#why is the lil crab apple so hard to write

[twstbookclub]

Please Look at Me

Summary: Can you stop calling Epel cute? Can you not look at and gush over him like a cute toddler? Please, just look at him as someone you can love for once. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender Neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romance, Two Idiots in Love, Unrequited was actually Requited Feelings, Angry Epel Felmier and his Country Accent, Abusing the word Cute, MC is a bit Silly and Goofy like that Word count: 1,790

“I wish I was as cute as you, Epel.”

The Pomefiore freshman’s eyebrows rose so high that they disappeared behind his fringe. Epel turned to you in disbelief. Sat beside him on a stone bench in the courtyard, you fiddled with your popsicle stick as you stared at the clouds. Your eyes absent-mindedly drifted from one cloud to another. Epel could see flecks of gold in them as the scattered rays of sunset gave you an ethereal glow. Your lashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, and your lips turned a bit redder after you gnawed on it.

Epel shook his head. He shouldn’t get distracted by how pretty you are when you literally said you wanted to be cute like him.

“What in tarnation made ya say that? And I ain't cute.”

You huffed, propping your elbow on your lap, and placed your chin in your free hand. Epel noticed the frown before he even processed the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Yes, you are! Literally, everyone mistakes you for a girl, and they start liking you for how adorable you are!”

Epel didn’t know whether it was a compliment or an insult. Judging by your pinched eyebrows and pout, you were praising him for his looks. He leaned back on his arms and tilted his head at you, as his gesture to elaborate.

“I…” You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “For once, I just want someone to look at me like that. Just someone who would like me at first glance, or think that I’m attractive enough to flirt with.”

I do, Epel thought. I always have, so why can’t you see me?

“Ya say that like it’s a bad thing,” Epel gritted out. His harsh grip on his popsicle stick made his knuckles white, and the poor stick was on the verge of breaking into splinters. “Ya don’t need someone ta complete ya, y’know.”

“But I want to,” you sighed, wistful eyes brimming with longing. “I want someone to cuddle with me at night. I want someone to hold me close and exchange sweet nothings with them. I want someone to have arcade dates with. I want to make dinner with them, then eat together while talking about our day. I want to experience all of those moments with a partner at least once.”

So, why can’t you do them with me? Epel couldn’t find his voice. He settled with, “Maybe someday, you’ll find someone to spend the rest of your life with. Then, ya can experience all that mushy lovey-dovey stuff.”

You snort, turning to Epel with the grin that held his heart in a vice grip. “I swear you don’t want anything to do with romance because of what you say about it.”

I don’t mind it if it’s with you.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Epel stood up from the stone bench and held out his hand towards you. “We can’t have Vil hounding us for staying out past curfew.”

“You mean, Vil hounding you. I’m the Ramshackle prefect, remember?” The grin never left your face, and Epel wished he could just kiss you right now. “I can make curfew any time I like.”

As he felt your hand softly squeeze his, warmth spread from his fingertips to his entire being. Like a soft, fleece blanket in front of a gentle fire during winter in Harveston. It reminded him of home. It felt like home with you. Epel wanted to be with you, if you let him. He wanted to do all of those things with you and more. He’d do anything for you, even if it meant the world turned against you two.

For now, he’d settle with being your cute, effeminate friend who’d roundhouse kick anyone who looked at you wrong.

The next few days were the most dreadful ones Epel had. His conversation with you that day never left his mind. It haunted him every time he saw you glance at every passing student in interest. Hell, you even looked at the Vil Schoenheit as if you were considering dating the strict and demanding housewarden. Great Seven, no. He’d rather die than see you hanging off of that royal pain in the ass.

Every glance of yours was another drop of frustration for Epel. The proverbial cup was dangerously close to spilling over. It didn’t help that most of his competitors are literally taller and bigger: two things that Epel aspires to be, but cannot be. You could pick anyone, and still deserve the happiness they’d give you. Epel, though? He didn’t deserve you. You deserve someone big and strong enough to protect you whenever you, yourself, couldn’t; someone who could drop everything to cheer you up. Epel isn’t any of those. He’s tiny and dainty and cute.

