Archive of Our Own ^beta

There's a tug at your body. Inexplicable, unpredictable.

It's fierce, ceaseless, and evokes passion in you. Swirling furiously like a soda pop about to explode its cap off, or two twisting dragons waiting for the other to strike.

The person you've been looking forward to hasn't arrived, like every other afternoon nowadays.

He’s been gone for thirty-five days.

Specifically thirty-five days, seven hours, twenty-three minutes, and eleven seconds. But a single glimpse to the real world clock to the wall on your right says otherwise, make that thirteen seconds then.

A foot taps repeatedly against the ground. You lean back your chair, hands clasping each other.

It’s 4 PM at the latest. He’s usually here by 12 at the least. Everyday. Whether it was a national holiday or a world-breaking disaster or whatever, he’s here by 12 PM.

Thirty-five days of not seeing hide nor hair of the man is unprecedented, the probability of such an occurrence was at least at the millionths. Then again that doesn’t present an impossibility…

A tap from your finger resonates against the armchair, a nuisance for a habit you haven’t gotten rid of. “The most time he hadn’t dropped by was 14 days, 3 hours, 36 minutes, and 45 seconds…” You wonder what changed. He had been coming back less and less. It had been worrying until you'd learned to discount your concerns after the first few days of his absence. It was him you were talking about, this was to be expected.

The cold room did nothing to support the half-baked excuses you’d give yourself. Dry and tasteless air coming from a non-existent source, not even from an air conditioner in the room. Five star ambiance provided by the repetitive humming of computer screens not even possessing a cooling system, you hadn’t figured out where the noise was coming from and you didn't bother finding out. Not yet at least.

Most of the time you’d be sitting by your desk, re-arranging the stack of books you kept neatly by the corner of the table. There had been a tall glass of iced tea, sitting gracefully on a coaster you've kept to prevent condensation from seeping into wood. 

Surveillance had never been more interesting until now. You’ve been more focused on eyeing the screens that you had been in months, picking on every tiny minutiae and trivial detail. You’re worried you were becoming the very thing you hated. Overbearing.

When is he coming back? One day of inconsistency is already too much. Thirty-five days? His cup had overflown a long time ago.

But what if he was hurt?

The thought loomed over you like a shadow lurking at the corner of your room (even if you made absolutely sure that no one could enter). It haunted your days, mornings and nights and all the in-betweens, slowly ripping you at the seams through the single tiny hole you forgot to patch up.

“Idiot.” You rebuke yourself. “No one can hurt him.” Not that anyone will, not on your watch.

You were exhausted, unusually so. In a way that forced out a sigh from your lungs as you did nothing but sit in your chair all day and watched his endeavors through the screens on display. He’s in the middle of the street, of a city whose name you don’t bother familiarizing yourself with. His eyes are set on a box of sweets on display from a candy shop, the latter praising the product with vacuous glittering generalities that attracted gullible naive children into convincing their mothers to buy it for them.

Maybe he is similar to one, in a way. Not gullible or naive per se, but you’re certain he is going to buy it.

He enters the candy store. You called it.

A sigh forces itself from your throat once more as you slumped into your seat. He’d been visiting candy stores as of late, you don’t know why yet but you aren’t going to peer into his mind, it’d spoil the contemplation of wondering the truth to his actions.

You spent most of your time watching him browse through the candy shop, counting all the confections on display. Chocolate, hard candy, gummies, caramel, and…”Oh, they sell pastillages too.”

Finally, something does catch his eye and he snatches one off the shelf. The box in his hands yet instead of heading to the front desk, he immediately goes for the exit without paying.

You scoff, “Classic Chaos…” You grabbed the glass of iced tea by the left side of the desk, drinking in the sweetness of the liquid.

Restorer of Humanity, Gunslinging Broken Messiah. He went by many names in the past but a single one stuck by him the most. Happy Chaos. A cunning devil, figuratively and literally, with all his eccentricity and zeal.

There’s a childish side to him, fickle and mercurial. His values come and go, not too different from that of a trend. Last time he showed you a cool stick he found at a random playground, when you asked him about it again did you learn that he discarded it in favor of a toy jewel he found somewhere. 

Sometimes he would pick on you. He’d hide your consoles and stuff your games in complex folders that take you hours to find until eventually you asked for his help. He’d sing nonsense in your pocket dimension until you lost track from sheer insanity. There had been a time he threw pasta into your face just for the fun of it. You still won't let that die.

Behind all that cheekiness though had been a calculating and highly manipulative individual. His decisions are always made so spontaneously but were always executed so seamlessly as if they were never improvisations in the first place. He’s a man whose morals were thrown out of the window, to the Backyard. Whose perception of Good and Evil were of equal value

Chaos had you apprehensive during your first few meetings. He had always been an erratic and mysterious individual, it had been dangerous to interact with someone like him. But despite all the risks, his unpredictability and charm eventually had your interest, even with all your omnipotence. Did he tend to have that effect on people?

So you took the plunge and gave him a chance. Your first mistake among many. You entertained his ideas, tagged along with him despite the reclusive paranoid part of your conscience telling you to dispose of him immediately. 

That Man lured you out of your hermit shell, took you on adventures, high-speed driving, and tasting regional sweets with you. He gave you new consoles, new video games, all which he had stolen, just to get close to you. Every time he would take you for a drive in his shiny red automobile, he would spout philosophical, nabbing your ear off with ideas of the world. The world you created from the ground up.

He showed you beauty from another perspective, the glory of how humanity could bounce back from any setback. The longer he preached, the deeper you sank into his hook. As if he was a messiah, you followed him until the ends of the earth.

From the back of your mind rose a past memory from a forgotten day. Chaos was sitting on your main chair, much to your dismay, exchanging philosophies with you. Then it moved on to trivial questions. What kind of food do you like? Have you been on a rollercoaster? Do you do more than just write and watch? Do you really prefer iced tea over coffee? 

“Am I a pleasure to be with?” He asked.

Now you remember why the memory stuck in your head so vividly as it did.

“I don’t know. Are you supposed to be?” 

You wouldn’t admit it to him, not yet at least. He had been more than a pleasure to be with. 

Every time your brain went back to that specific memory, it became harder to breathe. As if someone plunged a spear into your heart, past the sternum, past your lungs. Your senses would muddle as you began to experience daydreams, it became difficult to focus as all your attention automatically pointed at him. During all of this, an inexplicable sensation took place in the apples of your cheeks, not burning but rather a sort of tingly warmth. As if you sat under the morning sun.

Lately you’ve been treading through the days and finish exhausted. But it hadn’t been from the lack of sleep, no you didn’t need to sleep. Only when you wanted to take a break from thinking. You paced around the room more frequently than usual, shifting in your chair once every few minutes. Iced tea had begun to taste bleak, even of the strongest flavors.

You haven’t been able to deduce an explanation on the happenings surrounding you. It’s terrifying. You can’t chalk it up to some sort of anomaly because then it’d feel so wrong, oh so wrong.

