𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚; 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘! - ᴍᴀʟᴇ ғᴀɴ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴡᴇʙᴄᴏᴍɪᴄ ᴀʀᴛɪsᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗙𝗧 𝟱.𝟬
'I wanna be your boyfriend
I wanna be your boyfriend
I wanna go on walks with you
I wanna have long talks with you
You can be my girlfriend
You can be my girlfriend
I'd compliment you frequently
I wanna treat you decently'
ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʙʏ ʜᴏᴛ ғʀᴇᴀᴋ
M/N didn’t know what to do.
The thought didn’t arrive suddenly, it had been circling him all evening, until it finally settled in his chest like a weight he couldn’t shrug off. He sat at his desk, tablet propped up, stylus held between his fingers but not moving.
The screen was blank.
Painfully blank for hours now.
He stared at it the way one stares at an exam question. Waiting for something, anything to surface. Yet his mind refused to cooperate, looping back to the same unresolved problem.
Love.
He let out a breath through his nose,
"How am I supposed to write something I don’t understand?" he murmured. Bonibell’s words floated back to him.
'You have to put yourself in it.'
That was easy to say. Putting himself into something meant surrendering control, and M/n didn’t do that well. He preferred distance, would rather observe and breaking things apart until they made sense.
Love didn’t work like that.
His thoughts spiraled, the way they always did when he was cornered by something he couldn’t solve logically.
'How do you understand a feeling without experiencing it?'
'And how do you experience it without forcing it?'
He’d tried renting a boyfriend to put himself in a simulation that feels like he has a lover. Yet that was the problem. It's not real, he rented someone to do something for him. The love wasn't felt because it was all an act.
An act means pretend, not real nor genuine. It's a structured and transactional. It had looked convincing from the outside, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t real.
"You can’t fake this again," he muttered, pushing back from the desk and standing up.
He paced his room slowly, hands clasped behind his back, thoughts dissecting themselves mid-step.
"Maybe I should just...do what I usually do? No, the faster I fix this, the faster the problem to go away."
If he asked someone to help him understand love, they would perform it. If he framed it as research or as reference. Then every smile, every reaction, every word would be tainted by awareness.
Acting.
It's was just another kind of lie, but sugarcoated in a way to make it seem real. His gaze flicked to his phone on the desk.
Oriel.
The name alone made his stomach twist. He hated how easily his mind went there. Oriel was… convenient. Attentive in ways that unsettled him, familiar in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. If there was anyone whose behavior he could observe closely that felt like Evander, it was him.
Use him.
A colder part of his mind suggested, just the thought made him stop pacing.
"That’s not fair,” he said quietly, though he didn’t fully reject it.
But wasn’t that what he did best? Observe patterns, study behavior, look for sincerity in the small moments?
He could hang out with Oriel.
He won't treat him as reference. He'll just accept the offer and hopefully it might spark at least a slight hope for him.
Just… accept the offer.
Let things happen naturally.
M/n dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. His mind immediately countered itself, listing flaws, risks, outcomes.
'What if he misreads things?'
'What if Oriel changes once he gets closer?'
'What if this makes things worse?'
But beneath all of that was a quieter, more troubling question. One that dumps the hesitation away.
'What if it works?'
His shoulders sagged slightly, he looked back at his desk, At the tablet, At the unfinished chapter. M/n bit his lip, tearing at the skin of his lip.
"I’m running out of time..." he whispered.
Deadlines didn’t care about introspection, readers didn’t care about artistic paralysis,.they wanted something sincere and he didn’t know how to give it.
M/n pieced a thought to be his solution for now.
First, observe
Then decide.
Not because it was the perfect solution, but because it was the only one that feels safer.
M/n nodded to himself once, making up his mind.
"Okay,” he said softly. " I’ll do that."
He powered down the tablet, the screen going dark. Another day without progress, another night lost to thinking instead of doing.
He changed, got into bed, stared up at the ceiling as his thoughts continued to churn, analyzing possibilities, predicting outcomes, preparing for scenarios that hadn’t happened yet. As sleep finally crept in, one last thought lingered,
'Five more days... I have five more days to think of a solution.'
