Title: The Diary of Jane
Status: Complete
Characters: Fang, Anon, Shane (OC), Eric (OC)
Rating: NSFW
Classification: One-Shot (Sequel)
Author: PumpkinBrain
Summary: 
    The long-awaited sequel to ‘When You Say Nothing at All’
    Anon and Fang have been dating for around a year now. They enjoy their time together, going on dates, moving in together, petting their cats together.
    Only… Fang has begun running off to the bathroom every time she becomes emotional. And now she won’t wear anything other than pants and long-sleeves, even when she sleeps.
    What’s going on?

 “…This is the beginning of the song.”

 

“I’M HEARIN’ VOICES, ANIMAL NOISES, THE CREME DE LA CRÈME, THE FEMININE ABYSS—I’m REACHIN’ MY THRESHOLD, STARIN AT THE TRUTH TIL’ I’M BLIND…”

 

I nodded my head.

 

Yes, yes. I can certainly agree with this.

 

I find it quite dashing, actually. Kino, if I do say so myself. I slowly put my fingers to my chin, judging the band as they played. It was a familiar tune, yet one of precarious proportions. Of bananas and strawberries, of mango and mixed berry. Of gold medal ribbon and oreo cookies and cream. “This is quite peak.”

 

“Oh, shut up.” Erik chuckled, flicking my elbow. “It’s a cover of a song from Scott Pilgrim. Stop monologuing about stupid stuff in your head and drink your modelo.”

 

“But I wanted Pepsi!” I whined, staring at the YUCKY bottle in front of me. Man, it tasted like piss! I wait so many years to drink alcohol, so many times seeing Fang drink wine in front of me and flipping me off when I ask for some, so many months of anticipation—and when my 21st birthday finally arrived a month ago, I was… utterly disappointed. How can someone be an alcoholic when it sucks this bad?

 

Ah, yeah. I’m uh… I’m twenty-one now. You’ve missed quite a bit. How about a recap?

 

Me and Fang have been going strong for… a year or so, give or take a few months now? We moved in together shortly after our third date. Call it rushing into things, but after someone broke into her place while I was staying at it—and I had to shoot at them—we both decided it would be better if we got her the FUCK out of there. It was unsafe, stupid, and uh, stupid; to keep her there.

 

But other than that, things are great! Me, Shane and Erik still hang out all the time, and Fang has no problem with it. Her only rule is that for every time I take them out, I have to take her out, too. And I have no issue with that. I get to spend time with my friends, and then spend time with my girlfriend? What man would be upset at something like that?

 

A loser, that’s who.

 

Speaking of losers:

 

“I’m telling you. Modern Warfare 2 is the best CoD campaign, easily.” Shane spat, looking to be in a very heated debate. I guess… while I was schizing out, the conversation had changed.

 

The green ptero across from him narrowed his eyebrows. “No way dude, suck my cock and dick. The best is easily Black Ops 1.” He laughed, coughing at the start of said laugh. As if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re nuts.”

 

“Your FACE is nuts.” Shane smacked back.

 

“OOH!” I exclaimed, sucking in air through my teeth. “Yowch. Shane with the burn.”

 

“No.” Erik laughed. “You’re dumb.” He shook his head. Then, he seemed to realize something. God damn it. “Wait. Help me out here. What’s the best CoD campaign?” He looked to me, making forceful eye-contact. His bright eyes beamed directly into my soul. “It’s Black Ops, isn’t it?”

 

“Uhh…” I trailed off. “I mean. I dunno. I’m more of a Mario Galaxy kinda guy.”

 

“ UGH .” They both groaned, slamming their heads into the table.

 

“Hah!” I laughed. “Dumbasses.”

 

“Ay fuck you mane.” Shane spoke in an exaggerated ‘Latino’ accent, peeling his head from the greasy table. “We’re just having a civil conversation…”

 

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, civil. They were about to tear each other’s heads off. If I didn’t know they were ABSOLUTE BEST FUCKING FRIENDS, I would’ve been genuinely worried. But, thankfully, because we’re men—we can yell at each other and still keep the friendship in tact. Hell, we can probably throw punches at each other and get a beer the very next day. It’s just how things go for dudes.

 

Women! Well. Let’s just say I’m a misogynist.

 

“Ugh. I kinda wanna get outta here.” I muttered, turning to face the two losers. “The new band that’s coming up on stage looks all geeky and edgy. They’re probably gonna sing about why their dads don’t love them.” I scoffed. Yeah, kinda hypocritical, especially because my girlfriend JUST patched things up with her dad—but she doesn’t need to know about what I say when I’m with the guys.

 

Shane and Erik both took a gander up on stage, and I saw as their eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Shane turned his head and made eye-contact with me. “I think that’s the best description you’ve ever given for… any band. Ever.” He nodded.

 

“Yeah, uh.” Erik laughed. “Let’s bail. We’ve been here for…” He looked at his fancy Fitbit. “Three hours?”

 

“Holy jeez, three hours?” I whispered, my eyes now—also—wide as dick. “Talk about time flying when you’re having fun.”

 

“I’m not having fun.” Shane deadpanned. And then smiled.

 

“Yeah, me neither. I HATE you, actually.” Erik said, putting a hand out as if he were offering something. An opinion I didn’t want, presumably. “You smell like onions.”

 

I snorted. These fucking two. I can’t stand them. “You’re such geeds. I don’t know why I spend time with people that hate me.”

 

“Because our charms are irresistible?” Shane offered.

 

“Because you have no other friends?” Erik offered.

 

“Well that’s just not even true.” I smirked. “I have a TON of kittens on discord.”

 

“Ewww.” Erik replied. “Discord is for losers.”

 

“Wasn’t the first thing you offered me when I met you your discord?”

 

“…Fuck you.”

 

I was right. As usual. Because I spend all of my time with two knuckleheads. Well, actually, three. Fang can be a COMPLETE knucklehead. Whether it’s because she doesn’t know how to file a tax return and had unknowingly been committing tax fraud for years, or because she lets Kitty sleep on her at night and wonders why her allergies act up, or maybe it’s when I tried to teach her stick shift that one time and she beamed the truck right into a pole—who knows.

 

The truck was fine, by the way. It’s a Ram 2500. The pole was destroyed, sure, but that beautiful diesel engine remained. Flawless, as I had expected. Fuck you HEMI!!

 

cough. Anyway. We all got our shit together, left a tip, and skidaddled. No other way to really put it. To reiterate: knuckleheads. Skidaddle is the perfect adjective for them. Wait, no… Verb. Adverb? Shit. I have no clue, do I?

 

I sighed internally. Well… whatever. Yeah, whatever. I don’t need to know that. It’s not like I need English for my career path. Half the people shopping at Walmart don’t even speak it. And that’s not racist, that’s just true! So don’t try to attack me for that. I can skirt that line this time.

 

“What are you… going on about?” Shane asked. “You sound like a certified schizo, my guy.”

 

“Dude, I don’t know.” I huffed. “I just say stuff sometimes.”

 

“Sometimes?” Shane asked, flinging open the door to his GMC. A very nice car, honestly. Erik had his shitbox, I had my truck, and Shane had his SUV. Perfectly balanced. “You’re always babblin’ about something. But it’s okay, boo.” He made a kissy face. “I love you all the same.”

 

I chuckled. “Quiet, dork. Or I might walk over there and kiss you on the mouth.” I threatened, though… it can barely be considered a threat. Any man knows that every man wants to be kissed on the lips by another man. It’s the way of the land.

 

…wait,

 

“Hah. Whatever. Love you dude, catch you next time.” He waved, hopping into his car. “Gotta run, I didn’t realize it was this close to 2:00, I got work in fifteen minutes!” He laughed. “Say hi to Fang for me!”

 

“Catch you dude!” I exclaimed, waving as he drove off.

 

I then turned to face my other compatriot. “Well, was there anything else you wanted to do man? I got time.”

 

“New skate shop opened up on fifth.” He smirked. “Wanna check it out?”

 

“Hell yeah.”

 

<<<<<>>>>>

 

BAM

 

“Honey, I’m hooome!!” I shouted, barreling through the front door.

 

“AGH!!!” Fang yelled, throwing whatever she had in her hands up into the air. “Agh! Jesus, honey! Go—fuck—FUCK YOU!!” She threw a middle finger at me, looking very flustered as she did. “Scared the dick out of me!”

 

I began to laugh a belly-laugh. Ah, man. That never got old. Sure, I lo—like Fang a lot, but what kind of man would I be if I didn’t give her a good scare every now and then? Especially because she does the SAME shit! It’s not verbal/emotional abuse if your girlfriend does the exact same thing. At that point it’s just mutual dickery, and you’re in luck, because I love dickery.

 

You just saw a whole lot of it, after all. Erik and Shane are the kings of loving dick. Ery.

 

“God, you’re the worst.” Fang interrupted my thoughts, snickering softly as she picked up her… notebook? Notebook. A small composition book with flowers on the front—her songwriting book.

 

I walked into my apartment—smiling at the authentic entertainment center holding my tv up—and over towards the familiar brown couch. “Whatcha writin’?” I asked, letting my big ass fall onto the comfortable leather. I snuggled my shit in as I looked over her shoulder.

 

She quickly moved it away from sight. “No peeking!” She hissed, sticking her tongue out.

 

“Aw, what?” I asked, straightening myself back out. “Why not?”

 

“Eye-dee-kay.” She shrugged, scratching at the bandage on her hand. A wound from her laser removal. At her words, though—I groaned, and she chuckled. “I dunno,” She said, speaking English like a normal person. “I guess I just want this one… to be…” She lost her smile, instead choosing to look down at the ground. She tapped her pencil against her knee softly—a sign of her considering certain things. Not like that was a NORMAL sign for her, but I… could tell. “I want it to be special. For you, and for me. So… I’m gonna keep it a secret for now.” She laughed again. “Hope you’re not too upset. I know you can be a huge baby about this sort of thing.” She kissed my cheek.

 

“Well, I mean, it’s true.” I tilted my head to the side, agreeing with the statement in question. “But that doesn’t mean it’s nice. Or respectful. Or kind.” I frowned, spouting off every adjective I had in my internal dictionary. Not like she knew what any of those words MEANT, though, because she’s POOR and DUMB.

 

I’m kidding. She’s my gee-eff, I gotta support her. Even if she is a little poor. And a little dumb.

 

“You’re making stupid jokes about me in your head again, aren’t you?”

 

“God, both you and Erik said that.” I stood up quickly, holding my head in my hands as I walked back and forth. “Or was it Shane? I don’t remember. But shit, am I really that obvious?” I chuckled.

 

“You mumble, dork.” She laughed, but gave me a sympathetic look at the same time. Weird. I can’t say I didn’t like it, though. Fang being nice to me was… nice. “It’s endearing, though. Cute. I promise.”

 

I smiled. Proving my point yet again. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Guys aren’t cute, Fang.” I crossed my arms, my tone full of faux-anger. “We’re handsome. Manly. Get it right.”

 

She stood up, tossing her notebook on the couch. She walked slowly up to me, a slight sway in her hips as she sauntered. Her eyelids were half shut—the elusive ‘bedroom eyes’ which… I am yet to truly see in action. But that was besides the point. She continued moving, wrapping her arms around my neck as she swung around me. She got in close, and kissed me on the cheek. I blushed as she began to speak. “You sure are manly.” She spoke, her hot breath tickling my ear. She then gave me a deeper kiss, “MmmmmmmmmmmWAH!” She stopped kissing. “But you are so cute!” She squealed. “Mwah mwah mwah—!”

 

“Stop!” I laughed. “Augh! Gross!”

 

“Mwah! Mwah!” She kissed twice more, and then tilted my head. She made eye-contact with me before going in for a real kiss.

 

The world melted away. As… usual. The world left us behind as the stars came out, the fireworks shot off. Because I’ll be honest, I… I truly love kissing Fang. She’s soft, she smells lovely, she’s the perfect height, she’s SO CUTE, she… I really do care for her. So, so much. Every single time… every time I kiss Fang, it feels magical. Like it’s our first kiss, all over again.

