We Went Mad
"…To survive in the world, you have to give up the fantasies, the make-believe." ― ROB THURMAN, NIGHTLIFE
Warnings: Extreme OOC (disillusioned+broken!honey lemon, bad boy+broken!Hiccup). Language.
One: Yuanfen
缘分 / 緣分 / Yuanfen (Chinese): A relationship by fate or destiny.
"Do you believe that there's such a thing as soulmates?" he took a whiff on his cigarette.
They were at the balcony of his place, looking down on the city. City lights: they looked like stars. And perhaps ever since she moved to this city, they have been her stars. Her very own a variety of colors. She liked to imagine she was falling through them, every time she stays at his place.
"No," she responded as she sat on the railings, looking at him. "Who would want to always have this person beside their lives? Who would ever want to be in love with the same person over and over and over again?"
He chuckled. "There are people who would actually want that, you know. Who knows, maybe me too?"
It was a lie. She believed in soulmates, but she didn't want too. Falling in love with someone who doesn't even love you back is too much. And if that happened all throughout her lives, well, her life is a messed up life, indeed.
He smiled.
She closed her eyes, and tried to imagine she was falling through her stars, through a sea of neon lights. Instead, she felt like drowning in his smile, in his eyes.
"Do you remember when I asked you about soulmates?"
This time he crashed on her place.
She was all bundled up in her blankets because she was sick. She was watching some sort of crappy comedy show. She looked at him. He came and walked in from the kitchen shirtless with a can of beer on his hand.
"What about it? And you should really tell me first before you get stuff from my fridge."
"But you don't tell me when you get from mine," he protested and laughed. "How about fate?"
"What? If I believe in it?"
"Yep."
She turned her head and looked at the TV set. "I don't believe we're ever fated to do something. No destinies."
"Ah, but what if you're fated to believe that miss?"
She pursed her lips—she wanted to retort, but couldn't think of anything.
There was a time she bailed the boy out of jail. She clucked her tongue. He was impossible. He was in and out of jail. She was always there to bail.
"Took you about..." he looked at his watch, "eighteen minutes later than usual?"
"I actually didn't want to go." She glared at him, and then stared at the waves crashing on the shore. She threw a rock on the water. "I've had enough of you."
He smiled at her. The bastard fucking smiled at her. "Remember fate?"
"What about it?" she snapped.
"Haven't you thought that maybe you're fated to hate me altogether?"
And she realized then, that's what this was all about. He was trying to make her hate him. She opened her mouth to say something, to take back whatever she said because really, she doesn't hate him. She hates what he's doing to her. She's had enough of that. But he was the one who spoke first.
"I knew from the very start. Just didn't want to tell you. Because I like you I've too much scars. And I'm too scared for... us."
And it makes sense, and she's hurt because what he said means that he liked her, but he doesn't think she's worthy enough. "I could've shown you mine too."
"No," he said. "Thing is, you could never share your scars. Scars are yours. Yours and yours alone."
She doesn't know if she should laugh or cry. So she laughed. There was a bitter tinge to it, but she laughed as she sat down on the sand. "When I was younger I always wanted to be a princess. But now I doubt that."
He sat down beside her. He was sorry—you could see it in his eyes. "Maybe because you made me your prince, when I'm actually a dragon."
She looked at him and smirked then looked up at a bird—possibly a seagull—she doesn't even know anymore because tears were blurring her vision. Crap. She blinked rapidly to stop the tears from falling. "Yeah..." she croaked, her voice at the edge of breaking. "Maybe because I had a dragon for a prince."