As an Olitz shipper, I really can’t decide if I feel optimistic or pessimistic after last night’s episode.
On the one hand, Jake’s speech about doing the same thing expecting a different outcome made me pessimistic, because Shonda often uses Jake as a way to voice Liv’s inner thoughts. That, combined with how distant she seemed from Fitz, makes me wonder if she is thinking that sleeping with Fitz was just a slip up, a step backward. I really hope that’s not the case, especially after the buildup of the last few episodes. I am also concerned because now that she is going to be White House chief of staff, especially for Mellie, she may feel she is unable to fit Fitz into her life. When she kissed him, she did not think she would have a role in Mellie’s administration, and thus was no longer “tethered to power” and was free to love again (see speech to Quinn in 602). Also, the 100th episode gave me a lot of hope because she was able to see that they could have worked out if not for Defiance, which was followed by her attempt to put back on the white hat and let go of her quest for power. But it didn’t work, and now she is taking power out of obligation, realizing that, as Mellie said, they are still dealing with the fallout from Defiance. So I am worried that the moral of the story may be that in this world, where she did agree to Defiance, she and Fitz can never be together.
On the other hand, when looked at in the context of this interview Shonda did in November 2015, after 509, last night’s episode seems a little better, because she is saying that what went down in 509 “doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love Fitz”, but that it was never going to work under the circumstances and that they both had to grow. I think they have both grown now, Fitz especially, and his speech to David about headband women versus tornadoes was indicative of that. In season 5, he wanted Liv to be his First Lady, a “headband wearer”, and failed to understand why she would be so unhappy in that role. Now he gets it. He gets her and he knows she loves him and he wouldn’t have her any other way. So that gives me a lot of hope.
Argh, why do I have to care so much? I binge-watched this show to distract myself after the real election, but now it’s taking over my brain!
Finally Betty arrives! The line that Betty quotes is from The Wings of a Dove by Henry James. It’s about a rich, society woman who only realises she can truly live once she finds out she is certain to die.
They’d moved in at one o’clock that afternoon. The girl with
long blonde curls pinned beneath her white hat, and the boy with shockingly red
hair slicked back from his forehead. Jughead had allowed himself a wry smile as
the boy reopened their apartment door and guided her out with her hand in his,
only to sweep her into his arms and carry her back across the threshold in true
bridal style. They’d kissed, him anchoring his hand in her golden tresses, slow
and languid like they didn’t have to rush anymore. She’d pulled back with a
rose blush before darting her eyes to the open window. He’d rolled his own
affectionately before make swift strides to pull the blind down. That was how
it had remained all day, sun slowly slipping beneath the rooftops as Jughead
mused as to whether wedded bliss could actually exist for some. Whether it
sustained… only time would tell.
The quiet chink of his lamp being switch on startled him,
shoulders tensing in apprehension. His front door clicked closed and he’d have
to remind himself next time he was about to give someone a copy of his key not
to. He tore his strained eyes away from the window to find her standing on the top step leading into his apartment. Alright,
perhaps there was an exception to that thought, and she was currently radiating
a warmth that he could feel against his skin from a few feet away.
“Are you sure you should be wearing a dress like that this
close to the Southside?” he asked her around a smile. She grinned and he was
“Do you like it?” she asks, brushing her hand down the black
bodice and across the white chiffon skirt, dotted with bundles of dark sequins
shaped like feathers. “I think I’ve sold a hundred more like it just by wearing
it out tonight.” He bit his lip at the hint of sarcasm in her pride.
“How was the party?” he asked, unaware of what party exactly
she had been to but knowing that she would have been to one. She descended the
steps with feminine taps of her heels, shoulders poised.
“Extravagant,” she told him truthfully, running her fingers
over the lip of his desk, digits tripping over the jumble of objects in their
path. “You know you have an awful lot of stuff in here,” she remarked, glancing
around the dimly lit room. He blanched.
“I can only imagine the inside of your closet looks the
same,” he joked, regarding her with a raised brow. A shrewd sharpness crept
into her eyes as they returned to his, narrowing a tad.