 

With a ‘pop’, she pulled away. “You’re cute, honey. Nothing wrong with that.” She kissed me again. “Especially because I also think you’re manly.”

 

I was entranced. I hardly knew what was going on. That kiss had stolen my breath, removed all brain power. “Th-Thanks…”

 

“Of course, sweetie.” She winked. “Now c’mon. I wanna do something.” She continued clutching me. She tightened her grip, actually. Rested her head on my shoulder. “I’ve been sitting here for hours, waiting for you. Let’s do something fun.”

 

“But I was just at the bar..” I whined slightly. It wasn’t real, though. I was gonna take her out anyway.

 

“Oh, y-yeah.” She stuttered. “That’s okay, then. We can stay in.” She whispered, kissing my shoulder.

 

“I was kidding, girly.” I chuckled. “Let’s go to the mall.”

 

“The mall?” She asked, peeling herself off me. “You have a mall? Well,” She corrected herself. “We. We have a mall?”

 

“Oh, hell yeah. It’s around twenty minutes away…” I chuckled nervously. “But it’s worth the drive. It’s a super big mall, and there are a lot of people that go there all the time. It’s not like the Sunrise mall, which is uh,” I coughed. “Falling apart. It’s a nice mall, honest.”

 

“Well… okay.” Fang shrugged. “Sounds fun.”

 

“Hell yeah it is.” I smiled. Sounds like she was agreeing with it—sweet. I was worried she might not go for it, but I guess I was wrong. “Wanna head out now? Or is there still something you wanted to do?”

 

She smirked. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

 

“I’m down to head out now.” I shrugged.

 

“Well then…” She waved to the door. “Let’s go.” Following that sentence was a snort. She didn’t do those often, but they were always cute when she did. “And don’t comment on the snort.”

 

“Damn it.”

 

Shaking my head, I pointed my thumb towards the door. Fang nodded, and we began our move to leave the apartment. It was a ritual of sorts. She walked out, I followed after her, I locked the door, and kissed her on the cheek as I walked in front of her again. Seemed basic, but it helped us focus on something… nice. Normal. If… that makes sense.

 

Probably not, but oh well.

 

Now.. normally, I’d let Fang walk first. That’s just the gentleman’s way. But what I’ve come to learn, over time, is that she wants me to go first. Purely because she wants me to start the truck earlier. Because she gets hot. OR cold. Depends on the weather outside. Right now it’s… warm. Warmer than cold, but not hot. It was weird that Fang was wearing so many layers though—it was like she was attempting to cover every inch of her body, for whatever reason. I don’t know. But—Fang will probably want the A/C on low. Either that or the windows open.

 

Using the fancy-schmancy keyfob—a new feature to me, because the shitty car I had before this was from 1992 and didn’t have electronic locks—I unlocked all the doors to the truck. I still… I still thought it was a cool thing to have. I’ll be real. I’ve had this truck for a few years now but the features make me giddy. Apple CarPlay, Phone Calls, keyfobs… gahaha.

 

Starting the truck, I smiled as Fang climbed into the passenger seat next to me. An empty can of sparkling water rattled as she shut the door. Damn sparkling water… “When are you gonna drink soda,” I turned the key, and the engine roared to life. When it began to idle, I spoke up again. “Like a normal person?”

 

She smiled, putting a thumb to her chin. “Well, for one, I’m not a person. Dorkass.” She giggled. “And two, erm, shut up? Let people enjoy things?”

 

“Naoooo…” I muttered in an odd tone. “I must be a hater… you don’t understand, Fangy Doodle Bear…”

 

Fang looked like she got punched. The face she made was one of pure discomfort and disgust. “S-Sorry—WHAT did you just call me?” She laughed incredulously. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

 

I shrugged, putting the gear into reverse. “I—I dunno.” I laughed, the same as she did. “Just… off the top of the ol’ noggin.”

 

“Well, do me a favor and never bounce anything off of it again.”

 

Meowch!

 

…After that conversation, we let the music take over. It was Fang’s personal playlist this time, which, sadly—didn’t have any of her music on it. Mostly just Green Day. She always got SO embarrassed when we played my playlist and her music came up, it was adorable. She would blush all cutely and call me a ‘dweeb’ and talk about how ‘it’s not THAT good…’ and it’s just—AAGH!! It’s so cute!

 

Man….. I fvcking… enjoy Fang…

 

The trip continued for another fifteen minutes or so, before we arrived at the mall in question. Big as shit, it was a BLIGHT on this beautiful town. Or… naw. I’m lying. It’s actually a very nice place, and I would visit it a lot with my grandparents when I was a kid. There wasn’t much to do in this town, so we would go to the mall a lot. It was simple, yet effective. And man, when I got my first job and actually had money to buy things here? I was as happy as could be!

 

Pulling into a parking spot—trying not to hit the Mini Cooper that had a shit parking job—I pushed the e-brake and put it in first. I removed the key, and then turned to face my favorite person in the world. “We’re here, babe.”

 

“Hm?” She asked, looking up from her phone. A Google Pixel 7—something I had gotten her for her 25th birthday. I still had my iPhone 7, but hopefully I’ll be able to afford something new… soon… a-anyway. She looked up from her phone. “Oh, cool.” She smiled. She unbuckled her seat belt, and nodded her head. “Let’s go, then.”

 

“Way ahead of you.” I muttered, pushing open my door and stepping out. Nearly slammed it into the aforementioned mini, but things were fine in the end… my truck would’ve been okay. Haha.

 

Walking towards the back of the bed, I met up with my blue ptero gf halfway. She smiled at me, her short pixie cut blowing lightly in the breeze. The sun shone through the strands of hair, framing her in the sun, as if she were a sculpture. ‘Perfect beauty’, by Michaelangelo. A perfect description for… the perfect woman.

 

It was making me grin like a dick. It… it was nice, seeing her with hair. She was so pretty. “You’re really pretty.” I muttered, echoing my thoughts.

 

Her face turned scarlet, almost immediately. “Sh-Shut up!” She yelled, eyes wide. “Don’t say stuff like that all of a sudden! You’re embarrassing me…” She looked around, brushing hair out of her eyes. When she noticed nobody was around, she made eye-contact with me again. “Dweeb…”

 

I walked slowly up to her, and gave her a peck on the lips. “Call me a dweeb all you want, doesn’t make what I say any less true.”

 

“Ugh!” She groaned. “Stop being cute. Let’s go.”

 

She forcefully grabbed my hand, beginning to drag me along—towards the building. I laughed and straightened myself out, walking alongside her. Her blush remained, but she quickly began to smile and giggle a bit. Yeah, yeah. As expected. She can pretend to hate my nonsense all she wants—but I know she absolutely adores it.

 

As we walked towards the building, we passed a poster. It was for Prehistoric Secret, a Dino-Lingerie store of some kind. And Fang… seemed to have an adverse reaction of some kind.

 

When she made a glance towards it, she slowed down, like she had been hit. Like looking at the poster had physically harmed her.

 

“Huh?” I asked to myself, wondering what had happened. “Hey, you okay?” I mentioned, already knowing something was up. I had been with her long enough that frankly, I could read her like a book. At least… with certain things. Some things I was still totally stupefied with—or, as she called it, ‘dense as shit’. And I couldn’t help but agree.

 

But, as expected, she just shook her head. “I’m alright, sorry. Rolled my ankle a bit.”

 

“Oh. We can sit down, if you’d like.” I smiled.

 

She shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s okay. Let’s keep going.”

 

I nodded, muttering an “Alright.” It was essentially being a doormat, but.. I couldn’t exactly force her. I wish she could be more open with me, but. It is what it is, I guess. Her mood already seemed to be brightening a bit, so I guess I couldn’t complain.

 

Pushing open the doors to Nordstrom Rack, I allowed Fang in first. See? I can be a gentleman. The truck thing is a special case. Following after Fang, I looked around. A staircase was on the left side of the store, presumably to… the second story, which is presumably to… furniture? Pots and pans? I don’t know. I’ve never really spent a lot of time in this store. The women in my life really seem to enjoy it, though—, “Oh my gosh! Honey! Look!”

 

“Huhwhat?” I asked, not really paying attention. But now I am. “What’s up?”

 

“Look at this.” Fang muttered, walking over to a set of bowls with lemons on them. “They’re so cute. How much are they…” She picked one up, looking on the bottom. Presumably for a price tag. “9.99…” She smiled. She grabbed another one, and tucked them under her arm.

 

“Jeez, Fang.” I chuckled. “I didn’t take you to be the kind of person to enjoy… lemon bowls.” I raised an eyebrow.

 

This definitely wasn’t the first time Fang had purchased some random knickknack, though. Despite not having a ton of money, her old apartment had some weird things scattered about—and I had asked her about it once. Fine China, statuettes, antiques in a cupboard. She said she had gotten the habit from her mom. While she ‘loved goth things, and if she found a sign that said ‘die, scream, hate’ instead of live laugh love she would definitely buy it’, she still had quite the interest in weird mom shit. I guess it’s just one of those things. Hell, my dad drove a diesel truck.

 

Parents pass shit down. It’s the way of the world.

 

I can appreciate, though, that Fang doesn’t buy everything on Amazon—like my actual mom does. We were receiving packages every couple days back when I still lived with her. So, while Fang does do some stuff that makes her look forty, she’s definitely still young. Twenty-five isn’t middle-aged yet…

 

I should put a kid in her one of these days.

 

Wait. What?

 

Huh?

 

Uh…

 

A-Anyway.

 

“Alright, I’m good.” Fang smiled, interrupting my thoughts. “Anything you wanted to look at?”

 

“Uh… nah.” I shook my head, my cheeks faintly dusted with pink—undeniable proof of my prior thoughts. Hopefully she didn’t notice. “This store is for someone like you or my mom, not me.”

 

“Oh? What’s that?” She crossed her arms, setting down the bowls to do so. “You think me and your mom act similar?” She leaned over, letting a peek of cleavage show. Fully unintentional, given her outfit wasn’t meant to be seductive. She was just wearing a loose tee and long sleeve undershirt combo—in the grand scheme, it was actually pretty cute. Wait. What am I doing? She’s mad at me and I’m swooning. “Is it because of my age? Because I’m just so much older than you?”

 

“No, but—wow, you look super hot in that outfit.” I sperged. A valid strategy.

 

She seemed instantaneously taken aback. “F—“ She stuttered, her face turning scarlet—as mine had. “Fl-Flattery will get you nowhere! Don’t pretend like I’m attractive just to get out of being in trouble!”

 

I chuckled. “What are you waffling about?” I laughed again, before lowering my voice. I had picked up a hint in what she had said, and that usually meant I had to act. “I… wasn’t lying, you know. I really do like how that looks on you.” I smiled, putting both my hands to her hips. “It’s cute. Emo, but cute.”

 

She was blushing furiously. “Shut up already, dweeb. I…” She looked down. “I really appreciate the compliment. You’re quite cute yourself.” She smiled softly. “But still, shut up. Let’s go buy these bowls…”

 

“Whatever you say.”

 

It was only a few more moments before we had checked out, gotten our shit bagged, and left the store.

 

…God, we were making terrible time. ONE store and we were in there for ten minutes, along with us being now 30 dollars in the hole. We hadn’t even gotten to explore the mall yet and she’d already bought something she was making me carry. Unbelievable.

 

But, who am I if not welcoming? “If you see any more stores you wanna go in,” I shrugged, the two of us currently on a path of epic proportions. Aka, the main strip of this galleria. “Feel free to let me know.”

 

As we walked past a DELICIOUS-smelling pretzel stand, she turned around to give me a smile. “Alright. Thank you.”

 

I nodded. Today was looking to be a pretty good day—hopefully it continues going swimmingly. Well, what’s left of today, at least. It’s already kinda late. I know it closes in around four hours, but we should be done in here before then.

 

Right?

 

“Ooh, look! Sweaters!”

 

Augh.

 

<<<<<>>>>

 

“Naruto could easily beat Luffy.”

 

“Who the fuck is Luffy?” I asked, responding to a random child in a low tone as I walked past.

