THERE’S SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT HER. she’s not like any other lowblood you’ve met before. despite acting ditzy and airheaded, she refuses to take any bullshit. you’d almost respect her if not for her willingness to facetiously bend to everyone else’s whims, even if playing into humiliating stereotypes gets her what she wants. but when she isn’t twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes, she is WAY too comfortable pointing that gun at you.

THERE’S SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT HIM. he’s a burgundy with a hell of a high reputation, and that holier-than-thou attitude is so easy to hate. you know there’s another personality hiding behind that egotistical facade, though, because it falters every time you mess with him. it seems like he’s convinced himself that he’s tougher than he actually is. he’ll be a fun one.

THIS MIGHT BE MORE THAN A FLING. sure, she directly asked to be your spade, but you were under the impression that it wouldn’t last long. ...it’s been months. and, while headache-inducing, her company is surprisingly likable at times. when it’s not, something about the adrenaline rush you get when hatred bubbles up in your veins is motivating. you want to prove that her degrading assumptions are wrong (a little too strongly) and maybe also beat her face in a little bit.

THIS MIGHT BE MORE THAN A FLING. the initial flirting is fun, but there’s a strange gratification you get from pointing out his flaws and watching him unravel. you’ve never met someone so... whatever his deal is. plus, it’s nice to have a regular sparring partner that can actually keep up with you. upon treating his wounds following a misfire, you realize that this guy has some serious vulnerability issues, and you’re curious to know what exactly they are. you tell yourself it’s just for fun, but you see bits of yourself in him. you’ve never met someone like you before.

IS THIS STILL JUST A KISMESISSITUDE? oh, god. awkward encounter with the prince aside, you might be fucked. this relationship means more to you than you’d ever want it to. you tell yourself you saved her from the chopping block because she’s your kismesis, but when you saw her so vulnerable, you felt something more akin to pity than hatred. you shamefully let yourself bask in the feeling until she wakes up in your arms.

IS THIS STILL JUST A KISMESISSITUDE? your stomach churns when you think about how comfortable you were in his embrace. you didn’t know he had the capacity to be... nice. and why did you accept his thinly-veiled kindness so quickly? you start to notice things about him that don’t piss you off, things that are sweet and adorable and disgustingly not at all pitch. and you like it.

YOU DON’T TRUST EASILY. you have been raised to live for yourself and only yourself. to never show others weakness. but you’ve spent this entire relationship building some sort of twisted camaraderie while her gun is to your head (her finger is never on the trigger) and her hands are on your torso (always patching you up) so if you know she won’t kill you, maybe you can trust her intentions. you let her stay over longer than you should and relax when her fingers card through your hair. you’ll see how things go.

YOU DON’T TRUST EASILY. it has always ended with you being used and discarded. but you’ve noticed that alternia has fucked him up in the same way it did you, and if he knows what that feels like, if he gets you, you want him to trust you. and you almost want to trust him, too. you bare your throat and drop your weapons to prove that you’re not an enemy, hoping he’ll warm up to you.

YOU’RE NOT USED TO THIS. so you let your walls down little by little. each time she gets close, you expect nails and teeth like you’ve been trained to, but it’s like every bit of her has dulled into something soft and sweet. she’s still annoying, but in a charming sort of way. you find yourself thinking of her when she’s away and smiling when she’s around and looking forward to seeing her again when she leaves. it’s strange, but you could get used to it. (even after all this time, you never noticed that she tasted like bubblegum.)

YOU’RE NOT USED TO THIS. sure, you initiate almost everything, but it’s still weird to you. your intimacy has never been this tame. it’s pure, and genuine, and there’s no standards you’re held to. no bar you have to meet. no unspoken expectations of wandering hands or escalation. you really like braiding and unbraiding his hair. the overwhelming lack of sensuality is boring, but in a good way. you could get used to it. (is this what a normal matespritship feels like?)

YOU DO YOUR BEST TO PRETEND EVERYTHING IS FINE. the honeymoon period was nice. there’s some sort of commitment now, and that means you’re screwed. you’d both get culled if your relationship was ever made public. you’ve fallen for a girl who’s had a death sentence from day one, and you can’t imagine having to live without her. not after those tastes of comfortable normalcy (which you could never have without some sort of sacrifice). but for now, you ignore it and pull her close——it’ll be alright. you’ll figure things out.

YOU DO YOUR BEST TO PRETEND EVERYTHING IS FINE. now that you’re closer than you were as kismeses, you feel yourself starting to hide. you know he has doubts about this relationship, and you need to be perfect to affirm that you’re worth staying with. besides, after seeing how kind he can be, he deserves someone that doesn’t have all of your emotional baggage. so you smile and tease and laugh and reassure and lock any surfacing bits of your actual personality away, making your wants realistic and your needs easy to meet. lying by omission has never hurt; you’re simply... being the person he needs right now. you promise yourself it’ll be a temporary act (even though you’re convinced he’d leave you if you dropped the facade).