“You’ve never seen the inside of my closet,” she answered indignantly.
“That’s why I only imagined,” he said tirelessly. She huffed
a delicate exhale through her nose, dropping to the window seat in a rustling
cloud of organza, exasperated by his words as always. Jughead thought he saw a
shadow move behind the newlyweds closed blind but then it was gone. “How was
your day?” he asked, laughing internally at the mediocre line of questioning. The
saddest thing, he realised, was that he really cared.
“Hectic, I didn’t stop all day. I had three meetings with the
board all before lunch. And the new line needed final approval before it goes
on show next week. Then the girls wanted to do cocktails for the bimonthly
catch-up. And I absolutely had to meet with Mayor McCoy, at The Lodge to
discuss the town-centred articles for the upcoming issues, before going home to
change,” she reeled off, oblivious to Jughead’s expression. Sure, the seemingly
shallow mundanity of her daily excursions didn’t hold any appeal for him in the
slightest. Watching the gentle brushing of her lips against one another, the
bright, glowing flush in her cheeks as she spoke passionately in muted tones,
was another thing entirely.
“The Lodge?” he enquired lightly, as she lent an elbow on the
windowsill, palm cupping her cheek. Veronica’s image floated before his eyes.
“Nothing but the best for our delightful mayor,” he snarked, giving a lazy
two-fingered salute towards the Northside. Betty downcast her eyes, fingers
playing with the sequins on her skirt.
“You’re making fun of me,” she accused, looking up at him
from beneath thick, made-up lashes. His heart thudded in regret as his fingers
stretched towards her.
“Of you? Never,” he confirmed as she rose, stalking towards
him. She rest her hands on either side of him elegantly, filling his vision
with her flawless features as she hovered over him. Perfect; the betraying thought simultaneously praised and
admonished. He hoped that she couldn’t hear the hitch in his breath, or see
that the new flush across his cheekbones wasn’t just a result of the late night
heat, but he knew that she would. Women could be observant creatures.
“Good,” she whispered, pressing her lips against his in the
barest of kisses. He chased the taste of her (strawberries, champagne, and the chalky tang of lipstick) when she
pulled back, smiling, as she watched him from beneath hooded eyes before giving
him what he wanted. “I don’t know about you but after today I’m absolutely
famished,” she murmured between pecks. Jughead’s skin began to buzz.
“Completely starving,” he breathed. A wave of cool air hit his
face as she breezed away, leaving him with parted lips and a quickened
“Aren’t you always?” she called boldly from where she now
stood by the entranceway table. Jughead didn’t know how he’d missed the Pop’s paper bag she must have place
there upon arriving – except he did and it was because she was a walking,
talking distraction to him. He threw her an affectionate smile for her
“I’m sure Pop’s has
never had anything as expensive as that dress even come close to it before –
what a sight that must have been,” he laughed at the image of Pop, wrinkled
eyes and white hair, hurrying to serve the angel that surely stumbled into his
establishment. Betty shook her head at him with pursed, rosebud lips as she
headed towards the kitchen.
“I’ll just let these warm for a while,” she called, ignoring
Lights had illuminated the stages due to the lateness of the
hour, casting ever brighter performances for Jughead to peruse. Miss
Lonelyhearts had set up her usual ambience, low cut white blouse leaving little
to the imagination even from where Jughead was perched as shadows flickered
across her chest in the candlelight. Her hand kept going to the phone, pads of
her fingers stroking the smooth surface of the receiver before flinching back
as if she’d been burned. Every time she reached out for more.
Jughead felt a cool hand rest upon his shoulder, turning to
gratefully accept the tall glass of water from Betty’s outstretched hand –
alcohol had never been his preferred poison, for reasons he’d rather forget.
Smoking had become his vice, a habit he regretted on occasion but not enough to
break. She raised a delicate brow questioningly, gaze following his to the
ground floor window opposite.
“Miss Lonelyhearts,” he sighed, gesturing towards her in
explanation. He wouldn’t admit it but the dehumanising labels made his daily
watching feel less intrusive. “She won’t do it.”
