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Romance
Short Story
Romance
Part 2

Adrien stared at the man for a while. Then he giggled. Then he collapsed into a round of hysterics. “Oh boy,” he croaked out, “You might as well push me off this balcony, you know.” The stranger- no, Christopher rolled his eyes. Christopher placed a hand on Adrien’s back and the other went under his legs. The taller man lifted him in a bridal carry and started walking towards God-knows-where with Adrien twisting and squirming in his arms, in hopes that the blond would put him down. Christopher responded by tightening his grip around the other. They were both soaked wet from the rain.

“Put me down,” Adrien groaned, his headache worsening.

“No,” the man replied bluntly. Christopher carried him to the room where he usually stays when he visits his cousin and placed Adrien gently on the bed. As soon as Adrien’s body hit the bed he jumped out of his arms and rolled away from the blonde as far as possible.

What have I done?Adrien thought. No. No. No. He’ll find out. He’ll kill my brother. It’ll be my fault-

Adrien gasped as he was yanked forward by a grip on his wrist and he collapsed on top of Christopher.

“No, Christopher, you don’t understand,” Adrien mumbled, “We can’t be together. If he sees us together. He’ll hurt us. He’ll hurt my brother. He might do something. You don’t understand. You have to let me go. You-”

He was cut off by Christopher grabbing the back of his neck and smashing their lips together. He instinctively melted into the kiss and relaxed in Christopher’s embrace. Adrien’s lips were slightly chapped but moist, and tasted faintly tangy with wine and rain. Christopher’s other arm slowly traveled downwards and gripped the other’s hip tightly, pressing them closer together. Adrien moaned at the contact and he took this chance to slip his tongue into Adrien’s mouth.

I missed this,thought Christopher. I missed him.

Adrien’s left hand cupped his cheek while the other tangled itself in his soaked blond hair. Their bodies moved together in a perfect, practiced rhythm they both could understand. For the need of air, they parted and panted heavily.

“Christopher,” Adrien whimpered, “you can’t do this to me.”

“Raven,” Christopher said softly. Adrien clenched the blond’s shirt in his hands when he heard the nickname. “Listen to me. I will never let you go. Ever. I will not let you get hurt. I will not let your brother get hurt. No one will get hurt. I will protect you, I promise.”

“Christopher you–”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, yes, let’s just pretend I didn’t let you push me off that building once. Of course I trust you, fool!”

“Then let me love you.”

“But if something happens to my brother, I could never forgive myself.”

Christopher sat up on the bed with Adrien straddling his legs.

“I know but trust me. If anyone were to hurt you or that little one, they would have to go over my dead body. Just love me, that’s all I ask you. I will love you and protect you till death, Adrien Eclair, I mean, Auclair.”

Adrien punched his arm for calling him Eclair but kissed his forehead nevertheless.

“How can I not love you,” Adrien murmured, “when you’re like this?”

Christopher grinned and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist and laid his chin against his chest, gazing up at the black-haired male. “That’s a good thing for me so I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

Adrien sighed deeply and buried his face in Christopher’s wet, golden hair. “I’m sorry that I hurt you,” Adrien mumbled.

“It’s alright,” Christopher told lightly. “Your brother was in danger. I would’ve done the same for my sister. Besides, you were hurting too. Now enough of this, come on, let's dry ourselves.”

Christopher placed his hands under Adrien’s thighs and carried them to the bathroom. He placed Adrien down on the floor and grabbed some towels and spare clothes. They quickly wiped themselves and put on their clothes. They go back into the ballroom just as a new song starts playing.

“May I have this dance?” Adrien bowed down while offering his hand, looking up at him with hopeful, silver eyes. Christopher smiled and replied, “Yes, you may.” Christopher took his hand and Adrien led them to the dance floor. Christopher’s arm went around Adrien’s waist while his other hand held Adrien’s. The shorter male curved an arm on Christopher’s shoulder and pushed them closer together.

They could see people staring. Some were surprised. Some with disgust. Some with curiosity. Some with rage. Some with admiration. Some with confusion. But they couldn’t care less. All that mattered was the beautiful man in their arms. Both of them twirled to the center of the dance floor not caring about the world. Christopher glanced up and saw his sister and mother, beaming and smiling proudly. But his father glared at him with such disgust and venom it sent shivers down his spine.

