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nebescriben · 5 years

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“The villain is fully aware of the hero/villain, plot armor, good always wins mechanic. But that doesn’t mean they’re not going to try their best to make the hero suffer before they go down”

When I first met him, I was unaware of such plaguing emotions and thought of him as simpleminded and naive. He came into my shop looking for flowers on Halloween of all days dressed in a vibrant collection of reds and greens with a smile as bright as his dyed pink hair. I admit I took some if not a hint of interest, even dressed in such blinding clothes I could appreciate the contrast of his pink curls bouncing above the fuzz down black of his undercut as he practically danced around the aisles. His almost feminine face and sinfully curvy figure caught my eyes as well, but nothing not his lips or hips struck me as much did his eyes.

Peridot gems upon a bed of white milky pearls surrounded by obsidian colored eye-shadow in a winged outline along his alabaster skin. But as I said before I took some interest and only gave attention as I would give an appealing slice of cake, appetizing but unwanted at the time. I rang up his items in a bored fashion, slow and uncaring putting the bread in the bag with the mason jars of honey. When i got to the flowers a bouquet violet iris Xiphioids he had his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed murmuring “hmm” it was honestly stupid cute. I asked him was if everything alright sir, cute or not I was tired and it was fucking Halloween i was ready to binge candy, Netflix and sleep. My questioning seemed to have embarrassed him, his face flushed and he averted his eyes from mine to the flowers. He scratched the back of his neck and replied with a voice one could only describe as viscous honey do you think their siblings or just one entity. I sighed and regrettably asked what he meant. He said that he wanted to name them but wondered if they were like conjoined twins or just one person. I totaled his stuff, and he paid for it and left the store humming down the street all I could think was stupid cute.

The second time I saw him; I was focused on everything but his eyes. I focused on his fist and his stance, anticipating his next move prepared to slip, dodge or counter anything he threw at me. Even if I had the leisure too, I couldn't his mask obstructed any view. I don't know how I knew It was him, perhaps it was his voice demanding me to drop the hostage or it was the pink tuft hidden under his black hood. Either way it didn't matter, I was the villain and he was the hero a fate decided by forces beyond our control and what we didn't control. After the hostage escaped and the police arrived I guess he didn't want to file a report because after fixing me with a piercing look he scaled a building and vanished. I figured I might as well leave as well, I'll just kill some rich fucks in the morning after all nothing is too low for me.

The third time I saw him he was crying, crying over fucking flowers of all things. I gave him a once over, was this all a facade to disguise the hardened vigilant o fought earlier or was that the act instead. I can't stand crybabies I told myself but as I reflect my heart pained from his change in demeanor. Him crying just felt wrong despite how beautiful his make up ran.

I helped him look for more irises and gave him tips on taking care of flora. Minutes later i'm in a conversation discussing cartoons and eateries.

Minutes turned to hours and I found myself relieved that my flora shop wasn't booming anymore cause my shift was over and it was night. He checked his phone and with a cherry goodnight he left the store forgetting his flowers. I stared at them for a moment he didn't pay for them but I felt as though they were his anyway so I locked up shop and chased after him. After some frantic explaining that I wasn't a crazy stalker, I gifted him with his irises and with a bright smile those hours became a night.

After that night of gentle caresses and needy pleas, I saw him quite frequently; after work walking home, at dinner eating pizza picking off his pineapples with a stupid cute pout, and in the shower, two bodies tired and hurt comforting one another while bitching about dead parents and shitty parents. But the next time I saw him it was raining. Dark and stormy night perfect weather to commit a crime. Honestly, though I didn't even mean to rob the bank, steal a couple of grand and commit grand theft auto. All I wanted to do was make a withdrawal of $500 in cash because I don't believe in using cards to purchase possibly traceable jewelry and the lady at the shop only had that one peridot ring in stock. So all in all my nerves were already shot and as usual people are assholes and a bathroom later I was geared up having a panic attack yelling at civilians to get on the Fucking ground.

Moment later I'm corned in an alley by him, he's ordering me to surrender and my cocky retort died on my tongue as I struggled to get a good breath. Who the fuck goes sprinting when hyperventilating, Oh yeah same person who robbed a bank over a panic attack.

I threw the bag of cash at him and tried to scale up the building, in response he kicked not threw kicked the cash away. You know that saying freak in the sheets Angel on the streets he was apparently the opposite cause I've never seen someone move so languid and fast before. I'm a matter of seconds i was pinned against the wet hard brick wall, it'd be hot if I could breathe properly. With the blaring of sirens, he gave me that look and took off. I got home undressed lied in the shower under scalding hot water and cried.

I saw him afterwards, fumbling over me wiping my eyes and rocking me back and forth. He assumed I was a hostage at the local bank that got robbed. My choked out response seemed to be enough validation and we drifted to sleep. I'm my mind vowing never to see Him again.

The nights turned into months and years, After that time we were perfect. I've never likened that word to describe my life before, but it was beautifully accurate.Sure he came home with split lips and bruises after ridiculously long jogs but patching him up just gave me an excuse to touch him, not like I needed one anyway seeing as we were both touched starved rejects. Unfortunately, though this isn't a romance story, it's a narrative of good vs evil and evil always loses in the end. My gear was discarded and forgotten in a compartment behind the wall. It had been years since I've worn it and my curiosity got the better of me and Spurned the sublime.Garbed in my old Pyrrhic gear I performed a series of katas and gave out quips to my imaginary opponent.If your like me then you understand that life can be like a grenade, with the drop of a pin it can all be blown to ruins For me it was the opening of a door. Lamp on the ground, curtains disheveled and living room a mess with me in the center dressed in my black weapons mounted on my hips. He rightfully assumed the worst and I found myself pinned staring at piercing misty mournful eyes. “Where is he?” he demanded honeyed voice cracking and peridot orbs welling with tears threatening to stream. My response was horribly haphazard, but it makes sense the villain makes the hero suffer and i was the villain. Nothing has ever been to low for me right? I am the worst, and I am not and will never have perfection. So with my panic and terror hidden behind a mask, I smirked and replied “where do you think.”

That was the last time I saw him but not him.

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