#nipping

I hated going out. It wasn’t that I had anything against the world outside my apartment—well, maybe I did—but it was more than that. I felt this heavy, constant weight whenever I thought about stepping outside. The idea of interacting with people, the noise, the way everyone seemed to move with purpose, while I just stumbled through it all like an awkward mess—it overwhelmed me.

Social anxiety had always been a part of me, lurking in the background. Sometimes it was quiet, easy to ignore, but other times it would rise up, loud and demanding. The mere thought of having to make small talk with a cashier or navigate crowded aisles felt like a mountain I couldn’t climb. My chest would tighten just thinking about it. And even if the store wasn’t crowded, the thought of being out in the open, exposed and vulnerable, made me want to crawl back under the covers where I felt safe.

Then there was the fact that I was an introvert. People drained me. I couldn’t explain it to anyone who didn’t feel it, but being around others—whether I was talking to them or just sharing a space—left me mentally exhausted. The silence of my apartment was comforting. I could recharge in peace, surrounded by the familiar comfort of my own space. The outside world felt like a jarring contrast, loud, unpredictable, and full of expectations I wasn’t sure I could meet.

But here I was, staring at the last few crumbs of chips left in my pantry. I had been putting off grocery shopping for days, but I knew I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I had to eat. I couldn’t live on five chips for the rest of the week. And while it wasn’t that hard to go to the store, it felt like an insurmountable task right now. The thought of dragging myself out there made my stomach churn.

Still, I knew I had no choice. I needed food to survive. That’s what I kept telling myself. I had to go. But maybe… if I allowed myself a small reward, something to get me through it, I could do it. My favorite candy bar… it was sitting at the back of my mind now, like a tempting little promise. It didn’t make the task easier, but it gave me a sliver of motivation.

It did sound good right now. Yes, bribery was working on me. It seemed like the only way I could get myself to leave the apartment these days. But I’d deal with that later; my goal today was to get groceries.

After I dressed and barely brushed my hair, I dragged myself out the door, already regretting this decision. The long walk to the store felt like it took forever. I really didn’t want to do this—I wanted to crawl back under the covers and dive into my favorite game or that show I’ve watched a hundred times, but it never gets old. But no, I had to get food. I had bodily functions that required calories to keep going.

I sighed and muttered under my breath, already dreading the crowd I could see gathering outside the store.

And then the ground disappeared beneath me, and I fell into darkness.

When I landed, it was soft—on a certain dark-furred monkey’s couch. I looked over at Macaque, who was casually reading a book, one arm resting behind me on the couch. I sat in silence for a few heartbeats as my mind caught up with the situation.

Macaque had kidnapped me again. For what reason this time? He wasn’t even acknowledging my presence, and he was the one who dropped me here! After I had finally forced myself to leave the house, this bastard.

“Why am I here this time?” I glared at him. To my knowledge, I didn’t have anything he wanted, at least not anything new that he could use. Being an info broker had its ups and downs, and right now, I was definitely in a down. Maybe he was just bored and messing with me again. He could be a real ass.

“Can I not just want to hang out with you without you being overly suspicious of everything I do?” he said, not even looking up from his book. But I saw the smirk playing at his lips. Yup, he was bored and messing with me.

I sighed and stood up. “Well, I have things I need to do, so if you could stop being—”

He interrupted, finally looking up from his book. “No, you don’t.”

I tilted my head. “And how would you know that? Even if you think I don’t, I need to get groceries!” I threw my hands up in frustration. He cocked his head to the side, smirking, then jerked his head toward the kitchen.

“Look at the table,” he said, going back to his book.

I did. It was the first time I had looked away from him since he dropped me here. On the table were plastic grocery bags. I put my bag down on the floor, walked over, and peeked inside a couple of the bags. They were filled with things I usually bought at the store. How did he know that? Was he stalking me?

I turned back to him. “What is all this? Are you stalking me again?”

He sighed, flipping the page in his book. “First of all, I’m not a stalker. I just need to know everything about the people I let into my life. And secondly, look under the candy bar.”

I turned back to the table and found my favorite candy bar sitting there. How did he know? Beneath it was a piece of paper. I picked it up—it was a grocery list, written in my handwriting. My brows furrowed. I hadn’t written one this time. How did he…?

