Candy | MouthWashing Game Curly X OC

𝘈 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩

"Beatrice?" Curly mumbled, looking at Beatrice whose eyes focused on his lips. He felt anxious. Terrified.
She wouldn't. Would she? Was she about to kiss him?
Beatrice tilted her head slightly, her gaze still fixed on his lips. Curly's heart pounded in his chest, and his breath caught.
But it felt wrong. They felt wrong. He didn't deserve to let his life fall into place so easy like that.

Although...it wasn't easy. He'd been through such hardships throughout this year.
Hardships is an understatement.

"I can't." He held his head down. If Curly could stand up and turn around, he would've. Beatrice let out a soft sigh. "I don't deserve the kindness and..." the words were hard to find. "And patience you people give me. I've done horrible things." Curly, using his arms, wheeled himself to the window in his room.
Beatrice didn't follow. She just listened. She always knows when to just listen.
It was something he adored about her but made it all the harder to keep things platonic and professional. Curly continued explaining,
"Anya, Daisuke, Swansea, they all deserve to be on earth. Not me." He mumbled. A few birds flew across the window. "And Jimmy... God... I was so blind. I let another person get hurt," something started to prick at his eyes, "I'm giving myself a pity party right now."

Beatrice walked over slowly to him and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"He fucking chopped me up... forced me to-... to..." Curly looked down. "Why are you so nice to me?"
She didn't respond at first. Maybe she couldn't. Maybe she didn't want to.

But when she finally spoke, her voice was soft, steady, and unshakably calm.

"Curly," she said, her hand gently squeezing his shoulder, "I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to be with you. And I'm not going anywhere."

His breath hitched, and he quickly wiped his eyes, his face flushing with shame. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, the guilt clawing at his chest. "You could be with anyone. Someone whole. Someone who hasn't ruined everything." Curly choked on his words, refusing to look her in the eyes.
"I wish... God, I wish... I wish... please...." He mourned the past. His friends. His body.

Beatrice crouched down beside him, her presence grounding him in the weight of her understanding. "It's not about deserving, Curly. It's about being. It's about existing, right here, right now. You're here. And I'm here. And that's enough."

He shook his head, unable to look at her. "I hurt people. I hurt her. I'm a murderer. I should've known better. I shouldn't have let it happen." His voice cracked, the pain from memories he'd buried too deep rushing to the surface. She shook his chair ever so slightly to get him to look at her.

"Now, listen to me. You need to stop this. You're making yourself a target for your own criticism," she said firmly. Curly looked at her in the eyes. Her brown soft eyes were focused but still held a tender expression. Her eyebrows furrowed and nose slightly scrunched.
"What happened was terrifying... words cannot explain what you went through and you don't have to tell me or relive it, but for Christ's sake you can't compare yourself to a murderer!" Her voice made his body run cold with how she scolded him. But in a way that showed she cared.
She remained silent for a long moment, just watching him. Finally, she spoke again, her voice soft but firm. "You were hurt. Bad. You were trapped. That doesn't make you a bad person. And it doesn't make you unlovable."

Curly's head snapped up at her words, his eyes wide. "Love?" he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief. "How could you—how could anyone love me, Beatrice? I'm broken. I'm not who I used to be. I'm not right. God... I wish..."
Beatrice's hand, still warm on his shoulder, shifted to cup his face. She gently tilted his head so he was forced to look at her, and in her gaze, he saw no pity, no judgment—just something that made him want to pull away and hold on at the same time.

"Love isn't about perfection," she said quietly. "It's about seeing someone for who they are—flaws and all—and still choosing them every day." She paused, her thumb brushing across his cheekbone. "Now, no more false wishing."

Maybe... maybe he should just accept her words. Her reasonings.
"Thank you, Beebee," he whispered and his gaze shifted down. He blinked hard, resetting his glass eye that seemed to have a mind of it's own when he moved his eye sockets too fast to look around.

"Now," Beatrice stood up, "let's go take a walk outside or something. I'm sure you could use the sun."
Half of him felt slightly disappointed of their moment being washed away. Even though it was his fault.

"Okay."
He agreed. Curly used his arms to wheel himself to the door near her. It felt like they had bonded just a little bit closer.

Or a lot.