[prp] that's it (maebe/horace)

[Nio Love]

Minutes later, there was a knock on his door.

the semblance of unity

 

[The Semblance of Unity]

As expected, the knock came. Slowly, Horace peeled himself off of his bed and grabbed a shirt off of the back of a chair. Suns out guns out. Some small part of him hoped a tank top just like this was standard issue for every Sun on the island. Horace ran a hand through his hair before cracking the door open. Yep, blonde hair, blue eyes. It was Maebe come to exact some odd sort of revenge for his awful puns on Twitter. Whatever happened, he decided, it was worth it. He arched an eyebrow.

"I'm shakin' in my boots, Maebe~"

nio love

 

[Nio Love]

It might have been Horace alone who thought that Maebe was coming to exact revenge, instead of ******** him. And Horace alone, who ended up being right. If he could have known that he was the only one on Twitter who hadn't expected a slut to show up at his doorstep, she might have shaken his hand for being a pioneer.

Instead, she hopped up to greet him with an impish smile, her hands behind her back. She tilted forward, reared her leg back behind her and swiftly attempted to kick him right in the balls.

It wasn't a booty call. Of course it wasn't. But who could have known otherwise? Who could have expected a girl like Maebe to do anything but try to have sex with someone just because they were teasing her on Twitter? She'd cultivated that reputation. She alone was responsible. She blamed no one, least of all Horace, for opening the door with his snarky, sarcastic comment. Instead, she did exactly what she'd been planning to do from the start. She kicked him, and bolted immediately away, giggling like a child.

The laughter didn't last.

She never actually stopped running, even after she passed her room. She just kept going until she was out of the dorms, and let the building disappear behind her. She doubted Horace - or anyone - was following her, she just ran because she couldn't stop herself. She couldn't stop the giggles from dying and the tears from falling. She couldn't stop the embarrassingly painful sobs that started to choke her and make it harder to breathe. She couldn't stop them even if she deserved it all, because that just wasn't enough anymore. Just because she was fully responsible for who she was depicted as, didn't change how much it stung when even the people who knew her best slapped that reputation back in her face. It didn't matter whether they were taunting her, or trying to stop her from a mistake they automatically assumed she'd be the kind of girl to make.

One by one the jokes had piled on. Rep sounded like he was commending Horace for figuring out a way to make her fling her disgusting body at him. Virtual high fives all around.

And then, the actual worry came. Rep's sarcasm had unsurprisingly hurt her the least, because she thought it was foolish for anyone to take anything the man said to heart. But then came Taym, legitimately reaching out to her. Trying to stop her from a mistake he was sure she was making. Of course he was sure. Did he think she'd forgotten, for one second, the last thing he'd said to her?

DM from Taym

take your sorry dad comments and shove them up your gaping worn-out a*****e

A week ago, she would have brushed it all off as hilarious. Of course the island thought she was going to ******** him. They had no reason to believe otherwise. She'd done that. And now, precisely at the moment when she decided that it was time to start over, they'd done a fine job of reminding her that starting over was a pipe dream. This was who she was, because she'd made damn well sure everyone knew it. Now, they acted only as expected, and she was dumb enough to get hurt by it.

Little pinpricks of pain stabbed her every time she thought about it. She longed for the days when her heart was black and cold and dead to the core, and all of this would have washed over her like a breeze. She longed for them, but couldn't find her way back, now.

And Taym, God help her, wasn't even the worst part.

Dawson had shown her Horace's room number. He handed it over laughingly with a wink and a smile. Go on, Maebe. I get that you're a slut. It's fine. Do your thing.

Do your thing, Maebe. Just not anywhere near me.

Her attempts to be something better had landed her nowhere but in her own constant little torture chamber, flailed by reminders that nothing she wanted was possible. Her pathetic little attempt to stave off casual sex was turning into nothing but a frustrating and useless endeavor. All she'd done was turn down the only people who actually liked her enough to want to be with her, all because she wanted to try being someone else. Not even death was an option anymore, because she was too scared of the oblivion that would come afterward. She'd cornered herself in without a way out, all because she'd been so sure of herself when she first came to Deus. So ******** sure.

All that strong self-assuredness had locked her in a little bird cage with no door, and no chance for freedom. This was her life now. This was for keeps.

Go on, Maebe, they say.

Be true to yourself. Be who you really are.

Go on.

Do your thing in your dirty little corner.

That's where you belong.

That's where you'll always belong.