sweet talk

lead me not to temptation

chapter six

A few days had passed, and Margaret was still staying over. Rigby knew because he could hear Mordecai talk to her every night until they went to bed, drawing their gaze up and overcome with a love that made Rigby sick.

On the first day since the forest with Pops, Margaret cried again. She was shaking and scared, and a new bruise could be seen above her eye, where her supposed abusive father had landed his blow.

The second day, she was better, and Mordecai laughed and joked with her, until he brought up going to talk to her dad, try to make things right. But Margaret wasn't so sure, and she looked down with no response.

And on the third day, as Rigby peered around the corner, what he saw made his eyes grow wide and his face grow pale beneath his fur.

Mordecai was kissing her, his arms wrapped around her and her hands on his waist. They laid on the couch, and a small moan was heard from Margaret as she separated for air. They gazed at each other in the soft light of the night, Mordecai's fingers trailing down to her waist.

Rigby sucked in a breath, and stumbled away, back into the room. He didn't know why-- why would he care if Mordecai was with Margaret? It was dumb... Mordecai was only a friend Only a friend.

He let out his breath, and it came out as a shudder. Why did he care?

The raccoon knew why. He liked Mordecai-- probably more than he had should. But of course he wouldn't admit this. He will never admit to his jealousy, the stubbornness and anger beginning to settle slow, like an old, creaky house. He ran to his bed, and ripped off his covers, revealing the trampoline he slept on, soundly. Then he threw off his pillow, and collapsed on the bed, dumbfounded. He was shaking. Why?

Rigby didn't know how long he lay there-- hours, it felt like-- but then the door opened, and Mordecai stepped in, drowsily, sleepily. Rigby shifted and quickly curled up, mumbling, pretending to sleep yet again. He heard Mordecai stop. And then footsteps approached him.

For no reason, his heart hammered and he couldn't breathe-- you're so dramatic, dumbass! Stop shaking! Holy shit. He's going to figure out--

He felt a blanket get thrown on him, a thicker one than his usual one, making him flinch. It smelled of Mordecai, and he drew it closer in interest. Hm, maybe sleeping wouldn't be as bad as he thought. He heard Mordecai mumble something, and it sounded awfully like, "Dumbass..."

Rigby felt quite offended. Sure, he called himself a dumbass multiple times before. But, yet again, the stubbornness began to settle. "No you..." he mumbled back.

He could feel Mordecai's eyes on him. A smile. "What?"

"I said you're the dumbass--" Rigby muttered to him. He thought of the blue jay kissing Margaret. Hands on hands, foreheads touching, lips rubbing in longing, searching, wanting... anger bubbled inside again. "You dummy butt."

"That's not even clever, dude." He could hear the smile on his friend's face.

"Stop talkiiiing..." Rigby groaned. He turned over and hid underneath the blanket, which still smelled of Mordecai. God, he smells so good. His eyes shot open at this thought, the thought that was in his mind right in front of his stupid friend. DUMBASS, HE'S GOING TO FIND OUT, YOU'RE OBSESSED STOP--

"'Night, Rigs."

"Goodnight."

And then there was a shuffle as Mordecai went to his own bed, sighing in content as he laid down, and turned over. Then there was silence, and Rigby could hear his heart pounding so, so loud.

Something stirred inside his chest, something raw and emotional, and almost depressing. He threw the blanket off his head and looked at Mordecai from his place across the room. He clutched the blanket tightly, and felt his bottom lip trembling oh so violently. Lavender and blue filled his vision, the moon lighting the sky and covering the room.

And Rigby could not sleep. He was so upset.

He was so obsessed with damn Mordecai.

The auburn raccoon swung his legs over the side of the trampoline, and his gaze stayed on Mordecai's figure in the darkness. He stood to his feet, listening to the small creak of the trampoline as he did so. Mordecai turned at glanced at him, questioningly-- he wasn't asleep yet. "Where're you going?" He mumbled, sleepily.

Rigby walked over to his bed. "I'm going to the bathroom," he whispered. It was a lie that made him flinch some. But he'll make it work.

Mordecai hummed in response and rolled over on his side. Rigby watched as he closed his eyes, then turned, walking out the door, his steps light. Carefully, he shut the door. And then he turned and tiptoed to the stairs, the floorboards creaking gently underneath his feet.

As he descended, he could hear the gentle breathing of Margaret on the couch. He glanced down at her, not taking his eyes off in case she woke up-- he was so scared of that, of having to explain what he was doing.

She shifted, and Rigby sucked in a breath. The big grandfather clock in the other room ticked in response to his beating heart. Slower, sure, but it was in time with his steps, and he tried to breathe along with it.

Why was he scared?

Why was he angry?

When he reached the bottom, he moved quickly to the door, carefully opening it. Warm summer air hit his face as he stepped out, closing the door behind him. At this point, he wasn't worried about being locked out. He was more worried about getting his head straight. His emotions together.

If that was possible, he wasn't so sure.

As the raccoon reached the outside, he stopped, breathing in, deeply. And then, coming onto all fours, he quickly scampered away from the house, breaking into a run.

Rigby wasn't one for running to places. He wasn't one for exercise in general-- but feeling the warm wind whip around his face, his feet pound against the cold earth, his breath heavy... he felt, truly, free-- as if he was running away from everything. From his problems.

From jealousy's chains.

His feet skidded as he dodged a tree, then yelped as he tripped over the root, stumbling forward. Mud streaked across his feet, cold, and he fell, tumbling down into the dirt. He grunted, then looked up, yelling out a string of cuss words. Damn. Where did that come from?

He leapt up to his feet, then saw he was close to where he wanted to be anyways. He reached the door, and knocked on it, quickly.

"Skips, Skips, Skips, Skips!"

The door swung open as the tall, muscular yeti stood, looking tired and very much like he could body Rigby across the entire world at any moment. "What do you want?" He grunted.

"I really need to talk to you--" Rigby breathed out. His eyes widened as he searched for his feelings. "I... I really need to talk to you..."

The yeti was quiet. Then he sighed, loudly, opening the door, fully. "Ah, whatever. You look awful, anyways." His eyes did not change.

"Let's make this quick."