Apprehension.
That was all Tres could feel as the last of his lingering joy drained from his body along with his inebriation. He could see and think clearer now, he needed to if he was going to get through this cruel epiphany.
The equanimity he'd so desperately wanted to achieve had turned out to be nothing more than a lie, just like the woman standing in front of him.
Shiver was not who she claimed to be.
There was no doubt in his mind whatsoever now as to the validity of the fears that had ceaselessly plagued him for hours on end.
And that was what was saddest of all.
Ever since his hazy awakening he had done nothing but fight against his instincts to believe the contrary, tried desperately to convince himself that the problem lay solely with him and him alone, only to end up being proven right about his paranoia in the end.
He wasn't crazy, but after everything that had happened he almost wished he was.
To think, all it took was a single slip of her drunken tongue.
His body was uncomfortably rigid, every muscle in his body had grown tense as he struggled to rein in the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his mind. It took every ounce of self control he had not to lose his cool and lash out impetuously. He couldn't afford to be careless, not when he still couldn't comprehend the true scope of his bizarre predicament.
He wanted answers, and before the night is over he will have them.
One way, or the other.
"...Who are you?" he finally spoke, his voice trembling.
He was serious about the question and his tone reflected that; coming off as cold and aggressive. There was no love in his voice, no affection of any sort to be found. This was all business now.
A pregnant silence descended upon the courtyard gardens as the words left his mouth, it became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Time slowed to a crawl as the two were locked in a mental struggle with each other and themselves.
He heavily scrutinized Shiver's pale visage and the multitude of changing expressions rapidly running across her face, watching with bated breath as she attempted to process his query.
Shiver, or whoever this Octoling was who looked like her, sounded like her, smelled like her, heck, even carried the exact same mannerisms as her, began to suffer from an internal crisis at the sudden inquiry.
The jig was up, it seems.
His question had thrown her off balance. She wasn't behaving like how he would expect her to, with outrage or offense, incredulity even. Her sense of pride wouldn't allow her otherwise, especially if it came from him. He knew Shiver well enough to have anticipated her reaction.
Instead, there was shock, which was immediately followed by hurt, guilt, panic, regret, resignation and, at last, acceptance, all in that order. Whatever went on inside her head she had already come to terms with it, perhaps a bit too quickly for his taste.
Shiver stared back at him with an unusual level of calmness for someone who'd just been accused of being someone else, not even bothering to refute his insane claim. All he received in return was solemnity. She was very much in control of her emotions now, he wasn't sure if he should be bothered by that or not.
"I'll ask again: who are you?" Tres repeated, narrowing his eyes. He was steadily growing more and more impatient the longer she stayed silent.
"Tres... Precious,," Shiver began at last, slowly reaching out towards him in order to help him see reason. "It's me, Shive-"
"Don't-!" Tres interjected, swiftly reaching for his concealed boot knife with practiced ease and lunging straight at Shiver without hesitation, firmly pressing the cold razor honed steel of the short blade against the supple flesh of her neck. He didn't apply enough pressure to draw blood, but if she even remotely tried anything funny she'd be breathing out of her neck in an eyeblink. It was heavy handed to be sure, but he couldn't afford any measure of leniency.
"Don't lie to me..." He hissed, breathing short, chest heaving up and down heavily as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He was in no mood to be toyed with, not when he'd been dangling from this imposter's strings from the moment he opened his eyes.
It was telling about Shiver's own resolve when she didn't flinch from the audacious act, rather she'd embraced it without protest perhaps knowing full well he wouldn't actually do anything to her. Not yet, at least. Shiver's soft gaze met with his own and remained so as she was remarkably undisturbed by the knife against her skin.
Fine. If she wasn't going to talk, he will.
"...I never told Shiver, the Shiver I know, about that terrible day in the alley," Tres breathed, feeling his cold fury conflict with the sudden reveal of his greatest failure. Swallowing thickly, he mustered his courage and continued with his speech,
"Shame and fear and remorse prevented me from doing so. She could always tell I was hiding something but she never tried to pry into my personal life, never went behind my back or used backhanded methods to make me reveal things I wasn't comfortable confiding with her just yet. I respected that, enough to want to tell her one day. Until then, I wanted to enjoy the happiness we already had."
"...So, how do you know about that?" Tres interrogated, a scowl forming on his lips. "How would you know about one of the darkest moments of my life, the one I can never seem to move past no matter how hard I try?! The one I can't even open up about to the people I trust in life without being overwhelmed by guilt and shame!"
He pressed the knife up closer against Shiver's neck, breaking the surface of the skin and drawing little beads of blue blood forth along the length of the edge. She was completely at his mercy. And yet, she didn't resist; displaying neither anger nor fear, only an oddly relaxed resignation towards the matter. Faced with aggression from her lover, she felt no need to be afraid.
