Prompt: Hatred
Whoever first said that hate was a strong word was absolutely right.
Hate was strong.
Hate was confusing.
Hate was making John feel more alive than he had felt in a long while.
She was making him feel alive.
There was a twitch of irritation in his nose every time Terezi spoke, followed confusingly-
-addictively-
-by a tightening in his stomach that wasn't telling John to toss a few gummies down his throat.
Terezi was annoying-
-maddening-
-in the way that she cackled and left confusing instructions in blood on her scarf.
Talking to Terezi was like trying to take a step forward but finding that she had somehow convinced you to start hopping on one foot backwards in a circle-
-like stepping into a fire and feeding the flames with your words-
-and it confused the fuck out of him-
-he reveled in it-
-and made him want to back out of conversations with her-
-it made him want to seek out her company just so that she might burn him again.
John avoided her eyes because he somehow knew that she was giving him that look again-
-but so was he.
John wasn't a big fan of Terezi.
She was weird.
John could admit that sometimes he wished she would shut the fuck up.
She was irritating.
John might even say that he didn't like Terezi.
She was too loud, too talkative and knew how to rile him up just right.
Okay, fine. John hated Terezi.
As in, hated her.