Arranged Marriage

Don't Leave Me

Smoothie is up to the board for your table, going up against Angel, you have no idea what outcome to anticipate and you're sure you won't be watching for strategies. It's too much to handle now. You're hardly keeping yourself here. You needed this time to be together with Katakuri before his match. You feel as though you're barely hanging onto him. Like he could disappear at any moment. Today was supposed to be exciting and fun in a lighthearted way, not in an intense soul-altering way. Recently you'd been able to feel the most 'you' that you'd ever been allowed to feel... yet... you can't help but relate to your old self in such a moment as this. The dissociations in particular. You stare off into the distance, feeling empty inside. Allowing toxic memories to flood your being. Unsure if you're truly strong enough now, despite your new found tenacity, to nimbly navigate the plight at hand.

You're bent over your adoptive father's, the king's, solid mahogany desk in his study. The one ornately carved with shields and horses, what a beautifully hideous site it was to behold. And such a large stark presence in that relatively small red room. It looked even more sinister with the thick red velvet curtains drawn. Casting unfriendly shadows like glinting apparitions clinging to the corners of the room.

Your cheek is pressed against the finished wood. You're sort of in a slump, not caring, not tensing up at the moment. Because you've done this, it's not new. There's no scare from what's about to happen, it's all happened before and it will all happen again. Your backside is exposed in an indecent manner. Something that no father should have privy to see. Your step brother's at your side. Not in support, having no empathy for you, as he's only here for the show. And you're tonight's entertainment. You split yourself as the lashes burn across your back. Heat and stinging pain. But soon you hardly feel the pain at all. You don't remember why you're here. You don't remember what you said or did to deserve this. You're by your brother's side. Watching it all happen from above. Like a ghost looking down in pity at the poor soul beaten within an inch of her life. She'll be fine, you know, she can heal. You focus on the ghostly shadows in the room, imagining that they are beckoning you to follow them to a place beyond this world. Perhaps, this time, you should follow. Go on then, you think to yourself, take me. But the shadows never allowed such kindness. No one ever showed you any kindness. Except for... Katakuri...

"Hey," Katakuri calls to you from what feels like another land far away. You allow him to coax you out of your horrible past and into the present. You give him a half-hearted smile. He knows it's forced. "There you are," he says as though you'd been physically hiding and he'd found you. How long had he been calling for you? Did it take him a while to reach you? You look around, grounding yourself to this time and place once again. Smoothie's still at the chessboard, you don't care to see how she's doing. You're on Katakuri's lap at his table. Brulee and Amande have simple and sweet smiles to share with you. You don't return them, but you appreciate them nonetheless. Katakuri's hand strokes your thigh. You take a deep breath and inhale. It still smells like cookies. "Where did you go?" He asks. "A place I'm not ready to share with you," you say in a monotonous tone. "I'm here when you're ready," he assures you, but you already knew that, "regardless I'm glad you're back." You nod, "me too." You clench your jaw. Not feeling worthy of him in this instant. "I think... I might be too much for you," you say, feeling distant. He knew you'd say that of course, his abilities and all.. but he still takes some time to respond. You feel a threat of tears behind your eyes but you'd never cry in front of this group. You wouldn't give them the satisfaction, just like you wouldn't ever give your brother the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to you. "Do you think I'm perfect?" He asks. You look up at him, "no," you reply, "no one's perfect." You see the smile in his eyes, "then, I think we'll do just fine."

You grab his gloved hand, the one on your thigh, and squeeze. 'We'll do just fine,' you repeat to yourself in your head. You breathe the mantra into your very being. We'll do just fine, you think again. It feels so good, his simple yet magnanimous words in your head. You're not perfect. He's not perfect. This will still work out. He won't leave you. Even though any sane person would, you think. You can't possibly imagine what would happen if he'd left you after all you'd been through together in such a short period of time. You don't want to think like that. Ever. He's your only support. The only person who's ever truly cared. You hate to be so emotionally dependent on a single person, yet here you are. "Thank you," you say, "I needed that." He pushes his fingers through yours, "I know," he says. Which feels just as comforting as what he'd said before. To have someone know your needs and give you choices.. It's all so new and strange. But you positively adore it. Relish in it. Savor it.