“Christopher,” Adrien whispered. “Look at me love.”  He did and he was Adrien’s eyes filled with concern. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No, I want to do this. For you and for myself.”

Adrien nodded and dipped him down, and as the music rose, Christopher straightened and picked up the shorter male easily and whirled him in the air, then brought him down to the ground. They danced their way to the balcony – it was still raining - picking up two glasses of wine along the way. The rain poured on them as the faint music from the ballroom accompanied their dance.

“Us dressing up in new clothes loses its purpose now,” Adrien pointed out, “but we’re both bonkers so. . . .” The blond laughed lightly, kissing his temple, and pressed their foreheads together. Their dance eventually came to a halt and they clinked their wine glasses together. They sipped their rain-wine in silence, which tasted odd, but they’ve drunk worse. They had a few more glasses, okay maybe a lot.

“I love you raven,” Christopher said, grinning drunkenly at the other man, who was equally drunk. “You know that right?”

“Yes, I do know that,” Adrien responded. “And I love you so much more.”

“Do you think if we both ever marry, whose name are we going to take? Chantelle or Eclair? I honestly prefer if you’d take my name because Christopher Eclair does not sound nice. Sounds like a low quality pastry shop.”

“Oh, shut up, you dolt, my name’s perfectly fine.”

As long as they were together and loved each other, they would fight. They would go against the world side-by-side and love each other to death. They spent that night under the rain, drunken and dazed, filled with bliss and joy, dreaming what their future would be.

PG Completed
3
16
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Romance
Short Story
Romance
Part 1

The rain seemed to be the only thing which comforted Adrien Auclair, with its tiny, soft pats on his wet clothes. He sipped his wine, mixed with rain. and enjoyed the slight sting it accompanied as he let the yellow liquid flow down his throat. He shouldn't be out here. He should be in there partying, dancing, joking and laughing. He shouldn't be out on the balcony, bathing in the rain. But he couldn't help it. So much was on his mind. Or maybe someonewas on his mind. Besides, he hated that 'fun' facade anyway. It was just a mask. A pretense to make sure he doesn't get hurt. But it's all a waste anyway, since he already got hurt.

He burst out laughing abruptly and ran a hand through his wet, black hair. If only that idiot could read his mind. If he could just explain everything to the blonde, in hopes that the man would take him back. He highly doubted it though. What's done is done. The past is the past. It cannot be changed. Therefore, Adrien decided to 'drink himself into oblivion or much hopefully death'.

*   *   *

Christopher Chantelle was unimpressed, bored, distracted, heart-broken maybe, disappointed, annoyed and disappointed again. What was he even doing here anyway? Ah right, his mother decided to drag him to another ball. The engagement party of his cousin, he vaguely remembered his mother saying.

He sighed. Two months. It's been two months since Adrien broke it off with him. He couldn't get that pretty face out of his head. Those silver, miserable eyes that held so much emotion in them. If it pained Adrien to break it off with him, then why end it in the first place? Christopher had no clue. The first few weeks he spent by banging on Adrien's door but received no response from the other man. He was tempted to break into the house but that did not seem a wise decision. He spent the rest of the next two months in shock and tears. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. His heart was shattered to pieces. Then rage had consumed him and he started throwing things around in his room and breaking them.

How could he? How DARE he? All those promises, were they nothing? He just ends it all? With no reason?

His sinking thoughts were cut off by a gloved hand offered at him. He looked up to see his sister, looking gorgeous in a red dress.

"Dance with me? This party is a bore," she said, smiling down at him. "I also need to speak with you."

"Of course," Christopher replied, smiling back. Christopher took her hand and led her to the dance floor. The orchestra started playing a tune he could not identify. If Adrien was here with him they would be laughing together about how ridiculous the song sounds and joke about it. But he's not here, Christopher reminded himself gloomily. He and his sister twirled, dipped and danced in silence, until his sister decided to break it.

"I wanted to talk to you about Adrien," she said, looking at him with blank eyes.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "What about that prick?" he asked roughly, glaring down at his sister.

His sister glared back at him. "Stop glaring at me. I'm trying to help you for God's sake!" Christopher huffed and rolled his eyes.

"You? Helping me? What an unpleasant surprise."

"Christopher I swear-" She cut herself off with a deep exhale. "I will tell you what I need to tell, don't mess with my head you twat." She breathed in. "Don't blame Adrien for ending it with you. He has his reasons. One night, I was in our library at home, reading a book because I could not sleep. Then I heard footsteps heading to the drawing room and I wondered who would be there at this ungodly hour. I sneaked and saw our father and Adrien talking."