M/N found Oriel near the vending machines, phone in hand, posture relaxed like he always was. For a moment, M/n hesitated. His mind immediately tried to backtrack.
'you can do this later, you can rethink this, you can—'
"Oriel?" he said instead. Oriel looked up.
"Hm?” he hummed.
"Do you want to… uhm" M/n paused, eyes flicking away,
"go to a café during lunch?"
For a split second, Oriel froze. Then he laughed softly, clearly caught off guard.
"A café?” M/n nodded, hands in his pockets.
“Yeah...Just to sit. I thought it might help me clear my head.”
Oriel studied him for a moment, eyes searching his face, before a smile spread across his lips.
“I didn’t think you were the type to invite people out.”
"I am now.” M/n said honestly. Oriel chuckled.
"What possessed you, then?” M/n exhaled.
"My mind is in shambles...I figured if I stay in my head any longer, I might implode.”
“That bad, huh?” Oriel asked lightly.
“Something like that.”
Oriel tilted his head.
“Is that the same reason you turned me down before? When I asked about the cat café?”
M/n hesitated, then nodded.
“Yeah.” Oriel laughed again, softer this time.
“I should’ve guessed.”
He stepped a little closer, voice easy.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do my best to keep your thoughts busy. Or at least… separate them from whatever’s stressing you out.” M/n glanced at him, surprised.
“…Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Oriel said.
“So...lead the way?” M/n nodded, and they started walking.
Oriel walked beside M/n, matching his stride perfectly.
'A café date with you...' Oriel repeated in his head.
'You asked me.' His fingers twitched inside his pockets. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.
He had planned to wait, observe, adapt, and refine, to make M/n comfortable enough to hnagout with him. That was how Evander would do it.
'You chose me. Not Bonibell, not anyone else... Me.'
His chest felt tight, like his ribs couldn’t contain the feeling swelling inside him. He swallowed, forcing his breathing to stay even.
'This is what it felt like,' he thought. 'This is what Evander must’ve felt.'
He glanced at M/n, the way his brows were slightly furrowed, the way his hands stayed tucked into his pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them.
'You don’t even know how perfectly you exist.' Oriel thought. His mind replayed panels from 'Love Call'. Quillan sitting stiffly across from Evander at the cat cafe. The steam from the coffee curling between them, The moment before the Quillan confessed to Evander.
“Oriel?”
He startled slightly, then laughed it off smoothly.
“Sorry, Zoned out.” M/n nodded, already turning his attention back forward.
'You let your guard down so easily,' he thought.
'Just like Quillan.' His thoughts spiraled faster now, no longer orderly.
'The real me wouldn’t deserve this,' Oriel thought suddenly, sharply. His smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened for a fraction of a second.
'The real me would scare you.' Impatient, jealous, loud in the wrong ways. Wanting too much. Always wanting to be seen, chosen, loved.
Quillan wouldn’t like that.
But Evander? Oh, Evander was perfect.
Oriel felt almost dizzy with the certainty of it. He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice.
“Thanks for inviting me.” M/n shrugged.
“No...problem?” M/n was a bit caught off guard. Oriel could only smile.
I’ll learn you completely...
Oriel promised silently.
Every version,
Every layer,
Every you.
His thoughts latched onto M/n with frightening clarity.
If you’re confused, I’ll be your answer.
If you’re lost, I’ll be your constant.
If you’re searching for someone, I'll become it.
Oriel’s fingers curled tightly in his pockets.
I’ll become the very thing you need.
He slowed his steps just enough to stay half a pace behind M/n, eyes fixed on him like an anchor. His hand was itching to hold M/n's, but stopped himself at the last second. It was apparent...
Oriel was already addicted.
THE café was warm and softly lit, the low murmur of voices blending with the quiet clink of cups.
Oriel reached the table first.
“Oh, wait.” He stepped around and pulled a chair out smoothly. “Here, Sit here.”
M/n paused, then gave him a small nod.
