Author's Note: Obviously everyone is over the age of eighteen. There's also some anal, if that isn't your cup of tea.
This one is a bit more of a slow burn than my others. If you're just looking for a quick fix, try another.
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Floor, meet face.
I shook off the impact, and struggled upright on my walking stick, limping over to the door to see who had come to gawk at the cripple.
The bitterness was deep seated. A month ago I had been a top athlete, a martial artist competing on the international stage. Now, I was re-learning how to walk.
I opened the front door slowly, looking at surprise at the woman standing on the step.
The purple-eyed nineteen year old lit up excitedly, holding out a small container, "Announcing the commencement of the Little Sister Delivery service!"
"Vi?"
She breezed passed me, into the house and into the kitchen. "Take a seat. You haven't eaten yet, have you?"
"No..." I said as I closed the door and turned, "Uh... What's happening here?"
"I made lasagne." Violet said excitedly.
I nodded uncertainly, and walked over to the breakfast table. The apartment was small, an open kitchen, and loungeroom in the same space. Easier to manage.
I was confused on multiple fronts.
Most of my family had tried after I first became obviously sick, but they didn't understand. Couldn't. So they grew frustrated, and I was too tired to walk that bridge every time.
Some didn't believe the diagnosis. I was in my twenties, and had been fit. There was no way that they missed some illness and so clearly I was making it up for some damn reason.
Others just didn't know how to deal with the fact that there was literally nothing they could do to even reduce how much pain I was in on a day to day basis.
In short, I had been abandoned.
Not entirely their fault, either. I stopped reaching out. I hated the sympathy looks, and the lack of actual understanding.
So, Violet turning up like this, was completely unexpected.
I was also confused because she absolutely could not cook. When she'd first moved out of home, I had been the one to try and teach her. After she nearly burned down the house making microwaved noodles.
Her goal, back then, had been lasagne.
The last front on which I was confused, was the way she was dressed up. Her brunette hair tucked into a messy bun that was already falling apart, the rest of her stuffed into a thin black dress that sparkled and seemed more like something she'd wear if she had a date than for visiting family.
I wiped a tear from my eye before it could have a chance to form, right as she turned back, walking over with two plates.
She slid one over to me, smiling warmly. Her hand brushed mine, and she grinned sheepishly, "You... Okay?"
"Surprised." I tried to hide my thoughts, and looked down at the food. Which was definitely completely black underneath. "Crispy lasagne. Your speciality. Th... Thanks, Vi."
"The stomach is the fastest way to a guy's heart." Violet teased and then scooted her chair so it was closer to mine. "Though... Not quite sure this qualifies."
I hugged her shoulders, "I still love you."
"You better." Violet said and then surprised me with a kiss on the cheek. Soft, gentle, and lingering.
"So, you just come from a hot date?"
She raised an eyebrow, not getting it.
I looked her up and down, "So... You always look this good, then?"
Violet blushed and smiled nervously, "Oh. Um... Thanks. No, I wasn't on a date. I just... I like dressing up. Makes me feel better about me."
"You carry it off. Just like when you used to drive all my friends nuts at home." I teased her.
She smiled wistfully, "Oh, it was tent city back then. All I had to do was flash a little skin, make a cute little smile, and you'd end up getting so mad at them."
"So, you did do it on purpose."
"Duh." Violet rolled her eyes, "It felt nice to be the one with the power. To be appreciated. None of your friends would dare to step over the line. You'd kick their asses."
"Probably." I admitted, "Though, I did wonder if Nick ever asked you out. I was sure he would have, if he didn't think it'd end with my fist upside his head."
"He didn't." Violet said, a hint of irritation to her voice, "Actually... I asked Nick out, a bit over a year and a half ago. When I was in year twelve. His first year of uni."
"Huh." I said, wanting to know more about how that had gone. He hadn't let on about that at all.
She sighed and flicked my forehead, "Jerk. He turned me down flat. Wasn't comfortable dating his friend's little sister."
"His loss." I shrugged, "Though... With who he's dating at the moment, that was a serious loss."
Violet cocked her head, "Yeah?"
"Guessing you're not still in touch with Katie, then?" I named her best friend from high school.
She shook her head, "Not after that bitch blew my boyfriend under the table at graduation. Wait. Nick is dating her?"
"She's crazy possessive. Screens his friends, including yours truly." I nodded. "Most of what I hear makes me pity the guy."