The clock ticks off in the background. You bury your head in your hands groaning, the exhaustion beginning to settle deep in your bones. You can’t take another look at the monitors, your body might go awry at the sight of him again. The mere thought of him sends you into a dizzying haze. 

It’s all his fault. What has he done to you?  

You took the plunge, fell too deep, now you’re covered in the caramel sweetness of your own consequences.

***

Exactly 72 days ago, post I-No’s destruction, Happy Chaos found himself at an unknown place in the middle of a beach. He presumed he’s at the Backyard, but it could be far from true. Chaos was knee-deep into the water, watching as the waves rose to the coast before receding back down, this continued for an undisclosed amount of times in an unknown amount of hours, minutes, and seconds.

As much as he’d rather stay and watch the waves continue their repetitive charade, the man was getting quite hungry. Not only that, he had sensed a disturbance nearby, an irregular amount of concentrated magic. Like any other drama-loving individual, he decided to investigate the source.

Lo and behold where that led him to, a ramshackled cabin by the edge of the beach. It’s as small as it was dilapidated. The shack had a single window and a door, where the condensed amount of mana came from. Chaos attempts to grab the knob only to meet a wall, an invisible force dividing the space between his hand and the doorknob.

“Well this is interesting…” The cheshire possesses his grin for a short moment. “Only a few people could pull this off.” There’s a magical barrier, and one conjured from highly concentrated forms of it, the source of all the energy radiating earlier. He wasn’t alone, at least not in this place.

Chaos pulls his hand back, takes Moonblade out of its holster, before using the gun to completely shatter the barricade. He twirls his revolver around and returns it back into the holster, barging into the cabin with a smug saunter.

He had expected many things, a new all-knowing and powerful sorcerer, someone withholding a powerful artifact, another hero or villain that would pave the way for one more interesting storyline.

This, though, was one he hadn’t prepared for.

There is an incessant clicking in the backdrop, one that'd make him go insane if he stayed far too long listening to it. That's not to say he hasn't already been driven to insanity.

No treasure rooms, no high-order cathedrals, no confidential elite-class meetings. Nothing. Only a windowless room with too many screens masking the north wall. And the person he's expecting to find on the other side? Not anything he thought of. 

From the reflection of the monitor, Chaos could spot a girl sitting on the chair residing in the middle of the room. He noted the dull desolation in her big eyes encumbered with dark eyebags, bloodshot and bleak, lips pulled into a taut frown. There's a crease between her brows, a fold on each edge. Whatever she was doing had her full attention, that or she had always tended to hyperfocus.

Chaos had to admit, she looked very nice. At least from where he was standing.

He appears behind her, chuckling along the way. “Nice place you got here.”

It stops, the clacking. There's a pause then a turn of someone's chair. Chaos stares at her, she stares back. The look on her face, if he had to describe it, was all but poorly disguised shock. Not too different from that of a deer caught in the headlights or the retraction of a cat’s eyes.

“You the boss here?” Chaos takes a step closer, her shock turns back into a grimace. As if she’s snapped back from her stupor. He raises both his hands, “Easy. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“I mean,” He steals a glance, her stare doesn't relent. “If you promise to do the same.”

There's a slouch to her shoulders, but her guard doesn't back down. She reaches for a cup of iced tea, placed by the side of her desk below the shadows of blue ray screens, drinking the liquid whilst keeping a watchful eye at his person.

“How did you get here?” Incredulity plagues her tone. “There was a barrier and everything.” Chaos’s lips pull into a teasing smirk, there's a look on her face. He's a threat to her and he can tell.

“I don't remember seeing a ‘Do not Disturb’ sign on the front door.” He juts to the door, which had become nothing more than a dark entryway. “Should’ve put one in the first place if you didn’t want any visitors coming by.”

“I don't see how putting a sign would ward off intruders. Moreso prevent anomalies like you .” She isn't convinced, if her unimpressed stare was anything to go by. Moreso, she didn’t seem too pleased with his ‘visit’. 

“It's worth a try. Let's try putting one up now.” Chaos mused, sarcasm coating his words.

“Then could you leave while you're at it?”

Geez, can’t take a joke?

“Hey,” Time to backtrack a bit. He smiled at the woman, the latter frozen in apprehension. “We got off at the wrong start. How about we get to know each other a little huh? What’s the name of our protagonist today?”

She raises a brow but keeps silent then she mutters a name under her breath. Chaos could attach the name belonging to no one but hers. He repeats it then his smile widens. “Lovely. Not too boring, not too extravagant. It’s a nice name.”

Her cheeks color but it could have been a trick of the lighting. She sinks her face into her knees before he could confirm. “And you are?” She asked.

“Chaos,” The devilish anomaly answered. “Happy Chaos.” He added. 

The woman mutters it to herself, grunting in response. An inhale then an exhale, she claps her hands together. “Okay then. Now that’s done.”

“Could you…” She raises a finger to the wall, “...look over there for me?” Chaos paused before taking a glance.

There was shuffling followed by a smack, and Chaos’s world seemed to fade and collapse. A pitiful fate. Though, one thought persisted in his mind after that.

He is so going to fix her.

***

Today, an event that was seemingly precedent to happen once in a blue moon occurred. He called you, or rather, telepathically called you.

Chaos contacted you after a full two weeks of no communication whatsoever. It made you sit upright on your seat, settling two fingers by your temple to focus your own magic. Somewhere under your sternum, the beating of your heart began to speed up. Faint as a thread under a densely knitted fabric but you felt it running a tad quicker than usual.

“Wow, you picked up fast.” A gravelly chuckle doesn't go under your hearing, the familiarity makes your head ring. “Happy to see me?”

“Chaos!” You winced at the audible surprise in your tone, attempting to hide the excitement infecting the lilt of your voice. “...You called. How are you?” Hearing him had been a breath of fresh air, the pounding of your heart exemplified unbearably so and you shift in your place.

“Eh. Everything's alright out here. Mostly boring,” There's a pause, you hear an explosion in the background. You could feel his grin through the telepathic connection between you two “..But I'm working on it.”

A glance to one of the monitors displays the after effect of an explosion, a mushroom cloud. Why he was in the middle of one you have no idea. Another thought pops into your mind. Nevermind, you do. 

You raised a skeptical brow, casting a look to your side pretending you were looking at his place. “Did you do that?”

Silence then a breathy sigh. “Would you be angry if I told you I did?”

“I thought I told you to stop blowing things up.”

“Well…I didn't say it was my doing.” His smugness was practically radiating off the call.

“...Would it kill you to not cause a catastrophe everywhere you go?” Your lips pull into a taut frown, a light annoyance buzzing over the edge of your brow. It doesn’t last very long.

Instead of scolding the blue-skinned apostle, you only release a sigh. You grab your cup and bring it to your lips but the edge of your cup misses your mouth by a centimeter down your chin. So instead of pouring smoothly, it spills all over the collar of your shirt, staining it in sweet iced tea. 

“Damn it all…” You place the glass on the desktop, careful not to create any more of a mess.