“…Thanks.” Oriel only sat after M/n did, folding his hands neatly on the table like he’d been waiting for this moment all day. M/n noticed.
“You look… unusually happy.”
“Do I?” Oriel asked, blinking innocently.
“Yes.” M/n nodded, a little concerned about what he was smiling so much (Not that he doesn't see Oriel always smiling.) Oriel laughed under his breath.
“I suppose I am.”
They picked up the menus. M/n skimmed his quickly.
“I’ll just get iced coffee.” Oriel tilted his head at this.
“Just iced coffee?” Oriel echoed. M/n shrugged.
“I don’t really like sweet stuff.” Oriel’s eyes flickered with interest.
“Ah...Good to know.” When the waiter came, Oriel ordered first.
“One iced coffee, no sugar,” he said smoothly.
“And an Americano. Plus—” he glanced at M/n briefly,
“—the cheesecake with the lowest sugar content.” M/n looked up.
“…Um...You didn't need to order a cake for me...”
“I know,” Oriel said calmly.
“But lunch feels incomplete without something sweet, doesn't it?” M/n hesitated.
"Oh...um...thanks, I guess...We can share it, I'm not a big fan of cakes anyways..." M/n fiddled with his fingers. When the order arrived, Oriel slid the plate closer to M/n.
“Help yourself,” he said. M/n took a cautious bite.
"Um...Aren't we eating this or sharing...?" M/n push the plate in the middle.
Oriel smiled and pushed it back towards M/n.
"I don't fancy myself with sweets too much as well." M/n glanced at him. M/n didn’t comment right away. He took a hesitant bite of the cheesecake.
The conversation drifted gently.
“So, how’s your week been?” Oriel said, stirring his coffee,
“…Busy,” M/n said. “A lot on my mind.”
“You don’t seem like the type to talk about it,” Oriel noted. M/n glanced up.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, not really. That's why privacy exists. If you don't want to talk about it, then who am I to pry?” Oriel said quickly.
“...Yeah,” M/n murmured. Oriel leaned back slightly.
"I would like you to be comfortable around me without forcing yourself." Oriel smiled warmly. M/n studied him.
“You’re… really genuine.”Oriel paused just for a second.
“Am I?” he asked.
“Yeah,” M/n said quietly.
“Not in a fake way. You actually mean what you say.” Oriel’s smile this time was warmer.
“I’m glad you see me that way.” The cake was nearly gone when Oriel. M/n glanced up briefly. Oriel wasn’t teasing. He looked genuine. He radiates warmth, his posture relaxed, shoulders angled toward M/n instead of away.
Not flirting way, though. Just… friendly warmth.
M/n looked back down. Oriel continued talking about a professor who teach too fast that he genuinely thoguht the professor has a career in rapping, one moment he's discussing something and then the next he's teaching about complicated stuff.
He talked about a classmate who always forgot their pen and would borrow from him and ended up giving his pencil with teeth marks embedded on it.
He talked about nothing important and everything at the same time. He gestured when he spoke, hands expressive, eyes lighting up when he reached the punchline of his own stories. M/n responded in his usual fragments;
“That’s annoying.”
“Oh.”
“Really?”
“Huh.”
Enough to signal I’m listening. Of course, he was. He just didn't bother to give long comments.
He’s sincere, M/n thought. That much is real...
Oriel didn’t check his phone. Didn’t rush his words. Didn’t exaggerate reactions like the rent-a-boyfriend did. There was no script, no performative timing.
But...
M/n’s grip tightened slightly on the spoon.
Where is it?
He tried to pinpoint it, the way he would analyze a panel composition or a line of dialogue that didn’t land quite right.
Oriel leaned back in his chair, smiling.
“I’m glad you asked me out, by the way.”
M/n looked up.
“Oh...it's not a problem." Oriel laughed.
“I'm really glad you took me out.” M/n shifted in his seat.
“Right...I just… needed a break.”
“From thinking too much?” Oriel guessed. M/n hesitated.
“I guess…Yeah.” Oriel nodded like that made perfect sense.
