dizzy had been sitting on one of the park benches, tugging one of her overlarge gloves up as she absentmindedly sketched out a design in her sketchbook, humming a song she had heard on the radio faintly. when she realized someone was standing over her she slammed her sketchbook shut with a small yelp, looking up. “You don’t really wanna see these- they aren’t the best.”

Sour Patch wasn’t expecting the additional voice and he let out a surprised laugh. When he realized it was Sabrina, he wore such a bright smile. He was sure someone could’ve seen it a mile away. “Sabrina! Thank you, thank you!” he exclaimed happily. He stopped playing, letting the guitar rest with its strap so he could clap. “How are you? Can I play a song for you? It’s what I’ve been doing for my birthday. I lacked ideas and I figured playing songs is always fun so here we are!”

“Happy birthday to me!” Sour Patch sang, carrying his guitar around campus. Before, Sour Bill conducted every single aspect of his birthday, to the party and the cake to who was invited. Every single time, it made the candy feel like the most important person in the world (if not, the most important to Sour Bill). He got a letter from his papa, and then decided to take matters into his own hands. He decided to share his happiness by playing music to the students. He played songs on request, provided background music to a few games and adorable confessions, but during the time where he’d be looking for people to sing to, he sang ‘happy birthday’ to himself. “Happy birthday, dear Sour Patch~ Happy birthday to me!”

“They sure are!” she giggled. “It’s not on bread it’s more like a cookie.” she pointed out. “You can put any ice cream that you’d like on their. If you want we could get some.” she suggested. 

Emmy took a deep breath and figured he needed to start somewhere for everything to make sense. “Violet… got tangled with a Dalma. They all have sea magic but I’m not sure if they’re all gods. I know the oldest is…” He wanted to trail off and leave it at that. Too far to do that now. “He broke her heart. She was so upset and he was… just so smug about it. Like it was a fucking hobby of his or something. What kind of person does that? Violet’s the sweetest! He’s some fucking sadist–” His words got sharper the longer he went on and soon, he had to stop himself as his skin started to sizzle and burn, the design inching further up his arms.

He inched away as if it was contagious. He looked away, trying to refocus his energy so he wouldn’t be so angry. “When I went to confront him about it, I got angry and started a fight. Guess who won?” he said, making a vague motion to his arms. “He cursed me somehow, someway. I don’t know how to fix it… yet.”

( @sabricxndy​ said: ❝ if I had any choice in the matter, I’d stay in my comfy bed and eat warm chocolate chip cookies all day. ❞ ) 

“ is there a reason we’re having a stay in a bed or no ?? ” she asked, pulling out her phone to set a reminder to stop by the kitchens later on. “ because either way, i’m ready. i’m down for it. i’m down for bed and cookies any day tbh. ”

( @asourpatchkid said  ❝ If you could wish on a star right now, what would you wish for? ❞ )

“for emmy to be okay,” was her instant answer. it was the only one she could think of off the top of her head, though she didn’t have to reach that far to find it. “what about you?”

Sometimes, when Emmy locked himself away in a corner of the library, he’d trace out the designs of the scars that had already begun to scab. He hated to admit how enchanting they looked at times (of course, when they weren’t being a bitch). He didn’t care much for how they looked right now, seeing the way Sabrina reacted to them. After a few more moments, he put his flannel back on, not wanting to draw any more attention to them than necessary.

When she glitched, Emmy instinctively reached out to console her. He knew the reaction was involuntary and he knew it played on her emotions. That was the part that bothered him. He stepped closer to her, gulping as if this was the first time all over again they were so close. “… Violet thinks it’s her fault,” Emmy started, “I didn’t want anyone else close to me to feel like they were responsible because of something I did. That’s on me, though, for not… for not trusting you the way I should.”

Emmy’s eyes trailed away, his hand finally dropping from his arm. The fabric of his shirt stuck to his burn. He didn’t curse, he didn’t grind his teeth. Instead, he bit his bottom lip. When his family saw him during one of his episodes, they often demanded (or pleaded, in his mother and Violet’s case) that he tell them what’s wrong and in desperation to get them to understand, he either ended up in tears or with his fist in the drywall. When he was given a choice… a small voice that wanted to help… he was ready to melt.

“I should tell you…” he softly corrected, his gaze dropping to the ground. It was a strange, streaky mixture of shame and reluctance. “I–I’m cursed.” He took off his flannel shirt to reveal all the burn marks. “I didn’t want you to worry. I’ve been trying to find a way to break it before I showed you so I could show you… that I could do it. That I could save myself so you didn’t hurt yourself trying…”

Sabrina always had a lot on her plate and in the back of his mind, he always tried to be aware of it. He didn’t want to burden her with his problems, with his mistakes, with any of his shortcomings. Anything that’d ruin Sabrina’s image of him, he wanted to keep away. It wasn’t even that he didn’t trust Sabrina, he ADORED her, it was just…

And that was why he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. That blank ending, the empty explanation that had no words to match what he felt. He couldn’t excuse anything and that scared him. “Sabrina?” he said, just as cautious as she was. He gulped– and his hand went right over his right bicep, an instinctive reaction to hide his wound (just as if he was caught in his room with a razor). He winced, the raw flesh an unusual sensation against his hand as opposed to a cut. “I… I guess I have some explaining to do…”