Christopher tensed but kept gliding through the dance floor with his sister. It was no secret to anyone that they had a horrible relationship with their father.

But what on earth was Adrien doing with his father?

"I heard father say something about Adrien being with you was wrong and would ruin our family's reputation. This must have something to do with Adrien breaking it off with you suddenly."

Christopher's fists clenched tightly and he dug his nails into his palm to control his fury. He had stopped dancing by now and was dragging his sister to another room. Once they entered an empty room, he locked the door and turned around to face his sister.

"Brother," she said, looking anxious, "I think you must talk to Adrien. I believe he did not want to break your heart."

"I know that! What I do not understand is why you would wait this long to tell me this!"

"I had no choice! There was a risk of us being heard and if father knows, then everything will go wrong. It is why I waited until this ball, so I could tell you this."

He felt lost. How does this help him? What does he do now?

"Brother," his sister said, "Go talk to Adrien.  I can see that you are suffering without him. I saw him on the balcony. First talk with him and we will figure out the rest. Whatever you stand for, I'll be there with you and so will our mother."

"I- Thank you," he blurted out, not knowing what to say. And he immediately turned around and headed for the balcony.

* * *

Adrien leaned against the railing and sunk into the feeling of the small droplets hitting his skin comfortingly. But the cold rain was not enough to smother the flaming pain in his heart. He wanted one person but that person can't be his. He had to do it. He had to save his brother. He had no choice. He wished he could just tell everything to Christopher. The wine in his body made his eyes blurry and unaware of the tall figure heading towards him, in large strides.

"Adrien?" a voice called.

"Hmmmm," Adrien hummed, slightly drunk, "you sound familiar. VERY familiar."

Adrien titled his head forward and stared at the man. "Hell, you lookfamiliar too."

The figure let out a breathless chuckle. "You're drunk as a boiled owl aren't you?"

"Why would you boil an owl?" Adrien yelled in alarm.

Adrien's vision was fuzzy but he had a feeling the stranger was rolling their eyes. The stranger replied, "It is just an expression idiot."

"Oh," Adrien said dumbly. That alcohol was really getting into his head.

"What are you doing out in the rain?" the stranger asked.

"Thinking," he answered.

"About what?" the stranger questioned. Adrien leaned back on the railing and threw his head back, letting the water drip down his forehead. He felt the stranger join him on the railing. He wanted to tell everything. He couldn't care if the person judged him. He just wanted to tell someone his feelings, his thoughts. He wanted someone to know and understand.

To hell with it, he thought.

"I, um, I've- I've been thinking of something. Someoneactually," he started. The stranger hummed to show that they were listening. "It's just. I fell in love with that someone. Good thing for me, he loved me back. All those years of pining after him and hopelessly in love, it was worth it. And yes, you heard me right. Him.Anyway, I felt so happy once he accepted me. I've never felt the way I felt with him. He made me laugh and seeing him sad, made me want to kill someone and cry with him at the same time. He confused me but it was a good confusion. It was amazing! We spent our days happily and everything was going well. My little brother adored him. His sister and his mother, both were lovely women, and thank the lords above, they were fine with our relationship. And then came the disaster. I knew things were going -too- well. The world was always against me. I've always known it."

"What happened?" the stranger asked. It confused Adrien because the stranger sounded tense. But he did not dwell too much on it.

"Well," he continued. "His father invited me for tea. He- He told me that what I was doing with his son was- was wrong? And what we're doing w-was a mistake? It hurt me, you know. That man was a god damned stranger to me but it still hurt. Is it so wrong to feel comfortable with ourselves? To be confident of ourselves? To embrace our trueidentity? To not pretend to be someone who you're not? Well according to that bloody weasel, it was wrong! Do you know what that man did?"

Adrien was yelling at this point but why the hell should he care?

"He threatened to kill my little brother! And what could I do? The man was of higher status and I was powerless against him. Of course I had to break it off with Christopher! I had no choice! And oh Gods! Christopher! He looked at me with so much pain, I just felt so horrible and disgusting. Then he looked at me with so much hate.  I wished I could crawl out of my body and not be the person he’s staring so hatefully at. I would do anything to make him happy and make him smile. I wanted to erase the pain off his face but I couldn't. I do not regret my decision though. I love my brother and I promised my mother to take good care of him."

