The Antagonist

Xavier

You heard rummaging from upstairs. Strange... you thought. When has Xavier ever been so energetic? Oh, he must have found the gift you left at his place. The door slammed shut and from then you started counting down. Ten... nine... eight... seven...

"MC?" Soft knocks on your own door betrayed how excited he really was. He was beaming when you let him in. A small purple star shaped tassel for his sword with golden threads swayed from his hand, as he flaunted it before your eyes like you didn't know what it was. You had made it by hand after all.

His arms wrapped around you in a crushing embrace to show his gratitude. But then... chaos. The tassel snagged on your hairpin, pulling your hair as it descended to the floor with a clink. And Xavier's prized tassel? Ripped in two pieces.

You stared at it, dead silent, then shifted your eyes to him. He looked absolutely betrayed and he was the reason for his own betrayal. "Oh, Xavier..." you cooed quietly, careful not to startle him. The poor man looked like he was going to cry.

"MC, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." What did he not mean to? Break the tassel or tug at your hair? You didn't ask. "I liked it so much..." Your own heart broke, embarrassed by your own bad craftsmanship, if it was so easy to break the tassel.

"I will make you a new one." You promised, pulling him back into an embrace. "And it won't break so easy."

Zayne

This winter was merciless. The snow piled up outside in a fluffy blanket and your hands itched to make a snowman with dr. Zayne since it started. And so the busy cardiosurgeon made the time in his busy schedule to appease this whim of yours.

Your initial plan was to make it as big as possible and Zayne obliged. What you didn't anticipate was not being able to reach the top and place the carrot where its nose should be. So, Zayne, ever the gentleman, chivalrously picked you up and lifted you enough to reach the monstrosity of a snow man's head.

One slip up was enough. An invisible patch of ice... a hidden hole in the ground... and Zayne flew into the snowman's body, shifting your position so that he took the entire blow. Your scream tore through the neighborhood, muffled only by the pile of snow which rained down on you as your hard work crumbled like a house of cards.

When you realized what happened, you glanced up at him and saw the smallest hint of terror in those hazel eyes. The man was petrified. To soothe his nerves, you blinked sheepishly and soon enough you two burst into a fit of chuckles.

"Does this mean we have to start again?" He gained the courage to ask.

"Yes."

Rafayel

"Cutie!" Rafayel's shriek startled even the seagulls outside the window. He ran from one end of his studio to where you were standing. He held a canvas, which appeared to obscure half of his body and the way it swayed back and forth and from side to side, you knew disaster was coming before it happened. "I finally figured it out! I'm a genius! A genuis and you know..."

"Raf...!" Too late. A bucket of paint, left in the middle of the studio in haste or forgotten there absentmindedly. Now it acted like a destroyer of art instead of a means to create. The painter tumbled to the ground before you could reach him... face first onto the canvas.

Dead silence.

For a moment you wondered if he was alright, as he laid there, motionless. You reached out to tap his shoulder. He surged to sit up and even through the mess of colors plastered on his face, you still could make out the crimson hues beneath his skin, as he protruded an annoyed, embarrassed scowl.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. His silhouette was perfectly copied onto the canvas and the original idea - long gone. "This works too I guess..." he grumbled, protruding a silk handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face slowly. "Someone... someone should clean up in here..."

Sylus

You knew he took his job seriously. Too seriously sometimes. You commissioned him to make you a new gun as a joke. With as much power as he could force into it. He took it as a challenge. But he locked the both of you in his office and refused to budge all morning even when Luke and Kieran called out to ask if you want any snacks. Sylus didn't even notice the noise. But you used the opportunity to open the window and greet the twins, who offered fried tofu sticks.

You couldn't reach them... the windowsill was too high and Kieran couldn't reach your outstretched hand even when he jumped. So you did the reasonable thing...

"Throw it!" You called out.

"What?"

"I'll catch it."

The twins shared a hesitant look. Kieran stepped back for better aim. And threw...

Misfortune strikes twice. Mephisto happened to fly by in that moment and the fried snack struck him square in the chest, sending him flying through the window with a helpless caw.

He slammed right into Sylus' work table and bits of metal scattered, along with fried tofu crumbs, which clung to Sylus' shirt and even splattered on his monocle. With a dangerously calm gesture, he slowly wiped the glass in the dead silence.

His eye twitched. Nobody but you could see it, but the tense silence was enough for the twins to run for the hills and leave you to deal with the aftermath. Sylus quietly stood up and looked at your sheepish grin. A scoff left him as he shook his head with an amused smirk. "Come." He extended his hand for you to take. "Let's take a break."

Caleb

It had been an entire day and night since he slept and since you gifted him an intricate model airplane puzzle to do under the guise that he will do it overtime. Instead, he mercilessly forced himself to finish it in one night, because you didn't realize his current obsession is retro planes and he didn't tell you.

The next morning, you yawned as you made him breakfast to make up for your fault that he didn't sleep at all the previous night. A door creaking open caught your attention and you looked at the gremlin, as it emerged from its cave. You beamed, seeing his proud, contagious grin.

"I did it, pipsqueak." He strolled up to you, presenting the small, plastic model of a MiG-25 interceptor like a trophy. The change in grip pressure was small. But the small plastic pieces felt it, as they fell apart in his exhausted hand. Time froze. None of you moved, nor spoke. All five stages of grief simultaneously passed through his face as the pieces fell on the floor.

He was too tired to make a sound other than a shaky sigh. Your heart broke at the sight of his violet eyes welling up with tears, as if the world itself fell apart in front of him. You gently guided him to sit at the table, placing the plate of steaming pancakes in front of him in the hopes that it will make him feel better at least a bit.