YOU’LL TRY TO MAKE THINGS WORK. you were caught today. the only reason both of you are still alive is because you acted like you were going to kill her. you didn’t want your doubts to be true, but you were right. there’s no way you can ignore them after the taste you’ve gotten today——if your relationship is found out for real, you’re doomed. the realization that blood is all that matters makes your head spin. if your status can be lost that easily, what was all of your work even for? after a lot of rumination, you decide to make a change. for yourself, and for her.

YOU’LL TRY TO MAKE THINGS WORK. you’re terrified. you’ve crafted your identity solely so that everyone would like you. tonight has proved that there is nothing you can do to change the fact that you’re a mutant. at the end of the day, that’s all some people will care about. you’ve always had this in the back of your mind, and normally, you wouldn’t give a shit. you’d shoot whoever tried to give you a hard time and call it a day. the problem is that these are rustie’s peers, and you would only make his life a living hell if you did that. as it stands, you’re a liability——the reason he could lose his status, his job, his entire livelihood, and that’s what really terrifies you. he’s the one thing you really, truly care about, and you can’t lose him. you contact the only rebel you know, begging and pleading for any sort of opportunity she can provide (you’d do anything) because if you can’t prove that a world where your relationship is worth it can exist, you’re going to lose him. you can’t lose him.

THINGS ARE NOT GOING TO WORK. why did you think this would be a good idea? you’re starting to regret everything. the realization that your life is a lie weighs heavy on you. the rebellion hates you, but you’re stuck in this two-timing job because they’ve got a bounty on your head. the girl you love the most is always inebriated and drifting away and you can’t seem to help no matter how hard you try. the stress is unbearable. you feel out of control and like you’re going to shatter.

THINGS ARE NOT GOING TO WORK. becoming involved with the rebellion has sent you spiraling. you’ve never questioned your methods of navigating life on alternia. you’ve always changed yourself to suit the people around you, so being in this space where everyone can be so unabashedly themselves makes you seethe. where was this when you were younger? try as you might to appreciate it now, you can’t. there’s no way you can be yourself here because you have erased any semblance of whoever that may be. your meticulously crafted facade is slipping into nothingness. the only thing keeping you sane is rustie, and even that stresses you out. you can’t let his perfect girl fall apart, not when you’re all he has. you want to keep him happy, to assure him that his kyrion is fine, even though you can feel yourself crumbling. but your attempts to convince him fall through. he knows something is wrong, says he cares about your wellbeing more than anything you could ever do for or give to him, and it’s so, so unfair. you love that he loves you, but you almost wish that he was shallower. it would be so much easier if you could just hold him and kiss him and fuck him and make him happy that way, but you can’t because he cares about you and nothing else. not your caste, not your body, but you as a person. that person isn’t even real. you’ve spent your entire relationship lying to him about who you are, and there’s no way you can keep this up. no way that you can tell him that this depressed pathetic junkie with zero substance is the real kyrion. staying with him would be unfair. you have to leave before you really hurt him.

YOU RESOLVE TO END THINGS. she doesn’t deserve it, but you have to put yourself first. even knowing the poor state that she’s in, it’s too easy to blame her for your stressors (because it’s not like she wants your help in the first place). you tell her that she ruined your life. that you never wanted this relationship. that you should have killed her long ago. you believe everything you say but wish you’d never uttered a word. she leaves unquestioningly when you want so badly for her to stay and fight, but it’s for the best. you’ll learn from your mistakes. and you won’t miss her, eventually.

YOU RESOLVE TO END THINGS. you’ll never be able to give him the person he deserves, after all. you expect the yelling. there’s a hurt in his voice that you’ve never heard before, but you understand. you agree that you ruined his life. you know that he never wanted you. you wish that he’d killed you. you sob, and you leave, because that’s all you ever do——flutter from person to person, relationship to relationship. you can at least give him the courtesy of believing that this relationship was real. you won’t miss him, eventually.

AND STILL, NOT A MOMENT OF PEACE. god, you miss her. you’d rather quit smoking cold turkey than deal with these feelings for one more day. it’s humiliating, but you come crawling back to her, admitting that you fucked up. she’s hostile at first, but you know that behavior well enough to tell that she’s only trying to push you away. you confess that you’re worried about her, and you apologize, and she says that you were never in the wrong. you feel a glimmer of hope——maybe you can figure this out together——and then she tells you the truth: that every single thing you loved about her was a facade. a lie catered to your liking. you don’t believe her, but she details everything you loved about her like it was some sort of checklist for her to complete. and for the first time since you were a kid, you break down because the one thing you’ve been holding onto for this entire time came crashing down just like the rest of your life did, all because of her. you came here hoping that she would forgive you, and now you aren’t sure you could ever forgive her. when you ask who she is, who she thinks she is, she lets the crocodile tears flow and says she doesn’t know. then she claims to have lied to you because she loved you, the audacity. she’s selfish, just like everyone else, just like you should have been, and she manipulated you so you’d fill some kind of void in her pathetic life. you’ll never know who she is and you’ll never care to and she’s lucky that you didn’t kill her then and there.