 

It had been a few hours by that point. And, surprisingly… I didn’t have that many bags in my hands. While Fang WAS a girl, and therefore, enjoyed shopping—who doesn’t love a classic stereotype—she definitely knew how to limit herself, and she was still quite reserved. She had a sense of fashion, but it was the same sense of fashion a 19-year-old in 2007 would have. Dark tee shirts, undershirts, and skinny jeans.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I fucking loved it. I really could appreciate a simplistic style. But that’s what it was. Simple. Reserved. She wasn’t walking around buying blouses and dresses—she wasn’t her mom, God bless. I don’t think I was ready for her to wear aprons and flowery skirts yet.

 

But, as we kept walking, something caught both of our eyes. A bright pink store, outlined with stripes and gold text. Bikini mannequins in the windows, enticing any young man or woman to enter its doors. A place so dreadful, I not even DARE to think about pussy.

 

Prehistoric Secret.

 

I felt like I had been… struck. Not by a fist, not by Gohan’s Masenko, and certainly not by Fang. But… as if I had been struck by air. As if Aether, the Greek God of Air, had waved his hand at me and blew wind into my forehead. It was light, yet… noticeable. Something was… wrong.

 

Something was very, very wrong.

 

I bumped into Fang. She had stopped moving.

 

“Fang?”

 

“…ugly.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Wh-What?” I asked, stuttering a bit. “Fang? Honey?”

 

I raised my hand to her. Before even making contact, she smacked my hand away. It stung as I brought it away from her, making eye-contact.

 

“S-Sorry. I have to go.” She looked backwards, making a few steps. She dropped the singular bag she had been carrying, and quickly ran off.

 

“Fang! Wait!” I leaned down, picking up the bag and getting ready to chase after. At least, until she stopped me with one word:

 

“Bathroom!”

 

I froze at that. It relaxed me slightly. She wasn’t running off, running home—running away. She was going to the bathroom, presumably to calm herself down in a mature manner.

 

But… why?

 

Why would she need to? I don’t… I don’t know what caused her to react that way. I don’t know why looking at Prehistoric Secret had made her freeze up so bad, let alone talk about something being… what was it? Ugly? Ugly. She thought something was ugly. And… I couldn’t fathom it.

 

I sighed. Beginning the slow walk towards the bathrooms, I shook my head. Least I could do was just… be there for her. See if she wants to talk about it later.

 

This happened sometimes. Especially in recent times. I think around when she gave up smoking. I don’t know what it was—but now, whenever Fang gets worked up about something, she excuses herself to the bathroom. I only said what I did earlier because I didn’t know why Prehistoric Secret would… well, work her up. Normally it’s stuff like a phone call from her dad—at least, back when that was an issue—, sensory overload in a crowded area, music with two basses, and even that time she got a FaceTime call from some purple triceratops. It’s stuff like that, which, while some of it was unusual—she usually had a good reason.

 

It took a bit to coax it out of her, though. So for now, I just gotta let it lie.

 

…

 

…Bathroom.

 

Bathroom.

 

Bathroom.

 

Bathroom.

 

Skin…. Hurts.

 

Sever the nerve.

 

I gasped as I threw open the door to an empty stall. I threw myself onto the toilet seat, not caring about if it was clean or not. I breathed in and out, in and out—in a vain effort to calm my frayed nerves.

 

I rubbed my knees, snapped my fingers. Touched my thighs, ran my thumb over my teeth. Nothing was… nothing was working. Nothing was WORKING. I couldn’t DO… anything!

 

I huffed and puffed. Thinking quickly, I pulled out my cell phone and opened my music app. I shuffled the playlist—attempting to calm myself down with music. It worked sometimes. I didn’t always have to resort to… it. I could avoid it. I could avoid it.

 

I skipped ahead in the songs. I needed a chorus, not a fucking OPENING! A goddamn SLOW OPEN! ALWAYS A FUCKIN’!!!—-!!

 

“AVENGED SEVENFOLD go FUCK YOURSELF!” I squeaked, dropping my phone to the floor. I hoped nobody was in here to hear me say that, but even if they were, I don’t think I’d care.

 

My hands shook. My forehead was sweating.

 

I needed to calm down.

 

I needed… to calm down.

 

I… whimpered, as I realized. As I realized the only true solution.

 

I hated resorting to it. And, in my current life, I felt like resorting to it was all-too-quick of a decision. But I… I didn’t know what else to do.

 

Slowly pulling down my pants, I… got a good look at my underwear. White, with a blue star on the front. A pair of panties I’d had since I was a teenager—my lack of growth and weight gain ever-apparent. But… they were..

 

“..stupid.” I muttered. “You shouldn’t be wearing these.”

 

You should be wearing the lingerie in that display case. You should be putting out for your boyfriend—hell, you’ve been dating a year and you’ve never even seen each other naked. He’s probably so annoyed with you. Looking at other women all the time, putting himself out on the market. Because you… because you won’t have sex with him.

 

“But he said it was okay to wait.” I muttered to myself.

 

Not forever.

 

…There was a bout of silence in the bathroom for a few moments, before… water, started to drip on my jeans. Water began to drip on my panties, my legs. Touching my face, I realized where it was coming from. It was me. I was… crying.

 

…Breathing heavily, I began to choke.

 

“He’s gonna leave you.” I whimpered, wailing slightly. “He’s not gonna love you anymore. He’s gonna leave you—because you’re so pathetic.” I grunted.

 

I held my forehead. I was working myself up again.

 

Reaching for a few feathers, I… unceremoniously—tore them out.

 

Blood quickly poured from the self-inflicted wounds. But it wasn’t working. It wasn’t doing what I wanted it to do. My breath hadn’t slowed, the pain hadn’t registered. I reached back up for more feathers, only to encounter the same result.

 

I slammed my fist into the stall wall. The entire structure shook as I continued breathing heavily. Breathing as if I were drowning, no way out.

 

No way to escape. No air.

 

No breath. Running out of time, at the very least.

 

I… couldn’t breathe.

 

I can’t breathe.

 

“I can’t breathe.”

 

I… can’t. breathe.

 

I need air.

 

Reaching into the pair of jeans at my legs, I fumbled around for the pockets. I felt like I was gonna throw up. I’m gonna throw up. I’m gonna PUKE.

 

Where is it. Where.. is it?

 

Finally reaching into my pocket and pulling out the object I needed, I held it tightly in my grasp. A flick of a mechanism later, and a nice, matte black blade flipped from the holder.

 

I breathed.

 

…I need air.

 

Touching the cold metal to my ruined thigh, I took a deep breath.

 

…one swipe.

 

One swipe.

 

…Blood began oozing from the cut. I didn’t worry about making a mess. I needed air. This was air. I needed air. Air. Oxygen. Oxygen. Life blood. I’m dying.

 

I can’t hear myself breathe. I can’t think myself oxygen.

 

…I sliced again.

 

As the blood began to flow, I took a shuddering breath in.

 

I sliced again.

 

…

 

I sighed.

 

My body relaxed, and I felt the pain. The adrenaline.

 

The feeling. The calm…

 

I breathed in sharply. “Whew.” I nodded my head. Phew. Whew. Okay. Okay, I can breathe. I was dizzy, but I could breathe.

 

I… made it back.

 

The volume in life returned. I could hear the muffled sounds of Finch through my earbud speakers on the ground—they were broken. I could smell the blood, I could feel my jeans, the pain on my leg. I could see the wall in front of me, the door that thankfully remained locked.

 

…I grounded myself.

 

Taking a bit of toilet paper from the roll, I dabbed at my wounds. I carried a rag and a small bottle of antiseptic for this sort of thing, but I always felt… dirty, using them. I hated using it. I hated it.

 

I… hated this.

 

But… this… this was the only way.

 

Shaking my head, I pulled my jeans back up. The makeshift toilet paper bandages shifted slightly and I winced, but I powered through it. Better this than let the wound bleed all over the place and draw unwanted attention to myself. I opened up the stall door, stepping out into the cool ‘public bathroom’ air. And as I walked to the exit, I passed by a mirror.

 

Stopping, I turned to look. I looked up and down, up and down. Repeatedly, I gave myself looks. I tilted, turned. Judged every aspect of myself.

 

Finally, when all was said and done, I spit.

 

I opened the door to the bathroom, and smiled as I saw Anon waiting for me. I know I didn’t deserve him waiting. Me deserving nice things, being able to enjoy the care I was being shown—it was all a fairytale. I didn’t deserve anything good. Not a disgusting freak like me.

 

But…

 

“Hey, babe. You okay?” He asked, walking up to me. He gave me a smile. “You ran off and it made me a little worried.”

 

He definitely made things feel worth it.

 

…

 

“I’m okay.” She whispered, nodding softly. Her makeup was smudged, like she had been crying. The true kicker was when she sniffled. She really had been crying. “Just needed a minute, is all.”

 

I nodded, taking out a package of makeup wipes I kept in my back pocket for scenarios like this. Fang didn’t have a purse, so she never had anything actually useful on her person. But it was alright, I was happy to do what I was gonna do. You’ve got an emotionally volatile girlfriend, well, sometimes you need to carry a few makeup wipes. “Here, lemme.”

 

She stood still, and I carefully wiped away some of her smudged eyeliner. Or was it mascara? I’m… not sure. The stuff that smudges and bleeds when women cry. You know what I’m talking about. Anyway, I was wiping it off, and then she began speaking. “Thank you.” She whispered, sniffling once again. “I appreciate you a lot, you know that, right?”

 

“Of course, honey.” I nodded. “I appreciate you a lot too.” I smiled. Running a hand through her hair, I ignored the tears on her mouth and brought my lips to hers. Her minty lip balm had long since faded, leaving only a small aftertaste. But I didn’t mind. It’s not like I was fuckin’ tasting her—I was kissing her. And, despite what you may think, that didn’t mean I was eating her lips. Cannibalism is yucky.

 

Wait. Would that be cannibalism? We’re both mammals, but we’re certainly not the same species. We can have kids together—but she’s a pterodactyl and I’m a human being. She’s a dinosaur and I’m a guy.

 

So… what’s the deal here?

 

I dunno. Why am I even thinking about it? I always do this.

 

Pulling away, I took note of the blush on her cheeks. Hehe… I guess I was holding that kiss a little too long.

 

“Now come on,” I nodded my head in the opposite direction. “We still have half a mall to explore, and those pretzel stands are calling my name.” I chuckled a bit. It was a joke, but damn if it wasn’t true… I was starving. Turns out, standing around—like a tool—waiting for your girlfriend to go through the motions worked up quite a bit of an appetite.

 

She nodded quickly, giving her own chuckle. The sound that dreams are made of. “Sounds good, Anon.”

 

She walked past me, and I followed behind, feeling… sluggish, all of a sudden. The smile fell from my face and I looked down to the ground, not knowing what to feel. I don’t know what caused this sudden shift in emotion, and I can only be thankful that I even noticed it at all. But..

 

…Something was wrong.

 

I just didn’t know what.

 

…I sighed. Oh well. It’s not like I could really do much.

 

“Let’s get some pretzels,” I yelled to her, nodding towards a stand.

 

“‘Kay!” She exclaimed, perking up. As if nothing had happened…

 

I shook my head, and walked up to the pretzel stand. When I smelled the cinnamon, I practically forgot all about what just happened. Fang stood next to me, smiling at the prospect of getting pretzels, having also forgotten everything. Maybe.

 

I doubt either of us were expected to forget, but… the pretzel is surely going to help. At least, a small amount. Pretzels are God’s gift to man, as they say.

 

After a few more moments of waiting, it was our turn to order. I got some cinnamon pretzel bites, and Fang got a normal soft pretzel. And it was… almost… a sign of who we were.

 

Me, oily and covered in cinnamon. Her, a soft pretzel.

 

“It truly is an interesting comparison.” I laughed to myself. God, I’m an idiot.

 

But hey, now we have pretzels! We have energy…

 

“To the dragon ball merchandise!”

 

<<<<>>>>

 

Unlocking the lock to my apartment, I swung the door wide as I began my journey inside. I kicked my shoes off, leaving me only in socks. Fang did the same. Gene began to meow as I walked past, and I didn’t bother suppressing a giggle. I nodded my head to the goofy bastards as they began to take notice of the items in our hands. “Hello, Gene.” I nodded to Kitty. “And hello, Kitty.”

