand cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you into a deep, sudden kiss. Your eyes flew wide open. You planted both hands on his chest and tried to push him away.

“What are you… mmph!”

Another kiss. Harder this time. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him until your knees bumped the couch. The fight drained out of you faster than you wanted to admit. Your hands stopped pushing and instead gripped fistfuls of his shirt as you kissed him back.

When he finally pulled away, just enough to look at your flushed face, he grinned wide, teeth sharp and delighted. “You feel better now, Shrimpy?”

“You’re insufferable….” you muttered, still breathing hard.

Floyd giggled, that low, playful sound that always made your stomach flip. Then he snapped his fingers like he’d just remembered something. “Oh wait~ I’m so stupid. I did buy all the stuff. It’s in the back of the kitchen cabinet. Oopsie~”

Your eyes went wide. Then narrowed again in fresh annoyance. “You did this on purpose?!”

He let go of you and flopped back onto the couch with dramatic innocence, arms spread out. “Me? Neveeeer… or maybe~ If you’re still mad, I can kiss you again. I don’t mind.”

You stared at him for a long second, then you rolled your eyes and turned toward the kitchen.

“I hate you!” you called over your shoulder.

Floyd laughter followed you. “No you don’t~”

You really, really wanted to argue with that. But as you pulled the hidden bag out of the cabinet and saw he’d gotten everything you asked for (plus a few extra things he knew you like), you couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

You hated how much you loved him.

And Floyd? He knew it too. That was exactly why he kept doing it.

you hadn’t been at the estate that day fateful day. in fact you hadn’t even been in the country. your father had sent you to stay with an old friend of his over the holidays and through to the new year for a reason you can’t even recall anymore — and that fact has haunted you for every day since

the ‘what-if’s are agonising and endless. the nightmares reoccurring and getting worse by the day. the guilt unwaveringly persistent and leaving you bedridden some days with debilitating symptoms both mental and physical

maybe if you were there you could have saved them. maybe if you were there you could have gotten the twins out of the house. maybe if you were there the cult would have taken you instead and spared your brothers the awful fate he shakily recollected to you after you reunited. a fate they didn’t deserve, that nobody could ever deserve

you should have been taken. you should have died. maybe it would have been better for everyone if you had

but after reuniting with your baby brother you try not to let those thoughts linger too long in your mind — because you can’t possibly hope to protect him if you’re constantly at war with your own mind, now can you?

… perhaps you’re overcompensating

no. you’re definitely overcompensating. you know that, you’re sure everyone else does too, but you can’t help it

he’s all you have left. the only surviving member of your family. the only reminder of your late parents you have left. you can’t lose him. you can’t. it would kill you, you’re certain of it

so you hold him that bit tighter than you used to. walk that bit closer to him when you’re out running errands together. fret that bit more whenever he gets injured or his asthma flares up again. act that bit more insistent on sharing his workload, his burden, so he has the chance to relax and act like the child he is. watch him for a while longer when he falls asleep with you just to make sure he’s still breathing. glare a little more sharply at anyone who speaks down to him in your presence. act that little bit more protective because that’s all you can do, all you can think to do after you failed him the first time

because no matter how many times he sternly tells you to calm down, insists that he forgives you and doesn’t blame you for what happened to him and his twin and your parents, you just can’t forgive yourself

because you weren’t there. because you should have been there. so you’ll never make that mistake again for as long as you live, as long as he lives

and though your baby brother isn’t the emotional sort — grown up long before his years and balking whenever you gush over him or treat him as your baby brother and not the fearsome guard dog and mirror of your late father that he’s slowly turning out to be — it’s clear as crystal that he appreciates your loyalty and your presence far more than he lets on, that he needs it even

clear from the fact that he always looks for you first whenever he enters a room at the estate. clear from the fact that he only sleeps well when you’re there to lay beside him like you did when he was a small child. clear from the fact that he always clings tightly to you whenever he’s tired or injured or scared even when he otherwise hides it all perfectly. clear in the way that he’s just as terrified of losing you as you are of losing him — at least based on all of the nightmares he’s been having as of late… and how he looked every bit the scared little boy he was when an intruder managed to catch you off guard not too long ago