"Cronus Ampora, I would highly appreciate it if you would stop wasting your time trying to flirt with me. You know you're not going to get anywhere by doing so; I am celibate. You have far better things to do than torment me with your 'endearments' and triggering 'romantic' gestures. I do not feel for you in any way besides as a good friend, so your efforts, although somewhat appraisable, are futile."

The air in your respiteblock seems to go still. You grip your book tightly, staring at Cronus with a firm expression. He appears to have been shocked into silence. After a few moments, his face softens, not with compassion, but with sadness. You're startled, if only slightly, at how quickly his cool, flirtatious demeanor dissolved into something so pathetic.

"Yeah, babe. Yeah, that's cool. I'll leave."

He's stuttering a little, and you resist the urge to scoff. After sweeps of being together, he still hasn't come to the conclusion that you are not seeking romance. You don't feel sorry for him in the slightest; he should've known you would react to his perverse advances towards you in this manner.

"I'll leave. No one wants me around; I guess I should have realized you were someone."

He shrugs on his idiotic "human" jacket slowly, and you notice that despite being dead, he seems as if he's aged since you saw him last. He looks old, tired, and a small pang of sympathy blossoms in your chest. As he leaves, you can hear him murmur, "It's a shame I'm already dead, or else I might kill myself."

That morning, you can't get his words out of your thinkpan. You toss and turn in your recuperacoon, unable to sleep with the thought of your friend hanging over you. Sleep isn't exactly necessary for you and your fellow trolls in the dream bubbles, but it helps you think. However, it's not helping much right now. You suppose you never thought about how Cronus must feel. It's definitely his fault everyone pushes him away, but you can't even imagine the damage it must do to his thinkpan.

I might kill myself.

Of course you're used to death. You'd witnessed the deaths of twelve trolls including your own. From what you'd heard, some races of trolls were extremely violent, and killing was considered a norm in their culture. Suicide, though, you're not so sure about. You have no reason to be worried; after all, he'd mentioned himself that he was already dead. But he's your friend, a good friend, and you can't help but be nervous.

"Cronus!"

He turns towards you, slightly, tilting his head. His back is facing you, and as soon as he recognizes you, he quickens his pace. You're definitely not the most athletic troll, but you manage to catch up to him.

"Cronus, I'd like to apologize-"

"No, doll, you don't have to. I won't bother you again, ever again, I swear – hey! What're you doing?!"

You brush your hand up along his defined cheekbone, not quite enjoying the skin-on-skin contact but feeling the need to do this. He relaxes immediately beneath your touch, and you can't help but smile a little at his dazed, contented expression. "Shoosh, Cronus, it's fine…I didn't mean to cause you any emotional harm yesterday, okay? Shoooosh…"

Taking his chin in your palm, you brush your thumb gently across his skin. "Although I do not appreciate your more vulgar approaches to flirting, that's not to say I've never enjoyed the attention you gave me. As you know, I am not one of the more popular trolls in our session, and it's nice to have someone who will even bother to be around me, let alone listen to my sermons or hold a lengthy conversation with me. Yes, sometimes you do make snide remarks about my being boring, but at least you don't blatantly insult me or, even worse, make excuses about 'you needing to go do something,' as do many of the others…"

You're babbling now, and he's smiling, eyes crinkling into pale half-moons.

"Thanks, babe, it's cool to hear you say that. And kind of a relief."

You smile back. However, the expression turns to shock as he envelopes you in a hug, one hand around your waist and the other cupping the back of your neck. You're about to exclaim loudly, but then you realize that he needs this, you need this, and you keep quiet.

"Sorry, doll, I really don't mean any harm. I just…I'm lonely, y'know? And…"

"Yes?"

"You're just a really great friend. You…your vow of celibacy doesn't include platonic love…right…?"

It doesn't, really. Actually, you're not quite sure. You know you should be, but gog, your mind is so fuzzy and overrun by warm emotions that you can't think straight, and you just say the first thing that comes to your thinkpan.

"No."

"And…?"

"I suppose."

You know exactly what he means, and you decide in the heat of the moment (which is not something you'd normally do, you may be slightly naïve but you pride yourself in being at least a little conscientious) that you don't really care. He's not a bad person whatsoever, and you have to admit, he's quite suave. (And really very "hot," if that's the politically correct term, but you wouldn't admit that to yourself anywhere but the darkest depths of your thinkpan)

"Really?!"

He sounds like a young boy, excited and happy. You're beginning to ache from the embrace, and you gently remove your person from his, unable to stop grinning like a fool.

"Really."