Silent night (Mituna x Kurloz)

Guilt

"Are vwe goin' ta' talk bout' vwhat's really botherin' ya'?" Cronus raises an eyebrow as he lights a new cigarette, puffing a swirl of ashen vapor into the house.

 You bite your lip, gaze falling to your feet. You don't have a a foggiest idea what to tell him. To tell him what's really bothering you? Ha! If that is what he wanted to know he should have rather asked, what isn't bothering you. You answer in your thoughts, never would you say that aloud to Cronus. He'd pity you, attempt to make you feel better. You know that only you, Mituna Captor, is responsible for the anguish you feel and that no one else needs to get involved in this lost cause of a person. Blinking away your distress, your head throbs against your skull. You finally reply to the greaser's question with a shake of your head. What were you to say? 

Cronus looks down on you, awaiting for an aneswer to a question that just can't explain. Maybe, just maybe you could, but he wouldn't want to listen; wouldn't want to deal with your nonsense. Your thoughts run rampant, stressing to make a comment in return. Cronus acknowledges your conflict, bowing forward he speaks delicately as if you were a fragile piece of china; feeble and brittle. 

"It's fine if ya' don' wanna' talk about it, Chief. I jus' worry bout' ya'. Ya' gone recluse since high school." He speaks with care, vocalizing like he hasn't been one of your tormentors since the beginning.

You scoff at the Ampora's words. He is kidding, right?  He has been harassing you since day one. Doubtlessly longer than most. Perhaps less so than some, but that doesn't change anything. He's poked fun, shoved, oppressed, and assaulted you. Just like everyone else. He is no different. He doesn't care, he is just curious. Despite his strikingly nice demeanor at the current moment, it isn't sincere. He may be the only peer who has been "kind" to you, but the way that he he treats you isn't remotely friendly. You only accept it because it's the only cordial affection that you've encountered as of recent. 

His eyes widen hearing your scoff of disapproval, backing up from your personal space; a relief of sorts to you. "Baby, I jus' wanna talk to ya'. I did'nt mean ta' offend you, or nothin." Cronus worried. 

"Cronus, you may care now, but as I recall, you are one of the bastards that started this daily torment. Were you not the one who spread rumors and beat on me throughout middle and high school? Because, I sure do remember. I also remember all of those times you shoved, ridiculed, and stole work from me." You spit at Cronus, backing up away from the taller male. Distancing yourself, crossing your arms around your scrawny frame. You remember what he did, he will not be able to deceive you. Not this time.

Cronus' mouth gapes as you speak. Not wanting believe what you had said. You will not spill your inmost secrets to the enemy, you think to yourself. Oh, no you are not that foolish. Cronus' facial features fall to an apologetic, sorrowful emotion. Sincerely feeling regret one might say. "Mituna, you don't know how sorry I am bout' all that. I was full of myself and stupid. Please let me help ya', Tuna. Jus' talk ta' me." He speaks with obvious melancholy and regret. Despite his words and tone, will you believe him? He has been more or less so courteous this past year, but does that outweigh the damage he's done? Feasibly not, nevertheless, you are on the edge of breaking. You genuinely need comfort, but will you take comfort from a "former" enemy?

You gnaw at the inside of your lip, determining what course of action to take. You do need to talk to someone about this but, on the other hand, he could use the information you give him against you; to blackmail you. Your hair-obstructed gaze meets his own. From what you can tell he is being honest, and, you desperately hope he is as you unhinge your closed mouth, hesitantly speaking,

"Cronus, I don't know how sincere your words are but, I'm going trust you. Just this once, Cronus." You mumble, hoping he heard, you do not wish to repeat yourself. He obviously understands as you feel a tug at the sleeve of your faded sweater. His hand grasping the pastel cloth of the sweater as he begins to lead you through the lengthy corridors of his house. you following closely behind him, your footsteps small and un-synchronized, causing you to trip often. He guides you into a bedroom that you can only assume is his. Walls ocean blue with beautiful light-wooden furniture, strongly resembling a beach. He led to the bed, a deep indigo duvet resting atop it. You sit down cautiously, the unfamiliar territory inducing tenseness. Your lanky, thin arms wrap around your form creating a sense of comfort after you had carefully set your belongings at the foot of the bed. Cronus walks past you, setting himself down on the bed next to you. Not uncomfortably close but, friendly in a way.