| Plaything | Antisepticeye x Reader

Chapter 39: Feelings for Dummies

The clock on the cable box underneath the tv is the first thing that my eyes land on when they open. I've been asleep for a while – it's 12:04AM. I feel Anti's hand gently, but firmly, secured around my waist, but his position has shifted. He's leaned more to the side, and my head rests on the middle of his chest. I can hear his breathing and clear lack of a heartbeat. As I sit and wonder how Anti's blood flows without the, uh... heart of the circulatory system, I become aware of him staring at me.

"Do you have something to ask?" He seems surprised by the sound of my voice.

He's silent for a moment. It's weird that he's suddenly like this. Sure, he's been quiet before, but this is an ongoing thing.

"...You're not still blaming yourself for what happened, are you?" I ask.

"No." Anti's answer doesn't convince me. I open my mouth to say something else, but he interjects: "Are you... afraid of me? Do I scare you?"

I try to look up at him to see if he's joking, but he's turned away from me, so I can't see his face. He sounds serious enough, but that wouldn't make any sense. It's almost like he's apprehensive.

"If I were, would I have voluntarily fallen asleep on you?" I jokingly respond. This doesn't seem to help too much.

"You weren't freaked out by a guy's heart stabbed into a wall?"

"I mean, it was really gross, but also nice that you were worried and helped me. In all honesty, it was kinda cool," I say. Then I add, "No, I'm not afraid of you. No, you don't scare me. I've told you this already. Why does it suddenly matter again?"

"Just wondering," he replies, audibly relieved.

"I know you well enough to know when something's up," I say, sitting up and turning to him. "What's going on?"

Anti stays silent, clearly not wanting to tell me. "Anti, c'mon. Can I at least know the reason you don't want to tell me? I'm sure I can handle whatever it is."

"It's noth–"

"And I swear to god, if you try to deter me with that 'It's nothing' bullshit, I'm gonna slap you." At this point, I'm just tired of Anti trying to hide stuff from me that I already know exists.

Haven't I proven that I can deal with all the insane stuff he does? I think. Does he still not trust me?

Anti looks at me in deep thought, an internal turmoil raging inside his head. Finally, he says, "I've been... feeling, I think."

Suddenly, I'm aware why it must've been difficult for him to talk to me about this. I assume that he doesn't feel things too often.

"What types of feelings?" I ask.

"I don't know. I don't think I've had them before."

"I probably have. Maybe I could help you figure them out." I turn to him and sit with my legs crossed, leaning forward to show my undivided attention.

He sighs. "It's this weird churning in my stomach like hunger or nausea, but it also feels like something in my chest's about to burst out like some kind of parasite from a host. Then there's the tunnel vision and anxiety. But all of this stuff only happens when– it only happens sometimes." Anti looks over at me. "Ever felt something like that?"

I smile at the description, feeling my own stomach churn. "Yeah, I have. Do you feel like you really need something and you're not complete without it?"

Anti nods.

"The need to be around someone if they're not right next to you?"

He nods again.

"Well, that's your eloquent way of describing romantic attraction. You like someone, Anti, which is pretty surprising." Anti looks confused, and for good reason. "As your significant other, I should probably be concerned about that, but whatever. I think it's cool that you found someone."

Though I sound nonchalant, I feel the energy in my chest begin to painfully tear itself apart. I keep smiling good-naturedly. Since when did I care about where his affections lay? I rest my elbow on my knee and rest my cheek on my hand.

"Have you felt that way recently?" Anti asks.

I hesitate, but nod. "Yeah, I guess."

His eyes begin to glow lightly. "With who?"

"Overprotective, as always," I say, rolling my eyes.

"You didn't answer my question," he presses.

"No, I didn't," I reply. "You're not particularly acquainted with this aspect of human life, but uh... that's not just something we share with other people."

I refuse to think about it, because even I'm worried about what the answer will be. Anti stares at me in frustration. I turn away and begin to look through social media on my phone.

"Stop trying to read my mind, Anti," I say, without looking over.

Though a while passes where we just sit in silence – Anti with the realization that he likes someone – I wonder why I suddenly care so much about what he thinks of me. The pain in my chest doesn't go away. It intensifies, actually, and I can't help but wonder who he'd be attracted to. What kind of person spurs his interest enough for him to want to be around them all the time?

Wait a minute. Would I be narcissistic to wonder if... Is it too far fetched? I blink and try to think of something else. It's not my business, anyway. Besides, even if it's plausible, it's still improbable.

"What do you usually do if you're 'attracted' to someone?" Anti asks, summoning me from my thoughts. I sigh, leaning back on the couch so my head rests on the side opposite where Anti's leaning. I don't want to talk about this, anymore, but I'm not about to leave him alone with this new emotion.

"In my experience, you hang around and pray that they like you back," I shrug. "Normal people tend to flirt to get their message across in a way that explicitly states that they're into the person without actually having to say anything."

"And if flirting doesn't work?"

"You've already tried flirting? Then you just have to be even more blatant," I say. "I'd suggest just telling them straight up. Some people – or people like me, at least – are clueless."

I return to my phone, scrolling through YouTube to distract myself from the agonizing throb in my chest. A couple moments later, Anti speaks up again:

"[Y/N]."

The way he says my name sends a chill down my spine. It wasn't really confident or certain, but it was seriously. I sit up to look at him, he's staring at me like there's nothing else in the room.

"Damn, this is difficult to say," he mutters.

I watch him apprehensively. It's not like him to be unsure of himself, and this new Anti is confusing. I continue to look at him attentively, curious about what he'd have to say that would be difficult. Is he leaving for this mystery person? That shouldn't be difficult for him to say. I'm sure he'd just love to ditch me, already–

"I... feel those things around you."

{A/N} The next chapter of "Plaything" will be the last (unless, of course, you guys want an epilogue like I did for "I'm Here to Help You"). If you have a suggestion for the next book, I'm still open to ideas.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter of "Plaything" as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments and votes are super appreciated. Thanks for reading! ~Blue