“She does this a lot?” Betty asked, sadness curling around
her words. How she managed to be so empathetic towards complete strangers
Jughead would never understand. And yet, he did feel his heart aching slightly
for the woman who had more place in his life than he did in hers. Jughead and
loneliness were, too, old companions, the latter making a habit of springing
surprise visits on him whenever the mood struck. Over time Jughead had concluded
that welcoming the pest with open arms was the more effective form of coping
“Every night, give or take a few,” he nodded. Miss
Lonelyhearts slumped over her dining table, shoulders shuddering with each sob.
“How devastating,” Betty murmured, hand coming up to rest at
the base of her throat. A small line formed between her eyebrows and Jughead
felt his fingers itch to smooth it away.
“At least you’ll never have to worry about that,” he quipped
in an attempt to lighten the solemnity that had settled over them. Betty raised
an eyebrow at him, squaring her shoulders slightly as she looked down at his
“Oh? You can see into my apartment all the way from here, can
you?” she asked accusingly. Jughead felt a tingle of shame crawling up the back
of his neck, features glazing over into marble smoothness as he tried to keep
his vulnerabilities hidden from the penetrating green of eyes.
“Surely that’s more your scene,” he said, jutting his chin
out as he gestured with a thumb towards the window of Miss Legs. She was
surrounded by a plethora of gentlemen, some with manners more lacking than
others. The oldest of the clan wrapped his arms daringly around her slender
waist, pulling her into his embrace as she planted her hands firmly on his
chest, red hair swaying as she bounced her head back. He tapped his cheek,
signalling for her to kiss it, turning his head when she complied and locking
his lips with hers for the briefest of moments. She pulled away, swatting at
his shoulder with a tight smile before twirling out of his hold and attending
to her other guests. “She certainly seems to have chosen the most eager, if not
the most prosperous,” Jughead murmured as the scene unfolded.
“She doesn’t love him – any of them,” Betty commented harshly
from over his shoulder.
“How can you tell from here?” he asked quizzically. Betty
sighed, blinking slowly as her eyes met his with a tender resignation.
“I thought you said it was most like my apartment,” she
offered cryptically, blowing away to fetch their supper. Jughead turned back to
the window with a knitted brow, her words dancing along the edges of his brain
without fully sinking in. He understood her perfectly but his body was
resisting the implications.
His eyes drifted away from the scene, feeling more like an
intruder there than he had in weeks. He watched as Mr Caretaker once again brought
a tray of food to his suffering wife, leaning in to press his lined lips
against her temple in a sweet action of affection. She twisted away from him,
ducking out of reach before he stood straight once more, fingers flexing
uncertainly at his sides. She ignored his seething, busying herself with his
offering. Caretaker stormed out, unnoticed, heading for the whiskey decanter
and telephone simultaneously. Settling back into the sagging sofa, Caretaker
took a deep swig of his drink, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth
as he began to speak. His shoulders sunk with the release of a great pressure and
his eyes drifted closed, relishing a moment of peace.
Jughead blinked as he noticed Mr Caretaker’s wife on her feet
for the first time since he’d been shackled to the edge of his apartment. Unsteady
and uncertain, she swayed towards the bedroom door, head tilted in listening.
She was gone from sight as she stood fixed in the doorway, Jughead leaning
further forward in his seat as he waited for the act to unfold. Muffled curses
floated across the stagnant courtyard air as Mr Caretaker scrambled from his
seat, hastily hanging up and chasing his wife back into their bedroom. She
turned on him, her movements surprisingly calm, before settling back beneath
the comforter and shrugging her frail shoulders nonchalantly. Mr Caretaker’s
face flushed several shades of red as his hands clenched, frame tensed like an
There was a beat as they stared each other down, two revving
vehicles playing chicken with one another, seeing who would break first. Jughead
watched, enraptured, as she reclined into her mass of downy pillows slowly. Her
upper lip curled over her pearlescent teeth in a menacing snarl. She laughed at
her husband, uttering provoking words that Jughead couldn’t hear across the
chasm. But he could see the challenging glint in her eye, so far removed from
her previously broken stature. She was teasing him, aggravating him. Mr
Caretaker took a step towards her, spinning on his heel at the last second and
slamming the bedroom door with enough force to make Caramel bark from above.
