Chapter Nineteen

You were spending time in your room. At least, that's all you could call what you were doing. You were just sitting on your bed, looking to your ceiling. You felt...weird. Everything has been weird lately, and you didn't know what you were supposed to do. You found yourself longing for someone to guide you, someone you could confide in.

You didn't really dislike anyone in the house. Ryo was a pain, but you couldn't deny enjoying some of his bantering. Suki was sweet, Dianna was interesting, Don was chill, Jenna was smart, and Jason... well, he was your friend, too. You can't ask a friend for advice on how to deal with something if they're the situation you're trying to deal with, though. In your mind, you already knew who you wanted to talk to. You wanted to talk to Quince. He had offered, right? He said if you ever needed anything he would be there—and he has stayed true to his word thus far. You had no reason to doubt that he would give you a suggestion if you asked.

You were going to talk to him, but later maybe. Right now, you were very busy looking at nothing. Your mind was so full it felt empty, so overwhelmed you couldn't think. A small voice in your head was saying "it's not THAT big of a deal," but you still felt stuck. Just as you were going to zone out completely and become separated from reality for short time, you heard two sharp knocks on your door. Your eyes snapped back to reality immediately, but the rest of your body took a minute to wake up. The person knocked again, harder this time. You stood.

"Hello?" you opened the door. You were at eye level with collar bones, and before you even looked up you recognized the intruder, "Ryo, what's—" He cut you off by opening the door wider and walking into your room uninvited. "Hey! What are you doing?" you glared.

He was silent. He walked towards your bed and turned around to face you, making direct eye contact before flopping down onto your mattress. At this point, your eyebrows were almost furrowed enough to touch, but you figured that he would explain himself when he wanted to, not when you asked. Dirtbag. You walked closer, peering curiously over to see his expression.

You wanted to try talking again, foolish as it was, "Why are you—" he cut you off again, this time by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down with him. It was done so quickly that you didn't even know what had happened until you processed your face pressed into his chest. He was holding you as if he was a snake and you were an unlucky mouse—which is consequently exactly what you felt like. Your complaints were muffled in his shirt, and as much as you pushed at the surface beneath you, he was just stronger. You gave up. You took a deep breath and accepted your fate. At least it was comfortable... you couldn't deny that it felt nice to be held sometimes.

Ryo was satisfied with your defeat and allowed you some space to move, and you took advantage of this. You leaned up on elbows and looked at his face, but he wasn't expressing anything. Nothing you could decipher, anyway. His arms still held to your back, and you suddenly realized how intimate this was. It wasn't like him to act like this. "What are you doing?" you finally got to ask.

Ryo closed his eyes and paused, "Shut up." He pulled you back down, but you weren't going down without a fight! Your hands pushed against his chest and your glare returned.

"You can't just come in here and—and hold me hostage!" you frowned. You didn't voice the fact that you didn't mind cuddles as long as they were explained.

"Can't a guy just use the best available blanket? You're warm," he grumbled.

"Oh, is that all I am?" you smiled playfully. It seemed like you were getting somewhere.

"Yes. Your bed isn't as comfortable as mine."

"Not like I have any control over that!" you pouted as you slowly allowed your head to rest on his chest again, "can't you ever say anything nice?"

"There's nothing nice I could say that you want to hear," he dismissed.

You audibly scoffed at that, "I'm sure I would like to hear it, but I doubt you have a nice thought in your head." You felt vulnerable in this moment. Despite the troubles you've had with the blonde in the past, something in you felt a warmth. You were feeling lost, and then he appeared like magic—you wanted to hear something tender. You reminded yourself in your mind that it was a coincidence. Well, it probably was.

"Is that a challenge, princess?" he shifted underneath you. You paused to consider his words, it almost sounded like he was threatening you with kindness. Weird...

"yeah, it is," you replied.

"Too bad. Go to sleep. I'm being nice through my actions right now."

"You are? How?" you asked with genuine confusion. As far as you knew, he was just holding you for warmth.

"We're friends," was all he said.

"We are?"

"Yes," he groaned exasperatedly. "I told you in the kitchen, I like to hold you. Is that so wrong?"

With that, you remembered the incident clearly.

"What's the problem? I like to hold you,"

"Ryo, this is—this isn't okay! And this isn't holding, this yanking and pulling me around!" you managed to argue.

"It isn't holding?" he said in mock curiosity. "Why don't you show me what is, then?"

You frowned at the memory. Was he actually trying to... do something he thought you would prefer? Was he trying to take what you said into consideration...? If that was the case, he was being much nicer than you had thought possible for the man. Your voice was caught in your throat, but you managed to speak softly, "Thank you."

