[ ♛ ]–

“I don’t play games that often, actually–never really had the time, but I probably could suggest some phone games if you’re into that? There’s,” a quick hum, “TapTap revolution?”

“–I actually didn’t even know there [WAS] a game store around here? Guessin’ you're some kind of aficionado?”

“Eh, ’m already on the leaderboards for that one. ‘Sides, I don’t exactly prefer phone games. Console ones are way more fun. Even hand held consoles.”

A tap to his chin. “Well, I’m kinda a competitive player if thats what a-- afici-ohwhatever is." Pause. “But’cha never played a game? I should hook y’up sometime. If yer into Rhythm-y stuff, there’s always DDR. I mostly prefer Nintendo stuff. Like, Pokemon n’ whatnot. Though I can’t deny the occasional FPS is kinda fun.”

Game case in each hand, the gamer gazed down at the two of them. Unsure which of the two she should try this time. They both looked rather interesting, although  everything in this store did. After all, none of these games excited in her world. 

The thought of buying both of them crossed her mind -  but she only had so many credits. Hm.. perhaps it was time for her to get a part-time job.

Chiaki was lost in her own thoughts, until she heard a tap to her left. Slowly turning, only to realize that it had been someone tapping on her shoulder. Rose pink hues now meeting brown.

    “Competitive huh? I see… Well, sorry..     I’m pretty stumped myself. Actually.. I’d     recommend Gala Omega, but they don’t     have that here.”

Cue a slight shrug as she set one of the cases back onto the shelf.

    “Well actually, you could probably play Monster     Hunter 4 Ultimate. I hear it’s pretty good. there’s     online play too.”

Monster Hunter 4 Ultimate, huh--? She was right, he hadn’t been able to get around to getting it before-- couldn’t, what with death amongst other things -- so playing it now would be rather nice, actually. That, and since it had online play, he could get to the top of the rankings...

“Hm. Well, if I ever see that one, I’ll be sure t’get it too.” Whatever it was, it sounded interesting, especially because he’d never heard of it before. The obscure games can be real gifts, sometimes. Can’t exactly play those competitively, though.

“Thanks, though.” Lifting a case off the shelf-- the game she’d recommended, actually. This could be interesting--!

“’Mm Sorin by the way. Sorin Kapule. Who’re you? I don’t think I’ve seen y’round before.”

ＣＲＹＩＮＧ ＷＯＬＦ．

[🐲] –

HIS hands were a lot more fluid than his own, not that he was surprised, but still–that was hot was it not? Even with those–things on his hands. They sort of looked like gloves, were they gloves?

SURELY, Crimson who sat with forever twitching legs, must have looked like a fool with so obvious confusion painted upon his face. Oh surely, surely.

WELL, it was not as if he had anything [BETTER-SMELLING] to eat, anything [WARMER]–that must have been a sad tale, for a boy so thin, so–[GAUNT] to think that a [POT] of [BROTH] was a feast fit for [KINGS.]

“–C-CUTE?” And that dumbfounded confusion morphed into surprise along with pinks that tinted pale cheeks, “I-I’m c-cute…?” Crimson was anything, [BUT] cute. Monster, trash, anything else would have fit better than [CUTE.]

(KANTO thought so, why did Sorin [NOT?])

“UM–Um…um, um,” he had not actually–tried it, admittedly, having no clue how to [EAT] the soup, “I–” and he turned to Aizen, who slurped quietly–Aizen knew well that loud sounds made Crimson nervous, bless his dragon for learning his own faults so easily–“Ai-Aizen th-thinks it’s–it’s it’s good…”

“I–I–,” and he turned to Sorin, with a look of pure embarrassment and shame upon his face, “…d-don’t…don’t know h-how to e-eat th-this…”

COULD his hands even [HOLD] that liquid? It looked [BOILING] up close!

Beaming, beaming -- gaze towards the other’s eyes. Yes, he was cute, very cute, even if other’s didn’t think so. What did it matter, though, what others thought? ...Not that he could say much for himself, there.

“You are! Very much so.” A surprisingly gentle laugh escaping his lips, even though it was Sorin -- Sorin of all people. Cheeks flushed a light pink, really, and he rubbed the back of his head. “Real cute. Precious, even?” It was genuine, whatever the case.

And he was kind of like a timid -- bunny or some such? Maybe not a bunny, but something cute and small and hard to be approached by humans...

It wasn’t a bad thing, though, he seemed really kind at least, in turn.

“Well, ‘m glad Aizen likes it--” A pause at the turn and then -- oh, he’d never had soup before, and -- his hands looked rather shaky, perhaps it’d be better if-- “I can help y’eat it, y’know.” 

And he’d reach for the spoon he’d set down for the boy. “Ss’fine, I don’t mind at all. ‘Sides, I don’t want’cha to hurt yourself -- soup might scorch ya.” 