 

“Rrrow?”

 

“Yeah, we went to the mall.

 

“Mrow.”

 

“Believe it or not, no. Fang actually offered to buy a lot of it for me.”

 

“Rrrororow??”

 

“Yeah, I know!”

 

“Oh my God, honey, are you talking to Gene again?” Fang giggled, setting down her own bags on the kitchen table. “You know he can’t understand you, rig—?” She interrupted herself upon seeing the fucker right next to Gene. “Ohmygosh Kitty hiiii!!!” She squealed, walking up to her personal gatoid. “Hello baby…”

 

“What’s that about cats not understanding humans?” I raised an eyebrow, signing in faux disappointment as she began to run her hands through Kitty’s fur. And, when she merely stuck her tongue out in response, I turned to Gene. “Women.” I muttered, scratching his chin.

 

“Stop bullying me or I’ll put my Mindless Self Indulgence CD on again.”

 

“Oh God, I’d rather die!” I exclaimed, instantly jumping away from Gene. “Please no! His voice is so annoying!”

 

“Then just pet your cat, and stop being a dork.” She snorted, finishing petting her cat. She then picked her bags back up and turned to me. “I’ll take the clothes and put them away, if you’d like.”

 

“Sure.” I nodded, handing off a few bags. “I’ll get started on dinner. I realize it’s late,” I shot a look to the clock. Yeah, Christ. Late as dicks. “So I’ll just make something quick.”

 

“Thanks hun.” She muttered, giving me a kiss as she passed me. I watched as she walked down the hall, bags in tow.

 

I smiled at her. She was cute.

 

I frowned.

 

Just wish I could be more of a help to her.

 

…Shaking my head, I sighed. “I’m not gonna get anywhere being self-deprecating about it.” I muttered. Resigning myself to just making dinner, I walked around the counter and into the cooking area. Opening the fridge, I took note of the items present. Some sausage… red sauce.. pantry has some spaghetti… hm. All sorts of good stuff we got goin’ on here. Seems simple enough—pasta and sausage, with some sauce for flavor. “Sounds good to me.”

 

I grabbed out the ingredients and fired up the stove.

 

Hm…

 

I kinda gotta pee.

 

Oh well…

 

…

 

Setting the various bags of clothing down on our queen-sized bed, I… started the sorting process early. AKA, I dumped all of it out into a pile and began to sort it by clothing type. Tops over there, pants right there, undershirts over here, knickknacks that didn’t belong in here over there… et cetera. It was an easy system. Do all that shit and then put it away.

 

Sliding open the closet door and grabbing a few hangers off the shelf, I brought them back over to the bed and set them down. I began to look over the clothing as I decided which to start with first… “Hm.” I muttered, putting two fingers to my chin. And then my fist—as if I were the thinker. “Maybe…”

 

Upon doing ‘eeny-meeny-miny-mo’ in my subconscious, I made my choice. Undershirts. Now, undershirts were easy enough. It was just a singular pack of long-sleeve plain-white tees I had bought at a JC Penney. Haha. So, grabbing the bag, I just chucked it into my underwear drawer—I would’ve hung them up, but that’s just a waste of closet space. And we… don’t exactly have a lot of that. So, underwear drawer it is.

 

Speaking of underwear, next on my list was the pants. Two pairs of jeans—one for me and one for Anon—and a pair of sweats, for when it gets cold in the night and I need something to sleep in. Which is… all I can really hope for. Sleep had been miserable for a while, given I was stuck sleeping in jeans and a long-sleeve. Just to… just to cover up my secret.

 

…my secret.

 

Huh. That’s a good way to put it. Makes it sound like it’s something innocent instead of… something disgusting. Something horrible and wrong and yucky and hurtful and—and— …scary. Scarier than anything you’ve ever been through. The scariest duration, the scariest habit you’ve ever experienced. Smoking had nothing on this gross behavior.

 

Every…. Every cut on my body, I felt it. I felt them all at that moment. It wasn’t a sharp pain—more of a dull ache, but still. I could feel it. I could feel them all. And the clothes, the clothes on my skin, they hurt, they were uncomfortable—I was hot, I couldn’t—I couldn’t breathe—

 

I couldn’t stand this.

 

I quickly tore off my shirt, slamming the door and locking it as I did. I huffed and I puffed, and nodded. I was safe. But my clothes still felt like they didn’t belong.

 

This would be sexy if I wasn’t dying for air.

 

Chuckling at my own morbid joke, I tore off my undershirt. My scars breathed, but it wasn’t enough. Off went the pants and underwear, bra included. All in an effort to breathe. And there I stood, naked and… afraid. I wrapped my arms around myself. I felt so cold, yet so hot. So warm, and so… so dirty. So wrong. My birthday suit… I hated being in it. I hated being like this, I hated being who I was.

 

I took note of myself in the bathroom mirror, and turned my head away in shame. I… I didn’t like what I saw. I didn’t like who I had… become. Who would? Who, knowing that they had done this to themselves, would still love who they were?

 

And… who could possibly love THEM? What man. What woman. Who would… who would love someone who was… who was so broken? So ruined? So cut up, bloody, scarred—

 

I whimpered. I tried to cover myself with my hands, but it was in vain. There were too many. All over, too many. Too many to cover with my hands, my arms. Too many to cover without layers upon layers of clothing.

 

Almost… as if… it was wrong.

 

Almost as if YOU were… wrong.

 

Defective.

 

I began to breathe heavily. I was working myself up.

 

I coughed, but it came out broken. I cut it off with more breathing. Heavy breathing. Just like in the bathroom, it felt as if my lungs weren’t working.

 

I… didn’t want to. I didn’t want to do it twice in one day. Especially over something as stupid as this.

 

I continued breathing. Breathing, breathing. Holding my arms around myself. Everything felt… cold. Like before. Everything felt cold, and so, so… oppressive. The shaggy rug beneath my feet was the only way I could feel grounded, and it wasn’t working.

 

I needed to breathe. I needed space. But… I had both of those things. Nobody was around. Nobody could… hear my screams. There was no exit, no way to go. Nothing but the bright light of the fire. Nothing but the river, the river.

 

I whimpered again. “Ha—hhhhhhaa..” I breathed out, unable to control it.

 

Unable to control anything. Unable to walk, move, feel, run, run, hide. Hide. Hide.

 

Hide.

 

My shaky arms ran around, looking for where my clothes lied. Why was I naked? What was I doing? What was wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?

 

Why am I this way?

 

I bent down, grabbing my pants with force. A force I didn’t know I possessed. I shook the pockets, desperately searching for something I can use. Something for me to grasp onto.

 

A small, almost unnoticeable razor blade fell from the pocket. A spare I kept, just in case I forgot my knife somewhere. It was kept in the opposite pocket—which explained why I couldn’t find my knife. But… I didn’t even know what I was searching for. I was just glad I found something.

 

Picking it up off the ground, I shakily held it to my arm. I held it to an area that hadn’t been destroyed already, and breathed in. Calmly.

 

Swick.

 

Blood began to ooze from the cut, and unlike last time, I felt the effects immediately.

 

I breathed in fresh air. My body began to calm down, and my heartbeat slowed. My head clouded—my vision was becoming blurry. I was dizzy, and could barely stand up straight. But… I felt good. I felt calm. I could breathe. Finally, finally, I could breathe. I didn’t… I didn’t know where I was, or why I was, but… I could breathe.

 

The razor fell from my hands, and into the fuzz of the rug. I looked at my arm as blood flowed slowly from the wound I had created. I shook my head, sighing. I needed to clean that up.

 

Shambling over to the sink, I turned the water on ‘warm’ and took a deep breath. It… felt nice, to do that. I had been unable to breathe for… years, it felt like. I felt trapped in this bathroom for decades. But… I was free. The door had been opened. I drank your sacred water…

 

Running my bloody arm under the water, I winced slightly as the blood washed away. It hurt, sure, but in the process, it also stained the white of the sink—which I found myself more worried about than the pain. Putting some soap on the wound, I disinfected it from whatever disease may have been on that razor. It was a pocket razor, not a special razor. So… who knows, really. It’s not exactly something I wish to continue discussing. Kay? Kay.

 

Anyway, upon feeling that I had cleaned the wound enough, I turned off the sink and grabbed a nearby towel. I dried the area, knowing Anon wouldn’t notice if the towel got a… little bloody. I had nosebleeds sometimes, so I’m sure he’d understand.

 

Continuing to breathe deeply, I reached under the sink and pulled out our first aid kit, looking for something specifically. I moved the bandaids, I moved the wipes, the antiseptic, and… off-brand gauze. There we go.

 

Smiling a little to myself for being able to find it, I shut the case, and held the bandaging tightly in my hand. I ran the roll lightly under the sink, and then put it to my arm, where I proceeded to bandage up the wound. It was a common process, and… to be frank, I had to constantly replace the bandages in my supply. I’m just thankful Anon hasn’t noticed yet. Hell, I’m thankful he hasn’t noticed any of this. Even if it… is really weird that I’m sleeping in long sleeve shirts. Even when it’s really hot out.

 

He’s… he’s sweet. He’s a sweet guy. He can just be a little dense.

 

But that’s okay. After all, he—

 

“Fang! Dinner!”

 

He cooks.

 

I chuckled to myself at his timing. “Coming!” I yelled in reply, putting the empty box of bandages on the counter. I began to move towards the door, until I remembered.

 

“Wait. I’m naked.”

 

…

 

Watching as Fang walked down the hall, I smiled at her. “Hey, hot stuff.” I joked. Kinda. I wouldn’t consider it a joke…. She can be quite attractive… anyway, she blushed, chuckling at my comment. My plan worked, and it was easy as pie. “Simple dinner tonight—“ I shifted my focus back to what I was doing. “Just some pasta and sausage and shit.”

 

“Sounds good.” Fang muttered, walking around the island and into the kitchen. She gave me a kiss on the cheek as she reached to grab two bowls from the cabinet. “What kind of sausage?”

 

“Uhh..” I blanked, immediately forgetting what I had actually cooked for us. A common occurrence in this household, given I can be a complete sperg retard in almost every situation I find myself in. But that’s besides the point. “Chicken and apple? I think?” I reached for the packaging next to me, reading over the blue label. Aidells brand… pork sausage… chicken and apple. I was right. “Yeah, I was right.” I echoed my thoughts.

 

She nodded. “Good. Thank you.”

 

A simple enough response, I guess.

 

Within a few minutes we were both seated, enjoying our respective meals. I had cooked broccoli on the side, and she had more than I did. Because erm, broccoli yucky? Pretty easy-to-follow reasoning…….. fucking idiot….

 

Though, yuckiness aside, I took note of Fang barely eating anything. She had more broccoli than I did, but at the end of the day she was clearly gonna be eating less of it. Which left me confused. If only for a moment.

 

She’s… she’s going through something. I’m not blind enough to ignore that. Part of me questioned if now would be… well, if now would be a good time to mention it. She was here, she couldn’t run off, she’s in a vulnerable position. Maybe I can get her talking?

 

“Hey, Fang?” I started, my voice soft.

 

Her expression immediately faltered. She went from bored to… concerned. She either knew what I was going to ask, or had a baseline concern. I never really got emotional with her, so… who knows. “Y-Yeah, honey?” She asked, setting her fork down.

 

I reached across the table, and she seemed to pick up on what I was attempting to do. She brought her hand up from under the table and gave it to me to hold. I clenched it softly, rubbing my thumb along the top of her hand. She looked from the hands and into my eyes, which also bore a concerned expression. I opened my mouth when I knew I had her attention. “You…”

 

I kept it simple. I kept it clean.

 

“You… know you can talk to me, right?” I remained frowning. It was simple. Clean. As I said earlier.

 

She looked… hesitant. Her eyes darted around the room, and the silence was deafening. She wanted to look anywhere else but into my eyes. It was telling. Something was wrong, something was bothering her. But I couldn’t know…

 

Not unless she told me.