“I get that.”
Do you? M/n almost asked but didn’t.
Instead, he watched the way Oriel said it, easy, unburdened, without the weight M/n carried in his own chest. M/n bit his lip.
If this were love, M/n thought, would it feel heavier? Or lighter? Different? They paid and stood, the scrape of chairs pulling M/n out of his thoughts.
As they walked back toward campus, Oriel filled the space between them with sound.
“The campus looks nicer around this time, it's less crowded.” Oriel pointed out.
“Yeah...” M/n replied.
“You okay?” Oriel asked, glancing sideways. “You’ve been quiet.” M/n quipped a raised brow.
"I'm always quiet. There's nothing new." Although Oriel wanted to probe, he figure to not press.
He talked instead, about how he almost missed class once back in high school because a labrador chased him, about a café he wanted to try next time, those kinds of talks.
M/n listened and analyzed. Oriel walked close next to him, but not close enough to brush arms. His tone stayed light, his gaze lingered on him— not in a creepy-way-stare, but a respectful one.
Everything about Oriel feels...Safe? He couldnt quite put it into words.
He’s showing me friendship, not love. And that realization made something sink uncomfortably in his chest.
That’s it.
That’s what was missing. Not sincerity, not kindness. But intention. Intention to love and give affection to someone you cherished.
Romantic intention didn’t hesitate nor was there a limit like friendship does. It didn’t stay neutral, it crossed lines, it risked rejection.
Oriel wasn’t doing that.
Maybe it’s too soon, M/n reasoned quickly. We’ve only known each other for a few days.
Five days...I have exactly five days left before the next chapter posts.
That means I still have time.
They reached the building, footsteps slowing near the entrance. Oriel stopped.
“Thanks for today, it was nice.” he said easily.
“Yeah...It was.” M/n replied.
And it was. That was the problem.
As they parted ways, M/n felt his thoughts start racing again, layering over each other.
Maybe I should wait it out. Maybe he needs more time. Afterall we just met...the reference could...show itself somehow.
Or maybe—
Maybe I’m deluding myself with something that isn’t there.
He clenched his fingers slightly.
I’ll keep hanging out with him, M/n decided.
Lots of things could happen in five days. That should be enough.
It had to be.
M/N didn’t realize it had turned into a pattern until it already was one.
Day Five before the deadline, he asked Oriel to grab coffee again. Oriel agreed almost instantly.
They sat across from each other at a small café near campus. Oriel talked about their morning class, about how the barista finally got the spelling of his name right in his coffee, about how he met a cute puppy at the sidewalk earliee that day.
M/n listened.
Watched.
Observed.
Friendly. He's still being friendly, M/n noted.
No lingering looks that meant more than interest. Its just Oriel being Oriel...
It's still early... I still have four days left...
Day Four, M/n suggested the park this time.
Oriel walked beside him, hands clasped behind his back, talking about how he wanted to feed the pigeons, how the sound of leaves are satisfying when it's crunchy.
M/n sat on a bench and watched couples pass by with their hands intertwined. Oriel stayed an inch away.
Respectful.
The kind of respectful that makes M/n's hands ball up in a fists.
Day Three, they stopped by a convenience store. Oriel bought snacks for both of them without asking, remembered M/n didn’t like overly sweet things. That alone made M/n pause.
Attentive, he thought he's very attentive.
But again, like the other days, nothing crossed the line.
Day Two, dinner at a small fast food.
Oriel talked about food like it was an experience meant to be shared.
M/n nodded, hummed, answered when prompted. People might’ve mistaken them for a couple.
M/n didn’t. Because couples had weight to them. And this...didn’t.
And then...
Day One.
The last day before the deadline.
The cat café smelled like coffee and fur and faint sweetness. Soft meows blended with low chatter and clinking cups.
M/n sat across from Oriel, stirring his drink slowly. Round and round. (Like M/n's thoughts Lmao) Oriel was talking again.
"I saw this one tiktak video about two AI cats doing random stuff that humans should be doing and then fighting right after." he said, fetching his phone playing the video he was mentioning.
