Fanciful Angst (Prinxiety Fanfiction)

Chapter Twelve: Sweetness

*Anxiety's POV*

I couldn't stop thinking about them. His lips. So sweet, so rich, so decadent. All I could smell was his scent, all I could see were the soft, bambi-like freckles littering his supple cheeks, all I could taste were his lips that tasted like strawberries...no, it was more than that. Strawberries and...vanilla? Strawberry shortcake...mmm... that one was always my favorite. Sweet, spongy pound cake, a rich river of melted strawberries cascading down the entire treat, topped with a soft, rich, whipped cream dollop and a handful of fresh, real strawberries, each different taste and texture, each a treasure for the tongue. However, absolutely no treat, no matter how tasty, can ever live up to the sweetness of Princey's lips. So much better than any piece of cake I've ever tasted. 

Why? Why did I kiss him? I could have just as easily slapped him and gotten similar results, but no, I had to go and plant one on him and now, I can't stop thinking about how supple and delicate and velvety his lips were. I've cursed myself to a life where I know the pleasure of sleeping in his bed and kissing his lips, but he'll never know...

I seriously had to stop this. This was turning into a serious issue, I thought as I paced back and forth across the cruelly cold floorboards in my room. I couldn't just keep throwing myself at him while he was asleep; it was sick, twisted, and just plain not okay. I can't keep doing these things without consent, it's not right. I groaned and ran my clammy hands down my face and massaged and stretched out the skin, even gently smacking myself so I could attempt to think straight. I had two options here: I could either a) stop sneaking into his room b) admit what I've been doing and pray he doesn't kill me or c) shove my feelings down deep inside, ignore everything that I'm feeling in my heart and my brain and bottle everything up into a neat little box so I never have to deal with the consequences and what I've done. 

Yeah, definitely C. C works. I chewed on my lip as I began to develop a plan as to how I would drown out what my heart was trying to tell me. I started with my most common form of avoidance: music. I marched toward my ebony dresser and yanked the first drawer open with a mighty force, my eyes scanning over my array of headphones before finally settling on my sleek, matte black Beats. If I wanted to truly avoid my feelings, I would need some heavy noise-cancellation as well.

 I also knew that for this to work, I had to keep my hands busy. I chewed on my lip some more in thought, almost to the point of drawing blood, I could still taste him on my lips. That sweet, cake taste...

Wait a minute...

That's it! If I keep my mind and hands busy with baking, there's no way I can sit around and think about all the awful things I've been doing. I quickly yanked open my second drawer to fetch some of my jeans. Once I pulled them up, past my thighs, I walked towards my closet and sifted through my ever-growing collection of dark tee-shirts, the majority of them were dirty though, so I was stuck with a v-neck this time. These things showed off my chest way too much for my taste, I preferred to cover up, but it was all I had. I took the gentle fabric between the pads of my fingers and pulled it off the rack. As I lifted it over my head, I thought about the missing accessory to my entire ensemble. I sighed, missing my signature black hoodie. I missed how the black fleece felt against my arms, I missed having a built in pillow whenever I took a nap, but, there was no way I'd go back to that forsaken fairy tale land, so it looks like I was rocking bare arms today. 

I snagged my phone off of my nightstand and plugged my headphones in, walking towards the kitchen and relief struck me when I saw the deserted kitchen. Thankfully, no one was in here to question me or try to distract me from distracting myself.

I slightly winced as my thinly made socks made contact with the cold kitchen tile, but proceeded to make my way towards the cabinet anyways. I grunted as my arms strained to reach the top shelf; I leaned forward on my tip-toes to a bit and stuck my tongue out in concentration as I tried to grip the mixing bowls. I let out a victory 'A-ha!' when my fingers finally felt the cold surface of the glass bowl and pulled it back down to where I needed it. I sat down all of my ingredients and tools, in the order that I needed them.