Chapter Twenty-three

You spent a few hours on your bed, unable to sleep. It was strange how you could be in a house with at least two love interests, and yet you still felt alone. You felt restricted and unsure—you felt isolated. As if on instinct, your mind wandered to Quince. Sleeping always seemed easier when someone else was around; you wondered if he would mind letting you nap with him...

Your fist hit his door, the sound was strong, but you felt weak. You desperately needed someone to talk to—someone you could feel soft and okay with. You felt vulnerable and it frightened you. You needed Quince to reassure you like he usually does.

The door opened after just a moment to reveal just the man you had been looking for. The relief on your face was visible. "(y/n)," he greeted. "Is there anything you needed help with?"

You tilted your head downward, your embarrassment beginning to settle in. Quince thought it was adorable. You spoke, "I just wanted to be with you if that's okay."

"Of course it's ok," he grinned, opening the door wider so you could get in. "What would you like to do?"

"It's embarrassing," you trailed off as you walked in his room. You instantly felt a little more comfortable and a little safer. "Can we... nap together?"

For a very rare moment, you got to see a flush settle over Quince's face. You almost laughed at the sight but figured your own cheeks were tinged red as well. Being in the house could be isolating—you missed the regular cuddles of life on earth. Quince gently took a hold of your wrist and pulled you to his bed, "Of course we can." You noticed how he parroted himself. He was often so accommodating to you and your requests, the 'of course!' falling from his lips reassured you. You nestled yourself beside him, with your face resting on his chest. You sighed contentedly and let your eyes gently close.

"Did you have any dreams while you were alive?" you asked, mumbling into his shirt as he pulled a blanket around the two of you.

"Well, I still have dreams when I sleep now. Don't you?"

"You know what I mean," you would've rolled your eyes if they weren't closed. "Like for your life? For your future, before you died?"

He hummed thoughtfully, "I did have one dream. It was often hard to find a reason to do anything, but there was one thing that kept me pushing forward, no matter what."

"What was it?" you pushed.

"I wanted a small house on a hill by a lake...and the pasture of land around the house to be full of flowers. I dreamed that I shared my house with the person I would love until the end of my days, and we would be happy. I think really what I wanted was to hum happily as I did the dishes and my spouse put away the leftovers from the meal we cooked together. There might be a cat that always sat on the counter, no matter how often we told it to get down. Definitely a window over the kitchen sink with some herbs growing in little flower pots..." he trailed off. "I wanted to be happy to be alive, and I especially wanted to feel loved and be in love."

In the middle of all that, you felt tears spring to your eyes. He wanted a simple life, and he would never have it. It felt unfair—it was unfair. "Were you ever close to getting there?" you sniffled. At the sound, Quince sat up on his elbows slightly, causing you to slip from your spot slightly.

"Are you crying? Why?" Quince looked worried. He sat up completely and pulled you into a hug, "What's wrong?"

"I'm just sad that you couldn't have what you dreamed of," you admitted. "It sounded nice."

Quince didn't know what to say at first. Your empathy and kindness never ceased to amaze him—he honestly truly loved you. He loved you and you were the kindest person on earth. He felt like he was finally doing it right, finally getting you to love him back. He felt euphoric. "Don't feel too bad. I'm really happy to be here with you," he spoke as he leaned back down to a resting position. "We might have been robbed of our lives, but I think meeting you is one of my favorite things I've ever gotten to do."

You giggled into his shirt, despite the tears on your face that hadn't even dried, "you're cheesy, but I'm glad I met you, too. Maybe somehow, your dream can still happen, eventually."

"Maybe so," he hummed as he let his hand tousle through your hair. The tiredness from crying and the peace from the embrace made you tranquil.

"What did you imagine your spouse to be like?" you questioned, wanting to hear more of this domestic fantasy.

"That's my own secret," he replied without hesitation.

"Hmph. Lame. Tell me more about the house then," you requested. You had a feeling that Quince's peaceful descriptions would put you to sleep.

Quince talked about how the winter would be hard since the primary source of heat in the countryside house would probably be a fireplace. That added to the idealism for him. He put a lot of detail in describing everyday tasks, and you found yourself realizing how much you missed the menial things in life, strange as it was. Checking the mail and reading a newspaper—small things. It sounded nice.

"(y/n)?" he paused in the middle of his descriptions. When you hummed in reply, he continued, "You seemed tense when you came in. Is everything okay?"

You groaned, "I'm not sure I want to talk about it. It's dumb. People aren't getting along." You hoped he wouldn't press you for details.

"I see," he replied. "I'm sorry you have to be caught in the middle of that."

"it's okay," you said with a yawn as you shifted slightly. You were about ready to sleep, but you let a few more words fall from your lips, "I was thinking we should all have dinner together sometime soon. Maybe It'll help."

"Maybe," he agreed with a gentle kiss to your forehead. You slept.

.:x x x x x:.

"Ryo," Dianna greeted simply. "It's been a while since you spent time with me."

"I guess," he nodded. He didn't really intend to spend time with her now, honestly. Their friendship was a strange one—and not one he would really describe as a friendship. In many ways, they were two socially stunted people who liked to sit around and discuss their own abnormalities. They didn't acknowledge the fact that their feelings about people and society were strange feelings to have, they just talked. Or played cards. It was all either of them really had in Hell House.