 

The silence reigned for a few moments more. At least, until Fang filled it. “Er.” She started, her tone low. It wasn’t anything meaningful—but it was a start. “I…”

 

I clenched her hand, in a way that—hopefully—conveyed how much I cared. Conveyed how I was waiting for her to speak, how I wanted to hear her. How I wanted to listen. Despite everyone else in her life up until this point, I wanted… I wanted to know.

 

She gulped, and then gave me a sideways grin. A nervous one, like she was ashamed of what she was saying. “It’s… my art.” She nodded. “I.. I just..” She looked down at the table, her smile fading quickly. She frowned heavily, and seemed genuinely distraught. Saddened. “I look at other people, and I… I feel so inadequate.” She twirled a circle on the table with her finger. She was still nervous. “My lines are so scratchy, my paint keeps making a mess, I can’t seem to keep my head on straight—“ Her breathing was quickening. “I just, don’t know.. what.!”

 

“Fang.” I said. “—Fang.” I spoke once more, my voice firm. Almost demanding, but not so. “Honey. Look at me.” I nodded at her. She took note of the motion, and turned to face me. Our eyes locked, and she gasped. Her breathing then… slowed down a small amount. I reached my other hand across the table, and she breathed out, grabbing it with her hand. Our fingers locked, and I breathed out. “Deep breaths. Okay?”

 

She moved her head slowly up and down. “I—o-okay.”

 

“In…” I breathed in and held it.

 

I let her finish. “…out.” She breathed out.

 

“In…”

 

“…out.”

 

She took deep breaths, no longer needing me to guide her through the process. She was very quickly calming down, which I was thankful for. It seems that even after all this time—it still worked.

 

“You alright, babe?” I asked, squeezing her hands.

 

“Y-Yeah.” She smiled. “Better. Thank you, Anon.”

 

I smiled back. It was strained, but I smiled. “Of course.”

 

…dinner continued normally after that. Well, normally for her. We discussed her art—in a more positive light—, we discussed dinner itself, we talked about Shane and Erik, we talked about Matchbox 20 for a little bit—all of the normal things for a dinner conversation. Except, I was barely following along.

 

We hadn’t resolved the issue. I didn’t know… I didn’t know what to do. Who’s causing this? Why did she call me that? What the fuck is going on? I had no idea. And… I wouldn’t learn.

 

…At least, not until that night. That very same night.

 

After Fang had eaten dinner, she took an opportunity to use her free time to go back to the living room and finish writing the song she was working on. And I took that time to wash the dishes we used. And now, before you say ‘but didn’t you cook dinner’, I’ll have you know that I did. BUUUUT, our dishes schedule rotates. So, even if I didn’t cook dinner, I would still be washing dishes.

 

But that’s besides the point. I finished washing them relatively quickly, and retired myself to our bedroom. I took note of the unfolded clothes on my way in—but instead of being responsible, I jumped on the bed, choosing to ignore the pile. I could deal with them later. Call it childish, but I just finished a chore, I didn’t wanna do another one…

 

So anyway, I sat there on the bed, str8 chillin. The grindage at that moment was absolutely INSANE. My nuts was itchy, but fuck it, I’m not moving from this spot.

 

…

 

“Not moving.”

 

…

 

“Nope.”

 

…

 

“Fuck.” I muttered.

 

—I still had to pee. I hadn’t actually ended up going to the restroom before dinner like I wanted to. And Fang distracted me during dinner—rightfully so, but still—so I’ve just been holding it this entire time.

 

“Uuuuuuggh…” I groaned, sliding my feet off the side of the bed and standing up slowly. The low iron in my blood stream made this impossible, but I managed. Somehow. “Fuck me.”

 

Scratching my back as I walked, I entered into the bathroom, my socked feet touching the rug. It was shaggy and uncomfortable, but—

 

Ow!!

 

“Agh!!” I yelled, my foot feeling an immediately sharp, intense pain. “What the hell??” I growled. What the fuck was that?

 

My eye caught a glint, and I bent down to pick up the offending object. It was something metal, hidden in the shag of the carpet. Maybe a nail. Or a screw, or push pin. All three would make sense, but the first two would be concerning to find just lying around. That meant that something in the house was broken!

 

Which wasn’t good.

 

But, when I picked it up, I… noticed that it.. wasn’t that. It wasn’t any of the three things I had said.

 

It… actually wasn’t something I expected at all.

 

A… flat-edged razor blade.

 

Sharp as a knife, yet as small as a house key.

 

I was… confused, by this. Very confused. I didn’t use an actual shaving razor—I only had an electric one, and it worked fine. I didn’t have any need to purchase things like this. The only other option was Fang, but as far as I was aware, she didn’t have a razor like that either. What little body hair she needed to shave, she just bought small disposable razors for. Razors where you can’t remove/replace the blades. Where it would be difficult to remove the blade itself and leave it LYING ON THE GROUND.

 

Which left me with a level of confusion that I’m… having trouble describing. I didn’t know what to think. A random razor blade, one that doesn’t fit with anything we own, lying on the ground. It’s covered in blood, and not just my own—there’s stains all over it.

 

Fang was… in here last. Fang, the woman who’s.. going through some things..

 

The woman who… I..

 

Haven’t… seen the arms or legs of in a long time…

 

…

 

…Oh.

 

Oh.

 

“F-Fang,” I muttered, my voice hoarse. Oh… oh my God.

 

Everything was beginning to make sense. It was all becoming clear. The running away, the bathroom, the hot clothes, the awkwardness, the lying—fuck, the LYING! The CUTTING!

 

“Fuck,” I exhaled. “Fuck. Fuck!”

 

How could I have been so stupid?

 

How long has she been going through this alone? How… how long have I been turning a blind eye to this? There were so many signs. So many openings. So many hints, clues. Clues she was probably begging me to notice, to realize. So many issues she wanted me to help her with. And… and yet, I stood there. Like a dumbass, I believed her excuses. I believed what she was saying—but that was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

 

She wanted me to read between the lines.

 

…why couldn’t I?

 

What was wrong with me?

 

Fuck.

 

I rubbed my eyes. Tears began to slowly fall—but I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t be weak right now. Fang didn’t NEED that. She didn’t need a pussy. She needed a man. She needed her boyfriend. Her person.

 

I grabbed the razor blade and shoved it in my pocket. Staring at myself in the mirror, I sighed. I breathed. In, out. In out. In out. In out. Ugh. Ugh! Come on!

 

I breathed out. Out… out.

 

The text on my shirt, stating the words ‘Long Beach Island’, practically mocked me as I read it over and over again. I didn’t even know why, but… I guess it… grounded me? In a way? I don’t fucking know…

 

But it’s time. I gotta go. I gotta do this now. I can’t keep waiting, can’t keep putting this off. I haven’t technically put anything off—but not realizing it sooner? I… I was on borrowed time.

 

I didn’t know if Fang was suicidal or not. I didn’t know if that was her end goal with all of this. But I couldn’t stand around—waiting for it to happen. Waiting for me to fail my job as a boyfriend.

 

Not anymore.

 

I stomped out of the bathroom, and over to the bedroom door. I opened it up and walked out, continuing to stomp. However, before I turned into the living room, I… lightened my steps. I calmed down. I relaxed my muscles, my thighs, my shoulders.

 

I wasn’t angry at Fang. I wasn’t angry at her, her actions—any of it. I was… angry at myself. Angry at what I did. Or, rather… the lack of what I did. I… had failed her. I had failed Fang. I had failed my girlfriend. I… had failed the woman I wanted to marry.

 

Sure, you can say that she didn’t want me to find out. But like I said before, I… I failed to read between the lines. I failed to spend the extra few minutes, the extra time BOTHERING to find out what was wrong with her. I failed. I failed, I failed—

 

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” Fang asked, her eyes darting from her page to.. well, me. It interrupted my thoughts and knocked me back into the real world. “Why’re you just standing there like a creep?” She giggled.

 

I blinked the fuzziness in my head away. I couldn’t self-deprecate at a time like this. I couldn’t make this about myself. I… had to be strong. I had to confront. I had…

 

I had to help her.

 

“Fang.” I started, gulping down my nervousness. A pit formed in my stomach, but I did my best to ignore it. “Babe.”

 

“Pfft.” She shook her head. “You’ve been so SERIOUS today. Lighten up a bit, will ya?” She chuckled, shaking her head again. “It wouldn’t kill you to smile.” She said, and then… made eye-contact. It took her a few moments, but eventually, she noticed my expression. For… for real. “Oh, shit.” Her eyes widened. “Wait. Wait, what’s happening?”

 

I gulped again. Here goes…

 

I decided to be blunt. Looking back, it probably wasn’t a very good idea. But this was one of those ‘now or never’ moments, at least, in my head. To me it was. Had I not just DONE something, right there, right then—I don’t think I would’ve done anything at all. I would’ve sat there, alone and afraid. But like I said, I decided to be blunt. So… I pulled the razor from my pocket. It cut my hand a bit as I did, but I didn’t care anymore. I could cut my hand up all I wanted. This wasn’t about me. It was… about her. I wanted to find out the meaning behind everything.

 

And… I got my wish.

 

As soon as she saw it, she stood from where she sat. “Wh-Where did you get that?” She asked, taking a step to the right. To the untrained eye, she may be going for the razor. But I knew otherwise. “How did you get that? Do you even know what that is? That’s weird.” She laughed.

 

“Fang, stop.” I breathed. “You’re so obvious.”

 

“Wh-What are you…”

 

“Fang.” I interrupted her. “Please, don’t… don’t lie to me. This…” I raised it up. “This is for cutting, isn’t it?” I winced at my usage of the word. It was a sensitive topic, and here I was, invading it. …But fuck it. I don’t care. “This is what you use it for.”

 

“C-Cutting?” She smiled nervously. It was crooked, cheeky. “Heh, yeah, my hair. It’s a razor blade for a razor—“

 

“Stop lying.” I interrupted once more. And… that’s when I decided I needed to push things. Again, a dumb move looking back, but… my only option, honestly. There wasn’t much else I could’ve done. So… here goes. “Show me your arms, please.”

 

“What?” She asked, looking… almost offended. “N-No, I’m not gonna do that. That’s not your business.”

 

“Fang. Please.” I muttered, walking a step towards her. She took a step back. I walked forward, she went back. I walked forward, she went back. She continued stepping back. “Stop hiding from me.”

 

Her back hit the door. We made eye-contact one last time, and I knew her plan immediately. She was… she was gonna run away. And I… I couldn’t…

 

I couldn’t let that happen.

 

As soon as she flung open the door to the apartment, I lunged, grabbing hold of her wrist. She whimpered at my touch, either from the presumable scars or my roughness. But… I’m not gonna forget what just happened. I’m not gonna move on, I’m not gonna stop, I’m NOT GOING TO LET GO.

 

“I’m not gonna let you run away again, Lucy.”

 

…at that, the room went silent. Fang went silent, quiet. You could hear a rat scurry across the floor, the air conditioner humming, the fridge making ice. Not a sound was heard.

 

Except for a tear drop.

 

…and then another. And another. And another, and another.

 

“I’m… s-so sorry..” She breathed in, sniffling as she did. She had only been crying for a few moments, but she was already shaking. I took the initiative and brought her in, wrapping my arms around her, enrapturing her in my warmth. Like I had said before—I wasn’t angry at her. I was angry at me. But also… afraid. I was so, so afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

 

I wiped my own eyes. “It’s… it’s okay, honey.” I sniffled. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” I nodded. I shut the door behind her, and rubbed my hand along her back. In a circle, up and down. She continued to shake, and with each breath, I could feel her back going up and down. Up and down. “I’m not mad. I could never be mad.”

 

I let her stay there for a few moments, feeling my love, my warmth. The care I had for her—the desire to show her that I wasn’t mad at her. That I could never be angry at her. The desire to show that all I wanted to do was make sure she was safe and happy.

 

After a few moments more, I spoke up again. My own crying had slowed, which meant it was time for me to be the strong one again. “You wanna go sit down?” I muttered. I could feel her nod, and I nodded myself. “Alright.”

 

I led her over to our couch, and took a seat. She very quickly snuggled into my arms—a very familiar position. One we had been in plenty of times, mostly for happy reasons. Yet… this makes it the second time that it’s been for a sad one. A depressing one; a life-ruining one.

