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ArianaBlack · 07-21-2026, 03:52 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by nicole black

They clenched their fist, twisting the clean, soft fabric of Claude’s shirt until the material ran taut across his chest. The cool smile never faded as he spoke but their eyes did grew wider- the tiniest, most infinitesimal amount. Surprised? no, this was exactly what Demona would expect from Claude. to stir a simmering pot until it boiled. some boys never grew up or learned from their mistakes.
Demona did.
Claude had been a mistake.

One they had made and were trying to move on from, but ‘go away’ had never been in his vocabulary. Demona’s eyes glittered with that softly simmering anger. they were holding it back, not letting him feel it since they were sure it would please him to see them more affected. They had already done too much, but taking [i]their[/] book had been particularly aggravating.
“I don’t borrow things from people I don’t like.” They said. Demona’s face shifted, from the fake pleasant smile to cool and searching. They released his shirt slowly, their fingers and knuckles tingling. “You know what, Claude.” his name was like a slur on their tongue. “Take it. There’s a billion copies. Take it and leave.”

The sullen, hot ache in their chest cavity felt much too real. It pissed demona off. he pissed them off and nothing was new. Again they found themselves wondering how someone like them could lose themselves enough in another person to ignore all the ugly truths that came with all the paltry flattery and kisses. Of course now they knew they’d been feeling lonely and rejected and clung to the first person they’d felt something for. Pathetic.
Demona was not a number.

they were more. they were an anomaly. and wanted- no, needed to be treated as such. And they were sick of feeling jealous and petty. They were a genius. They were an anomaly. They could have ripped apart the world and put it back together and he was just a well-read boy with abs and a puzzle for a heart.

Mistake? So hurtful.

Claude wouldn't ever say their friendship was a mistake. He enjoyed time spent in their presence and up until just an hour ago, it had always appeared to be mutual. As a rule, he did not waste his time on those who did not care for his company (unless for entertainment value). And even if they were willing to give it all up, he certainly was not. Unfortunately for Demona, Claude is as persistent as he is annoying.

Despite appearances, his inner circle was one he kept tight. He did not easily disparage it.

"We could have a bookclub," he suggested, half in jest. "Meet weekly." With every dagger they aimed at him with their eyes, he offered nothing but ease. The hatred, though misdirected, was nothing he couldn't handle. He had received far worse in life. Hatred is something. Hatred is still feeling. Hatred is moldable. With hatred, there is still the ability to salvage. If you can hate, you still care.

But apathy? It was apathy that made him falter. Apathy that cloaked itself in his childhood robes and threatened to make itself at home. It was their apathy that stopped him. Apathy that caused the smirk he wore to slowly slip away. "Demona," he knit his brows together, a visible sign of his concern as he lowered the book by his thigh. His voice low, vibrating with gravity.

The impossible, unfeeling boy. Maybe he did have a heart after all.

"Take the book," he offered the copy over, ducking his head, looking at them through his thick brows. "But don't shut me out." His plea but a whisper.

07-21-2026, 03:52 AM	#119 (permalink)
ArianaBlack Ashwinder Join Date: Dec 2010 Location: #47a59c Posts: 13,758 Hogwarts RPG Name: Asena Kaplan Hufflepuff Fourth Year x10 x1	doesn't proofread tweets \| #wrongaboutcereal \| #siriusly? \| emo to the extremo Quote: Originally Posted by nicole black They clenched their fist, twisting the clean, soft fabric of Claude’s shirt until the material ran taut across his chest. The cool smile never faded as he spoke but their eyes did grew wider- the tiniest, most infinitesimal amount. Surprised? no, this was exactly what Demona would expect from Claude. to stir a simmering pot until it boiled. some boys never grew up or learned from their mistakes. Demona did. Claude had been a mistake. One they had made and were trying to move on from, but ‘go away’ had never been in his vocabulary. Demona’s eyes glittered with that softly simmering anger. they were holding it back, not letting him feel it since they were sure it would please him to see them more affected. They had already done too much, but taking [i]their[/] book had been particularly aggravating. “I don’t borrow things from people I don’t like.” They said. Demona’s face shifted, from the fake pleasant smile to cool and searching. They released his shirt slowly, their fingers and knuckles tingling. “You know what, Claude.” his name was like a slur on their tongue. “Take it. There’s a billion copies. Take it and leave.” The sullen, hot ache in their chest cavity felt much too real. It pissed demona off. he pissed them off and nothing was new. Again they found themselves wondering how someone like them could lose themselves enough in another person to ignore all the ugly truths that came with all the paltry flattery and kisses. Of course now they knew they’d been feeling lonely and rejected and clung to the first person they’d felt something for. Pathetic. Demona was not a number. they were more. they were an anomaly. and wanted- no, needed to be treated as such. And they were sick of feeling jealous and petty. They were a genius. They were an anomaly. They could have ripped apart the world and put it back together and he was just a well-read boy with abs and a puzzle for a heart. Mistake? So hurtful. Claude wouldn't ever say their friendship was a mistake. He enjoyed time spent in their presence and up until just an hour ago, it had always appeared to be mutual. As a rule, he did not waste his time on those who did not care for his company (unless for entertainment value). And even if they were willing to give it all up, he certainly was not. Unfortunately for Demona, Claude is as persistent as he is annoying. Despite appearances, his inner circle was one he kept tight. He did not easily disparage it. "We could have a bookclub," he suggested, half in jest. "Meet weekly." With every dagger they aimed at him with their eyes, he offered nothing but ease. The hatred, though misdirected, was nothing he couldn't handle. He had received far worse in life. Hatred is something. Hatred is still feeling. Hatred is moldable. With hatred, there is still the ability to salvage. If you can hate, you still care. But apathy? It was apathy that made him falter. Apathy that cloaked itself in his childhood robes and threatened to make itself at home. It was their apathy that stopped him. Apathy that caused the smirk he wore to slowly slip away. "Demona," he knit his brows together, a visible sign of his concern as he lowered the book by his thigh. His voice low, vibrating with gravity. The impossible, unfeeling boy. Maybe he did have a heart after all. "Take the book," he offered the copy over, ducking his head, looking at them through his thick brows. "But don't shut me out." His plea but a whisper. __________________