"For what?" he sounded confused.

"For listening to me," you nuzzled into him just a little.

"Oh," he paused. "Well, don't get used to it. Next time we get to do what I want." You smiled despite yourself. Was this the hard-won friendship you had been fighting for? He held you tighter and rolled over, "What were you doing, anyway?"

"I was just... sitting for a little while. I was going to go talk to Quince," you answered.

"What about?"

"What is this, an interrogation?" you chuckled nervously.

"Friends," was all he said.

You sighed, "I just wanted like, some advice about shit. And things."

"Like?"

"It's just something with Jaso—" Before you could finish your vague reply, Ryo rolled over again, but now you were underneath him and he was propped on his palms. He looked at you intently—he looked concerned.

"Did he do something? Ask me for advice."

"What—no!" you frowned. It sounded like Ryo was accusing Jason of something worse than had (or would have) happened. "He didn't do anything, you can relax. It's no big deal, I just want to ask for Quince's opinion on something," you tried to avoid giving any details. You had a feeling that telling Ryo about Jason's kiss wouldn't be beneficial to anyone right now or ever.

His green eyes bore into yours, seeking answers, "(y/n), are you... into him?" he spoke with a shred of vulnerability that you didn't expect. When you didn't reply, a fire lit in his eyes and he growled, "That fucker isn't playing fair, is he? He never was, and we all just let it happen, didn't we?" He was getting tenser, and he wasn't even talking to you.

"What are you talking about?" you spoke softly. You were a little nervous at Ryo's anger, especially with him on top of you like this.

"What are you talking about? You're hot and bothered for a bastard with blue hair?" He snapped. Was he jealous?

"I don't know!" you replied emphatically. "I don't know if I like him or not. That's what I wanted to ask Quince about, I just wanted to talk through my feelings." Ryo's face softened. He took a deep breath and relaxed back down, smushing you completely. His face was just above your shoulder, his nose tickling your neck. Too close too close to close—

"Well, just take my advice then. You don't. You couldn't like Jason even if you tried," he spoke with all of his previous anger removed.

"That's—that doesn't help," you giggled. You didn't know, but Ryo liked the sound. He was tired of all of your joy being directed to other people. It should be directed at him. This whole place was shit, but you and him were the best of it. That's what he believed. "Jason's a good friend, at least," you spoke with finality. You still planned on talking to Quince as soon as Ryo felt like leaving.

"Just take my advice on this one, princess. You should be with someone else."

"Someone else?" you questioned.

"Ugh, can you just take a damn nap?" he griped. "I'm tired of talking. Don't be with Jason, it'd piss me off. He'd be too smug."

You decided to leave it at that, then. Maybe Ryo really was as socially inadept as he seemed, and this was him doing his best. You appreciated it. Or at least, most of it. Part of you was concerned at his earlier demand of doing something he preferred "next time," but you could worry about it later. He probably just wanted to play cards.

You replayed the conversation in your head before napping, "Don't be with Jason." Somehow, that sounded too familiar to words you had heard before. "I don't trust Ryo. I don't think you should try and be close to him."

They really don't like each other.

-:x x x x x:-

When you woke up, Ryo was already gone. You were honestly thankful—you don't know how you would've been able to get him off you if you had woken up first. You felt a lot more relaxed than you did earlier. You went to the kitchen for something to eat, hoping someone was there.

Only silence greeted you. You couldn't help your pouty moping as you munched on an apple, and you groaned out loud, "Quiiiiiiiince why do I always have to go looking for you. Can't you be somewhere normal for once?" A small part of your mind hoped that somehow, he heard you and would be there soon, but that would be crazy. When you tossed your apple core in the trash, you heard someone come in; you turned around and there he was--! Don.

"Hi, Don," you greeted politely. "How are you today?"

Don grunted back noncommittally as he poured himself a glass of water, "How are you?"

"That's not a real answer!" you chastised. "But I'm just trying to find Quince, I want to talk to him."

"He should be coming in in a few minutes," Don turned to face you. "He and I were just talking, he said he'd be in the kitchen after he put away his books."

"That's perfect!" you smiled at him and quickly turned to leave. Your quick departure confused Don, but you were gone before he could ask. In your mind, you wanted to intercept Quince and get him alone before other people took up his time. You were lucky, too, as you dashed down the hall, you found him leaving the library.

"Hello, (y/n)," Quince stopped mid-step and smiled warmly.

"Quince! You said I could talk to you if I ever needed to, can I cash that in?" you got straight to the point. You were a little nervous which made you talk fast.