 

After a few moments more, she slowly stopped crying. She was eventually left there, sitting in my arms, wet stains all over her face and my shirt. But it was okay. It was all okay. Her breathing was slowing, which means she was relaxing. But… sadly, I can’t let her relax too much. I have to fix things.

 

So, of course, I decided to be a blunt retard.

 

“Are you suicidal, Fang?” I asked. Only difference, this… was calculated. This wasn’t being a blunt retard. This wasn’t tossing myself into the situation haphazardly. This was to catch her off-guard. To kick her into the real world, and hopefully, get her to explain herself to me without making her angry. If anything—it’ll just confuse her a bit. Which is what I want.

 

Obviously, she was shocked at the question. “Wh-What?” She asked, sniffling. “No—I’m not suicidal. I wouldn’t ever wanna kill myself.” She paused. I was about to interject, but she spoke up again. “You… you’re asking because of the cutting, aren’t you…?”

 

“…So it’s true.” I whispered.

 

She just… nodded. She had accepted it by now, as I have. “Y-Yeah. But… no. I’m not suicidal.”

 

“So why do… why do you do it?”

 

She fidgeted. It was a very hard question—I couldn’t expect her to answer it right away. But I knew she understood the importance of it. She was goofy, she was clowning around, she knew a joke. But being aware of a joke also meant you… you knew when something wasn’t a joke. You knew when to take things seriously. And this was one of those times.

 

“…it’s…” She froze, not knowing how to explain it. I let her take her time. After a few more moments, she looked up. “It’s a..” She put her fingers to her chin. “Sorry, I’m…”

 

“Take your time.” I smiled, giving her thigh a rub. In any other context, it would seem sexual. But in this one, she just gave me a small, appreciative smile.

 

After a few more seconds—and a few more deep breaths—she looked into my eyes. “It’s… a way to control myself.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“It’s a way to control myself.” She nodded, her face no longer holding a smile. Her face now held a look of concentration, and… contempt? Was that what that was? “It’s stupid, and it’s… it’s really such a terrible idea…” Yeah, contempt. “But it’s just—what’s been working for me. Deep breaths don’t work, grounding myself doesn’t work, and I can’t ask you to always be there for me. You’re busy, you have a job, you have friends, a life.” She looked down, running a hand along her lap. She traced circles with her fingers as she sighed. “I… I don’t really have any of that. And yeah, I know you’re gonna say something like…” She put a finger to her chin, and deepened her voice, imitating me. “‘I don’t care if I’m busy, I’m willing to be there’ and obviously I appreciate that, and I know that!” She pleaded. “But… I know it won’t work. I can’t rely on you like that for every problem I have. So… I got my own methods.”

 

I simply sat there, drinking everything in, considering everything she had said. She… made some surprisingly good points. I care a lot for her, and would’ve been there—but obviously, I wasn’t always going to be there. I wasn’t always going to be available for her. We live in the real world—customers and bosses and people won’t let you take breaks to help your girlfriend. It’s just not going to happen. So… I understand why she found the method. But another question… “How does it…” I paused, attempting to ease my words. “How does it work?”

 

“Gives me a shot of adrenaline.” She shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing alive. “Grounds me, resets my emotions, helps me stabilize.”

 

“…oh.” I looked away. “I… didn’t think about it that way. I knew it was a ‘use physical pain to take away emotional pain’ but… I guess I never understood it until now.” I continued looking away, shifting my eyes to my own lap.

 

It was… an interesting fact to learn, to say the least. And it honestly made everything make so much sense. She gets overwhelmed, runs to the bathroom, stays quiet, and comes out completely calm. Doesn’t even bring her phone with her sometimes. Which is… which explained it. Everything had been explained, and… all of it made sense.

 

But… it making sense doesn’t… doesn’t excuse…

 

“Fang, I…” I looked to her. “I’m…” I breathed. I didn’t know how to say this. I didn’t know how—how I wanted to come across with this. Would it be selfish to say it? Would I be making it about myself? Was this… was this wise? Huh. I… stayed silent for a few moments, thinking things over. I had to worry about a lot here.

 

…but I didn’t have to worry about as much as she did.

 

“…Fang, I’m… I’m so sorry.” She hadn’t said anything yet, seemingly allowing me to speak. Which I appreciated a lot. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice. Didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything.” I clenched my fists. “Didn’t… help you.” My eyes watered again, and my fists clenched tighter. I was so… angry. So furiously mad. And I was… I was mad at me. “I’m such an idiot for not realizing. And I’m SORRY if this sounds like I’m making it about me—“ I interjected my own words. I… I couldn’t help it. “But I… I just… feel like I failed you.”

 

I turned to face her. She looked saddened, hurt. Hurt by my words. But before she can say ‘oh no you didn’t do anything’ or some other bullshit, I interrupted her. “Please.” I closed my eyes. The tears flowed, and a bit of moisture escaped my eyelids. I opened them back up, and wiped them. I can’t keep… fuck. I can’t. I can’t, I can’t. I have to be strong. Stronger than her. “Please, Fang. Tell me what I can do to help you.”

 

The silence in the room, as it had been so many times prior, felt deafening. I felt as if I was on the bottom of the ocean, the pressure forcing down on me, making every bone in my body ache and cry out. Making me feel such an immense amount of agony, making me feel so much pain.

 

But… not as much as her.

 

“Fang.” I grabbed her hand. I had more to say. More to request of her. “May I… see your scars?”

 

She nodded slowly, seemingly still considering things. But slowly, she unbuckled her jeans. She undid the button, unzipped the pants, and… pulled them down slightly. I tried to ignore the sight of her purple panties—now wasn’t the time for things of that nature. And. Well. Let’s just say it… wasn’t too hard to ignore.

 

“Oh my gosh…” I muttered, getting a good look at her legs for the first time. They were… they were covered. Head to toe, they were covered in welts. Red marks that looked like stretch marks, but… I knew what they were. Anyone would be able to tell. It was scarring. Some were old, some were fading, some were new, and… some still had bandaids on them. Some overlapped, too, so… she…

 

She had been doing this for a while. So—shaking my head, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision.

 

I… leaned my head down, and put it between her legs. And, like before, in any other scenario—my actions could be seen as sexual. But… this was meant to be anything but.

 

Slowly but surely, I began to kiss her thighs. Up and down, along every visible cut I could see. There… there were, obviously, a few more than I could kiss. But I don’t think either of us minded. Judging by her giggles, I… had made a good move.

 

“St-Stop,” She snorted, beginning to giggle. “Stop it, dweeb, that tickles!” She began to whack my head in an attempt to get me to back off. But I persisted!

 

“No.” Mwah. “I won’t.” Mwah. “Not until,” Mwah. “You realize,” Mwah. “How much I love you.”

 

It had…. Merely escaped me. In a moment of weakness, I let my true feelings be known. I spoke too soon, spoke before I could stop myself.

 

I… felt bad about it. Terrible, actually. To me… saying that, at that moment—that was manipulation. That was playing a shady card to make Fang feel better, in an almost artificial manner. It… was… to put it simply, it was the wrong time. I didn’t mean to do it right then, but… fuck. I did. I opened this can of worms, and now I have to lie in it.

 

Except… it was by no means a can of worms.

 

“Do…” Fang started, very hesitantly. She opened her mouth, closing it again shortly after—as if she were trying to place her words. After a few more moments of silence, she blinked, and I watched as her eyes glazed over again. “Do… do you really mean that?”

 

“H-Huh?” I asked, trying not to make eye-contact.

 

“…do you really love me?”

 

…I sat there in silence for a little bit.

 

“Well, the cat‘s out of the bag, I guess.” I whispered, chuckling softly at my own words. Whether or not it was nervous is up to interpretation—however, I’ll say: I’m fucked up. This is fucked up, and I fucked up. “Shit.”

 

“So it’s true?” Fang asked, her voice now above a whisper. “Please, don’t lie.” It went right back down.

 

I sighed. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this to happen now.

 

“Y-Yes, I do.” I nodded, and closed my eyes. “Fang Aaran, I love you. Probably more than life itself—I love you. More than the sun and more than the moon, I love you.”

 

…After a few moments, she still hadn’t said anything. But when I opened my left eye to peek, I was caught off-guard by her rapidly approaching snout. Before I could even so much as yelp, she caught my lips in hers.

 

And, for the hundredth time, I felt myself melting. But as always, it… was just as good as the first. No matter how many times Fang kissed me, I kissed Fang, we kissed each other—I never, ever got tired of it. Hell, I’m sure I’ve said ‘I don’t get tired of Fang kissing me’ like—six times over by now. But can you blame me?

 

I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her in tight.

 

She was perfect.

 

After a few more moments of us kissing, she pulled away, a string of saliva following. Yeah, there might’ve been some tongue. Maybe. Just a bit. But that’s besides the point—it was romantic. As usual.

 

But I had something else I wanted to say.

 

“Fang,” I breathed. “Babe.”

 

I breathed heavier. Wow. She kinda took my breath away.

 

“Look.” I nodded. My breathing slowed, as did my movement. I calmed myself down quickly. “I… Fang. I knew what I signed up for when I started dating you.” I smiled. “You’ve got your problems, I.. I know that. And that’s okay.” I clutched her hand. It was soft, warm. “…But I need you to know that no matter what, you’ll always be perfect to me.” I pointed to her legs. “This is something concerning, and talking to a professional would be a good course of action… but this doesn’t make you any less beautiful.” I looked back up to her eyes. “You know that, right?”

 

It took a few seconds of her staring at me, but eventually, she nodded. She closed her eyes, looking down. I sat there, wondering if she was gonna say anything—but all that happened was a few tears falling.

 

She then looked back up to me, her expression one of utter joy. “I know what I want to write that song about now.”

 

…?

 

“H-Huh?” I laughed incredulously. “What?”

 

“I know what I wanna write the song about!!” She smiled excitedly. “Trust me! It’ll be good.”

 

“I-“ I stuttered. “O-Okay?”

 

“But,” She interjected herself. “…thank you.”

 

I nodded. “Sure, it’s—“

 

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “It’s not fine. But…” She looked at my hands, rubbing her thumb over top of mine. “You’ve made me feel fine. And I owe you so much for just that. I know you can’t solve my problems, but…” She looked up to me. “You always know how to make a girl feel special.”

 

I smiled softly, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

 

“Just doing my job, babe.”

 

She smiled back.

 

And, as I looked at her makeup-stained face, her cut-up legs, her damaged self. Every flaw that I could find on her, I was seeing all of it. Everything wrong with Fang was presented to me in this moment.

 

But I only thought one thing.

 

…beautiful.

 

<<<<<>>>>>

 

I watched the stage with energy. My breath: bated. My nerves: shot. My dick: hard.

 

My girlfriend was going up on that stage, preparing to sing her brand new song. The opener for their brand new album, ‘Canary in a Coalmine’. It was a pretty unique name, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever heard another music song—or album—be named something like that. Not at all. Definitely no Zenyatta Mondatta influence… uh, anyway. I’m off-track. This was their new album, and this was the performance for their opener.

 

So… yeah. I was excited.

 

When she finally walked on stage, I whooped. Not just for her, but for her friends, Charles and Dwayne too. The band was a group effort, and those two were good guys. We have them over for dinner sometimes, and I can confidently say that they’re a good influence on Fang. She’s told me that she stayed away from drugs pretty much entirely because of them. So… I owe them a lot.

 

But that’s all besides the point. I’m sure we’re all tired of the emotional drama. So let’s have some fun, shall we?

 

Fang smiled, grabbing the mic off the stand. “Hellooooo Skin Row!!”

 

The crowd cheered. Fang, dressed in a striped sweater and black skirt, lit up the stage with her enthusiasm. Despite her still playing in a small bar in the middle of Skunt Row, she had made a pretty good name for herself. People really liked her band and her music. She apparently got a lot of hits on her previous album on Spotify, which was super cool. I’d use a better adjective, but I’m lazy. I’m more interested in this music.