The dramatic spell broke as the soothing chimes of piano keys
drifted through the air, signalling final curtain.
“Where’s that delightful music coming from?” Betty asked in
awe as she returned, bringing with her the enticing scent of Pop’s burgers and fries. Jughead’s mouth
watered involuntarily as he eyed the tray she carried, only half focused on his
“Musician, up in that studio apartment. Struggling musician,
I should say,” he elaborated, gesturing vaguely in the right direction. Betty
set the tray in his lap and drifted closer to the window, entranced by the
delicate notes swirling towards them.
“He’s wonderful,” she murmured wistfully, leaning longingly
against the window frame, fingers coming to rest on the wood. Jughead tore his
eyes away from his food to watch her watch the pianist. She was a delicate mass
of graceful curves and elegant slopes, her curled, blonde hair taking on a
silver tint as pale moonlight crept through the strands. Her full lips lifted
into a faraway smile as she let the tune envelope her.
“Mr Indecisive,” Jughead informed her, a slight bitter note
seeping into his voice as he registered the unfamiliar jealousy spreading
throughout his chest. Betty turned to face him with a questioning look. He
swallowed the sullen bite he’d taken, ready to explain. “He must be in some
kind of family business – an older man who resembles him significantly is often
over, getting him to host get-togethers for who I can only assume are
investors. Every time they come the piano is shoved from the centre of the
room, covered with a white sheet, and littered with accoutrements like it’s a
side table. He chokes himself with a bow tie and spares frequent, pining
glances at the thing the whole night as uptight businessmen rest their substantial
bodies against it. And then they leave and he takes it back to centre stage, polishing
it with the gentlest of care before sitting down with his sheets and his
pencils to write music that makes women like you swoon,” Jughead finished,
never realising how much he’d noticed the redheaded, freckled man before now. He’s
staring a hole through the top of his burger.
“Women like me?” Betty asked, folding her arms. Jughead had
the grace to look sheepish. She brushed off his choice of words and rearranged
herself on the window seat. She watched him for a moment, as he so loved to do,
digging into his food with the gusto only a man who was previously denied nourishment
could obtain. “At least you can never complain about a meal,” she joked half-heartedly.
He paused with a fry moments from his lips, staring down at the crisp, salty
“It’s perfect, as always,” he lamented. Betty bristled, the
word oozing over her skin like molten tarmac. A hand clenched around her heart
as she regarded the man before her, broken in more ways than one.
“You’re so desperate to be free, aren’t you?” she asked sadly,
resting her chin in her palm over her crossed legs. He looked up, startled by
her remark, but remained silent. She sighed, settling back against the sparse
cushions that littered the bench. “If you sat any closer to that open window
you’d be falling out of it. You’re like a bird, every muscle poised for flight
before you realise someone has tied a rope to your ankle, that I-” Jughead’s
eyes flicked to his cast before once again finding her troubled face.
“Ravens and Doves rarely cohabitate,” Jughead muttered mockingly
as she sat beneath the glow of the lamp, he in the shadows. Betty stiffened,
surprising him by throwing her head back and laughing. “What? What is it?” he
asked in confusion.
“‘I used to call her, in my stupidity – for want of anything
better – a dove’,” Betty quoted, shaking her head in amusement. Jughead felt
like he was being left out of the joke. “I’ll lend you my copy,” she relented,
taking pity on him finally. Jughead squirmed in his chair, still feeling an
uncomfortable churning brewing in his gut. “Why do you want to leave?” she
whispered, eyes shining.
“Habit,” he mumbled. A silence stretched out between them,
broken only once Mr Indecisive decided to press the keys of his piano. The
sounds barely reached Jughead’s ears though, blood pounding in his head.
“Why can’t I come with you?” she asked some time later, the
meekness in her voice vanishing to leave behind a stubborn firmness. Jughead
lifted his eyes towards the ceiling in exasperation.