When Shiver didn't respond he became fed up with the silent treatment and began to go on a furious tirade, raising his voice and shouting about everything on his mind.
"What's your end goal? Why the lies? What do you get out of all this?! Why go through all this trouble to make me feel this way?! Is this all some sick and twisted joke to get a rise out of me? Did you enjoy toying with my emotions!? Or, am I really dead, did that assailant use enough venom to kill me? Is that what this all is; a comfortable dying dream to put me at peace as I lay on the cold ground succumbing to poison?!"
His knuckles turned white as he tightened the grip on the handle of the knife, he was near the end of his rope. "Answer me, damn it! Who are yo- Mmph?!"
He wasn't expecting what came next.
Shiver had seized the moment during his hysteria-driven rant and took action, sliding up against him, unfazed by the painful sting of the blade gliding along the contours of her throat as she crashed her lips onto his own and brought him into her loving embrace.
She'd caught him completely off guard in a way he couldn't have possibly anticipated: with a passionate kiss. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration she disarmed him by snaking her fingers into his knife wielding hand and intertwining them together tightly, causing the blade to slip from his grasp, letting it clatter along the ground as he began questioning everything all over again.
Tres's fears and doubts grew muffled as his body moved on its own, driven entirely by reflexive instinct. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close against his body, leaning into the kiss, swaying together by their opposing momentums in the gentle breeze of the oncoming night.
Shiver's lips were soft, just the way he remembered. Perky, with just a perfect amount of bounce to them. She liked to take the lead when it came to kissing, and wasn't at all shy when it came to using her tongue; in particular she enjoyed the sensation of undulating the wet, wriggling extremity against his own and drinking in the pleasure he derived from it.
Tres reciprocated her feelings, matching them with his own clumsy and tender intensity. In contrast to her forcefulness he preferred taking a more passive approach to making out, carefully guiding her along as he willingly gave himself unto her control. The pair were aflame with passion, becoming utterly lost in the moment as they felt their internal temperatures rising beyond the boiling point.
He didn't know how long they stayed entangled in each other's arms, fiercely embroiled in a heated makeout session as if they'd only just discovered the very concept of kissing today. It could've been second, minutes or even hours. All he knew was that it made him reconsider everything that had transpired over the course of ten minutes.
Well, almost.
Tres realized now he could've been wrong about some things, but he still firmly believes he was right about others. To wit, he did not feel his actions were out of line, nor was his paranoia false. The mystery still lingered, it had yet to be solved.
He trusted his gut, now, more than ever.
When they finally pulled apart due the lack of oxygen their faces were blushing bright with pulsating neon hues of blue and yellow. A thin strand of saliva trailing from their tongues that bridged their lips broke tension and receded at the corner of their mouths. They were both out of breath, panting heavily together as they basked in the afterglow of their fiery exchange.
Tres stared at Shiver, flabbergasted by what he had allowed himself to indulge in as he dumbly wiped the spittle from chin. His mouth opened and closed sporadically, trying and failing to form words to a sentence he couldn't think up.
There was only static on the brain, thoughts scattered about every which way with no sense of direction. He was befuddled, unbelievably so. Nothing made a lick of sense.
One thing for certain: he was sane.
But the situation had continually proved to be anything but.
Tres continued holding onto her like an anchor tethering his sanity to the Earth, as did her, wiping the droplets blood away from her neck as the negligible wound closed up from her natural regeneration. He noted the smiling love-drunk expression of bliss plastered across her face. But there was something more hiding behind that happiness, a stain of somberness he couldn't fathom why it existed at all.
Tres swallowed thickly. There was no way that sort of personal mannerism could be imitated to such an extent. He couldn't deny it now that he'd been demonstrated irrefutable proof that this Octoling was indeed Shiver.
And yet,
"Y-you..." Tres spoke barely above a whisper, unable to properly convey his disbelief, "You're not my Shiver,"
Shiver's smile never faltered, but the somberness behind it grew tenfold; her eyes gleamed with the dying embers of unignorable yearning. Her response was to raise her hand and lovingly caressed his cheek with the back of her ruby red finger, delicately gliding them along the contours of his roguishly handsome face as gently as possible, fearful that he could shatter into a million pieces if she wasn't careful enough.
Once she felt satisfied with the gesture, Shiver exhaled deeply and drew her hand back, letting her shoulders sag and every muscle in her body to relax and turn slack. Right before his eyes it looked as though she aged years in a mere matter of seconds, becoming free from an unbearable weight she'd been carrying for who knows how long. A weight he had unknowingly helped her become unburdened by.
She stared at him intensely, lips quivering before finally speaking with a slight crack to her tired voice.
"And you're not my Tres..."