 

“Alright, everyone.” Fang spoke as the crowd died down. “This is another one of those ‘heavy emotion’ songs you keep hearing about.” The crowd cheered. Honestly, I always thought that would be annoying. Couldn’t get half of a sentence out without being interrupted, that sounds like a nightmare. But Fang? She told me that it was her favorite part. That she loves interacting with her fans, the crowd. She loves hearing that they love her. Which… well, yeah. Makes sense. “Only, this time, it’s not because of the lyrics.”

 

Hm?

 

“It’s because of why it was written.” She smiled, and closed her eyes, looking down. “It’s sappy, but… I wrote this song for my boyfriend. He’s always been there for me, supporting me, cherishing me, loving me. All of it without ever asking me anything in return. He…” Her face turned serious, and she looked out into the crowd. “Just recently, he helped me through a very traumatic period in my life. I was struggling a lot with harming myself.” The crowd gasped. “But… since I talked to him, I’ve been working through it. Way better than I was when I was doing it alone. So… I have to thank him. For everything.” She turned to face me. “Hon…” A spotlight shown on me. Shit, I didn’t expect that. Hopefully I don’t get harassed after this performance… “Thank you for always being there for me.” She muttered. The crowd said ‘awww’, and began to cheer. I didn’t expect the attention, honestly.

 

But at the end of the day, I always smiled.

 

She then cleared her throat, and began to sing.

 

“Puuuuut your lovinnnnnn haaaaaaaand oooouuut babyyyy….” She sang, her voice deep.

 

“…cuz I’mmmm beeeeeeeggginn….”

 

The baseline started, and then the drums picked up. The two worked in tandem, complimenting each-other perfectly. Charles on drums, Dwayne on bass. They played their hearts out, until, after a few seconds:

 

“I’m beggin’, beggin’ youuuu…. So put your lovin’ hand out, baby.”

 

“I’m beggin’, beggin’ youuu…”

 

She held out a hand, making eye-contact with me. I blushed at the repeat attention. But… I began to understand.

 

“So put your lovin’ hand out, darlin’.”

 

I understood why she had said what she said. And as soon as I did,

 

I began to cheer.

 

…the performance continued on, them playing around five-or-so more songs. It wasn’t a concert, so she couldn’t go on for hours, but it was nice to hear their music. Nice to hear her real singing voice—not through a shower door for once. It had been a while since her last performance, after all. So… it was nice.

 

When things finally wound down, and the curtain had been drawn, I opened a blank door and walked backstage. The security knew by now that I was who I was—so they didn’t bother asking me if I had clearance. It took a while, but eventually they caught on.

 

When I say security, by the way, I mean two dudes. CJ and Dylan. Pretty chill guys, honestly. They do their job well, yet they aren’t opposed to a good joke. I can really appreciate that. But anyway—I’m off-topic. As usual.

 

I walked up to Fang, hugging her from behind. She yelped, but very quickly realized who it was. “Honey!” She said, giggling.

 

“Heya.” I whispered, clutching her tight. I then began to pick her up, and she continued to giggle and snort. I waved her back and forth—she was light as a feather—and she laughed and laughed.

 

“Put me—haha—down!” She cackled. “You’re tickling me!”

 

“I don’t care!!” I laughed. But then I actually put her down. She quickly whipped around, opening her mouth to NAG me! “I’m proud of you.” I interrupted.

 

She froze in place, blushing profusely. “Er, uh—“

 

“I really liked the song you wrote.” I smiled. “Is that one gonna be on Spotify?”

 

“Oh—er, psh, of course,” She waved a hand, trying to play off how embarrassed I had made her. “That’s one of the best we’ve made. It would be dumb not to put it on there.”

 

I shrugged. “Well, sometimes you can be pretty dumb.”

 

“Hey!” She frowned. “Making fun of me? After all I‘ve done for you?” She scoffed, crossing her arms. “Honestly. Maybe we should start covering Beatles songs.”

 

“No, please!” My eyes widened. “You can’t do that!”

 

“Oh, but I can.” She smiled. “I can do whatever I want.”

 

“N-No,” I laughed. “What about Charles and Dwayne??” I remembered suddenly. Finally. An upper hand. “You have to get their permission!”

 

“Hey, Charles! Dwayne!” She yelled, bending her body in a way that made her head go farther than her body. Freaky. “Can we cover a Beatles song?”

 

Charles, from across the way, perked up. “Hm?” He asked. He had been putting some kind of instrument into a case. “Oh, sure.” He shrugged. “I don’t care. As long as its good.”

 

“Fuck.” I whispered.

 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” She walked up to me, putting her arms around my shoulders. She spun us around, and I smiled like a dweeb. “You know I’m kidding.”

 

“Maybe I do.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“I said maybe.”

 

She snorted. “Dork ass.”

 

She put her lips to mine, and I gladly reciprocated. It was a kiss—like all the others. Perfect. Only… this one had an undertone. This one had… some kind of desire behind it. A forcefulness I hadn’t expected, yet also… a beg. A plead. Not an emotional plead, but… a plead. Which made me wonder. Did that song carry a third meaning?

 

She removed herself from my lips, and whispered in a husky manner. “Let’s get going.”

 

“O-Okay.” I gulped. I didn’t know what was happening. I had never heard that tone from her before. Was she mad? Happy? Ecstatic? Pissed?

 

…aroused?

 

I tugged at my collar, and followed her as she led us outside, her opening the door for me. And that’s when my brain kickstarted. Taking a moment of slow movement from her, I walked ahead, beelining for my truck. She caught on quickly, ‘tsk’-ing as she most likely remembered her request from all those months ago.

 

I chuckled to myself as I hopped in the diesel, pressing the brake and turning it on. The ventilation system started doing its job, and I leaned back in my seat. Within only around a few moments, something was set into the bed, and the passenger door was opened up. In climbed my girlfriend.

 

“Good,” She grunted, jumping up into the seat. “I prefer you taking the lead.”

 

“Yeah, I figured.” I muttered, my cheeks slowly turning red. She was dropping a lot of hints. Hints that I didn’t know if I wanted to catch onto. But that wasn’t because I didn’t want… it, to happen. It was because, uh… well.

 

Let’s just say I was slightly fearful.

 

I drove us home, though. And lemme tell you, that was a… very awkward ride. Fang had her hand on my thigh the entire time, which, again—was showcasing a desire. One that I didn’t know I could… one I didn’t know I could reciprocate. In… in a manner that she would like.

 

When we arrived home, we both quietly got out of the car. I retrieved her guitars and brought us up the stairs and over to the front door. I set them down, pulled out my keys, unlocked the door, and… opened the place up.

 

The house, not normally bustling with any kind of life, was… oddly quiet. The cats were nowhere in sight, and it’s not like we had a dog. So… quiet. Or mayhaps just foreboding. I’m making a big deal out of it, but it’s not like I don’t… it’s not like I don’t want to have sex with Fang. Of course I do. What man wouldn’t want to have sex with his cute ptero gf?

 

Problem is, I—

 

My thoughts were interrupted by a sudden kiss from Fang. I had closed the door, which, I guess gave her the go-ahead to get moving. It started slow, but very quickly, the kiss turned aggressive. Her tongue began to poke at my teeth, and—on instinct—I let her in. Our tongues began to wrestle, as if two bubble gum worms were attempting to throw one another off the platform in a game of death wrestling. Which isn’t a real thing, but you get what I mean. Like that sword fighting game in Wii Sports Resort….

 

However, I was kicked by reality once again. Pushing Fang away, I gasped for air. Fuck. That was intense.

 

Fang, however, simply seemed… confused. She moved her hair behind her ear—at least, what little of it she could—, and raised an eyebrow. “H-Honey?” She breathed. “Are… did I…” She looked down. “Was that too sudden?”

 

I shook my head. “N-No, it’s just…”

 

“Do you… do you not wanna do it with me?” Her eyes glistened. “It’s… its been a year. I can understand if you’re not ready, but I figure by now we’d…” She rubbed her thighs. “Not trying to sound manipulative, or anything. But. What’s wrong?”

 

I stayed silent for a few moments. I had already become erect by this point, the kissing and the idea of sex having made me excited, but… I didn’t know if I could use it on her.

 

But… she wanted to know. I don’t want to say it, but she deserves to know. I wanted to know about her cutting earlier, and… she told me. She was honest with me. So… it’s time I return the favor. Even if it leaves me crying in the shower…

 

“…I don’t know if… I don’t know if I deserve that.” I spoke. It was no louder than a whisper, but she still seemed to hear it.

 

“Wh-What?” She asked, raising her eyebrow again. “What are you talking about, deserve?”

 

“I don’t think I have a right to have sex with you, Fang.” I grunted—in an attempt to get my point across. “I don’t think I deserve that. Not after everything I’ve done.”

 

…She was silent for a few moments. Until she began to laugh.

 

“H-Hey…” I sighed. I guess I couldn’t expect her to fully understand.

 

“No, honey,” She giggled. “I’m sorry. It’s just.” She waved her eyes. “Ooohh… Anon, honey…” She grabbed my hands. “What are you even talking about?”

 

I raised my own eyebrow. “Whaddya mean?” I asked, becoming slightly bothered. But I was mostly just… having a hard time believing she didn’t know. I had a hard time believing that she was completely unaware. How did she not know? “Fang, I… all of it.” I spoke softly. “It was all my fault. We can pretend it wasn’t, and I can enjoy your performances, and have fun with you, but GOD—every time I look at you, all I see is my own failure!” I began to ramble. “My own failure. All those scars along your body, as selfish as it sounds, those are personifications of MY poor decision-making.” I fell onto the couch behind me, holding my head in my hands. “It’s a reminder of me not being able to protect you. Not being able to be your special person, not…” I choked. “Not being able to save you.”

 

I looked up to her.

 

“It’s the personification of nothing being alright.”

 

I breathed out a chuckle, my ramblings over. Not a very long rant, but one that came from my stupid heart. Sometimes my brain and heart work in tandem, but I don’t think this was one of those times. I said a lot of stupid shit… “And now I just sound like a dick, making your issues about myself.” I muttered, trying to save my own skin. God.

 

I’m pathetic.

 

I sat there for a few moments, wallowing in my own misery. Rightfully so, in my opinion. The only thing a guy like me deserves. Absolute misery.

 

At least, I sat there in my own misery for… only a few moments. Because, before I knew it, someone took my hands away from my face.

 

“Honey.” Fang muttered. I didn’t look up to meet her eyes. So, she took matters into her own hands. She slowly bent down, and… climbed onto my lap. I blushed at the position, but she spoke before I could give any kind of complaint. “Hon, look at me.”

 

I didn’t want to.

 

“Honey.”

 

I don’t want to.

 

“Anon.”

 

I opened my eyes slightly. She grabbed my chin, and turned it up. I finally met her gaze, and… she didn’t look angry. She looked sympathetic, but… also annoyed. “Anon, you’re an idiot.” Ah, there it is. “I told you before, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

Huh? “Huh?”

 

“Honey…” She kissed me on the cheek. “I’ve told you so many times before. I made the choice, I did what I did. I didn’t like it, and I want to move on. Hell, my sessions with Doctor Miles are going great. We’re very close to a minor breakthrough, as he says.” She smiled. I smiled too, until I let it fall on purpose.

 

“Well yeah, but, had I actually done something—you wouldn’t have had to even go see Dr. Miles—“

 

I was interrupted with a kiss. It was by no means a sexual kiss, or a long kiss, but it was enough to get me to stop talking for a few moments. Because when she pulled away, she spoke up again. “Anon.”

 

I stayed quiet.

 

“I’m broken, Anon.” She whispered. “I’m a very, very broken person. And you knew this when you started dating me.” She clutched my shirt in her hands. It wasn’t rough, but she definitely had a tight grip. “In the diary of my life, I’ve gone through a lot, Anon. A lot of coping mechanisms. Smoking, drinking, vaping. All of it. I’ve done all of it.” She chuckled. “Self harm was… bound to happen. But it wasn’t your fault.” She… slowly put her head to my chest. “Honey. The one thing in my life that’s been a constant source of positivity has been you. The one person that’s made me want to stop using these coping mechanisms…” I leaned back on the couch, and she wrapped her arms around me, kissing my chest. “It’s you. It’s always you.”