He could’ve hugged arms around from behind to help him feed it to himself, but really, it was probably better to sit at his side and help him from that angle.

ＣＲＹＩＮＧ ＷＯＬＦ．

[🐲] –

WARM, warm, something rare, something oh so rare when it did not come from Aizen–it had always been cold in Kanto, freezing, chilly, enough to certainly chill to the bone. It was–nice, oh so nice, and rather delicious smelling as well! Was that what a–err…–[H O M E] would smell like, be like? Full of smiles, of warmth, of readily cooked food, and–an actual place to come to.

HE felt as if he should have asked to help, not that he would have been any, he never could amount to anything–and his hands were grimy, dirty, disgusting–but still. Maybe he should have asked, but Sorin knew what he was doing, while Crimson would have struggled, Sorin was far more mastered in such an impressive task–impressive to him, of course–so there no need to bother.

BESIDES, there was no way Aizen would let him near such a creature, metallic, somewhat noisy with the occasional (pop!) (crackle!) (swish-swoosh!)

Dangerous, Aizen would have said dangerous, growled it out, but he was at least trying to be [S O M E W H A T] polite–this one was being nice to his boy.

UNDER normal circumstances, Aizen would have growled, snarled, protested, but–it was not moving, and Crimson was not nearing, and that made all the difference. Besides, his boy was calming, even if it was only by notes and slights, he still was, and that was–utterly, utterly, [S U R P R I S I N G.]

“H-HOW d-do you kn-know?” It still looked like–liquid, bubbling, steaming, and a rather weird shade of–brown-ish yellow. It looked no different than when Sorin started, well except for a few things really, but then again what did he knew? He knew nothing beyond–beyond much really.

“U-UH,” an awkward shuffle, and the lightest red colored pale cheeks. “Y-you’re-er wel-welcome Sor-in,” he muttered meekly, the tiniest–[S H Y E S T]–smile marking his expression, not that it could be seen with his tattered scarf and all.

A nice smell, brilliant, nothing he ever smelt before really, it was–warming. “Ai-Aizen pr-probably w-will,” and so would he, but he did not want to make any empty promises, he could not eat a lot after all.

“–A-AND, I w-will t-too,” but he did anyway, a nice gesture, brilliant really, and so Crimson would try eating–just a bit more than he normally would–[which was not a lot.]

THUS, with a snout stabilizing his movements, Aizen helped him over to the table, a round thing, brown colored–it was…something to see wood…not covered in frost and ice and everything of the kind.

“TH-THANK you,” yet Crimson stood there, awkwardly, he was supposed sit right? –So he did.

The soup, the soup, he’d served the soup now, hands clutched over ladle for the substance, and then-- Right, the mitts, he couldn’t take the soup pot into his hands, not without them. Reaching for the insulated oven mitts, and then moving them onto his hands, yes, that was right, that was proper.

He’d move the pot over to the table, in the middle, on -- well, a potholder, one handmade actually.

Just in case anyone wanted more.

“I’m glad!” A small gesture, reaching out for his hand for the others, not wanting to force him, but -- it was comforting, that feeling, for some reason, despite worn hands, and even so... They were quite nice.

He couldn’t help but stay smiling, no, not a smile of pity, rather-- he liked this boy, Crimson; he was kind, he was awkward, perhaps much like him, but... Far kinder, far more damaged perhaps, far more wary, but far sweeter a boy than he.

Why did he like that? He didn’t know, not really. A hand pressed against Sorin’s own cheek as he gazed at Crimson, fingertips resting upon the uppermost part of his cheek. And he’d smile, he’d smile so brightly.

“Y’know, yer really cute, Crimson.” And offhanded comment, just -- offered in the moment, spur kind of thing. Cheeks lightly tinted red, he wouldn’t say much beyond that about it, but it was true -- at least, Sorin certainly thought so, he wouldn’t be shy about that.

Hopefully that was okay, hopefully that wasn’t pushing his luck. It would be fine, right? Ehe-- Right--?

“Uh -- Right, so, how’s the soup? What’cha think?”

                                                              To have someone to нσℓ∂ me                                                          to have someone to keep me ωαям                                                              to have someone to ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ me                                                                to have someone to l๏vє me                                                     ——ａｇａｉｎ

                                                                   That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

i am in love with the new exeggutor! so i had to find a way to fill all that blank space and… then it all became a mistake :/

ＣＲＹＩＮＧ ＷＯＬＦ．

[🐲] –

“U-UM…Y-yes…p-please,” timid, quiet, not that it was any different that how he spoke normally…or personality was, but he was nervous, incredibly so, understandable really. Aizen had cracked their door, their frame really, and at a general, he was dirty, disgusting.

SORIN seemed fine with that fact in any case, given the fact he placed with darker hand gently upon his paler and shakier one, a smile on his face. It was nice–if Crimson could relax, he would have, but he could not, panicky and nervous little thing he was.

