GOD KNOWS I AM

Leo likes to think he's aware of his surroundings at all times. He's lived here long enough to think he knows everything in the city, but the expanse is large and vast, so there are things unfamiliar to him - like the ballet studio he's walking by.

Huh. Leo stops at the window, looking in curiously. He's never given much thought to dancing; his bulk might make it difficult, and structured classes aren't his thing. But still, it might be fun to watch - if the place was still open.

"oh--" it's then that they realize he had picked up their keys. delicately, they retrieve them from his finger and finally meet his eye. big mistake, they can't help but internally chide themself. ondinea... truly has no idea what he might mean by that but it makes them flush down to their chest regardless.

He was perfect, Aviel had decided. So amazingly beautiful and graceful. But of course he was- a model, a ballet dancer- the jobs Gian had chosen for himself were perfect. Everything he did was perfection. Attending every ballet he was in had been his goal for the last 3 years, buying every magazine he featured on. If Gians face was in or on it, Aviel tried to own it. So much so that his apartment was vaguely embarrassing with it-

His band mates made sure to tease him every time they came over too- not that the demon let them come over often anymore. Not after his drummer had wrinkled one of the magazines. He'd written him letters- fan mail, all signed with a flourished A and a black & pink wax seal with a rabbit on it, telling him how much he admired his work, writing poetry about the fluidity of his movements on stage, picking out why he liked this or that about a photoshoot or ballet to show the other he was truly watching, truly looking... Learning Gian liked rabbits had almost literally stolen his breath, considering he lived in his rabbit hoodie. It was a comfort item, and so easy to hide in. It had made it feel... meant to be.

Aviel wasn't exactly the definition of bold when he was off stage- on stage, sure- he was a powerhouse, very haunted house. Off stage he was.. quieter, less social except with his band mates. Rarely did they seek out others. And yet.... he stood there at the others door, the box of bbq in its hands, taking in several deep breathes. They worked to deliver food, primarily picking up orders from the places it knew Gian frequently went to or ordered from, all for a chance of seeing the other up close. So when a familiar address had popped up... they'd never moved quite so fast to accept an order, to get the order, to get to the others door. His delivery speeds were always super quick- considering they didn't need a car. They made sure to keep it realistic, though. Though maybe this time... a little less realistic, with his excitement to be so close to the man.

bunny was different. they went beyond the typical parasocial fawning or appreciation. gian could say that bunny was properly obsessed. the lycan isn't sure if he's ever met them in person and it drives him proper mad. he is seen. he is watched. but he cannot stare back. it prickles that stupid apex predator chamber in his heart. it is almost as infuriating as it is exciting.

a wolf being stalked by a bunny. sometimes it makes gian laugh in the middle of the night.

gian hasn't told anyone. not anyone who could do anything about it, anyway. he doesn't want to. there's a part of him that's flattered. that's fascinated with this strange secret admirer and his fixation on gian. not gian's work or whatever interpretation he had concocted in his head. maybe gian has become a little obsessed with this stranger's obsession. an ouroboros of preying. and maybe he's a little curious regarding how far it could go. how far bunny would go.

not that gian's thinking of that right now. not when he's so hungry. he's always ravenous this late in the moon phase. he's been pacing the floors of his below average flat in anticipation, nearly throwing his vape against the wall when it's on the verge of running out of juice.

"hi," gian greets shortly when he opens the door a little too quickly, dressed down in an old shirt and sweat shorts. he gives his delivery person a once over and takes another (possibly the last) puff of his vape.

"you look like you're about to have an aneurysm." smoke is blown from the corner of his mouth. and now that he knows he has his gigantic oder of food in his grasp, and maybe now that the smoke has cleared, it hits him.

a very, very familiar scent. the sweat, specifically from aching palms.

suddenly, he smiles sweetly, his whole face brightening. vape tucked into his pocket. leans his shoulder against the doorway and tilts his head in question.

