𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐃𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘

Chapter Eight: Tacenda

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ta·​cen·​da | /ta-'chen-da/

(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be
passed over in silence

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What the hell had just happened?

My heart was racing, and my breath was quick, as if I had woken from a vivid nightmare rather than a dream. I didn't even know why; the images that my sleeping brain had conjured up were slipping from me faster than sand through my fingers. All I could recall was the feeling of heat, emotion, and...want, all of which confused me greatly. What, or who, did I want?

The heat seemed vaguely familiar to me, as if there had been somebody close to me, radiating a comforting warmth. Who had it been, though? I was unable to recall a particular person, and the sensation was starting to leave me as quickly as it had come.

A quiet groan of frustration escaped me. I hate when I forget my dreams, especially when I want nothing more than to remember them.

I glanced around at my surroundings and suddenly realized that I was on the hardwood floor of my apartment. Apparently I had fallen or rolled off of the couch.

"For fuck's sake..." I muttered, picking myself off of the floor.

A quiet chuckle came from my bed, and I glanced over. Ballora was awake, watching me with a look of amusement on her face.

"I trust you slept well?" she asked, a playful edge to her voice.

"Oh, shut up." I scoffed. "I slept just...fine, thank you. Had a weird dream, but that's all."

"Oh?" she tilted her head as I moved over to her. "What of?"

"No clue." I told her. "Dreams slip my mind quite easily. It's annoying." I reached the side of the bed, looking down at her as she slowly sat up. "Do you remember your dreams?"

She shook her head. "Certain aspects of it stick out to me, but I never remember what the whole thing was of."

"The same goes for me." I told her.

"It's always a shame." she murmured. "I had a quite pleasant dream."

"Oh?" I moved a bit closer.

She nodded. "I wish to recall it, but I can't; well, at least not the whole thing. All I remember is red."

"I like red..." I muttered aloud.

"I can't recall the place, but there was red light everywhere. And someone was singing. It was...oddly arousing."

I raised an eyebrow. "Kinky."

"Not that kind of arousing!" she snapped defensively - almost too defensively.

I shrugged. "Anything else you remember?"

"No. Well, one thing; I felt enveloped in this security the whole time, this...odd sort of warmth."

"Huh." I tilted my head. "I felt that too, in my dream."

A silence descended upon the room as I looked down at Ballora for a moment. Her gaze was intense as she watched me closely, and I couldn't help but shift slightly closer to her. As I did so, I felt a familiar warmth radiating from her body, one that was comforting and made me feel...secure. My eyes widened slightly.

Had my dream been about her?!

As soon as the thought came in my head, I tore my gaze from Ballora's, stepping backwards and shaking my head. Ballora quickly looked down, clearing her throat, as if she had had a similar thought to mine.

"Um..." I mumbled, feeling my cheeks start to heat up. Surely the dream hadn't involved her, right? I hate her, don't I? "Right. I'm...I'm making breakfast now."

A soft noise of affirmation was Ballora's only response, and I turned away from her quickly in order to hide my blush. This was ridiculous, why the hell was I blushing? Whatever I had dreamt about last night meant absolutely nothing. It was just a dream. I did not love Ballora, and I never will.

I moved over to the freezer and pulled out a box of frozen waffles, because I was too lazy to actually make them from scratch. My mind wandered as I pulled out two and placed them in the toaster, waiting for them to heat up. Once again, I desperately attempted to remember whatever the heck I had been dreaming about, but to no avail. The fact that it had actually been a pleasant dream confused me most of all- whatever could be pleasant about Ballora? She was my enemy! I felt myself growing more and more frustrated as I continued to ponder this matter.

"What are you thinking about?" Ballora asked. I turned back to her, quietly sighing.

"Why do you care?" I snapped, then looked down. "Sorry, I'm a bit on edge."

"I can see that," she told me. "I just wanna know why."

I huffed, deciding that it was best not to tell the full truth to her. It would only complicate things between us. "I was just thinking about you- I mean, your words last night," I lied. "You, uh, were talking about how friendship and attachment is bad."

Ballora nodded. "Yeah, and?"

"Well, I was just wondering why you'd say that," I continued. "I thought you were friends with Quackity and all those guys."

"I'm not," Ballora said. "I just work with them."

"Why?" I asked, tilting my head. "If they're not your friends, why are you still around them?"

"They have my back, don't they?"

"Oh, really?" I huffed slightly. "Are you sure about that? 'Cause as far as I'm concerned, I don't see Quackity sending out any search parties or anything for you. He didn't try to save you after he shot you, he just ran. I'm sorry to say this, but I don't think they really care about you."

Ballora opened her mouth to retort, but froze as my words sunk in. I shrugged almost sadly, turning back to the toaster and taking the waffles out of it. A part of me almost, almost, felt bad for her.

"You can't beat them, you know," Ballora murmured from behind me. "You and your friends have no idea what you're going up against."

I glanced behind me, looking over at her. "Yeah, well, neither does Quackity," I said, and continued to make breakfast.