Writerverse: Table of Doom - Tick-Tock
More I Prefer the Mind Control. This one takes place right after this story. Enjoy!
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“Think about it?” Xan’s still got this smile like he thinks it’s at all plausible for me to fucking go to Zimara with him. That shine in his eyes freaks me out -- it doesn’t seem quite right, you know?
This all looks like denial of reality to me, but I can’t get my brain to shut up. I don’t wanna leave him. Dammit, why did you put me in this dilemma? You couldn’t write a nice normal long distance relationship story where the distance would be reasonable, or at least fucking possible to tolerate? And it’s not just the distance, is it? I mean, Xan might, um, be crowned King eventually. My knowledge of history is...not the best, but, yeah...I’m pretty sure that would make a long term relationship more than a little bit difficult. At least on Earth, even royalty who don’t actually inherit the throne don’t get to stay with whomever. Me? I’m totally fucking whomever.
And that’s not counting the whole Soulbreaking thing.
“I’m thinking about it,” I mutter, kinda without meaning to. It’s the truth, though.
Even if it’s impossible, I can still think about it, right?
“Maybe we should have something to eat? I have a new pasta recipe I want to try,” Xan murmurs.
At his comment, I start laughing, high-pitched and just a bit hysterical. “Life altering news makes you hungry?” I gasp between giggles.
“I...just don’t want to think about everything,” Xan says, the shine in his eyes vanishing. I see reality return to his face.
“I fucking get that,” I mutter. “Sure, let’s have some pasta.” I shrug because why not? Pasta sure beats thinking right about now. As I get out of bed and search for my clothes, I try to concentrate on the idea of food and not on everything else.
Time limits on relationships just suck.
* * *
After Xan finishes cooking, we eat at the dining room table under a giant mountain of awkwardness. The sense of everything falling the fuck apart feels so solid that the figurative mountain might as well be an actual mountain. Yeah, I know a real mountain would crush us -- and not fit inside Xan’s apartment -- but I feel fucking crushed right about now, okay? Breathing’s way too difficult, and looking at Xan is like having a particularly angry dagger stab me in the eye -- repeatedly. An invisible vise crushes my chest, and, wow, I didn’t know things could hurt this much.
Shows what I know, huh?
A long silence stretches out. It might as well be solid -- a rubber band of awkwardness to match the mountain of awkwardness. And you know how rubber bands hurt like fuck when they snap you? I bet this silence is gonna hurt like that when it ends.
I stare at my now-empty plate of pasta -- delicious, by the way -- and avoid Xan’s eyes as I wait for the rubber band to snap. “I...should probably go home -- and, um...think about, like...stuff,” I mutter.
Xan sighs. He doesn’t say anything for the longest time, but I fucking feel his eyes on me. Like he’s trying to read my thoughts or something, though his psychic powers don’t work that way.
“If you think that’s best,” he murmurs. “We should talk about -- well, about everything soon, though. There isn’t much time.”
Let’s not talk about fucking time, shall we?
I nod. “Yeah, okay. Sure. We’ll do that. I, um -- I love you,” I say.
“I love you, too,” Xan says. The words fucking cut at me because what does it even matter if we love each other?
Reality doesn’t give a shit if we do.
* * *
Later, I’m back in my dorm room, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I scowl at it, taking extra care to glare at the missing tile in the corner. We’ve called campus maintenance, like, a million fucking times over that tile, and they’ve never shown. I think it’s a budget thing -- President Georgia Bradley approved ridiculous cuts to education. My dad’s always ranting about it.
“Stupid reality,” I mutter to the air. Nobody’s here. Yeah, I’m talking to myself. Do you have a fucking problem with that?
Sorry, I’m not in the greatest of moods. And you’re the one putting me through this, so yeah -- I might be just a little bit snappish to you, okay?
Xan told me he wants to meet up tomorrow to talk about things -- he wasn’t fucking kidding when he said there wasn’t much time. Stupid, stupid time.
How am I supposed to figure out what to say in the span, of, like, a day? My brain doesn’t work that fucking fast. Hey, can you speed up my brain for the sake of figuring this issue out? Just this once? Nope? Oh, thanks a lot.
If I think about things, my unenhanced brain just...refuses to give me answers. Why do I even fucking have a brain if it won’t help me out when I need it? Yeah, I actually do know I am my brain, but...you get what I’m saying, I’m sure.
Xan wants me to leave my fucking home planet for him. I can’t exactly get over that. And I don’t...I don’t think I want to “get over” it just yet. That’s some intense commitment right there. Gotta take that shit seriously. You don’t ask a casual fling or a fuck buddy to travel through fucking space like that. Zimara’s how many light years away now? Not so far that Xan can’t get a cell phone call from his dad, but...Zimaran tech’s gotta be magic, so I bet it’s still way fucking far away.
Sighing, I turn onto my side and stare at the wall. At least none of the bricks are missing, unlike with the stupid ceiling tile. Yeah, Preston and I have the one random brick wall in our room. Dorms are strange.