“Betty…” he began, ready to relay what he felt like he was
telling her all the time recently. There was a divide between their worlds, a
divide they were balancing precariously upon just by occupying the same space.
“No,” she cut him off, bottom lip pushing out in a petulant pout
before she drew it back in, rolling it between her teeth to keep it from
shaking. There were lines left in her lipstick. “You tell me I can’t be your kind of journalist, that it is not
for people like me. But you can’t be mine either. I can’t go with you, you won’t
stay here. According to you people are born, live, and die on the same spot!”
Her hands curled into fists in the folds of her skirt.
Jughead thought, flashing images like carnival spinners replaying the moment
he came home to find his father on the couch, contents of his stomach spilled
alongside the contents of his beer bottle, chest still and unresponsive, lips
“Have you ever had to camp out on the side of a mountain,
nothing but an old tent and a sleeping bag as the temperature slips ten below
freezing? Or been shot at while you’re driving across open land? Or had people
sending you threats because your story put them in a less than desirable light?”
he snapped at her, willing the memories back down, covering them with misplaced
anger. Betty’s eyes glistened with fury.
“When would anyone have let me?” she asked quietly, a single
eyebrow quirked in challenge.
“We have been given our roles by the powers that be,” he
“Well, if there’s one thing I know it’s how to play the part.”
The corners of her eyes were downturned and it pained him that he could not get
up and go to her. It was better, though, that he was incapacitated. It stopped
him from doing something foolish like comforting her. Or worse, agreeing with
He merely watched as she rose from her seat, expecting her to
depart without a second glance. Darkness flooded in around the edges of his
vision. She stopped, back not entirely turned to him but still keeping her face
“And you don’t think either one of us could change? That
change is sometimes possible?” He didn’t answer. She toyed with the lens that
lay between his typewriter and a stack of old magazines. “I’m in love with you
and I don’t care what you do for a living, I just want to be a part of it
somehow,” she confessed, voice low but strong. She glanced at him over her
shoulder, blush spreading along the high points of her cheekbones. “Why do you
always look at me like there’s something wrong?” she demanded at his silence.
“There’s nothing wrong with you! You’ve got this entire town
in the palm of your hand, and if I were you I should keep it that way. Tell me,
how many people know where you are right now?” he retorted with narrowed eyes.
Her flush intensified until he could follow its path down her chest to where it
disappeared beneath the neckline of her dress.
“Well it appears we are at an impasse,” she said, resignation
painting an unpretty sight across her features. She draped her wrap around her
shoulders, picking up her purse. “Goodbye, Jughead.”
“You mean goodnight?” he hurried to correct her, heartbeat
quickening contrary to himself.
“I meant what I said,” she muttered, opening the door.
“Betty, couldn’t we just…” he stopped himself, pushing her
out of the door whilst unable to let her go. In the dim light that cast shadows
across her eyes he saw her as that little dove, hanging in a birdcage. “When
will I see you again?” he asked instead.
“Not for a while,” she told him, voice quivering. She turned
to the door, pausing once more. “At least not until tomorrow night,” she
sighed, angry at him, angry at herself, angry at this game that they played.
The door clicked closed softer than he expected. Jughead
turned back to the window with a heavy heart, weight of his cast never feeling
more prominent. The sounds of the town continued below. As he ran his eyes over
the adjacent buildings he noticed that, one after another, all the shutters
were down for the night, Mr Scew-Up sleeping soundly on his balcony.
Jughead settled back against his
chair, unable to close his eyes for the night as her words tumbled around his
head. A glass broke, followed by a short cry. He turned, waiting for the
continuation. But there was nothing, only silence.