 

My eyes began to water.

 

“Anon, you’re the only one who’s gotten close to saving me. It’s not your fault that I’m unfixable.”

 

“But you’re not—“

 

“Yes, honey, I am.” She interrupted. “I have my issues, and they can’t be solved. Only suppressed. But that’s okay.” She removed herself from me. “As long as you’re with me, I can suppress until the day I die.”

 

She kissed me on the nose.

 

“You’ve done so much for me. And yeah, it’s shitty to make my issues about you, but it’s…” She looked down. “It’s not like I can’t blame you. We’re lovers.” She looked back up to my eyes. “My issues are yours, and yours are mine.” She giggled.

 

I continued to sit in a stunned silence, not… knowing how to process the information I’ve received. Not knowing how to process her feelings, how to process… what I’m supposed to do next.

 

So, I followed my instinct.

 

Closing the distance between us, I initiated another kiss.

 

This one… devolved. Quickly. Tongue was involved within only a few seconds, and we were very quickly making out on the couch. The eroticism in the room very quickly returned, and… this time…

 

I didn’t have a problem with it.

 

We were lovers. This was normal.

 

(This is the start of the sex scene. Skip to the end if you don’t wanna read this. Thanks gents)

 

She slowly began to grind on me, my dick already as hard as a fucking cinder block. My jeans became incredibly tight as she continued moving. And also… rather wet. I could feel them already becoming damp. Which told me a few things about Fang. She was either commando, or… very, very pent up. And I can’t say I blamed her, shit… I was too.

 

As she continued grinding, she reached for her sweater and threw it off. That left her in a very see-through ringspun cotton Vans t-shirt. Her in that and a skirt was honestly a very attractive look. Though, it wasn’t long before that was discarded too, leaving her in only…

 

Wait. This… this is familiar.

 

I didn’t notice it because of the shirt, but… she’s wearing lingerie. Very familiar lingerie.

 

“..I got it from Prehistoric Secret.” She whispered, pulling away from my mouth. In-between breaths, she chuckled. She then hopped off—Aw—, and walked backwards. She shoved her skirt to the floor, showing that she had a matching pair of panties. Which confirmed one of my previous theories. “Do you like it?”

 

“…did you… plan this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Uh, ye-yeah.” She blushed harder. “I hope you’re not mad…”

 

“N-No, I…” My cheeks were just as fiery. “I’m just surprised you were able to perform in that.”

 

“Well it’s… just underwear…” She looked away. “A-Anyway, I hope you like it.”

 

“Of course!” I exclaimed. “Fang, you look…” I looked her up and down. Scars covered her body. I figured she’d have been more self-conscious, but… I guess the desire to show me the lingerie overrode her nervousness. But as I was saying, she… “Lucy… you’re gorgeous.”

 

Her eyes widened, and she let out an involuntary squawk. “D-Don’t call me Lucy!”

 

I laughed. “Sorry. I just… thought it was good for the moment.”

 

“It was, but don’t expect to be able to get away with that all the time, dweeb.” She huffed. “Now come on. I’m gonna get back on you and ride your cock to completion.”

 

“HUH!”

 

She walked over, and slowly took me to the other side of the couch. I guess she was just being hyperbolic, because the position we were in seemed to be missionary. With her on the bottom. Does she even know what riding means?

 

“Also, this isn’t fair.” She chuckled. “I’m in my underwear and you’re fully clothed?”

 

“S-Sorry—“ I threw off my shirts and unbuckled my belt. It was very quick, but soon enough, I was left in my boxers.

 

“And look at that, I can see your bare chest, but you can’t see mine…” She spoke, her voice husky. “Let’s fix that.”

 

She reached behind her, unclasping her bra. She let it fall off her chest, and threw it to the side. It landed somewhere near the coffee table—I didn’t fucking care. TITS. “Woah.” I muttered, seeing her breasts for the first time. They weren’t anything too crazy, only being B-Cups, but shit… they were still the best pair I had ever seen. If only… because of who they were attached to.

 

I looked into Fang’s eyes. Her expression showed confidence, but… inside… I could see the nervousness.

 

Truth be told, we were both nervous. As far as I was aware, we were both virgins, which was definitely a very special scenario. That meant that the both of us were wholly inexperienced, no matter how much either of us tried to show off confidence.

 

But fuck. I’m the dude, I gotta take the lead. I gotta make her comfortable.

 

Reaching down, I slowly grabbed hold of her breast. She let out an involuntary moan—something little Anon enjoyed. But that also meant that I was doing something right. I moved it around softly, caressing the nipple. It was slowly hardening, which… was maybe good? Wasn’t sure about that.

 

Something I was sure about, though, was what I had to do before I could be pleased. Before I could do any penetration action, I had to get the girl to orgasm at least once.

 

So, as I fondled her breast, I reached my head down and kissed her. I was lying a bit on top of her, but I was keeping my weight up relatively on my own. Thank God I did pull-ups a lot, or I wouldn’t have the upper-body strength for this…

 

Anyway, I continued kissing her. And as I did, I slowly reached my hand down. Down, down. Further and further.. until I hit my mark.

 

“Mnhhnnn!!” Fang moaned into my mouth. No objections, though.

 

I continued to touch her pussy through her underwear, rubbing my hand along her clit. Back and forth, back and forth. In a circle sometimes. The man in the boat was being rocked, that’s for sure. Eventually, she moaned hard, and reached to pull her underwear down. I let her, and kicked it off to the side.

 

From there, I slowly stuck a finger inside.

 

“AaaaHHH!!” She yelled, not kissing me anymore. Woah! I stopped doing it, worried I had hurt her. But as soon as I was about to ask, she shook her head. “No, moron! Keep going!”

 

I chuckled. Alright!

 

I began to move a finger in and out, and then, two fingers. I had my fingers on the pussy trigger, and I was certainly pulling it. And then, I discovered the best idea yet.

 

I moved my thumb up to her clit, and began rubbing that back and forth.

 

“A—HMMMHHHNNN!!!” She squealed. “Haah~~” She moaned out. “Oh my GOD! Anon! I’m about— I’m—“

 

I moved faster, and then, it happened.

 

“ANOOON!!!!”

 

A clear liquid sprayed from, uh, somewhere—coating the leather of my couch. But I didn’t really mind. It was leather, it’ll survive. But this was good. She had cum. And… it seems she was a squirter.

 

“Oh my fucking God—“ She breathed, out of breath. “Anon.”

 

I chuckled. “Have fun?”

 

“Yes, I did.” She huffed. “Wow. Haha. Oh my goodness.” She wiped her forehead. “Okay, thank you.” She smiled. “Now.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Now its time for me to give you something in return.”

 

She creeped her hands around, and reached for the hem of my boxers. Almost painstakingly slowly, she pulled them down, letting my dick get caught on the waistband. It flew out with the force of a thousand suns, and she looked at it, almost in awe. “Woah.”

 

“I… sorry, it’s probably..”

 

“No, it’s..” She gasped. “It’s huge.”

 

“H-Huh? What?” Did I hear her right?

 

“This has gotta be seven and a half, at least…” She raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Wow..”

 

Jeez…

 

“Anyway, sorry, I’m off track.” She smiled, looking up at me. And then…

 

“Woah! Shit!” I groaned.

 

She had begun to lick it.

 

And honestly, what else needs to be said? She began to lick my cock. I was receiving near-fellatio from a dinosaur. This was nuts—this was the hottest shit I had ever experienced. She continued to lick, lick. And eventually, it seems she got tired of that, because she…

 

Almost in one go, she swallowed the entirety of my length. Not to say that’s an impressive accomplishment, but fuck…

 

She began to move back and forth, and to put it simply, I wasn’t ready for it. Her long tongue, her snoot length—I hadn’t even gotten close to her throat—, the warmth of it, the feeling? Oh my fucking God. I’m… I’m nearly..

 

“Fang, I.. I’m about…”

 

She let it fall from her mouth with a ‘pop’, and I found myself disappointed. “Uh-uh-uh.” She wagged her finger. “I’ve got one specific spot I want you to do it, and it’s not in my mouth.”

 

“Wh—“ I then realized. “Wait, wait. You mean?”

 

She nodded, and… leaned back.

 

I looked at her. Entirely nude, she… was beautiful. So, so beautiful. This was the first time I was getting a good look at her vagina, too. And it was… lovely. She had shaven everything except for a small little heart. Which I found completely adorable.

 

But… I think it was time. I slowly lined myself up, my dick swinging back and forth as I got right up to her pussy.

 

“…Are you ready?” I asked, making eye-contact.

 

It took a few moments, but eventually, she nodded.

 

“Okay.”

 

I slowly inserted myself, amazed at how tight she was. It was even better than the blowjob. She was warm, and so soft… Only, I didn’t travel very far. I very quickly encountered a barrier.

 

My suspicion had been correct.

 

I looked back up to her. And, again, she nodded.

 

I grabbed her hand, and brought her in for a kiss. I knew how this would feel. I needed to comfort her.

 

…Ramming myself inside, I broke her hymen. She was now no longer a virgin.

 

She cried out, whimpering into my mouth as I continued to kiss her. I could feel tears falling from her eyes, and I could feel blood dripping. But it was okay. Soon, it was gonna be over.

 

I broke our kiss after a few seconds. And once again, she nodded. The universal sign of.. hopefully, things being okay. But she had nodded. “It’s alright. But… please go slow.”

 

“Of course.” I nodded, and began to move.

 

Back… forth. In… out. In… out. Out… in. In.

 

“You can speed up.”

 

In, out. In, out.

 

“Faster.”

 

There it is.

 

After only a few moments, her whimpers subsided, replaced by moaning and grunting. And with that, officially—we were having sex.

 

I began to rub her clit as I went in and out, in an attempt to make her cum one more time. Before I did, at least, because God knows I started this journey already incredibly close. But hopefully I can do myself a good service here and make her happy before I make myself happy.

 

But in and out, I continued. We stayed in missionary, neither of us feeling comfortable to experiment with different positions. It was our first time—cut us some slack.

 

Sad as I am to say, though, our first time didn’t seem like it would be lasting very long.

 

I was already approaching my release.

 

“Fang, I’m close.” I muttered, keeping my speed constant. “Not sure how much longer I can keep this up.” I chuckled.

 

“That’s—mhmmm—Okay,” She muttered. “I’m close too. Just a little more.” She sputtered.

 

I nodded.

 

I continued, going in and out. A wet squelch was all that accompanied Fang’s moans, which definitely sounded strange. Some music probably would’ve been a good idea, especially considering how music-based this relationship is.

 

Oh well.

 

What isn’t oh well, though, is that I’m nearly there. “Fang—“

 

“I know, I know.” She whispered. “I’m close. I’m close. Do it inside. We can do it together. Just a little more.”

 

“F-Fang,” I was at the point where even if I wanted to, I probably couldn’t pull out. “Are you on—the pill,”

 

“Yes! Do it inside!”

 

A couple more slams, and… there it was.

 

I hilted myself on her, and the floodgates opened. Fang’s body began to convulse, seemingly from her own orgasm, and I let out a grunt. My dick began shooting rope after rope inside, continuously. Almost for a solid five seconds, I continued to cum. She did the same, staining my couch with her fluids once again.

 

…and when it was all over, I was completely exhausted. I fell on top of her—softly—and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

 

She wrapped her arms around me, and I wrapped mine around her.

 

“I…” She whispered. “Anon…”

 

“Mm..?”

 

“…I love you.”

 

…

 

I sniffled.

 

After everything that had happened. After everything we had gone through, both on our own and as a couple.

 

It seems that… things are finally gonna be alright.

 

“L-Love you too, Luce.” 

[POST-NOTES]
    MAAAAN

    this took fucking forever

    And it’s my longest work yet. No wonder it took so long. Yeesh.

    Hope you guys enjoyed it, and I hope this was a worthy sequel to the other story. I like to think it is.

    Thank you Buff Puff for the commission. It was a lot of fun, and I hope you enjoy the final product. :)

    Love you guys.

    https://youtu.be/0MUeHF1SOm8