Adrien suddenly broke down sobbing and sank to the floor. He couldn't care what the stranger thinks of how pathetic he was being. All he wanted was to love his Christopher but he can't have that.

"I would walk through hell for that man," he whispered. "I love him. I really do.    I love him so much. I don't know what to do with my life anymore. My life makes no sense if he's not in it."

Adrien wiped his tears away but new ones soon replaced them and dripped down his red flushed cheeks. “You know,” he said, “Christopher always calls me eclair because my last name is Auclair and I used to get so mad at him and chase him around. And he sometimes calls me ‘raven’ too, because of my black hair. He’s just a mystery don’t you think? A gorgeous mystery. Oh my God, I don’t know why I’m telling all this. I just- I don’t know anymore.”

Adrien choked on what sounded like a cry and a laugh. He stood up suddenly but his head spun from the sudden movement. He wobbled dangerously but the stranger looped a strong arm around his waist and pulled the man flush against his chest. Adrien blushed and looked up, his vision slightly clearer. He could make out that the stranger was a man.

“Careful raven,” the man said, worriedly.

Adrien snorted and said, “I’m always careful. And don’t call me raven. Only one man in this world is allowed to call me that.” Adrien stared at the man’s face while leaning his head against the man’s shoulder. Blond hair. Hazel green eyes. “You want to know something funny? You look awfully similar to my Christopher. Wait, no, not myChristopher. Not anymore.”

The stranger looked like he wanted to shake the living daylights out of him. “He will alwaysbe your Christopher,” the man whispered. Adrien gazed at the stranger. “And how do you know that?” he demanded. The stranger scoffed. “Because your drunk arse can’t realize that the reason I look awfully similar to your Christopher is because I amChristopher. And don’t bother asking if you’re hallucinating. You’re not.”

PG Completed
3
22
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Blog
Author Things

Things only writers do:

1. Daydream and fantasize about their characters instead of writing. This sometimes leads to losing focus of what they're actually doing.

2. Spending over 30 minutes deciding what music to put on instead of writing.

3. Researching weird things. If someone took a look at a writer's search history, the feds would be called up in no time. Or people would just think you're innocent, but still a weirdo.

4. Googling synonyms for certain words like crazy.

5. Trying to figure out which song would be a character's theme song instead of writing.

6. Torture their helpless characters without batting an eye. What? So long as they're not dead, they can always take more.

7. Worry when other characters from other stories get hurt in any way.

8. Imagining AMVs with their characters when listening to a song. And yet they're still not writing anything.

9. Coming up with random ideas on the fly.

10. Forgetting to write those ideas down.

11. Crying.

12. Having over 40 Google Docs/Notes docs that are all writing-related.

13. Slamming their head into a wall when writer's block hits, and then getting brain damage.

14. Staring off into space when writing. INSTEAD OF ACTUALLY WRITING.

15. Rewriting your book 20+ times.

16. Having too many possible endings for your book and not being able to pick just one.

17. Making memes of your WIP(s), even though nobody else will understand them but you.

18. Similar to the above: having inside jokes that only you can understand, because they're all jokes/references about your book.

19. You're either a writer who worldbuilds a good amount, or you worldbuild too much. Or you're like me, and the thought of worldbuilding makes you puke.

20. Getting flustered and confused when someone asks, "So what's your book about?" (This doesn't go for everyone, but it can't just be me.)

Is this supposed to be a personal attack on you? I don't know, take this however you want.

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All You Can Eat

So, I was going to do another "Old Works" post that detailed a story I might've talked about a long while ago but didn't go too in-depth with it. That story mentioned chickens. And whenever I think of chickens...

...I think of this one short film I watched not too long ago.

I used to have a short phase where I'd just watch random animated short films on YouTube, because -- one: it was fun and somehow entertaining, and two: it might've given me a better idea of how to actually write a FULL short story that had a full beginning, middle, and end.

(Side note: if you're ever looking for a short, less-than-10-minute film to watch, I'd recommend "In a Heartbeat," "Bounty," "On My Mind," "Noose,"and, of course, the one I'm about to tell you right now.)

So anyway, I come across a short film called "All You Can Eat." I somehow didn't pay that much attention to the thumbnail of the video and just tapped on it.