"Of course, you can talk to me any time," Quince nodded. He had to contain his excitement, but it was hard. You were so cute! And to make it even better, you wanted to talk to him—him specifically. He let you pull him back into the library, reveling in the feeling of you grabbing his hand. He allowed his mind to wander and imagined grabbing your wrist back, pinning you to the wall, seeing the fear in your eyes, and then soothing your fear with a kiss. He knew it was a fantasy that would take a while to complete, but he still felt satisfied just at the thought. He almost wanted to let his mind wander more, but he had to bring himself back to reality to concentrate on you—the present you, that is. You had sat in a lounging chair, so he followed suit. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I feel... nervous, I think. I actually can't really think of a good way to describe my feelings, which is kind of what I wanted to talk about. I'm not sure how I feel," you spoke. "I wanted to talk to someone I could trust and someone not part of the situation."

Quince's heart felt like it grew three sizes when you referenced him as someone you could trust. I'm... doing a good job, he thought to himself as he subconsciously leaned closer to you. "What's got you all in a twist, (y/n)?"

"Well it's just, everyone has been super tense lately, and, well..." you found yourself not wanting to say anything out loud. It was just a little embarrassing. What if he laughed at you for having such a trivial problem as being liked? His gaze was unwavering as he gave you his full attention, so you took a deep breath and started again, "I think Jason cares for me, and I don't know what I should do."

"you think or you know?" he pushed.

"I guess I know," you looked to the ground contemplatively. "He's a great friend, so I don't know how to react or move forward."

"How do you know?"

"What?"

"How do you know he likes you?" Quince asked. He was concerned now—did Jason do something? Did you... feel something?

"He told me," you said. Omitting some of the truth isn't a lie, is it?

"That would be enough to know in this case," Quince nodded in acceptance. "But I have a feeling Jason isn't one to just confess and leave it at that, what else did he do?"

Your face flushed at the question—you hadn't expected that sort of confidence with little empathy from the usually very considerate man. It wasn't rude of Quince to ask, you supposed, but typically he was more of a listening ear than a questioner. You couldn't help your voice from quivering like a leaf, stuttering like a mess, "Why do you think he would do anything else? I mean, he did, but how did you know?"

"I know Jason pretty well," Quince propped his chin on his hand. "Were you uncomfortable? He kissed you right?"

"G-geez! Yeah, that's all it was," you scratched your neck uncomfortably. "I don't really know if it was uncomfortable or not—I mean, we're still fine, it's not like we fought or anything, I just feel—I don't know."

"If you are unsure, it might be better to wait on acting on his feelings for a bit," Quince suggested. You nodded; it was solid advice, and something you were probably going to do anyway. A sigh fell from your lips.

"I guess it wouldn't be fair to expect you to be all knowing," you looked up to him with a smile. He frowned. He wished he could answer this question for you, but you probably wouldn't like the answer he had which would be a "no, absolutely not, if you seriously date that guy, I don't know what I'll do, so please don't." You might trust Quince now, but he wasn't ready to test that yet.

"I'm sorry, (y/n). I can't really tell you how to feel," yet, he smiled apologetically.

"How do you feel about it?" you asked, hoping for some perspective. Quince's eyes widened. How was he supposed to answer that carefully?

"If it was me, I would do nothing about it for now," Quince repeated. "But if you are asking me how I feel about the situation, I would say that I'm also undecided. Maybe a little uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?" you questioned. Why? In an uncharacteristically shy motion, Quince turned away from you. He said nothing for a bit too long. You were just curious, but was this something he didn't want to talk about? Was there something about Jason he didn't like or maybe... something about you? You called his name softly, the anxiety in your skin setting in like needles.

"It's nothing really, (y/n)," he turned back to you. He had a smile plastered on his face, but his eyes didn't share the same warmth. "I just worry somewhat about dating in this house. I guess it's too be expected since we're here for eternity, but still. I have some concern, that's all."

"Oh," you spoke. "To be honest, I have the same concerns. I guess that's part of why I wanted to talk to you; you seem to be the only one who would have a decent, unbiased response I think."

"I am far from unbiased," Quince thought as he let his eyes meet yours. "I'm sorry I don't have better answers for you, but please don't let that deter you from asking me for advice in the future."

"Oh, no worries! It was still nice to talk to someone. I'm not sure anyone else in the house would take it very well," you chuckled as your imagination ran rampant with how the others would react.

In a gentle motion, Quince cupped your cheek with his palm, "You're a good girl, (y/n). Don't let anyone take advantage of that." You were lost in the moment. Looking straight into his eyes, with his hand steadying you, you felt truly peaceful. It was like a trance. You took some time to process his words.

"I...wont," you said, but your words were an afterthought.

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