“Something happened?”

Hands wring out iced tea from soaked parts of the clothing. “I spilled iced tea all over myself, that's what.” 

“Heh. I can just imagine the look on your face right now.” He lets out a chuckle, the type that made the hairs on your nape stand in suspense. His voice felt ever so close to you, as if he was really there breathing down your neck.

“You're cute when you're careless.” 

A pause.

You don't feel the fabric wrapped around your hands, you don't feel the breath exhaling out of your lungs, you can't feel your limbs. There's a warm tingle rushing to your face, it spreads all over you from the tip of your ears, the slope of your cheeks, to the bridge of your nose.

“..By...the…way...-us…-when…ou-...-haven’t…”

It's ringing, all around, there's a bell somewhere. It's faintly similar to that of a chapel. And the pounding, it's coming back, your heart cranking at full speed. Is he trying something? What did he mean by that? Surely not anything you’re thinking off…

You heard him right didn't you? So why is it that you feel this way?

This is an overreaction.

“...-ello? Hellooo. Are you there? I swear you're spacing a lot more these days.” The rasp tone of his voice barely registers in your mind. “And here I thought my attention span was shorter than yours.”

“What?” It’s hard to tell through the beating of your own heart. The gravelly rasp of his voice that sends your senses in overdrive. The tingly sensation in your face, the type that forces a subtle quirk to your lips without accordance. You suddenly feel very bold.

“Did you hear anything I said just now?-”

“Are you coming back?” It blurted out so suddenly, occurring from the burst of courage that formed within you. Only when it faded did you realize your impulsiveness and begin to curse yourself to the nether. Why did you say that? “Nevermind-! You don’t need to answer that question-...”

“No no, wait. I’m thinking…”

You hear him mumbling on the other end, embarrassment pools in the pits of your gut. “Maybe, in three days' time, more or less. If I remember to-”

“Great!- I mean.” An inflection raises your voice out of excitement. You clear your throat. Get your act together. “Yeah, that's good. I'll be waiting.”

“Right...by the way,”

You muddle over a thought, something you've been pacing back-and-forth for quite some time. “..There's something I want to show you when you come over. Please drop in as early as possible, okay?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, sure I will. If that's how important you see it.” He's teasing you, but all that mattered was the hope that spread through your chest at your exhale. It's one of those times where you can't pull down the smile curling on your face.

“Thanks a lot, Chaos.” A pause before you spoke again. “Really. I'm grateful.”

He chuckles. “As much as I’d like to continue this, I’ve got some stuff to do.” If Chaos noticed your peculiarity, he didn’t say anything about it. He’s snickering it off on the other end of the line. 

“Catch ya later, sweetheart .”

He’s hung up on you before you could respond. Not that it matters. You reclined back into your seat, suddenly wanting to sleep the rest of the day off. Hands find themselves entangled into the ragged locks of your hair. Only if your mind isn’t muddled with his last few words.

“Sweetheart.” You’ve repeated to yourself. That’s a new one.

Your face grows warm at the memory.

***

Today marked his 31st day after his first encounter with God. Happy Chaos, in all his blue glory, went to a seemingly abandoned house smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. It was pleasant as pleasant can be when describing a run down shack in the middle of a swamp.

Its crumbly walls looked almost like poorly made crackers in a factory, topped off with its sorry excuse of a roof. The two windows at the front hardly looked like windows at all, it’s as if someone destroyed part of the walls and called them homey.

Chaos went up to the door, the only decent looking thing from the lonely cabin, and turned the knob. He walks in like he paid the bills, holding a paper bag with fast food in it.

The room inside is far different from the rickety old house. It’s dark and windowless, the only light comes from the blue rays of computer screens. It feels like a giant freezer inside, but there isn’t any air conditioning.

He shivers at the temperature, only if he wore a shirt then maybe he wouldn’t have been so cold. Or maybe she should lower the temperature here.

A clacking of keyboard keys reverberates around the room. A mess of various books is splayed on the left side of an expansive desk, most being old literature of a variety of countries, the rest being random sci-fi thrillers. There’s a cold glass of iced tea on the other side with condensed water clinging onto the surface of the cup. Five cubes of ice and the usual honey blend, Chaos remembers that’s how she liked it. 

There’s a person in the middle of it all, back slouched against the surface of the chair as she tapped the keys off the magical keyboard with tired eyes and an uninterested expression. No matter how much Chaos squints, he can’t see a single string of words or characters of what she’s writing. Only who knows what she’s up to, not that it mattered.

“Hey God.” He calls out, shaking the bag of food like he’s calling out a giant cat. “Got some food here.” The typing suddenly stops, the chair swivels back to face him. ‘God’ faces him with usual nonchalance, except for that particular twinkle in her eyes at the sight of him .

“You’re back” You pointed out, getting off the seat and sauntering towards him. “Earlier than usual.” 

Chaos chuckles as he shakes his jacket off him, throwing it somewhere across the room. “Figured I might drop in for a bit, business called for a little visit.” He holds out the fast food bag towards you, “Got ‘ya somethin’.”

Snatching the bag from him, you take a whiff of the contents inside, “What is this?” Raising a brow, you take the food out of the paper bag. The scent is something you’ve smelled before, so are the items. You spot your favorite sauces with your favorite meal combos- wait a minute… 

He’s got your order. No wonder it was so familiar.

An indescribable feeling invades your chest, like how the scent of the burgers began to permeate the cold air of the room. You paused for a moment, licking your lips and looking down suddenly abashed. “Oh. You didn’t have to…” A certain warmth doused your body from the crown of your head to the ends of your feet. “...do this, you know?”

He’s got his hands stuffed into his pockets as he shrugs “Hey, gotta make sure you don’t starve somehow. Can’t have ‘ya rotting in here or what.” Chaos jabs, mostly teasing, he knows you can’t actually die.

You took a glimpse of him, only meaning to steal a glance, but your breath hitches. Chaos is oddly closer than usual, you didn’t notice him leaning towards you earlier. 

The moment felt different, strangely. You held his gaze longer than usual, noting his appearance for the day: the raggedness of his hair which had always been unkempt, his X-shaped glasses which reflected off the lighting from your computer screens, the vibrancy of his blue skin only contrasted by the whites of his palms and soles.

And his eyes, usually displaying his insanity, contained every concept of emotion you created, all except despair. It’s a delight to see. It filled you with so much pride to see his soul so full of life, so unlike yours. You would’ve given yourself a pat on the back for a good job if it hadn’t been for the fact the unusual intimacy of the moment held you in place.

Where were you again? Right, right. The food.

“I suppose so…” You give a hum in response, unwrapping the burger to take the first bite, taking in that sweet smokey goodness. A sigh escapes your throat as you take another munch. Chaos moves past you, making himself at home at your gaming chair, spinning the chair at speeds that shouldn’t be possible for a normal chair.

The room was silent, aside from the swiveling of the chair along with Chaos’s incessant humming. Devouring the last bites of your burger, you wash it down with iced tea, sighing in satisfaction for the fill of your stomach after such a long time of starving yourself.

