𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 ; A Shakespearean Tragedy Called Love

11

⎸11 ⎸

The gooey substance clung onto Ivar's hands, refusing to let go as he scooped cookie dough out of a metal bowl with a spoon onto parchment paper. It clung to him like glue and acted like a second skin that nobody could see, not even Ivar was powerful enough. 

Truly, it itched to protect him. To completely cocoon him from the outside world and to protect him from the dangers he was going to soon face, it wept as Ivar kept going down that path. A path with twists and turns, jumpscares and a twisted smile at the end. 

Two.

Two twisted smiles at the end, two incredibly pained smiles. 

Such dreams of the future were usually no cause for concern, the future that it would glimpse at would rarely ever come true but Jason changed that. Every dream of the future so far kept coming true due to his presence, it needed him gone.

It needed him dead and away.

"Hitting fascists with a baguette must be really difficult" Jason mutters as he plops cookie dough on a sheet.

It turns to the voice and watches the boy wonder, did he know what he was doing? Leading himself and Ivar down such a horrid path? It itches to snap his neck, to rid the world of a soon-to-be stain. 

Ivar turns and smiles at Jason, causing the goo to pull back from reaching out to Jason. "Hitting anyone with a baguette is difficult"

Jason pouts at his friend. "How would you know? You have experience?" 

Ivar cheerfully smiles. "I hit a French man with a baguette because he was a dork,"

"A dork?" Jason smiles, a light blush dusting his cheeks at Ivar's enthusiasm. 

( Jason watches his friend, a warm cozy feeling envelopes him while Ivar just chatters away )

The goo pulses with anger and moves around, watching as Jason looks at Ivar endearingly. This was all wrong, this wasn't allowed. Jason was a parasite, a parasite infecting Ivar.

Ivar grimaces as his heart clenches, something was wrong. Ivar wipes his forehead and goes over to the sink. "Yeah, he wouldn't stop talking about Star Trek- I'm all for it but this guy was a weirdo about it"

Ivar looks down at his hands, they feel tight, like blood isn't really entering them or on a hot day after walking when your fingers feel bloated.

Jason presses the cookie dough down slightly as Alfred rushes around the kitchen to look for a misplaced bag of flour. "What do you mean he was being a weirdo about it?"

"He drew uh- nsfw things-...." Ivar shivers and turns the hot water on, to rid himself of the gluey feeling on his hands. "About the characters"

Alfred stops and stares at Ivar with a bewildered look. "You aren't friends with this young man, are you? He doesn't seem like the very best influence that you should surround yourself with"

Ivar shrugs and turns the water off. "He wasn't my friend to begin with, he randomly came up to me and began showing me his art and would not stop talking about Star Trek"

( He slightly remembered the young enthusiastic man running up to him, asking him if it was alright to show Ivar his art- he had said no, he was busy with groceries and chores but he had shown him anyway )

He smiles as he dries them off, he throws the towel at Jason but he only catches it with his vigilante reflexes. "Hmph"

Jason nods and smiles enthusiastically, his eyes crinkling in a way Ivar had never seen before. "You're going to have to try harder than that if you want to hit me- I bet a monkey could hit me before you"