To sum up that story:

There's this restaurant that, well, serves chicken. 'Cause most restaurants do that, obviously. (Depends on the place though.) So, then you just get this scene of a bunch of chickens hanging on a string in the back of the restaurant -- y'know, just a chickie "slaughterhouse." (Or slaughter-room, rather.) How delightful.

There are these chickens who get taken from a barn to that slaughterhouse, and then are sent to, you know, food places. One chicken gets his loved one (Friend? Sibling? Parent? IDK) taken away from the barn, and they die right in front of his eyes.

Just to let you know, this is all cartoonified and there's hardly any actual brutal stuff shown.

Continuing on, this chicken goes through months and years of grief over its chicken best friend, but then one day it stands up and says "hey, I'ma take revenge on this hooman."

So, somehow, this CHICKEN picks up a RIFLE and goes to delete the dude that took its friend away. Chickie-boi obliterates the dude, and then runs off.

And that's the point where I'm like, "hang on, hold up, where are we taking this?"

I thought it would stop there. But it didn't.

It went on.

Chickadee MC goes back to its fellow birb bois and, like... from there, they start going around and eliminating all humans? It starts out small, but then more chickens grow while literally everything else -- I'm assuming everything that's NOT a chicken --- dies.

And then only chickens are left in the world. You got a chicken king, chicken servants, chicken... just... c h i c k e n.

Chickens have taken over the world.

That's it. That's the end of the story.

"Cheeto, what the hell do you even watch---"

Hey hey hey! I thought it was an innocent film I could learn from! I thought, "hey, maybe this is gonna further help me observe how a short story can cram in a whole plot without making it rushed?" ('Cause that's an issue I have with writing short stories.) And it... it did.

But it also went to show me how far some writers take their plots. What started out as so chill escalated F A S T.

OH! And keep in mind, the chickens couldn't talk. So you literally just had chickens clucking for seven minutes and forty-four seconds.

Now, is "All You Can Eat"a bad story because it ends with chickens ruling the world and humans becoming nuggets?

No.

It's absolutely freaking beautiful. Was it chaotic and crazy? Yes. Weird? Yes. Made me think differently about chickens? Yes. But it was amazing. I am NOT LYINGwhen I say that that film had me invested EVERY. SINGLE. MINUTE.

No matter how freaking confused or weirded out I became, I was invested.

All I'm worried about now is that we'll become the future nuggets for chickens to enjoy.

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Character Zodiacs(?)

I have a feeling only 20% of my characters actually have a zodiac that fits them. But whatever, signs don’t really tell who you are.

Ryo: Gemini (May 27)Shizuka: Sagittarius (Dec. 12)Hina: Leo (Aug. 15)Kaori: Capricorn (Jan. 3)Inazuma: Sagittarius (Nov. 25)Chiharu: Libra (Sept. 15)Chuya: Sagittarius (Dec. 3)Seichii: Sagittarius (so many Sagittarius people; what the heck? Also: Dec. 1) Mosu: Aries (Apr. 19)Youta: Aquarius (Feb. 12)Yuki: Sagittarius (Dec. 21)Mr. Hibiki: Cancer (June 23)Mrs. Hibiki: Scorpio (Oct. 25)Ms. Hibiki: Taurus (May 10)Mr. Oda: Libra (Oct. 19) Kazu: Virgo (Sept. 8)Mei: Aquarius (Feb. 16) Kyosuke: Aries (Apr. 16)Suguru: Capricorn (Jan. 10)Nori: Capricorn (Jan. 7)Mitsu: Scorpio (Nov. 17)Iwa: Aries (Mar. 26)Genkei: Pisces (Feb. 23)Emi: Leo (Aug. 6)Natsu: Scorpio (Oct. 21)Riki: Cancer (July 8)Gou: Aries (April 14)Hiroyuki (he’s dead but whatever): Gemini (Apr. 25)Kenta: Aries (Apr. 19)Sachihiro: Virgo (Sep. 7)

Correct me if these are wrong. (Using the old zodiac system, I’m pretty sure.)

This info isn’t really important to the story at all, it was just fun to make a list of it. And no, I left some characters out, because then we’d have, like, a 40-something long list. 30 is already enough, and I didn’t list everyone’s birthdays. But yeah, there you go, there’s your character zodiacs. Do you think they fit or no?

(Personally I don’t.)

PG
2
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