Or it was all they had until you came.

Ryo forgot to think about all the obstacles that came with pursuing you. He knew he wasn't the only one, but he wished he was. When Dianna mentioned your name, he had glared slightly. He had originally thought of Dianna as a tool that he would eventually use to chase you into his arms, but the more time he spent with you, the less he thought it was necessary. Now it was even truer. Here Dianna was, complaining about your lack of affection towards her. He scowled.

"Why do you need her attention? There are other girls in the house," he argued.

Dianna paused at that, her eyebrows furrowed, "The other girls here aren't (y/n). Suki...isn't my type. And Jenna never associates with any of us."

"Maybe Jenna is a better fit for you then if you get so jealous," Ryo replied. Most people in the house wouldn't speak so harshly to Dianna, but Ryo's friendship with her allowed for special perks.

"You're getting jealous, too," Dianna pointed out. "You're upset that I'm talking about (y/n) like this." Dianna had realized this when she took a closer look at his scowl. In her mind, she rifled through the memories that connected you to him. She realized she had inadvertently been sending you to him on occasion. She sighed internally. It seemed right at the time.

"I'm not jealous," Ryo denied. "I just don't get what has you so hung up on a girl with other problems."

"Lie to yourself if you must," the brunette rolled her eyes. "And what other problems?"

"Are you telling me you didn't hear them arguing the other day? Suki and Jason are having a hard time keeping their affection for (y/n) in their pants. It's a gross love triangle," Ryo scoffed. He was more upset about the situation than he let on. He had demanded that Jason quit his antics, and even though he didn't expect Jason to listen, Ryo still wished he would lay off.

"Suki and Jason are... interested in her?" Dianna said slowly.

"Did you not hear me the first time? Yes, they both want the same dumb girl."

"And so do you," she put together.

"No, and so do you," he corrected.

"So do both of us. You're telling me four out of the seven of us are romantically interested in her?" Dianna seemed truly shocked for the first time.

Ryo shrugged, "at least four out of seven, I guess. Who knows what the other three think or feel?"

"Oh my god," her mind spiraled. "I've been so concentrated on my own relationship and plans that I neglected to consider the following she already has."

"Well, it's kind of easy to see it if you look close enough. Jason and Suki have been weird about her from the start," Ryo talked calmly. "I'm getting tired of this conversation. I would like to go now, so bye." He stood, and Dianna followed suit.

He couldn't move any further as Dianna gripped his arm, "Ryo, I may be a little behind on this competition, but I'm telling you now I will not hesitate to eliminate you to win."

Ryo tried to pull his arm away from her, "What are you even talking about, I don't care what you do with her."

"Don't lie to me," she seethed. "Who knew a cretin like you could even harbor such feelings. (y/n) doesn't want you, so maybe you should just quit while you're ahead."

Ryo was getting angry now, and he was able to use enough force to rip away from the mad woman before retorting, "yeah, well she doesn't want you, either. If you want to act like this is a competition, fine. Just stop being so fucking weird and don't bother me." He turned around and left the room.

Dianna was angry. Ryo was angry. The blonde was seething when he left her in the room. He wanted to see you—now. Dianna was wrong, he had made progress, you were starting to like him. He didn't care if it took a long time. You were going to be his. The thought of Dianna successfully seducing you made him sick; luckily enough, though, it sounded like Dianna had pissed you off.

That just left the looming challenge of Suki and Jason. He almost kicked the wall angrily. He felt like seeing you was an urgent need—he had to touch you and hold you with his own hands, if only to confirm that you exist. He felt a wave of anxiety as he thought about all the people trying to get your attention. It wasn't a feeling he was used to. He didn't like it.

He found you, walking down the hall towards your bedroom. You smiled when you saw him, an action that brought some relief to his angry mind. You called his name with some concern when he snatched your wrist and quickly pulled you into your destination—your room. Clutching your wrist felt right. It made sense to him. "This is mine," he thought. "This wrist and this arm. The body it's attached to, this girl. She's mine. It's the only thing that makes sense, (y/n) is mine, she should be, and she will be. I don't care if it scares her. Her joy and her pain should belong to me." His thoughts circled hysterically in his mind.

Once in your room, he slammed you to the wall inside immediately. You felt a dull ache in your knuckles and the back of your head when the impact hit. Your eyebrows were furrowed both in confusion and fear as Ryo held your wrists to the side of you. Was he angry?

"Ryo, what's going on?" you said softly. He leaned down, his face coming close to your neck. This sent alarms in your brain and you jerked away as much as you could, "What are you doing?!"

He paused in his descent, "I said we do what I want next time."

"I don't un—"

"It's an exchange," he cut you off. "Next time is your turn. Right now, it's mine. I like you like this." As he leaned all the way into your neck and pressed a kiss to your skin, you jolted. You remembered the hasty agreement he had thrust upon you the last time you were with him.

"This—this isn't what friends do!" you argued, trying to wiggle away.

"You're right," he pressed his body to yours completely and began leaving feverish kisses from your neck to your jaw, "It isn't."

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