AS nervous as he was, he could relax–but only slightly, but that hand, his touch, gentle, kind, did bring just the smallest of smiles upon his face–hidden beneath of scarf, of course. He felt–better, a feeling he had not felt in such a long long time.

THE corners did not reach his eyes, they never would. Shame, a real one, but the fact that he [S M I L E D] was progress, a small amount of progress, but progress all the same.

“I-it…l-looks, u-um,” interesting! He never watched someone cook, nor was ever close enough to witness such a thing! “U-Um…neat…” How else was he supposed to describe such a thing?

RED eyes met brown, and naturally, Crimson flinched. He was not used to meeting someone’s eyesight, it meant equality, meant respect, and he–deserved none.

SO, of course he looked down, eyes gazing upon a wooden floor, nice, polished–but Aizen’s claws left scrapes, and Crimson gulped audibly at the face.

BUT he glanced up when Sorin talked to him, feet awkwardly shuffling so he could stand himself up on such a strange texture. Aizen had no room, and that was nerve-wracking, Aizen was always at his side, but he was so near so he supposed it was fine…

“U-UM, o-k-k-ay,” a quiet response, he twiddled his fingers against each other. “I–I–I’m s-sure I w-will,” it was food, and food was…nice…and having something cooked for Aizen? That was easily the nicest thing someone had done for him since–since forever if he really wanted to go that for.

BUT, probably it was the nicest thing anyone had done for him in a while. “A-And–a-and ab-bout my h-hand…y-you c-can h-hold I-it,” that was no problem, not at all. Anything to pay him back.

The soup would be done in not too long, and he gave his new friend room to see what he was doing as he put ingredient after ingredient in a large pot. Then the heat was turned up, and all that was left was to watch it and stir it as needed.

There would be plenty for his Charizard, although he wasn’t sure how the creature would take soup, and had thusly left aside some chicken to cook on its own. He’d do that too, it wasn’t too hard to start on something like that with the soup going -- Though he did fear a little as to how it would come out, as he was best at soups.

The other looked slightly calmer than he had before, Sorin couldn’t quite place a finger on why or how, but he was glad it was the case. He deserved kindness, not that Sorin was exactly... good at that.

He wasn’t good at those kinds of things anyway, though. And it wasn’t like he exactly deserved it himself...

But he'd do his best for Crimson’s sake.

“It’ll be done soon!” Though his expression had faltered slightly in thought, he smiled again, thinking warmly of Crimson and how good the soup would be. He’d have to turn down the heat now, lower it so that it wouldn’t overcook.

He’d pull down on his hat a bit embarrassedly.

“Uh... Thanks, by the way.” For what? Sorin knew, Sorin knew -- for company. But would that be weird to say?

He’d finish the soup and the chicken in that moment, smiling, happy.

“It’s done!” Now all that was left was the separate this into bowls and such, and so he would. “I hope you both like it!”

He’d wait to grasp that hand until the soup was enjoyed. Three bowls. For him, for Crimson, and for the taller’s Charizard. He truly hoped this would go well.

Dear Broken Boy With Your Shattered Soul, 

                                      You’ll be selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. You’ll make                                        mistakes and be a little hard to handle at times. You’ll have                                        times when you’re at your worst. But that’s okay.                                                                                 It’s okay. It’s okay because we’ll accept the love we think we                                       deserve.                                       It’s okay because we’ll accept you all the same because your                                       violence is a lot different than everything we’ve gone through                                       before.

                                                                  From someone who really isn’t deserving of much.

Dearest and most Precious Boy with a Broken Heart and a Weakened Body,

     Your heart has been lonely, it’s alright to be afraid. But it’s okay to accept things as they are. You don’t have to be alone. Even through your tears, I can see -- you’ve beared much pain.

     I’ll shelter you from the suffering, and I’ll protect you from the worst of it, make sure you get the best of things; and I’ll love you through both the worst and the best. I’ll dry your tears, if you need it. I’ll be afraid sometimes too, but it’ll be okay.

     Even if we do not think we deserve each other’s love, we will love each other as much as we   can. We don’t have to think so, for something to be true. We can make each other happy, though we know it won’t be at all times... We both deserve at least a little bit of happiness, some joy to light up our lives.

     It’ll be okay. For you, for me. For the both of us. Maybe sometimes we’ll be afraid, maybe insecure. It doesn’t change anything, not anymore.

   ...Because we’re here for each other now. We can do much greater with the power of us. We can  be each other’s strength -- We’ll always have one another, after all.

                               From someone who isn’t alone anymore, not with you at their side.

they say it’s not the destination that counts, but the journey. but how is that possible when my journey is so painful?

It builds character, or something like that. I’m sorry, I know those old platitudes never really help. That’s why I’m here. I’ll be the one to help you on your journey.