Violet sighed, "Damn. Well, now I'm sad."
"Mmm. But, moving along... You really not on a date? I'd hate to see you when you decide to put in effort for a guy."
She glared at me, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"You'd be heart attack inducing? Sorry. I was trying to find a less awkward conversation. Foot, in mouth." I winced.
Violet blushed, and shrugged her shoulders sheepishly, picking up and dropping her breasts as she did. Maybe subconsciously. "Thanks. It's nice to be appreciated. Especially when you're not likely to try and get in my panties."
"Sounds like romance life is rough." I tried to read between the lines, "First years do tend to be a bit... Sex oriented."
Violet laughed, "Understatement. All the nice guys are taken. Even the ones with scruffy beards."
"Huh?"
She reached up to my face and pulled at the hair, "I didn't know how to ask. What the heck is this, Eric? You seriously cannot grow a beard."
"Mostly laziness. Partially the fact it burns like shit when anything touches me." I shrugged and smiled, "I know. I really can't grow one, can I? All fluff and gaps. More dead bush than beard."
Violet winced, "Sorry. I... I didn't mean..."
"It's fine. Really. Pain is just part of my life, now." I said quickly, "That's... Why I don't talk about me, much. I don't like that look."
She put on her warm smile, "Wondered why you went all quiet. Well, more worried. I've missed you."
"Missed you, too." I reached out and stroked her cheek. Knowing that my giving up had hurt her enough she was struggling not to let it show. "Even if you drive all my friends nuts."
"I guess we'll just have to make Friday nights our thing, then. No friends allowed." Violet said with a nervous half grin.
I blinked, "Friday nights?"
"Please?" Violet said, biting her lip.
I had no idea why she was getting that pent up about it. She had breezed in out of nowhere, but it was only to treat me. To give our relationship the attention I'd been neglecting.
"Want me to cook next week, then?"
She rolled her eyes, "Idiot. It's called the Little Sister Delivery Service. Not the Big Brother Can't Take A Present Service. This is my way of looking out for you. So swallow your pride."
"I always was bad at letting people help, huh?" I smiled sadly.
Violet kissed my cheek again. Lingering over the kiss longer than felt was strictly necessary, again.
She stood up, gathering the plates, "Damn right you are. So... You got any shooters for that thing?"
She waved vaguely in the direction of my console. Making me remember her trying to play a little bit with me when we were younger. And me mercilessly stomping her.
I had let her win once or twice, but she'd known it, and hated me for it.
"Yeah. You want to play a couple rounds?"
"If it doesn't suck too much to have me hanging around you." Violet began washing the dishes, "Guy has to have his space."
I turned the console on and set it up for a quick splitscreen deathmatch. "It really doesn't, Violet. I missed you, too. Even if it was my fault."
The water splashed behind me, and I heard her trembling voice, "Then why did you ghost me?"
I cringed, limping over to where she was crying and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I stopped answering your messages. Calls. I just... Didn't want to tell you things sucked. Every time. All I was doing was hurting you. I... Should have found a way around it. I didn't want to lie or tell you when you asked me how I was."
She sniffled, "I hated you. For just dumping me. I... Meghan got through to me. You can't try harder. You already were. That's why... This. I know I'm a brat. I just... Want you back."
I patted her on the head as she cried into my chest, "Me too, Vi. Me too."
She pushed me back, wiped her face, and was wearing her smile again. "Sorry. About that. Ready to die?"
"What?"
Violet grabbed my wrist and dragged me excitedly over to the couch, snatching up Player One's controller. Her eyes had an excited focus to them I hadn't seen before.
I accepted the backup controller, carefully selected my loadout, and then the match loaded.
I stared in shock as I dropped to the ground, dead.
Violet cackled evilly, as I stared at the killcam showing she had hit me with nothing more than a basic pistol, spawnpoint-to-spawnpoint, by glitching the bullet through one of the walls.
I grabbed a shield and respawned.
And instantly died again.
This time, I'd been ruthlessly put down by her player who was now poised atop a tower at another far location. Holding a sniper rifle, but she'd no-scoped me. Obviously for the kicks.
"Holy shit. When did you become amazing at games?"
Violet giggled excitedly, tapping her feet, and managed to pull off another incredible shot to kill me. "Guys at uni play. Parties 'n stuff. They're less likely to try and makeout with you when you embarrass the shit out of them in front of their friends."