“...So…anything interesting lately?” You ask him, licking off stray crumbs from your lips.

A chuckle escapes his throat. Chaos places his hands behind his hand, spinning left and right on your chair, “I’d tell ‘ya, but it seems you already know all about it,” He tilts his head to the numerous screens, videos rendering in real time surveying numerous figures.

Sol Badguy, he’s out driving in his motorcycle, along with a blonde son of a certain former Holy Knight. They seem to have a wonderful time, the Flame of Corruption mentoring the young Gear. Sol’s rival doesn’t seem to be keen on the idea as you’ve come to know.

Faust, the back alley doctor, was wandering through a random block, probably to find patients to cure. His depressive state makes you wonder where the years had all gone with him.

“True. True…” You set down the paper bag on a table before walking by his side. “...but it’s nice hearing you talk...” Your hand finds refuge on his shoulder, his warmth traveling to your palm. His breath forms puffs of clouds from the coolness of your room, reminding you of how cold your room actually is. “You only stay for how many hours…do you not know how long I’m here for without hearing your voice?”

He takes a gander at you and smiles, mouth stretching from side to side to create that smirk you know all too well.

“Well then, you ask, and you shall receive.” Chaos gives you a mocking bow before he starts rambling to you about his day. Your hand doesn’t leave his shoulder all throughout the conversation, either he doesn’t notice it or he does but doesn’t care, either way he continues his yammering. 

The Room had never been this loud when he was away. During silence, the magic from the screens would continue to hum in subtlety. Somewhere, if you listen carefully, you could hear sounds from outside of your pocket dimension. But the silence loses to Chaos’s voice, every time, it has never been a competition. 

Whenever he dropped by, all you could hear was the sound of his voice, every lilt and inflection and cadence, along with the raspiness you grew to love. It didn’t matter whether he was talking philosophicals or about a random occurrence like being abducted or getting hit in the shins with a wheelchair, he had your full attention, as if a spotlight shined down on him every time.

He continued his story, talking your ear off again, he has deviated into talking about the principles of what makes a sweet a ‘sweet’. The natural warmth he exudes radiates over him like his black halo and it always seems to melt the world around you.

“-...Then I tried to do the same gun trick, but ended up shooting my foot instead. A shame.” He gets a hum in response, a nod of your head. You stared at the top of his head, hadn’t really bothered to bend down and look at him. You’re distracted, something nagged you from the back of your mind. A train of thought of sorts.

Today wasn’t a day different from any other, he comes in, gives you something, talks to you before stringing you up on his next biggest adventure for the day. So why is it that you felt warmer than usual, like how the shining sun would beat down on your skin the first time you let him take you outside of The Room?

Even now, seeing him so delighted talking to you is enough to amplify the tingling in your face. It sends a rush through your body that increases the thumping of your heart. The skin of his shoulder felt so smooth and oddly soothing, if not a tad rigid from his athletic frame.

“-ey…Hey. Are you listening?” You feel him tapping your hand.

***

There is something so off-putting in a mirror. Is it the fact that it’s the only way to see yourself? Or is it the thought that it could be a door to another dimension? Of course everyone knows the latter isn’t true, but you can make it happen if you want to. It’s strange, how just spraying a thin layer of silver behind a sheet of glass could do so much for it in the long run.

Reflection. It occurs when light travels through one material and bounces off a different material. That’s the ‘magic’ behind a mirror. You created the phenomenon, but it’s still strange nonetheless. Maybe that isn’t why you have any mirrors in The Room. At all.

“You look…” But here you are, standing in front of one at the corner of the room. A grimace sets itself on your face, reflecting one of disgust. “...awfully hideous.”

An uncomfortable buzz brews between your eyebrows, eyes threatening to close in on itself but can’t, you feel drained like you’ve been forced to cross the entire universe holding the world on your shoulders. It’s been eons, an eternity. You hadn’t felt this way before his arrival.

Or maybe you did, but you’ve never noticed. Didn’t need to. You had no use for doing it. You could destroy yourself from the inside and reform yourself at the same time, like a cursed Ouroboros.

You stare into your eyes, it stares back at you. Deep set of de-saturated colors with cynicism and apathy laced into them, greedily consuming any spark of enthusiasm and hope; insipid and dreary, is what others would describe it. If you allowed yourself to be seen by anyone other than him.

It’s a contrast to his, always enthusiastic, filled with the hope of humanity. Manic, but never dull. If you look deeply into his eyes, you could feel yourself being filled with the same hope as well.

The same eyes turn to the locks of your hair, and you audibly wince. If you had to describe the horror, a mess of tangles and knots formed by thousands of strands conjoined together to create an amalgamation of frizz and static. A result of neglect and lack of responsibility from the owner, now you feel bad about yourself.

Along with the mirror, there was a dresser you’ve conjured below. On its surface held a single hairbrush, along with other cosmetic products coming from luxurious brands. You’ve heard of their prestigious reputation, maybe the quality is too? You brush a hand over the many items of foundation, eyeshadow, lipstick, and so on and so forth.

You wonder if Chaos would like to see you in makeup, show how much the moment mattered to you, how he mattered to you. Enough that it made you care how you looked despite choosing to be invisible to those around you.

You pick up the hairbrush and start separating the knots and tangles from eachother, wincing along the way when you tug at a certain part too harshly. 

Magic was far efficient, more time saving. You could fix up your mess with a snap of your fingers yet…this process seemed more gratifying. Somehow.

The mirror looks at you, you look back. No longer was it a mess of tangles and dead hair, suffice to say, it looked better than before. You drop the hairbrush and sift your fingers through locks of hair. Finding not a single knot nor strand out of place makes it all the more satisfying.

It's enough to make you smile. You look nicer, better looking than before. The only time you liked what you see in your reflection.

You spotted his figure from the monitors, only because of the mirror. He's talking to a woman clad in red, I-No, if you remember her. His delight radiated through the screen, by his expression alone you could tell he's talking her ear off with his manic philosophy. It's enough to bring a quirk to your lips.

Two days. Only two more days.

***

“Have you ever eaten someone?” Chaos blurted out of nowhere.

She turns to him, her fingers placed on the caps of her keyboard. There’s that look on her face, the one where she furrows her brows with a slight pout on her lips, makes him chuckle every time. “What makes you say that?” She asks, mostly curious, as she takes a sip of iced tea.

Chaos shifts in his seat, a chair she conjured up for him whenever he got tired of standing around. “Oh nothing. Figured a God like you must’ve been curious at some point, right?” The gears on her head started to turn, her pupils darting left and right. The god thrums her fingers on the edge of her desk.

“...Maybe.” He groans beside her, slouching back to his chair. His glasses were removed, placed on her desk for reasons untold. Chaos reels his head back, giving her the biggest ‘Really?’ look he could muster.