“Ah, you’re seriously so cute, Epel!” you cried, hugging him after he handed you another popsicle for your Thursday hang-out. It’s been a full week since that day, and you never stopped gushing about how cute he was.

It was that vile word again. Cute. Was that how you saw him? Was that all he’ll ever be to you?

“You know,” you hummed. “I think… I found someone already.”

Epel froze, his popsicle melting in his grasp. The harsh heat of the sun felt blistering on his skin, yet his hands grew as frigid as snow. The forgotten treat started dripping onto the ground as the sound echoed in his ears.

Drip.

“What?” Epel gaped, lips slightly parted in surprise. “Since when?”

“Since a few days ago,” you hummed with a smile softly curling the corners of your lips.

Drip.

“It’s only been a week,” Epel exasperatedly claimed, desperately holding himself together. “You found someone already? Isn’t this happening too fast?”

The gentle smile on your face never left. “I mean, yeah, but… I’m sure about who I want to be with.”

Drip. Drip.

“Do I know them?” Epel whispered, barely heard among the chirps of the birds and the rustle of the leaves in the breeze. Somehow, you heard him through it all. He just hoped you didn’t hear the sound of his heart starting to crack and break.

You laughed, smiling so wide that your eyes narrowed into crescents. Epel grew jealous of the person in your mind that made you smile so happily. “Of course you do!”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Oh.” Epel stared at the grass peeking through the crevices of the cobblestone. His mind grappled for something—anything—to ground him back to reality. He’s slipping. He’s losing. Epel should have taken the poison of rejection over the sting of losing you to someone else.

Your smile felt like a slap to his face. What once brought him so much joy and warmth filled him with dread and misery. Epel drifted in and out of consciousness, only catching bits and pieces of what you were prattling on about.

It was when he heard the word cute again that something inside him spilled over into tears and screams.

“Stop calling me cute!” Epel snapped, abruptly standing to face you. The popsicle fell to the ground with a splat, melting into dirt and stone. The world stood still and held its breath while Epel lost his own to his pent-up frustration.

“I feel like you only see me as—as a cute lil’ kid,” the petite freshman struggled with his words, but he was too afraid to stop lest he lose the sudden courage to tell you the truth. “Cute, tiny Epel. Dainty, harmless Epel. Well, that’s enough of that!

I can cuddle you. I can—I’ll hold ya close and tell ya everything I like ‘bout you. I’ll take ya to the arcade and win y’a plushie for our date. I’ll be the one to make dinner and talk about our day over the table. Just—see me as someone who can be with you!

I love you, dammit!” Epel yelled, chest rising and falling from spilling his heart out. You stared, eyes wide and mouth agape. He noticed how you clutched your uniform coat tightly, right above your heart. How you had forgotten your own popsicle that the orange juice stuck to your fingers and trailed down your palm. How you dropped the stick to reach a hand out to him. Although, you retreated when you saw the mess from your ruined treat.

“Epel, I…”

Oh no, Epel thought. Oh hell no. He did not just ruin his friendship with you.

“I’m so sorry—”

“You dingus,” you laughed, but tears started pooling in the corners of your eyes. “It’s you. It’s always been you. Why do you think I gush about you being cute all the time? How I always hug you whenever I could? I was about to confess until you beat me to it.”

Oh. Epel robotically sat beside you again and buried his tomato-red face in his hands. Oh.

“Oh Seven above,” he muttered, voice muffled by his hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you’re my idiot.” Epel felt your hand, the non-sticky one, slide into his. Your fingers found themselves intertwined with his, warm and accepting. He squeezed your hand, still too embarrassed to look you in the eye after his outburst. Despite his shame, his heart still jumped at the affection in your voice. It was reserved for him. Just him. Epel couldn’t ask for anything more at that point.

“I kept dropping hints, but I thought you didn’t want to date anyone since… Well, you always call it mushy, cringe, and cliché. I tried to forget my feelings for you, but I just can’t,” you caressed the back of his hand with your thumb. Thoughtfully looking at your joined hands, you continued, “Stay with me? For as long as possible?”

“Always,” Epel replied, squeezing your hand and sliding his thumb over your knuckles. “You bet I’ll make you the happiest person alive. I swear it.”