100% scientific data-driven analysis of the matsuno casino outfits
osomatsu: holy shit dude. the hair, the earring, the smirk??? plus the way his suit jacket hangs off his shoulders and his verrry confident stance. very self-assured cocky rich boy, 10/10
karamatsu: yall can get off my back cause his hat is fly as fuck, white hats are Extremely slept on, his scarf matches it?? hello??? plus his trench coat and cigar, the whole mafia boss vibe, his hairgel, end me. 10/10
choromatsu: ok i was very surprised about how cute this boy is? i love his part and his glasses they look v good on him. hes not so good at smirking, its kinda just his normal :> but that makes it cuter 9/10
ichimatsu: hm interesting what the fuck is this. he looks like he was late to a murder and had to throw on some old shitty clothes and his fucking birkenstocks are u KIDDING ME?? 4/10
jyushimatsu: oh. my. gosh. his undercut is SO CUTE jyushimaaaaats’ u are so cute i love u, so excited, and his short pants look very good with his vest and bow tie. plus his shoes are very excellent i love you jyushimatsu 10/10
todomatsu: no… just no. whats happening here. why. 2/10
Shonda Rhimes pls shut up. There is no white hat no over the cliff no Gladitors. U Shonda Rhimes fucked all that up when u Shonda Rhimes decided for four and a half season to prop up unnecessary characters. Use them to degraded desecrate and destroy the AA wm lead character. To change the whole premise of who and want Scandal was. For four and a half season u brought a weak block robotic actor on screen force him on viewers when viewers said no destroyed the lead so he can b seen as a viable love so u can live out ur sick fantasies. Now u want to try to what get Original Gladitors to come back by using terms like over a cliff white hat pls. U Shonda Rhimes fucked up Scandal and u won’t get those lost fans back u can’t fix what u broke. And Shonda Rhimes u broke Scandal.
You were with your friends walking to class. You were on your way to your foreign language class which none of your friends were in. You didn’t really mind to much since most people didn’t really bother you. You decided to sit near the back of the classroom today just because you didn’t really wanna be bothered on this particular day.
The late bell ran and a few kids started running a bit to catch their class. One kid in nearly all black manage to enter the class before the teacher got to close the door. The teacher gave him a glare and told him to hurry up and sit down. He began to sit next to a fairly tall guy. You believed his name was Dylan but you never really spoke to him much. Not at all actually. He was a very quite kid from your understand.
“No, not there Harris. Nate come switch with Eric.”
The boy who was sitting next to you got up with a groan and gathered his things. He slid into the sit next to Dylan giving him a small fist bump and winked at Eric. He made a remark similar to “go on buddy.” but you couldn’t really hear too well.
“I’m not going to sit over there sir. Can’t I sit anywhere else.”
“Hey fag be happy you get to sit next to a babe !”
You rolled your eyes, agitated at the pathetic comment the loud jock at yelled out. After a short pretty much non-existent argument Eric sat in the seat next to you.
The boy didn’t really respond. Just showed acknowledgement towards your hello. You felt pretty confused and decided to try and focus on the assignment given to you. You were a few minutes into the period when a paper ball hit you right in the head. You looked up to see who threw the ball when you saw Nate cheesy grin and pointing a finger towards Eric. You grabbed and ball and pushed it into Eric’s direction sorta asking Nate if it was for Eric. He nodded and you tapped Eric’s shoulder. He gave you a non-verbal answer still not looking at you.
“I think this is for you” you spoke soft as you put the paper on his desk infront of his face. Eric started opening the paper ball when the teacher snatched it from his hands.
“I hope this an apology letter to the class for being so rude.”
The teacher began to unfold the ball and you noticed Nate giving a wide eyed look and putting his head down.
“Yo bro tell y/n. You’ll be fine. I’m sure she secretly wants the REEEEB” The teacher cleared his throat not sure what he just read. The whole class just starts going in a frenzy. Wild laughter and mocking Eric. The teacher tried to get the class to quite down not really fot Eric but for his own sake.
“The reb? What the fuck” one girl sneered towards one of her friends
“Yo bro what is you doing. She doesn’t freak.” another white hat called out.
You turned towards Eric and looked back at Nate. Nate’s was still down and Eric’s face was red with angry. He jumped out of his seat and started heading for the door.
“Babe why didn’t you tell them already.” you sorta yelled out. You weren’t sure why you did it but it made Eric stop in his tracks. You walked towards Eric snd held his hand. You walked ahead of him and sorta pulled his hand to follow you which he followed.