“You serious? That’s such a vague answer.” Chaos complained. She chuckles at his retort, a small smile pulls at her lips as she relaxes into her seat, looking back at him. He frowns, albeit no actual displeasure was in his expression. “C’mon did it taste good? What does human flesh taste like to you anyway–”

“One day.” She tells Chaos. “If you watch me at the right place at the right time. Maybe you’ll find out.” He sits up straight, with that shit-eating grin on his face and the manic look.

“Is that a challenge? That’s definitely a challenge.” He asks, receiving a shrug in response. She cheekily looks the other way, avoiding his gaze. Silence means yes, he chortles.

Chaos noticed it, the way she turned her head back to him when he laughed. She liked it whenever he laughed, every snicker, every chuckle, all of it. He wouldn’t admit it, but it makes him feel airy inside, as if he’s seen a blue sky after a violent storm.

They sat in silence for a moment, the humming of screens and clinking of ice against glass filled the ambiance. Chaos listened in on the conversations coming from one of the screens, playing through non-existent surveillance cameras. She’s always had too many of them, he destroyed one and it was replaced not even a millisecond ago. He’d do it again but the God already gave him a warning against doing so.

“Chaos.” He turned his attention to her with a hum, meeting her dreary gaze. But in the limelight of video screens and a dark room, her eyes sparkled like diamonds in shining light. She reached her hand out to him, palm facing the ceiling. With the tilt of her head, she asked: “Lend me your hand will you?”

Chaos is curious but doesn’t object, he moves to place his blue hand on top of her palm, their warmth mingling together like a fine mist. Her thumb brushes over the back of his hand, feather touches caressing soft flesh of skin.

She flips over his hand, palm facing up, tracing her fingers over line folds and creases from where it starts to where it ends; pure white contrasting cerulean. The tip of her forefinger follows a straight line crossing his palm and she lets out a hum. “A masukake line.”

He lets out a grunt, setting his head on his free hand. “What about it?” They lock eyes for a moment. 

She continues. “People born with this palm line were said to have great talents,” She pulls away, her warmth disappearing from his hand. “They’re lucky from birth and will achieve huge success with their endeavors.”

“Really?” Chaos snorts and pulls his hand away,  putting both his arms behind his head. “Ya got experience on this kinda stuff?” He smirks, mainly picking on her. She barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling for a brief moment. A spark in his chest ignites at the sound of it.

“Palm reading? No…no. I don’t do that.” She waves it off dismissively, the cynical glint returning in her eyes. “None of what I said is true I’m afraid.” Her lips pull into a taut frown, contemplative but not solemn. “...Or maybe it is?” 

The silence creeps in once more, he leans close. The God reached her arm out for another glass of iced tea, almost at her grasp, but Chaos was much quicker than she had been at the moment. Instead of skin touching glass, she felt a blue hand on hers, warmth entangling together once more. He turns her hand over, palm up just like she had done for him; fingers ghosted over the surface of skin, tracing the creases that made up her palm.

She was tense, a little, watching him with wide eyes – usually so blank – filled with vigilance. Chaos noticed her staring, “Hey, it’s only fair that I get to do it too, you know?” The god shifts in her seat but remains silent. He takes that as a sign to continue.

He’s close, too close to her, his breath gently fanning her face as he traced lines on her palm. She watched him intently through her lashes, unblinking. Chaos could hear the faint thumping of her heart, pounding loudly enough for him to hear at their proximity.

In silence, she asked: “Chaos, what are we?” Then he glanced at her.

He doesn't question why someone like her would ask such a thing. “Friends.” Chaos answers. “We're good buddies, pals, partners. The peanut butter and jam in the sandwich.”

“...A peanut butter and jam sandwich. I'd like some of that right now. Good stuff.” She mumbles, agreeing with herself. “But ‘best friends’ sounds better, no? Like strawberries in chocolate sauce.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Chaos laughs at her analogy, shaking his head. “But there is no way chocolate-covered strawberries are better than a PB & J sandwich.”

“Yes it is.” She counters. “I know so. I've eaten more in one sitting than you ever will in a lifetime.”

“There is no way you've eaten that much.” Chaos raises a brow, guffawed at her bragging. “I bet I ate more sandwiches than what you ate in eons.”

“Hey I ate a lot more during the earlier centuries!” She argues.

Time is but a mere concept, the two were in their own little world. They continued their banter and palmistry on each other. Just the two of them in a dark cold room illuminated with nothing but the ultraviolet rays from monitor screens.

Eventually he lets go, allowing her hand to drop onto the armchair. She asked if he found anything, he shook his head. “Nothing interesting anyway.” Chaos added, noting her reaction. A disappointed pout.

“A shame,” She said, her attention back to the screens, drinking her iced tea. “I wanted to know what you saw in my future.” Chaos leaned back in his chair, swinging his legs back and forth. He gives her a shit-eating grin.

“You can always do it yourself.” He told her. “Besides, the world is your oyster. You can change your future into anything you see fit, can you not?” 

She gave him a look, setting her chin on her hand. “I could, but I wanted you to be the one to tell me.” Her answer had Chaos’s ears perk up like a dog. He tilts his head, almost teasingly.

“Oh? Don’t tell me God picks favorites now.” Chaos barks out an ‘ow’ when she smacks him over the head, he cradles the crown of his head with both hands with a slight hiss. But when he stole a glimpse of her reaction, all pain imminently disappeared afterward.

He started to snicker at her expression, so filled with distaste, noting the way her brows furrowed, creating the familiar creases between them, similar to how she looked at him during their initial encounters. Her eyes, so dull and dreary, would crinkle a specific way depending on her reaction, whether she was delighted, disappointed, or in this case, annoyed, they fueled life to the vacuous color of her irises. 

If he looked deeper into her, he’d find a spark in them, shining brighter whether she wrote lines and lines of words or talking to him.

“It's nothing like that.” The God responded, crossing her arms as veins popped out of her neck. “You…intrigue me. It’s one of the reasons I like you.”

Chaos sits up straight. “You do?” 

It takes a moment, she nods in response. He releases a breath, it turns into a tiny white puff in the cold air. Chaos took his glasses and placed them on his head.

“Well, whaddaya know?” Chaos spoke, as if talking to himself. “I like you too.”

“Y..You do?” There's surprise evident on her face. “Why is that?” She asked him.

He shrugs. “You intrigue me.”

***

You haven’t talked to anyone the past month. In fact, you don’t talk to anyone at all. It had always been you, your thoughts, and the buzzing quiet of your pocket dimension. The silence every inch of your psyche, permeated through the layers of your skin.

There’s a book in your hands. It’s the Tome of Origin, but only a mere copy of it, containing the information of the Backyard. You don’t have an ounce of a clue as to why you conjured up such an object when you can cross over to the actual thing yourself.

Fingers latch onto the edge of the hardcover and you flip it to the first page, its edges well-worn like the original book. There are symbols engraved onto the sheet of paper, seemingly incomprehensible but it is in fact eligible.

Two hundred eyes are on me.
There’s a hundred of me.
A hundred mouths speak of me.
A hundred of me will be born.

The truth is not always real.
I don’t want any conclusions.
I drift tonight the finite one.
And the infinite one.

