Hey. It's been a while. (Well, those reading this probably don't know who on earth I am, but take my word for it.) Welcome to my oneshot series! What I'm basically gonna do is make a one shot each day for eight days, to practise my writing for my original story, coming soon to Fictionpress and/or Wattpad. Each oneshot is based on a song by That Poppy (great artist). Today's is Adored.
BTW, request a pairing if you like. This is a multi-character thing.
"Can anybody tell me what I should look out for?
I wanna be adored, I want nothing more."
—That Poppy, Adored
A breath. Quickly in, mouth opening, he's going to say it... "I..." Mouth closed. A slow exhale. He didn't say it. And then he left.
Ivan thought he thought too much. What was he going to say? Why didn't he say it? It wasn't important if he didn't say it, right? It was keeping Ivan up at night. There were other things, he supposed, in the darkest, most insomnia-ridden hours. What would he do in college, for instance. There wasn't as much choosing time as there had been when he was young and filled with dreams of the future.
But no, it was mostly Yao keeping him up, and the questions regarding him. (Am I alone here? What are we, what am I? What will I do? I'm lost.)
Movies made life look a lot better. Ivan liked the Internet for that reason. The humour was dark, the people some sort of negative, cynical mass. (Why is dark humour like food? Not everyone gets it.) Also, he could communicate with Yao through it. That was always a perk.
He finished what he started through acronym. Ily. Ivan ignored the fact that nobody used that one anymore, because he'd dropped his phone on the cat and was trying to articulate a response while soothing him. I love you too.
Another sleepless night. (What made you think this was pretend? What part of that was fake to you? Don't confess to someone who speaks with outdated acronyms, I suppose.) All he wanted was the loneliness to stop. To be adored, that's all. Although, he reasoned, it was a lot to ask of somebody, wasn't it? Too much, even.
Thirty minutes of staring at the ceiling. Got it. He would delete his outburst of texts. Apologise. A newly fixed friendship, unrushed and beautiful. Perhaps friendship counted as love. Perhaps this could work.
This rapidly got 3emo4me. But never mind. I actually ship RoChu romantically, but I'd forgotten a verse and it ended up changing my plot. Request a pair if you'd like, leave me a review. Thank you.