Then it hit me. Last month, when I had finally forced myself to go to the store, I’d gotten home to find him already there. I was annoyed but not surprised by his behavior. I put him to work helping me unload and put away the groceries. Then I handed him the receipt and my used grocery list, asking him to throw them away.

I looked up at him. “Didn’t I ask you to throw this away?”

He nodded, glancing at me with his golden eyes. “Well, I decided that since you didn’t want it anymore, I could keep it. Not like you missed it or anything.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

He sighed dramatically, glancing at me with that familiar arrogance. “And anyway, I’m doing you a favor.”

I turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “A favor, huh? Really?”

Macaque leaned back, lazily flipping through his book. “Yeah, you’re welcome.” He added the last part with an exaggerated casualness, like it was no big deal.

“Why would you do this?” I asked, still not convinced.

He snapped his book shut with a flourish, eyes gleaming with mischievous intent. “Can’t I just do something nice for you without you thinking I’ve got an ulterior motive?”

Even with the frustration in his eyes, he wore that smirk like it was his natural expression. It was hard to tell with him, but I couldn’t let his games get to my head. So I nodded and smiled. “Yup, you can’t do anything without it looking at least a little suspicious.”

I shot him the same cocky grin he was giving me, but I wasn’t about to fall for his games. I had just worked up the courage to go to the store, and I wasn’t going to let him stop me. So I walked back to the couch, planned on grabbing my bag, and heading out the door.

But before I could grab it, though, my wrist was grabbed, and I was flung back onto the couch. I instinctively shut my eyes when I was pulled down, and when I opened them again, his face was inches from mine. One of his hands was on my hip, his grip firm enough that I could feel his sharp nails through my clothes but not enough to hurt. The other hand held both my wrists above my head. His grip wasn’t tight—I could break free if I wanted—but I knew he wouldn’t actually hurt me. Maybe.

“M-Macaque?” I tried to steady my voice, but I still stuttered. My cheeks burned, and my eyes widened, staring into his golden ones. His face was so close that if I moved even a little, our lips would touch. His smirk widened.

He leaned over to my ear, his warm breath tickling me. “Maybe I do,” he whispered, nipping at my ear, making me gasp a little. Then he moved his head, his lips brushing against my neck, finishing his sentence against my skin: “Have ulterior motives.”

My eyes would have widened even more if that were possible. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?

He then moved again, pressing his lips against my other ear. “But even if I did, you’re too dense,” he whispered, nipping at my ear again, causing me to squeak. He then moved down to my neck, speaking softly against my pulse. “To truly see them.”

I could feel his sharp fangs brushing against my skin. My heart was racing. His hand on my hip slid up to my waist, lifting my shirt slightly as his fingers grazed my bare skin. It was gentle, almost like he was afraid of hurting me. Even with his fangs so close to my throat.

The only thing I could think to say blurted out of my mouth. “I’m not dense.”

He laughed, throwing his head back like what I said was the funniest thing in the world. It only made my heart race more, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.

When he looked at me again, that stupid, irritating smirk was back. His lips were so close that if I lifted my head a little, we’d… no, no, no. I couldn’t think like that. He was THE Six-Eared Macaque. He could barely be trusted, no matter how nice he acted.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, still chuckling.

Before I could respond, I suddenly found myself falling through the couch and landing lightly on a soft mattress. My eyes focused, and I realized he had dropped me in my own room. I placed a hand over my racing heart, taking deep breaths to calm myself down.

I couldn’t think thoughts like that about him. He was the enemy, no matter what. He was probably just trying to use a roundabout way to get under my skin and betray my friends. Yeah, that had to be it. Nothing more.

Except, his hands had felt so nice against my skin…

I slapped my cheeks to snap myself out of those spiraling thoughts. No. Get your head in the game. You have groceries to get.

I stood up from my bed and walked toward the door, only to notice the grocery bags on my table. They were the ones he had gotten for me, which I originally had no intention of accepting. And my bag was there too, thank god. At least that meant I didn’t have to see him again today.

The candy bar was still out of its bag, and this time, there was a note on it. I unfolded it, of course, from Macaque. It read:

“See you Sunday for the new season of whatever that show you’ve been waiting for.”

I stared at the note, half-amused and half-annoyed.