Doori would roll her eyes at a comment like this, him being disgusting didn't change the fact that she considered Harvey insanely hot, but Doori had limits and making out with Harvey smelling like beer was definitely scratching at them. "Eww." Grimacing Doori wiped her hand clean with the hem of the shirt he was wearing, immediately rushing after Harvey like prey. She's following into the dressing room, watches, contently, at Harveys attempt to get cleaned up a bit. Made her feel some pride when he was doing what she told him, not in a weird bossy way or because he got off on giving orders, it simply meant that Harvey cared about her opinion and saw her boundaries, respected them.

"Good boy." She coos with a wink while looking for where to sit down. Happily she would take the cigarette from Lauriel, giving her a wink and blowing a kiss before lighting it up. It's a lifestyle, not the most healthy but she likes it, never overdoing it, just, slightly, being part of it. Maybe it was a phase, maybe all of this was, but while it lasted, she enjoyed it.

sitting as close to doori as humanly possible, harvey slings one arm around the back of the couch behind doori while the other digs through his pocket to pull out a few baggies of weed. one baggie is marked with bright red sharpie, which is the one acacia busies herself with rolling.

"you want any?" harvey asks doori as he ghosts his fingertips across her shoulder. furious has stepped out, most likely for a cigarette or water break so clear his head a little.

"not this bag." acacia suddenly butts in, and when harvey looks up she's staring straight at doori. "it's laced."

"i wasn't gonna give her a laced fuckin' joint acacia, jesus christ." lauriel snorts at harvey's rebuttal. harvey hadn't exactly hid his habit of indulging in more hardcore drugs from doori. however, he was quite careful in not overdoing it in front of her, or doing it when it was just the two of them. harvey would also never attempt to play holier than thou and attempt to dissuade doori from doing whatever she wanted, either.

Tangguo was growing weary from it all. His mind spun with the horror of the sight of that limp body bleeding out. His master, who had just slit his own throat open and bled out all over the floor. His master, who had gone cold and unconscious only for a short time before his curse of immortality awoke him again.

The doorbell was pressed. Instead of ding-dong, their doorbell screamed. It made him jolt.

He stood, red smeared in his hair and on his face, his sleeves and cuffs, his hands, his trousers, even his shoes. He was drenched in blood that was not his own.

"without me?" that hurt a little bit. guai was well-aware that power liked to watch, take pictures, videotape. archive all of guai's violence so the artist can watch it again and again and again for inspiration. dying with guai had become quite intimate. they always fuck afterwards and it's always the best sex power has ever had.

he knows tangguo isn't fond of him. who would be? power does attempt to look beyond the familiar to catch a peak at his lover's mutilated body. power loved to witness the artificial death rattle. guai's swan song was something he had listened to on playback for hours, once. it was precious. guai was his muse and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"i'm sorry, i-- this was--" but then he's soothing them and kissing their knuckles and ondinea is turning the exact same pink as their dress. the princess can't help but mirror that sweet smile, squeezing his hand. "you w-- you will-- ah, i'm so-- i'm so nervous, i apologize..." ondinea manages to stutter out and takes a breath, mortified.

"i, um... thank you," yiseok whispers. they do not, in fact, know him by face. if he'd introduced himself as vuk, they would have realized instantly and probably scurried away out of panic. but for now, he is just a handsome stranger with an unusual name. yiseok hesitates a moment, not wanting to contaminate him with their rot or their charcoal smudges, but they still shake his hand.

precious. someone so close, so tangential to death being drawn to the rawest, at times most resilient, forms of life. power can't help but imagine yiseok among ferns and wilting roses. it's a lovely little picture.

"people can be very difficult to draw," he muses in agreement. "it is a consistent study. not a skill awarded after a certain amount of hours." gentleness did not usually come easily to power but it was proving impossible to not treat the other with a certain tenderness: in his words, in the way he said those words, even power's wandering gaze (from grey wrists to devastating eyes to grey wrists to collarbone to) was as soft as he could muster.