Even fucking stranger? How I really can’t shake the feeling that going with Xan’s the right thing to do.
---------
“Think about it?” Xan’s still got this smile like he thinks it’s at all plausible for me to fucking go to Zimara with him. That shine in his eyes freaks me out -- it doesn’t seem quite right, you know?
This all looks like denial of reality to me, but I can’t get my brain to shut up. I don’t wanna leave him. Dammit, why did you put me in this dilemma? You couldn’t write a nice normal long distance relationship story where the distance would be reasonable, or at least fucking possible to tolerate? And it’s not just the distance, is it? I mean, Xan might, um, be crowned King eventually. My knowledge of history is...not the best, but, yeah...I’m pretty sure that would make a long term relationship more than a little bit difficult. At least on Earth, even royalty who don’t actually inherit the throne don’t get to stay with whomever. Me? I’m totally fucking whomever.
And that’s not counting the whole Soulbreaking thing.
“I’m thinking about it,” I mutter, kinda without meaning to. It’s the truth, though.
Even if it’s impossible, I can still think about it, right?
“Maybe we should have something to eat? I have a new pasta recipe I want to try,” Xan murmurs.
At his comment, I start laughing, high-pitched and just a bit hysterical. “Life altering news makes you hungry?” I gasp between giggles.
“I...just don’t want to think about everything,” Xan says, the shine in his eyes vanishing. I see reality return to his face.
“I fucking get that,” I mutter. “Sure, let’s have some pasta.” I shrug because why not? Pasta sure beats thinking right about now. As I get out of bed and search for my clothes, I try to concentrate on the idea of food and not on everything else.
Time limits on relationships just suck.
* * *
After Xan finishes cooking, we eat at the dining room table under a giant mountain of awkwardness. The sense of everything falling the fuck apart feels so solid that the figurative mountain might as well be an actual mountain. Yeah, I know a real mountain would crush us -- and not fit inside Xan’s apartment -- but I feel fucking crushed right about now, okay? Breathing’s way too difficult, and looking at Xan is like having a particularly angry dagger stab me in the eye -- repeatedly. An invisible vise crushes my chest, and, wow, I didn’t know things could hurt this much.
Shows what I know, huh?
A long silence stretches out. It might as well be solid -- a rubber band of awkwardness to match the mountain of awkwardness. And you know how rubber bands hurt like fuck when they snap you? I bet this silence is gonna hurt like that when it ends.
I stare at my now-empty plate of pasta -- delicious, by the way -- and avoid Xan’s eyes as I wait for the rubber band to snap. “I...should probably go home -- and, um...think about, like...stuff,” I mutter.
Xan sighs. He doesn’t say anything for the longest time, but I fucking feel his eyes on me. Like he’s trying to read my thoughts or something, though his psychic powers don’t work that way.
“If you think that’s best,” he murmurs. “We should talk about -- well, about everything soon, though. There isn’t much time.”
Let’s not talk about fucking time, shall we?
I nod. “Yeah, okay. Sure. We’ll do that. I, um -- I love you,” I say.
“I love you, too,” Xan says. The words fucking cut at me because what does it even matter if we love each other?
Reality doesn’t give a shit if we do.
* * *
Later, I’m back in my dorm room, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling. I scowl at it, taking extra care to glare at the missing tile in the corner. We’ve called campus maintenance, like, a million fucking times over that tile, and they’ve never shown. I think it’s a budget thing -- President Georgia Bradley approved ridiculous cuts to education. My dad’s always ranting about it.
“Stupid reality,” I mutter to the air. Nobody’s here. Yeah, I’m talking to myself. Do you have a fucking problem with that?
Sorry, I’m not in the greatest of moods. And you’re the one putting me through this, so yeah -- I might be just a little bit snappish to you, okay?
Xan told me he wants to meet up tomorrow to talk about things -- he wasn’t fucking kidding when he said there wasn’t much time. Stupid, stupid time.
How am I supposed to figure out what to say in the span, of, like, a day? My brain doesn’t work that fucking fast. Hey, can you speed up my brain for the sake of figuring this issue out? Just this once? Nope? Oh, thanks a lot.
If I think about things, my unenhanced brain just...refuses to give me answers. Why do I even fucking have a brain if it won’t help me out when I need it? Yeah, I actually do know I am my brain, but...you get what I’m saying, I’m sure.
Xan wants me to leave my fucking home planet for him. I can’t exactly get over that. And I don’t...I don’t think I want to “get over” it just yet. That’s some intense commitment right there. Gotta take that shit seriously. You don’t ask a casual fling or a fuck buddy to travel through fucking space like that. Zimara’s how many light years away now? Not so far that Xan can’t get a cell phone call from his dad, but...Zimaran tech’s gotta be magic, so I bet it’s still way fucking far away.
Sighing, I turn onto my side and stare at the wall. At least none of the bricks are missing, unlike with the stupid ceiling tile. Yeah, Preston and I have the one random brick wall in our room. Dorms are strange.
Even fucking stranger? How I really can’t shake the feeling that going with Xan’s the right thing to do.