#incha.

" my advice comes at a cost of at least oneeeee boba tea. or an energy drink. and also if it's, like, completely wrong, ummm.. it's not my fault and you can't be mad at me for it because i'll cry. if you agree to all of that, then i'll bestow my love advice onto you! or something. so what's up, what's the question? "

" can you please just have an ounce of shrimpathy? "

" anurak. " word is uttered as if it were obvious, like their name should've been known from the start. as if it was foolish to not know it. " nothing else but anurak. i won't respond, i won't react and i won't listen if you use any other name or variation of it. " his gaze is empty, a void staring down at the other.. yet a lips form an insincere smile, almost unsettling in its appearance. " nicknames are.. a silly human fad. i have no interest in it. are we clear? "

" um. " she's balanced very.. precariously.. on top of an unstable chair, trying to reach the top shelf with unsteady hands that shake. even with her height (being almost six feet tall), the top shelf with the math book you needed was still out of reach, hence the solution of standing 'pon a chair. " don't.. worry or anything, uhh, i totally know what i'm doing, i just.. need.. this book.. " the chair rattles with the movement, like you might topple over any moment. all this.. for a book on algebraic equations.

" i can't. " firm despite the shaky tone to words, as if you will not be swayed by another so easily. you were in the corner, far from the other, as you wallow in your own self-sorrow. blood-covered mouth and teeth from the gorge you've allowed yourself to indulge in yet again, eating until you were sick. you tuck your face into the crook over your arm as you angle your body away from them, setting your gaze 'pon the wall instead. " i can't go on. this.. i can't keep doing this. "

if you're not pure, what kind of angel even are you? is that why they ignore you, why they act like you're so horrible? your hand reaches upwards and rests 'pon your chest, nails digging into your skin. " i-is that.. why the other angels don't like me? because i'm impure? because i'm filled with sin? am i so.. r-revolting that they can't even bear to look at me? "

it's slight, barely there - a wisp of fingers fixing hair idly, far closer to the other than you realize. you don't take note of it 'til you shift to meet their gaze, a blush burning on the apples of your face, cherry-red and fresh picked. " s-sorry, " the word is awkward as it stumbles out of mouth, frozen in place as your breath quickens and your heart races within the cage of your chest, aching to be released. your hand, which had been left hanging in air, falls down to cover your face, basked in the heat of your skin. " you.. y-you just.. there was.. your h-hair.. "

you go to bow slightly to him, awkward in your gown as you dip your head in respect. you didn't like this whole thing.. the aspect of royalty that showed just how out of place you truly were. in a sink or swim world, you're drowning. you clear your throat, almost falling as you go to stand up straight again, hands trying to fix your gown as you smile - albeit awkwardly - at him. " it's lovely to meet you, your royal highness. i'm phitsamai chiaya theppawong, princess of meenanagarin. um.. please call me sami though.. please.. i'm begging a little, it's embarrassing to hear my full first name. right? phitsamai.. ugh. sorry! sorry, sorry, i'm.. um. i'll be quiet now.. "