AND STILL, NOT A MOMENT OF PEACE. you wanted him to hate you. you got everything you wished for except for the closure you expected. and you still miss him. you’re the one that comes crawling back to him next. unsurprisingly, you’re met with a knife to your throat and a threat on your life. you want to explain yourself, to plead with him, to apologize like he did. as the blade presses into your neck, pink beads onto your shirt, and everything you wanted to say no longer matters. you ask him to kill you desperately, because he was right——he should’ve done it forever ago. he throws the blade on the ground, seething, and tells you to do it yourself because he refuses to be responsible for any more of your decisions. when you listen, knife hastily pointed at your chest, he grabs it so forcefully that his own hand bleeds. he glares at you with wide eyes and asks if you can do anything but what others want. you shake your head. that’s all you know.

YOU CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. this is fucking ridiculous. you’ve never seen her act this pathetic before. even if her entire persona was a bold-faced lie, you’re aware that she’s at least capable of maintaining an illusion of dignity. she doesn’t give you the satisfaction of resistance, letting you rough her up so much so that the scene looks like some sort of lowly street brawl where you’re beating a poor mutant senseless. and you guess that’s what it would be to any passerby——you’re just a rustblood, and she’s just a mutant, since that’s all anyone seems to care about. you’re fighting because you’re angry, but more than anything, you’re desperate for some sort of reaction, searching for any indication of some sort of spine that will prove something about your shared history is real. that she is the girl you knew before. you egg her on, calling her a self-pitying entitled and useless bitch among other incendiary expletives; she’d be dead without you, and you can’t believe you ever thought a cheating neon-blooded slut like her was worth your time, and suddenly she stands up with trembling legs, smearing blood against the wall as she tries to find her balance.

YOU CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. you beg him to stop, asking him who he thinks he is. you come to him groveling and suicidal, and instead of having a shred of sympathy, he ignores all of your history to take his overblown anger concerning a single relationship out on you. he sneers and protests, but your left hand finally finds your gun and threatens him into silence. as you explain why you approached him in the first place, you notice that his pupils have widened. within them resides an all-too-familiar flame, as if that’s what he wanted you to do. you think it’s appalling how he could ever derive any romantic gratification from a moment like this, and you want to shoot that look off his face as soon as you recognize it. was all of this merely to get a reaction out of you? you pause, feeling such vile hatred arise that you have to take a second to compose yourself. you call him the worst lowlife that’s ever disgraced your presence and stagger away, giving him one last glare as you hiss something about revisiting this later through your teeth. he spits out your old pet name like it’s a slur. (and as miserable as the experience was, this is the first time you’ve felt anything but self-loathing in months.)

YOU HATE HER. you’re utterly disgusted. with yourself and with her. but more than anything, you’re confused. she completely ruined your life and sent you spiraling. why couldn’t you kill her? why couldn’t you let her kill herself and find closure in the sight of her corpse? you shouldn’t have any sort of attachment to her, but you couldn’t stand to see her in such a state. the way she acted wasn’t pitiable, but frustrating, because you know she can be better than that. ultimately, you don’t understand her, and the worst part is that you want to. you want to know what the hell goes on in her head. you want to know why she chose you of all people to romance. why she stayed with you for so long compared to everyone else. you want to know who she really is, even if she says she doesn’t know herself. and you really, really want to tear your hair out. you’re familiar with this feeling. the confusion, the spite, the desperation, the need to be proven right, the knowledge that succumbing to it will make everything worse... it’s like you’re at step one all over again.

YOU HATE HIM. it’s been sweeps since you felt this sort of rage. towards a person, towards the world, towards anyone and anything. he’ll never understand everything that made you act the way you did. a naive part of you still wants to explain why you had no choice but to lie to him. you hate yourself for thinking that, but at the same time, he’s the closest you’ve ever let anyone get to you, and maybe if you can get him to see your side fully... you groan. you know he can be loving——you’re sure you’re the only one who has seen that side of him——but he’s pushed it down again in favor of his old stubborn self, and it’s like he hasn’t learned anything from your relationship (but he spared you, saved you from yourself when you know he isn’t above ending someone’s life, so maybe he has grown). you don’t know what you’ll do when you see him next, but you’re sure as hell bringing your gun.

ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO TRY THIS AGAIN?

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