I wrote this while listening to the song above, thought that it might be interesting to share and let you listen while reading

You grimace at the thing he's heating up. It's viscous and amber in colour, slightly translucent too.

"Is that another one of your insane teas?" You asked, curling your free toes.

In the end, you managed to find a pair of flip-flops in one of the luggages. Slightly bigger than your feet, but it's better than wearing office heels on an island. Though, there were a few sport shoes, but they are probably ten sizes too big for you.

"Sticky for your broken shoes." He replied, stirring the blob in a metal container.

"Sticky for my broken shoes... you mean glue??"

"Vuzinian call it gam." He then poured some crushed charcoal into the mass.

The consistency reminded you of taffy as he pulled it up.

...you forgot when was the last time you ate anything that can be considered as dessert. No, you're not counting the edible fruits growing on this island.

You miss eating ice cream. But the way Mayanka would shamelessly masturbate in front of you regularly somewhat ruined the appeal of ice cream. You can't help yourself but to make the correlation of his sexual fluids and... melted vanila ice cream.

And you hated him for destroying it's appeal. You hated him for raping you, you hated him for forcing food onto you, you hate him, you hate him, you hate him...

You can't wait to develop that game where Mayanka suffers as the punchable antagonist. How ugly should you make him? Hmm, maybe put his backstory as whatever he did to you and so let the players beat him up for that.

No, no. That wouldn't work. You know that there might be a good number of players who held extremely misogynistic views on women or abhorrent bigotry against rape victims (does not matter male or female) in general. The last thing you need is a hoard of incels and 'pick-me girls' to idolize Mayanka.

...you don't even have a name for the game yet. Hell, will anyone sponsor you? Of course not, the only thing in your drafts is that Mayanka is the public punching bag. That won't fly with investors.

You're going to be stuck her for a while, might as well start brainstorming a game that will probably never happen. At least it will keep you sane by giving (false?) hope that you will get to go home someday.

You absentmindedly pet the chickens while you thought of other game aspects. The chickens knew you long enough for them to allow you to pet them.

Mayanka rolled the taffy-like substance around a stick. He sighed, it doesn't work like a tube of school glue. To use it, he must heat it up again. How tedious and messy.

Mayanka turned around and saw you petting his chickens. A soft smile made its way to his lips as he watch the bird sit with its' eyes closed.

That smile then dropped into a sorrowful frown upon seeing five chicks emerging from the coop, following the mother hen. The chirps bounced off the trees, their fur is yellow and fuzzy, just like little stars hopping around.

He gulped and bit his inner cheek, trying not to burst into tears. Mayanka is upset, he's reminded that he will never have kids of his own. He quickly looked away and wiped the fresh tears away with the back of his hand.

Meanwhile, you took notice of the chicks too. You snorted.

"They look like little clouds. Funky, glowing, golden clouds. Never got to see a real life baby chicken in the city, wish I have a camera to capture this memory..." you wanted to grab one, but it wouldn't be a wise decision. The mother will surely attack you.

——

You're already out like a light. The cabin is pitch dark, Mayanka extinguished the last flame before readying himself to go to sleep.

When I said 'readying', I meant furiously masturbating next to your sleeping form. His yellow irises never leaving your body. How can he see in the dark? Well, it's not exactly 'pitch dark' per se, the moonlight lets him see. He's adapted to seeing in very dim lights.

Despite his controlled moans and light slapping, which are still considerably loud, you managed to sleep through them. Sadly, these happened so many times that you're used to it.

And it's better to be unconscious during Mayanka's indecent display. Less stress on your mental health.

Mayanka panted as he climaxed, making a big mess between his legs and abdomen. He carefully got up from the bed before confidently stride towards the bathroom, completely naked. This is something he couldn't do back in Vuzinia (even when he's still a young child) without being beaten up. His 'ugliness' stopped others from raping him like what they did to Meyanna.

He prepared a 'washbucket' there already.

He opened the door, not bothering to shut it because he knows nothing will harm him. You can't see using the moonlight, so even if you're out there to murder him, you'll probably end up accidentally hurting yourself first.

Mayanka splashed enough water to wash his fluids off. Mayanka shivered, the water is cold. Maybe he should have insulated the bucket with fabric.

He put the pail back into the washbucket and then left. Mayanka's sights were locked on the big, beautiful celestial body in the sky.

It's perfectly round and full today. It's brighter than usual too, he could see the craters on the surface and the stars accompanying the moon.

The calm, rippling ocean reflected the image from above. Recreating a picturesque scene of a painting he had seen in Vuzinia.

He pouted, Mayanka wished that you're awake to marvel at the night's beauty with him. But he understands that you're a "strawberry girl", you're relatively high maintainence and you need your sleep to reduce chances of you getting a fever.

Suddenly...

Mayanka's eyes widened and he whipped his head to the source of a faint sound. It's coming from the other side of the island, far away from you and him. The source is obscured by the tall canopy trees from the jungle.

A sound that threatens his current, peaceful life with you as his infertile spouse. His blood ran cold and a sweatdrop of fear rolled down his temple.

The sound of a helicopter's propeller, chopping in the air.