Your smile, wobbly and wide, said more than enough. Epel felt the brush of your lips on his cheek. Light as a feather. Gentle as a warm summer breeze. The kiss lingered for what felt like hours, and he wished that you two could stay like this forever.

Your lips left the spot on his cheek, searing and begging for more of your kisses. Epel looked at you, who leaned back and laughed at his wide, doe eyes and red cheeks and parted lips.

“I’m counting on it, cutie. You better not disappoint me.”

Epel smirked, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you. With his cheeks still rosy red, he pulled you close and grabbed your chin to look into your eyes.

“Then, I’ll just make sure you’re always looking at me, darlin’.”

[its-toasted]

We hemorrhaging that hard-earned but we getting there man. We tell ourselves we’ll stop with July. Hmmm

Who knew big windows and a ceiling fan and a screendoor are everything. In some ways I’m that simple. Every morning feels like when I was eleven on the roof of grandpa’s beachhouse in Korea. Where have you been my whole life.

You’re thinking beachhousewowsickgood but I assure you it was a Shack in the cut. But it was also near this lil strip called Malipo beach and we'd go fishing and baby crab hunting under rocks. Then my brother went to the ER off a crazy centipede bite. I don't think you've seen Korean centipedes.

Other lovely memories of Korea: EMart was the OG Walmart. Church felt the same. Cool Shot was sugar-stuffed ice chips and possibly my first addiction and there is literally one single picture of this joint on the internet. Samchun’s apple orchard. Wondering why mom left all of these people. But I don’t need to ask that anymore.

I been at my new place for a week and I’m home. Like this is enough. Sunsoaking in a breeze on the balcony. Fan drifting like a lazy river, just enough to keep things crisp. I can't do stale air. And this only costs copper and sometimes a second layer.

I forgot to grab my cello. We might tune up again. That’s crazy, y’all don’t even understand. I was pretty dirty. She’s maybe the OG old flame. Nah that’s a lie. Sydney’s voice takes me any day. She was my first real muse. Our life in Gchat. She was a real dancer. And a better drummer. And a voice like a tender Emma Stone. First girl I'd fall asleep on the phone with. Ugh.

This is what happens when I try to write in order, like starting from the top. I'm a mess. I need aderrall. Anyways so I had classical music booted up from umma’s foot to my ass since I had glasses. Which is like since I remember anything at all. I dug the youth orchestra scene but the adults were all a bit stuffy. That's a euphemism for stiff. Imagine if I ever had a cool conductor. In another life I’d be teaching cello lessons. I didn’t get along with like half my conductors, I could be difficult. But we tried to play nice.

I had the greatest first cello teacher. I haven’t thought about her in many years. She was a twenty-something tumbler, all virginia slim and lipstick and designer sunglasses and a really big smile. Living the dream just outside DC. Lessons with Erica were like therapy. Or being in a big sister program with a master cellist. She caught me. She taught me how to play right, got these guilty hands first chair everywhere but state. She moved away before I hit high school for a better degree and a gig in NYC. I never got along with any cello teachers after her. Maybe I stopped wanting to learn when she left. I’m like that. Like I said I can be difficult.

I almost majored in music in school, and then I didn’t, and I set that bitch down in her case like sleeping beauty lol. Goodbye like shit for over five years. I was too busy finding a good pen (Zebra-301). I got her restrung the day after my birthday two summers ago, fooled around for two weeks, and tucked her away again.

So rocky is about right. But we'll give it another go. There’s love there somewhere, I know that. It’s just hard because I don’t associate it with good times, you know? But I love music. And the deep of a cello. Honestly I stopped playing around the time I bought my first good piece and started bumping r&b and maybe that was a mistake.

A friend said they wished I tried writing short stories. I think I'm averse to doing new things these days. Always finding reasons why not. I don't like that. I miss feeling like everything was for me. And I write like we’re getting back there but it’s always waves. This is the best I can do today but we're tryna keep things in mind.

Here's my joint I'm airbnb'ing the couch or you can BYOBed and currency can be chipotle or plant matter please DM me a photo of you in the summertime and your second favorite book