“You didn’t have to do that. I don’t want any pity.”
You rolled your eyes. He says this but it still holding your hands. You answered back cheerfully.
Pierced glares turned to M.D. who just put his hands in surrounder while moon walking behind 5.0.5
“Look,it’s better that way! At least he was honest” MD argued while climbing on top of the bear.
Flug massaged his temples while sitting on one of the tables he had in the laboratory,watching the twins arguing.
“How can you say that?! It’s like you don’t care at all!” Psycha said placing her hands on her hips while looking up to her brother who was indifferently picking his nails, but a slight hint of annoyance could be spotted on his face.
“That’s because I don’t! I mean,if they’re dating, if they’re not, who cares? And anyway, what do you even know about relationships at all?” He asked .
“A lot more than you,I do watch TV,for your information,you uneducated noodle!” She shouted
“Whatever,you people don’t know nothing about things like that!”
“You people? Don’t you think that’s a little harsh M.D.?” Demecia said looking offended.
“What? I was talking about TV people ”
“Oh,cool. Anyway!” Psycha said turning her glare to the scientist “What was that all about?! Mr. Black Hat poured his heart out in front of you,dad! He planned a speech and everything, what the heck?” She said
“But he was honest thought!” M.D. took his ‘father’ side and gave his sister and exasperated look “At least he had the decency to tell the truth, didn’t you dad?” M.D. asked. Flug didn’t said nothing as he traced a hand through his long hair. “Dad?” still no response.
“He can’t respond ” Psycha said crossing her arms “You can’t, can’t you dad? Because you lied. You actually liked him,but you were afraid, weren’t you?” Her turcoaz and black eyes turned soft while placing her palms on his shoulders.
“What are you scared of,dad? What made you reject him?”
Flug looked up and locked his blue eyes with his 'daughters’. Her soft gaze calmed him down,and felt a warm feeling of comfort and compassion he didn’t felt for a very long time. Demencia and M.D. sat on the floor next to him and caressed his knees in gesture of comfort.
“I’m…I’m afraid of…”
“Who needs him anyway?!” Black Hat yelled and smashed his brother’s second wine bottles in the wall. He was pretty sure he was half drunk by now. He really didn’t know what he was doing or saying.
But if he was sure of one thing, it’s that the acid taste of the drink that burned his neck was way better than the unbearable pain he felt in his chest.
“Don’t talk like that…and make sure you buy me a new bottle of wine before you go” White Hat
said while patting his back.
Black Hat came in his mansion 4 hours ago. He almost didn’t recognized his brother. The once prideful, cocky, scary demon was sitting in front of his door,crying,sobbing ,even ,while he clinged on him for dear life.Beign a nice big brother,he let him in. He couldn’t believe his ears. That didn’t sounded like Flug…at all.
“Don’t tell me what to do, White!” Black Hat said while more tears ran down his cheeks “H-He’s a l-loser! H-He didn’t d-deserve me in t-the first place!” Black Hat said while getting back at his whining.
“You’re right” White Hat smirking “He’s a loser. He’s worthless and a waste of air who wouldn’t be nothing without you. Nothing more than an unwanted piece of tras-” White Hat didn’t get to finish his sentence when a black tentacle wrapped tightly around his neck,preventing all the oxygen from entering his lungs,and was smashed against the nearest wall.
The tentacle didn’t get any looser ,in fact it got tighter, while his brother stomped his way to him. His other eye was bloody red,dark red energy coming from it.
“DoNt SaY ThAt AbOuT FLuG EvEr AgAiN!” His brother yelled in a demonic voice,but then stopped suddenly when he realized what he was doing. The tentacle loosened up from White’s neck and he dropped on the ground again . He standed up ,straightening his tie while his brother was on the floor,hugging his knees, like he did when he was
younger and he got in trouble. White sighed and sat down next to his brother, the tip of their hats touching.