You read through the words again, tracing a gentle finger over the precise penmanship. Once, twice, thrice, maybe a couple more times wouldn’t hurt. Your hand slides to the bottom of the page, it had his name written on it. Not Happy Chaos, his original name. Next to it was a tiny rudimentary doodle of a dog, charming.

Sometimes you forget someone as silly as him wrote the essence of the Backyard into a tiny book such as this. As a God, it’s an impressive feat. Though your enthusiasm dampened, knowing he was the result of experiencing the overwhelming complete knowledge of the universe. It resulted in insanity, chaos. It pained you to know he went through such an agonizing and ill-filled fate.

There’s a weight in your chest, similar to a lead anchor. You slouch under the burden as you continue reading, fingers flipping over worn page after worn page. 

Lately it became somewhat of a pastime, reading his book and critiquing his ideas. Like good fiction you laughed and contemplated, a masterpiece of words intertwining to create a cohesive narrative.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you wished he was here to read it with you.

***

“--ey…–ke…up..”

A gray haze fogs your mind, muddling your senses, with ears submerged in a pool of water. There’s an object nudging the side of your head, its ridges pushing against the crown of your skull, incessantly poking itself at you.

Someone calls your name. It sounded so right, familiar. There was a shift in position, your arm shot out and grabbed the nearest target. Your nails dug at soft flesh and smooth skin. A wince escapes from your caller.

“Wakey, wakey, sunshine’s here. C’mon it’s time to wake up.”

Clear as mountain water. Rasp, like the comforting gravel of his voice. You would’ve assumed it as a figure of your imagination. But it’s real. Like the blue light of screens and the sweet summer taste of iced tea. A hand paws at your hair, gently ruffling the mass of strands.

Sleep inertia finally leaves your head, you rouse from the cloud of drowsiness. You must have blacked out. There’s still a blur in your vision, but a few blinks clear it away. Through half-lidded eyes did you notice the row of screens in front of you, but to your left was–

Your neck must’ve screamed in whiplash, you’ve turned it so suddenly.

“Chaos.” A voice still rasp from sleep uttered his name in prayer. It felt holy.

The man in question was only a few inches above you. In front of you, standing proudly, was your muse, the source of all your painful longing. He, or at least you hoped it was him, stood in the flesh with smooth cerulean skin. His hair, shoulder length, still was a mass of unkempt dirty gray hair. With two horns protruding out of the mess of his locks. He stood slightly slouched, a heart tattooed on the center of his chest, black in color. His orange-tinted glasses reflected against the screens, covering the look in his eyes.

He looked down at you with the familiar smirk on his face. “In the flesh.” Chaos chuckled at your reactions. “What’s that look on your face? I thought you were expecting me today.”

It’s delirium. Chaos is back. It was expected but still you can’t believe it. It can’t be real, but the hand on his arm, nails engraving crescent shaped depressions onto skin, said otherwise. The two of you sat in stupefied silence, your eyes were wide, like someone stuck glue onto them.

“Hello? Earth to God? Do you read me?”

A billion words go by, thousands of sentences, paragraphs, vocabularies, they stand by the forefront of your mind. But no sound utters from your tongue. You must’ve looked silly from his perspective. The next few moments went by so seamlessly, like waves on the beach.

‘Woah!’ The next thing you know your arms were around his neck, back angled to nestle your head between his neck and shoulder. 

You gripped at his back, desperate, afraid if you were to let go he would disappear all over again. He smelled of wood, gunpowder, and the earth, you could tell what places he’d been to, what sights he had seen, what scents he smelled. It was endearing, and you didn’t want anything else. 

“You're back…” Only a mere whisper, as low as a peep.

What has he done to you?

“Someone’s become awfully affectionate.” There's laughter by the side of your neck, followed by someone's gentle patting on your back. A sigh of relief is pulled from your throat. He's real. Real as the flesh on your hand and the breath in your lungs.

His jacket creases between white knuckles of your fists. “It's been a long time. Too long.” You inhale his scent for one last time before pulling away, giving him the most disappointing look you can muster. 

“You hurt me,” Your arms begin to tremble, you cross them over each other on your chest. There's a quiver in your lip, you bite it between your teeth. You feel yourself collapsing, you straighten your spine. “For that, I desire compensation.”

Chaos raised a brow. “C'mon I was only gone for a month, no biggie.” He shrugs but immediately backtracks at the negative vibes you were giving off, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright…I'm sorry.” He gave you an apologetic look, though the teasing lilt in his voice betrayed any sadness he wanted to portray.

“I had no idea, really. My deepest and sincerest apologies.”  Chaos gives you a mocking bow before jutting a thumb to the door, the exit to the real world. 

“Will a high-speed drive compensate for my negligence? I promise it'll be a ‘five-star experience’.” He mused. There's a snooty manner to his little show, it had you scoffing, but you couldn't do much to hide the small smile creeping up to your lips as you played along.

You give out a pleasant hum. “Much obliged.”

***

“Tree…”

Wind swished past your face, hair whipping violently behind you. Your finger points lazily at the hundreds of pines passing by as Chaos sped through the empty road with his red automobile. “Tree…Tree…Another damn tree…”

“I forgot how rural it was outside the cabin…” You muttered.

Chaos steals a glance at you, one hand on the wheel with the other hanging by the car door. His jacket is discarded by the head of the driver’s seat. He sat relaxed for someone who had the gas on maximum output. “You know, I feel like I’ve seen this before, what you’re doing.”

You turn your attention to the blue man. “I can teleport, but I don’t,” There was a matter-of-fact tone in your voice. “Because it’s the journey that counts. Not the destination.”

There was a quirk to his lips as he nodded at your idea. A hum of approval too, perhaps? “Right? You get it. You really do.” Both of your gazes connect for a brief moment, like asteroids passing by each other in light years. As much as you wanted his eyes on yours for a little longer, he had to turn his attention to the road ahead. 

You clear your throat, it's suddenly difficult to speak. “You've been gone for a month you know.” You furrow your brows. “Where the hell have you been?”

He shifts hands on the steering wheel, thrumming his fingers on the dashboard of the convertible. “You know, just doing things.”

“Like what?”

“The usual. Like,” He throws his hand into a gesture, “Finding the best tasting sweets in the whole world.”

“That's it?” Chaos nodded too happily for someone in smiting distance. “And you didn't bother inviting me?”

“It's not like you can't pop in unannounced.” He argued, that shit-eating grin on his face. “Besides, I've got God watching over me. There was nothing to be afraid about.” He nudges shoulders with you, in turn getting a smack to the head.

No words. You slowly leaned back to your seat, making sure that the leather slid against you to draw an uncomfortably long squeak. Chaos sucks in a breath through his teeth at the sound. A pointed look was thrown his way, he seemed unfazed.

Lava pits boil at the bottom of your gut. You're sure a vein popped somewhere in your neck. He's got you furious all over, but at the same time, a weight you've been carrying all those days ago was suddenly lifted off your chest.

