The Thin Line Between Obsession and Devotion
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You’re the one who said that I should write, that maybe if I write my thoughts out along with expressing myself through other means, I would be less stressed, less bothered by worries when I’m away for long. You said that having things trapped inside our heads is not healthy, that I’d deteriorate. You wanted me to write anything and everything that I couldn’t say out loud. It’s helped, though I’m not sure if this is what you meant. I’m sure you meant things from day to day. But that just isn’t what came out. It certainly wouldn’t have meant as much to me.
Feitan tries to comprehend his feelings like you suggested, but this probably isn't what you meant.
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It's unfair how easily the two of you can gang up on him.
Phinks stands at the edge of their room, latest job freshly finished, and is shocked, but not at all surprised, to find you and Feitan tangled together. It's obvious what your goal was, the two of you do this all the time and still expect it to work. "Oh." The quiet sigh is barely enough for him to tear his gaze up to where you're glancing back at him, lashes long and fluttering. " 's Phinks."
And damn you both if his dick isn't already halfway hard.
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Jobs that are mostly surveillance bore him. Feitan hates meticulously observing for hours, staring at boringly indistinguishable people existing for days until they might eventually do something of interest.
Tonight is not that night.
The warehouse has been silent since early evening and the cargo they’re expecting isn’t due for another day or two, but they might chance it coming early - the delivery manifest they'd stolen was very poorly put together. So he waits.
Just that he’s been feeling a particular longing sentimentality since he came from the previous job to this one.
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It's a blessing and a curse to watch him work.
His hands are beautiful but it's not fair to see them against someone else's skin.
You've sat here for two hours now and steadily let the jealousy grow.
Yes.
Jealousy.
// Alternatively titled "Almost All of Us Self-Destruct"
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It's been three months and ten days. Eleven days in five more hours. You were never one to count them, but he does. And after the job moved past the first two weeks, Feitan has messaged you once a week to count with him. It was especially painful when he'd message and it would mean another week away. Which on top of a billion other things, wasn't fair.
It's fine. You're fine. They explained right after they met you that this is how it would be. And you have dealt with it for a long time now, five years and eight months Feitan likes to remind you. It's none of your fault that they were born special and you were born just boring and normal and useless. But you can do these fucking chores and hope they'll come home.
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You were kind of a last minute guest to this. It’s not often you get invited in the first place, especially places that they make sound genuinely fun. Or at least Shalnark did. The mansion is abandoned and has just been wasting away for the past fifty years. There has been old talk of ghosts roaming the halls, items being thrown around or changing places from different sides of the house, and then the most prevalent, the screams of a young woman present at random times from the west side of the manor. You think this ghost hunt idea is a ton of fun. Glad that it worked out!
It’s not like ghosts can hurt you anyway.
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