Their relationship was always like this. White,somehow,ending up comforting Black somehow. When he got bullied or their parents yelled at him,it was always White Hat whom he runned to. And white hat didn’t mind. Black Hat was his little brother, and he will always be. Their parents never believed in love,in ANY kind,and they didn’t wanted to spend time with White and Black unless it was absolutely necessary. But white Hat didn’t cared. They had echother, and that was enough.
“Do you love him?” White asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Why does it not?”
“Because it’s obviously not enough to make him love me back” Black Hat said his voice breaking at the end.
“I’m not going to lie,I’m surprised. I definitely thought he would say yes…I won’t let you lose your dignity over a guy. You’re better than that. Everyone one Is. I know it hurts, losing someone you love,but I promise it’ll hurt way worse holding on to someone who dosen’t love you back. Give your heart a break,bro. Let it hurt. Let it bleed. Let it heal.and let it go” White Hat said.
“B-But I love him,white! And-and I can’t understand why he dosen’t want to be with me! S-Sure I was pretty nasty to him,b-but I apologized!”
“The reason dosen’t matter. What matters is,that he said how he felt. Respect his decision,and move on. Be mature about this,Black. I know it hurts. But it’ll get better once you decide to stop lighting up the fire of bitterness in your heart” White said closing his eyes.
“How did you do it? After she…after she left…how did you got better? And how can I get better?”
White Hat chuckled, the most bitter chuckle Black Hat ever heard from him.
“I didn’t got better honestly. I just got better at hiding the sorrow I lived with. Until one day…that I said to myself: People walk in and out of your life. Some of them teach you lessons you need to learn, but they must go,at some point. And it sucks when they do. But I need to let it go, for once in a while. Accept it. Because I know it’s not in my power how fate works” White Hat said and locked eyes with his brother.
“I know it sucks,really I do. But it’s over. Don’t lose your self respect over a rejection. You’re worth it. You’re a good person,Black. Even if you don’t want to show it. You’ve always had that niceness with you. And that’s okay. If Flug can’t see how wonderful,caring and lovable you can be,his loss. I love you. Demencia loves you. 5.0.5 loves you,and the twins you told me about seem to love you too. And Flugs loves you too. Just not in the way you wanted. And you should respect him for that ”
Black Hat knew his brother was right.
But it hurt.
Hurt really bad.
“I-It hurts White! I-It h-hurts so f-fucking much…!” Black Hat sobbed and burried his face in his brother’s neck.
“Shhhh, I know it does. I know. But you’ll get better. I know you will. Let the time do its job and heal you”
The two brothers sat on the floor together, comforting echother, telling echother embarrassing secret moments from their childhood.
Black Hat couldn’t say he felt better.
But he couldn’t say he felt bad either.
“And that’s what happened..” Flug said,his eyes never leaving the ground. Demencia and the twins were shocked. 5.0.5 was crying, Demencia was hugging him,M.d looked incredibly scary with the calm expression he had.
“Dad,that’s sad,and I fell sorry that happened to you,but it’s not the same thing” MD said “You have to understand, that you were a kid.You didn’t know what you were doing .people shouldn’t have done what they done. But BH it’s not like that. He may be a villain,but he wouldn’t do that. I understand that you’re hurt, and I understand that you have scars,which I respect, and they’re your complete business. You shouldn’t have lied . He would’ve understood” M.D. said,completely serious, which was rare for him.
“If you know,why did you rejected him?”
“Look, it’s complicated, okay?”
“It’s not, you’re the one who makes it sound complicated. All you had to do was to tell him, but that’s none of my business” MD said shrugging “Where is he, anyway? It’s been like 4 hours” He said checking the watch on the wall.
“Honestly, I don’t know. He could be anywhere. Guess we should just wait and see”- Demencia said worried.
“I’ll go finish the invention”- Flug said “You kids…how about you play outside?”
“I don’t know what 'outside ’ means”
“Yeah,I have no idea what that means. Is it in another language? Can you use it in a sentence?”
“Just get out,please” Flug said. The twins + Demencia leaved his laboratory. Flug clenched his hands onto his hair and let himself slide down the floor.
“What am I going to do?” He said “What should I do?”