“You're unbelievably annoying when you want to be.” You scoffed at him. “Got me hurt over nothing.” 

He starts chuckling, “I always come back when I want to.”

Your annoyance doesn't relent. “I wonder what happens if we crash right now.”

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

Looking over to Chaos again, back comfortably resting against the leather seat with arms over your head insouciant, you’re reminded of the far more important things at hand.

“I was going to show you something.” 

Chaos chortled. “You know where it is now?”

“I do.” A hand places itself on top of his, the one holding the steering wheel. The proximity between you two was comparable to a pinstripe. Thin. You locked gazes with the man, his tiny pupils– filled with manic– stared into yours.

“Do you trust me?” You don't know why you were still asking him on this stage of your friendship. Do you not trust that he trusted you? Or was it anxiety for what's coming next?  

Chaos tried to find something in your eyes, unusually silent. It used to bother you back then, his scrutiny pierced arrows to your spine. But now, his manic eyes brought you solace and comfort, knowing he paid attention to detail even when he didn’t seem like he was. Still, at this moment, you shied away by a hair's breadth.

He reeled his head back slightly, seemingly satisfied with what he saw. Smile spreading with smugness. “This’ll be interesting. Lead the way.” 

With your hand on his, you turned the wheel.

***

It had been so long, you hope the place hasn't eroded too much since your last arrival. You led the car off the road, pointing at directions that seemed impalpable at first glance, but your knowledge had never failed you. Once.

Fields of pine slowly showed up less and less until what's left was a flat valley and the rise of mountains. 

“This it?” Chaos looks back at you, jutting a finger to the landscape with his free hand. You shake your head and nudge him to keep his eyes on the road.

Chaos sped along the rocky pathway, it's a wonder that the automobile was magical. You wouldn't be fixing anyone's car tires soon.

Eventually, both of you arrive at the foot of a mountain. Compared to its neighbors, its height remained peerless, the peak piercing all the way to the clouds.

“Here we are.”

He pulls over and jumps out of the car, you do the same thing as well, albeit with less jumping and getting off through the door. You turn your head to the horizon, standing near the edge of the cliff. There's nothing but mountains for miles away, a grey mist covers the mountain ranges, looming over like cold dark clouds and blurring the real distance of this place from the rest of the forest.

You hear a whistle by your side, Chaos struts over to you, watching the view from your perspective. “Nice…very nice. Gloomier than I like but breath-taking.” He takes in a deep breath, smelling the scent of fresh grass and cool mist. You do the same.

A hum sounds from your throat, “I was afraid of the condition of this place. It had been such a long time.” Your eyes subtly soften, you wonder if he noticed. “...But it's the same as when I left it. Untouched.”

He leaves you a moment of silence, probably taking the opportunity to scrutinize you during your hour of nostalgia.

“So.” Chaos claps his hands together, “Where we headed?” You blink the hazy solace out of your mind, focusing your attention on him.

“Right. This way now.” You picked up where you’ve left off, at the foundations of the mount. “I’ve been meaning to show you something for a long time.”

At the foot of the mountain was a crevice. It was as if lightning struck that specific spot in the mountain, forming the hole it was today. When you’ve uncovered it from a mass of dirt and boulders, it became somewhat a place to alleviate whatever bothers came your way, a change of pace from the usual blandness of the surveillance room.

Chaos kicks away a pebble as you analyze the narrow entryway. “It’s the same.” You mumbled. He emerges by your side, probably wondering what you meant.

It stands at least one, two meters taller than you, brooding and dark like an old gargoyle. The entrance whispered you secrets no ordinary human could stomach. Shadows leaving many a question, too little of answers. It screamed: ‘All ye who enter will return with nothing but despair and regret.’ The mist does little to help.

Just as how you left it.

He places a hand on your shoulder. “Do we go through this thing, or…?” One side of his lips quirk into a cheeky little smirk as he slowly reached for his gun, the replica of Moonblade. You told him to be serious.

You turn to him, there’s a quiver to your lip, you try to not show it. “I’ve been going to this place more frequently nowadays, there's been a lot bothering me recently.” Mostly about sorting my feelings for you. But you won’t admit it, not yet at least. “I wanted to tell you about it when you visited again.”

The two of you slip through the fissure, navigating your way through the rocky walls. You’ve paved a path for yourself during the couple of times you went here, it felt more narrow than you felt in your last visit. Maybe it was because of the way he was pressed behind your back during it all.

Eventually the two of you reach the light at the end of the crevice, literally. A single radiant beam of light shining the exit to the tunnel. You smoothly slipped out of the cranny with Chaos squeezing himself out of the fissure and coming out with a slight pop.

Chaos blocked a ray of sunshine with his hand, eyes squinting at the beam that seemed specifically aimed towards him.

The mountain turned out to be hollow, similar to that of a case. Because the inside was filled with ruins, broken pillars, the likes. Nature took its course with vines wrapping all over the walls, moss climbing up the pillars. A tree is displayed at the center of it all, growing tall and looming over every dilapidated structure with twisting branches and verdant foliage.

Light passed through holes in the mountain. You hear a waterfall, several, in the far distance, crashing water serving as peaceful ambiance. 

Shoes scuff against cobblestone, smooth stone bricks of a once great empire, perhaps. “I’ve uncovered it during an excursion long ago.” You told Chaos, “A whole civilization inside a mountain, all before the Crusades began.”

He whistles, putting his hands on his pockets. “Oh I see, I see. Very impressive stuff you got here.” Chaos perused around the area, feet tapping against the stone, you tagged along with him as he explored the area.

“Isn’t it? I remember creating it all those eons ago. I’m impressed it still held up the way it is now.” You told him all about the location, the architecture, the phenomena. He doesn’t seem to be too interested in your ramblings, you aren’t either. You’re just stalling more time, trying to mentally prepare yourself.

You drag him to all sorts of places in the long forgotten civilization. Pointing at random ruins, explaining how they used to tower over the waterfalls inside the mountain. You stumble over your words from pure enthusiasm or from the anxiety starting to creep in your gut, turning you into a fumbling mess.

He didn’t seem to be as enthusiastic as you, though. Chaos seemed out of it. Eyes glazed over, grunting and nodding along. It was strange but you chalked it up to him letting you steer the conversation.

It isn’t until you both arrived by the waterfalls did mischief glaze over his expression. 

You stood by the edge of the pools created by the falling water, shoes off and pants rolled above the knees. Examining the crystal clearness and how you can see the ground of the bank. He notices your distraction, attention occupied by the rippling of water. It’s an opportunity. 

Chaos dips his foot into the water and kicks. Water splashes all over you.

It catches you off-guard, “Chaos!” You wipe the droplets off your forearms, glaring at the blue man who began to curl over laughing. Your look of contempt did nothing but make him double down in laughter.

“Hah!- You should– you should see the look on your face..!” He clutches his stomach, laughter bubbling out of his mouth. You felt the red rush to your face.

“Let’s see how you like this…” You mumbled, vengeance bubbling in your gut.

