Chapter 22: Don't Think About It

5.3K 193 145
                                    

I face Anti, who still glitches from left to right with irritation. After a quick stretch, I lean against the kitchen counter to my right, awaiting his furious retaliation. To my surprise, he doesn't move. Anti continues to stare off into space, carving an 'A' into his own hand, absentmindedly. I stare at his back, watching carefully to find out what he's thinking. The glitching dies down, and he seems to have forgotten everything that just happened, altogether.

"You gonna berate me, or what?" I joke, put off by his inaction.

It's like he doesn't hear me, though he continues to carve the 'A' into his hand. The scar is getting deeper. Blood has begun sliding down his forearm and to the floor.

"...Anti?"

Now I'm genuinely concerned. After a smartass comment like that, he'd definitely be threatening to give me another scar with a knife the same length and width as my bicep. I move forward, and I can hear him faintly whispering to himself. Some of the words just sound backwards – Others like its a completely different language, and not one that I've heard before. More blood drips to the floor. It's a dark green – nearly black – and smells horrible, far from the tolerable scent of human blood.

My hand reaches out to touch him, but I stop myself. Who knows what'll happen to me if I do that? It takes me a moment, but I know another way to immediately grab his attention. I grab a large knife from the rack, and press it to the fleshy part of my hand, just under the thumb. Pressing down a bit, I make an opening just large enough for blood to seep through, wincing during the process. A very thin red line appears on my palm, not enough to even really worry about infection.

Still, Anti twitches and whips his head around. The next second, he's standing over me – one of his hands snatches the knife away, the other grips my cut hand. A ghost of a smile plays on my lips at my success.

"What the fuck're you doing?" he asks.

"You were freaking me out and I didn't know what to do, so I did something that I knew would get your attention," I shrug.

"You cut yourself for attention."

I make a face. "Not like that. I would never do that."

He sighs and tosses the knife to the side. Placing his hand on the counter beside me. My hand is still held in his iron grip.

"What was that all about?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "You had me worried there."

"It was nothing. Don't think about it," he dismisses.

"I call bullshit. Seems like every time you don't want me to think about something, that 'something' just happens to be pretty important." Though switching subjects, I push my luck: "So about Colum..."

Anti groans. "Don't remind me."

"Why did you wanna kill him so much? I haven't seen that much hatred from you directed at anyone but me."

He stays silent for a few seconds, and I wonder if he'll actually answer me. An entire war seems to occur within his head, with one side finally triumphing over the other. Unfortunately, it seems to be the side that wants to keep me in the dark.

"I don't want you focusing on him."

"Because you want me to focus on you," I conclude. "It's kinda hard not to. You're a demon who's sliced and diced his way into my life. I don't think you have to worry about me ignoring you too much."

"Just a precaution."

"Anti, would you just tell me what you're doing?" I ask, finally running out of patience. "Yeah, you want attention but it's not like you have any shortage of that. I give you almost all of mine for most of the day. That's not the whole story, and we both know it."

"I've dealt with your whining so far. I don't think you should push your luck," Anti seethes, looking down and to the side.

I scowl, clenching my teeth and fists, then push into him with as much force as I can muster, pulling my wrist from his grasp. Anti steps back, surprised by the shove more than actually being physically affected by it. His eyes snap up, locking onto my face. It's unbelievably difficult to stay calm, and I can feel myself slipping.

"You think you're the only one who's patience is running thin?" I hiss. I don't look at him, keeping my gaze on the floor and struggling to keep my voice relatively steady.

"You do realize that you've just threatened my friend's life, went into some kind of mini-coma, and now you're asking me not to think about it. How fucking braindead do you think I am? How much wasted space do you think is sitting around in my head?"

My eyes flick upwards to his. Words flow out of my mouth without my consent. I can't stop them, but they're all true. My tolerance for his obscured reasoning for threatening my life and others' is completely depleted. Anti stares at me with a stony expression.

"Not just in this scenario, either, but all the times where you just tell me not to think about it. What else am I supposed to do after all the therapy material you've given me? Besides, I'm not as fragile as you think, Anti. I'm not some porcelain doll that'll break with a light tap. Stop treating me like one."

A silence falls between us. I continue to stare at him with impatience, and he gazes at me with semi-concealed astonishment and deep contemplation. The 'A' doesn't burn, his eyes don't glow... it's oddly still and unbelievably tense.

"Sometimes I wish you were dumber," he mumbles, finally looking away from me.

"Well, too bad. This was your choice. I'm no genius, but it doesn't take one to ask a simple question," I reply.

"Then why hasn't anyone else questioned me?" he shoots back.

"They were probably too busy cowering in fear whenever you walked into the room," I say under my breath.

"That's exactly what they were busy doing," Anti says sharply, turning back to me. "Why aren't you afraid of me, anymore?"

I shrug, refusing to answer him. "Don't think about it," I say, before walking away and heading up to my room. Burning acidic holes into the back of my head, Anti's eyes follow me until I turn the corner and move out of his line of sight.



{A/N} So... Quick thing about the "3 days" part in the last chapter: You might've noticed that I took it out. I meant for it to be a placeholder because I wasn't sure what I wanted to write for that part. It doesn't actually mean anything. Guess I skimmed over it while proofreading. Sorry about that.

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

| Plaything | Antisepticeye x ReaderWhere stories live. Discover now