#though I didn't use all the lyrics and rewrote them a bit to fit at times

[praise-suns-and-chill]

A small One Shot fanfic, for Birds of a Rose

The game just inspired me the more I read, and I just needed to write something for it. My personal experience with cults made it all the more interesting to me as well.

And as much as characters like Chase usually aren't my type, I could relate to him just a bit too much ^^°

Beware, internalised homophobia and religious repression under the cut!

Thank you for reading 😊

Chase let out a quiet, shaky breath. It wasn't ideal, he had hoped that he would be able to look through the room when he was alone, but beggars can't be choosers. He needed to find out if his cultist roommate/guard goose knew anything, and if he would be hiding anything, it would be here. That's how he tried to justify it in his mind at least, as he was quietly looking through Alerion's closet in the middle of the night, the other boy peacefully sleeping. God, this felt weird. Especially since his search hadn't turned up anything but similar clothes in the same colours over and over for half an hour now. Only once interrupted by a drawer filled with medical and first aid equipment. Didn't he have anything personal??? Chase let out the quietest sigh as he carefully put another sweater back into place. Neat, properly folded, and nothing hidden anywhere in between. He had already looked through the books on his first day, for any hidden papers, notes, anything at all, but nope. His roommate might really just be the most boring cultist on the planet. Chase held that thought for a moment before shaking his head. No, that wasn't true. Even if he knew nothing, he was still intriguing... in his own definitely repressed way. Hell, he was lucky nobody else in the cult seemed to have noticed what was so obvious to the Stray. Yet, even with Chase pushing his boundaries, he was still so infinitely kind and patient. Did he never lose his nerve? ... Well, he probably would if he'd find Chase digging around. "Better hurry up..." The Stray didn't voice that thought as he quietly shut the closet doors. No skeletons in there, just his roommates clothes and sexuality. Was there any place left...? Well, Alerion had a journal, but even if it wasn't hidden under his pillow, Chase wouldn't feel the need nor would he want to read his diary, not like anyone would hide important information in the most obvious place anyway. That would just be too weird. No luck... Argus wouldn't be too enthusiastic to hear that he had no news, but something inside Chase was also glad to know that his angelic roommate was as innocent as he looked, with those shining blue eyes. He was just about to turn around, to head back to bed again, when his decision to do this search at night came back to bite him. He let out a hissed swear as he stumbled, catching himself just in time on the closet door before falling to the ground. With a slight panic in his eyes he quickly looked up, but to his great relief, he found the other boys eyes still closed, his head just turned to the side now as he quietly mumbled in his disturbed sleep. His long, golden hair falling over the side of the bed like a curtain. Chase let out a slow breath, his eyes wandering to the ground as he felt the stress drag him down. And suddenly, his eyes caught something. Just the slightest movement. He risked another short glance to Alerion before he slowly kneeled on the ground, looking beneath the closet... Where he found a folded piece of paper, hastily taped to the bottom of it. "Would you look at that", he whispered to himself, taking the note. Did the boy know something after all? He quietly folded it open, the moonlight shining bright enough through the window to read the small writing on it. So different from Alerions otherwise neat, elegant cursive, the letters here were blocky, shaky, as if written under stress. And yet, as Chases mismatched eyes went over the page, he couldn't stop himself from reading this... Poem? Confession?

I try my best not to trust people too much, Not to love anyone, not to expect anything I try my best to not cause conflicts, To not put on airs, to not stand out

That... Sure sounded like Alerion, alright. Chase felt his heart squeeze together as he read, "not to love anyone".

I try my best not to hurt anyone, Not to harrass anyone, not to bother anyone I try to not let my hypocrisy show, To not be arrogant

Hypocrisy... No, he certainly wasn't hypocritical, not him. Chase couldn't say the same about everyone else around here, though.

I also can't forget to always add some light joke or smalltalk, But most importantly of all, Always smile and please everyone

He felt more guilty the further he read, but he was too curious now, about insight into this gentle young man who always looked at him with far too much care in his eyes. Was it all just a mask?

This bittersweet medicine, Just force it down and don't say a word These bittersweet thoughts, Maybe I'm just too picky after all If, after emptying the mind, the heart remains the same Maybe they would act just like me

He didn't need to guess what this poem could be about now. But as personal as it was, as much as he felt he was overstepping a line, he could not stop reading.

I try my best to not reveal more than I have to, To not talk about myself, to not write about myself So that people won't know too much But I also can't stay completely silent, To not risk being laughed at instead of making others laugh

He pressed his lips into a thin line.

I try my best to respect others, To worship others, to praise others

Respect, worship and praise were underlined, as if he had needed to remind himself of the most important parts.

But I can't come across as fake, And I can't be snide or make fun of others

The writing got messier the further it went on.

A life sentence of group participation I need to suck it up You look nice, you're doing great Such inane things to say Going on every morning Every night I feel myself strain I'm being lynched Bit by bit by everyone But I just can't go insane

A stain interrupted the words, as if someone had put on too much pressure when writing, before it resumed, in a slightly different colour of ink.

Bitter medicine, This lonely love would only taint me anyways Bitter thoughts, When the birds leave, everything left behind is just pretentious art I had such grand ideas once, long ago, Dreaming big, but now "No often means yes"

Chase needed to pull himself together to not crumble the paper as he read, as he felt a sick feeling in his stomach rise up. He could only hope, hell, he would even pray that this didn't mean what he thought it meant.

Bitter thoughts with this feeling of love, A bitter taste with this feeling of love With bitter medicine, I long for the ideal that everyone wishes for With this bitterness, I reduce my feelings to ashes With these bitter feelings, I take my desires and ego and bury it all I have finally grown up, mama

Only a few words more. Just a few last words and he would never have to read this again.

Tomorrow, and after that, and further beyond this hell will continue on and on So please, just this once, Let me keep the feelings I had when I was just a child And let me be The true, honest me.

It took all the willpower Chase had to slowly fold the paper back together and, without a sound, put it back where it had been hidden away. A feeling of guilt rushed through him, but it was overwhelmed by another, one that only grew stronger when he returned to his bed and his eyes rested on Alerion. Pity. ... He felt like he would be sick tomorrow.