You crouch down to the pool, hand dipped into the water, and splash some directly into his face. Water soaks his jacket and pants with Chaos coughing as his glasses begin to slip from the bridge of his nose. 

He sighs, sliding off the wet jacket off his shoulders and throwing it to the ground. “Should’ve seen that one coming…” Suddenly he lunges at you, crashing both of you into the water. A yelp erupts from you, followed by laughter.

It blows into a scuffle in the water, each trying to splash as much water into the other. Soon a paddle turned into a mini tsunami. He attempted to sneak in a shot from Moonblade towards you after a splash. You kicked him on the shins in retaliation. 

Eventually it was over after you tried to drown him in the waterfall.

Both of you climb back to the edge of the bank, drenched in sweat and water. You run a hand through wet strands of hair. Shirt and coat were discarded to the ground, leaving you in a simple tank top with water running down the skin of your arms.

Chaos isn’t faring any better. He sat beside you with his glasses over his horns, elbows on his knees. He looks at you with a shit-eating grin. “I definitely beated you.”

You look at him incredulous, “You absolutely did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!!”

A sigh sounds from your throat at the tenacity of the man, you raised your hands in surrender. “Okay. Maybe you did…”

“Oh yeah!” Chaos woops besides you, fists raised to the sky in celebration. A smirk is drawn from you at the sight, it immediately disappears.

There’s no reason to delay it anymore, remember what you were here for. You look away, settling your chin on your palm. Your gaze remains sanctioned at the sight of the waterfall, your only anchor for what’s about to come. 

“Chaos?”

He fell silent beside you, no more were the cheers of triumph. “Yeah?”

“You are a strange, strange anomaly.” There was something you tried to find in his eyes just by the corner of your peripherals. “You are one of the most powerful people known in existence, your being defies logic. You are fickle yet too smart for your own good. You are tenacious, both in the good and bad sense. You are unpredictable, erratic, and manic.” 

“Even at our first meeting, you know I’m not so…keen on visitors. Yet you kept trying to become closer with me, even when I’ve kicked you out so many times.” You pressed a hand to your chest, where your heart would be. “Because of that, you managed to break down my walls, discard their natural limitations. And worm your way into here…”

“I’m not affluent at this ‘emotional’ slang but…” You lock gazes with Chaos, “..This is what ‘catching feelings’ is, is it not?”

The moment is silent, too silent than you’d prefer. Even Chaos, who was usually so hard–wired into going off on a rambling tangent of ideas, was quieter than sound in space. His staring, what you’ve thought you’ve already gotten used to, had begun to spike your anxiety like before. 

“Chaos..” He blinks at you, as if breaking out of a trance. You know what he’s thinking, but it’s best that you don’t indulge your curiosity at the moment. Peering into his mind and invading his thoughts felt as if it would hurt you more than him.

There’s something constricting your airways, a spear striking clean through your sternum. You feel the need to leave, immediately. 

“This was idiotic of me.” You get up and grab your things- until a hand wraps itself around your wrist.

He drags you back to the ground, traces of his smirk wiped off his face. A wide-eyed look replaces it in its stead. “Why are you telling me all of this?” He dared ask.

Indignation flared in your chest, a grimace pulling at your features. “...Are you gonna make me say it?”

“Duh.” Chaos retorted, “Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He raises a brow, waiting. He’s looking at you expectantly, you can’t muster the same courage to continue looking at him.

“There’s a feeling I get whenever I think of you–..it feels like a good thing yet a bad thing at the same time and I–” You’re rambling, your tongue can’t stop throwing up words. “–can’t even explain how or why that is.”

 “...Is it because I love you?” Your throat feels dry. Very, very dry. “Or maybe it isn’t love– I’m not sure– was that the wrong thing to say?– I’m not so good at this forgive me–”

“Look at me.” He says. For once his expression was unreadable, and that terrified you. Then he had this look on his face, one of satisfaction. You didn’t believe it.

“Are you serious?” Chaos questioned you.

It wasn’t the time to falter, you realized. “As every cell and string of me is true and tangible.”

The next moments happened in fragments. His hands on yours. Chaos closer than usual. The two of you are staring at each other, warm breath mingling together. Then you felt a softness on your lips, its texture immediately registering in your brain.

You assumed your senses were playing with you, making you hallucinate as you’ve done before. But not this time, it was real, felt oh so real.

He kissed you.

Oh yes. Happy Chaos kissed you

Eons ago, before you settled on iced tea forever, you used to have a disgusting appetite for meat. All kinds, from beef to mutton to venison, even human meat. Especially human meat. The only reason you descended from the alternate plane of existence and to the ‘real world’. You still remember the screams of the people who were victims of your gluttony, faces all smudged into incognizance. Even millennia of years later, you sometimes miss the metallic taste of blood on your tongue, the copper and iron flavor different for each individual. Missed gnashing raw flesh on teeth.

Chaos tasted sweeter than any flavor of iced tea. You craved him more than any kind of human meat. His arms found themselves wrapping around your neck. You leaned closer to him, begging for him to stay like this for a little longer. For just one more minute, one more second.

He pulls away, much to your disappointment, looking at you with a cheeky smirk. “Took you too long. I was wondering when you were going to say it.”

“What?” There's unbridled surprise in your expression. “You…but you just said that you–”

“I've known for a long long time.” Chaos shrugs, as if it wasn't a big deal. “It was obvious. You make it too easy to tell.”

“...You’re a pain. You’re an absolute pain. I was anxious over nothing.” A taut grimace pulls the side of your lips, granting a chortle from the blue man. Instead of a response, you place a hand on his waist, entangling the other in the messes of his hair, and pull him for another kiss.

The hand on his hair nudged him closer to you, doing anything to prolong it. His lips parted, a tiny gap. You slipped your tongue into his mouth; keeping him right there, on his lips, in his hold. He tasted divine, something sweeter still, it gave you something to obsess over for all eternity.

Chaos. Oh, the taste of him, the feeling of his body on yours. Nothing better. You wanted nothing more than him.

His arms around your neck. Your hand taking fistfuls of his hair, the other running the smooth curve of his back, tilting his head to drink in more and more of him.

You only broke away when he placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you down the wet grass. He straddles your waist, looking at you from above, hands on either side of your head. Your own hands place themselves on the sides of his face.

“...Well that just happened.” He smiled, breathing heavily with eyes half-lidded but smiling nonetheless. One of your hands slipped down to cradle his wrist, your thumb felt the tendons that flexed under the area of his white skin.

You nodded, no further explanation needed. Arms wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him towards you. Chaos unceremoniously flopped on top of you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck.

“Stay with me for a while longer like this,” You whispered to him, hands petting the mat of his hair. “Please?”

Chaos shrugged as you snuggled him against your body. “One more minute. Then we’re robbing the local gas station.”

It was one of those moments where you let the smile pull your lips. Gone were your days of reclusivity and desolation. There was only room for tenderness and passion, reserved for him. Only him.

Happy Chaos.

“Whatever you say.”