"It's so hhilarious! This is the only AI video I will allow."
“Mhm.”
“I particularly love the one where they were both baking bread and one of them dumps a floor over the other cat's head."
“Yeah.”
Oriel laughs faltered.
“You’re really into your thoughts today.” M/n didn’t answer. Oriel’s voice blurred, words losing shape in his ear, reduced into white noise.
M/n’s gaze unfocused, fixed somewhere past Oriel’s shoulder.
Tomorrow...he thought.
Tomorrow is the deadline...
And he had nothing.
No panels to draw, no dialogue to write, no emotion.
Love Call wasn’t just a webcomic.
It was years of quiet nights, of poured-out effort, of trying to say something honest through drawings because words failed him.
Two men in love might not mean much to strangers scrolling past.
But to M/n, it was everything and he was failing at something he's good at. Though it was also something he sucked at.
His fingers tightened around the spoon.
What am I missing?
Why can’t I understand it?
Why doesn’t it feel real?
Suddenly, a hand laid itself onto his. M/n blinked and looked down. Oriel’s hand rested over his.
M/n’s brows furrowed slightly.
“Oriel?” Oriel inhaled quietly, bit his lip, then smiled kindly.
"I really like hanging out with you,” Oriel said.
The café noise seemed to dull.
“My cheeks actually hurt,” he continued, laughing under his breath,
“because I keep smiling whenever I’m with you.” M/n’s eyes widened just a fraction.
This tone.
He knew this tone.
He’d seen it countless of times in movies, In dramas, in scenes he’d replayed while studying expressions.
Is he...
Oriel’s thumb brushed lightly against M/n’s knuckles.
“I know it’s only been a couple of days,” Oriel said quickly, as if afraid of losing momentum. “And I don’t want to make things weird or push you into anything.”
No fucking way.
This was...
Oriel was—
“But I didn’t want to keep this to myself,” Oriel went on, eyes searching M/n’s face.
“I didn’t know how to say it without you hating me.” M/n’s heart started racing. not with excitement, but panic.
If this is a confession…
He can take advantage of this... He could... Finally see what he wanted.
But...
Is this really the right thing to do? To use someones feelings as a way to get what he wanted?
His thoughts crashed into each other.
If I say yes, I’ll finally see it, I can observe it.Understand it, Draw it.
But that would mean using him. That would be cruel.
I'll just...play along. I'll end it and find an excuse once...I don't need him anymore.
But Oriel has been nothing but being kind and friendly with me... Is it really fair that I'm using his feelings?
Oriel squeezed his hand just a bit tighter.
“I don’t expect anything,” he said softly.
“I just needed you to know.” M/n’s lips parted.
Nothing came out. His mind screamed between moral and his webcomic.
You need this.You’re running out of time.You can finally understand love if you step into it.
But not like this. Not by lying.
Oriel waited. Patient a hope written all over his face. M/n's chest felt tight. Thoughts piled up until they pressed against his skull, until something had to give.
And it did.
M/n didn’t let himself think anymore.
“I…” M/n’s voice shook.
“I like you too.”
The words fell out, one that was irreversible.
And the moment they left his mouth, M/n felt it.
Not relief waving through him, But the sharp, sinking weight of knowing;
He’d crossed a line he couldn’t erase.
ORIEL had been trying not to stare. It was difficult when M/n looked like that.
Not because M/n was doing anything. He was only sitting across from him, elbow resting near the table, fingers loosely wrapped around a spoon, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.
His gaze wasn’t even directed at Oriel anymore. It had drifted somewhere past the window, detached from the room despite physically remaining in it.
M/n gaze was unreachable in a way that made Oriel’s chest tighten with something he had stopped naming properly.
The first time Oriel had noticed it, he had dismissed it as coincidence.
The second time, he told himself he was imagining things.
By the third, fourth, fifth he had stopped pretending coincidence was enough to explain why every small thing M/n did kept scraping against old corners of his mind that belonged to someone else.
Or rather someone fictional.
Someone drawn in black lines and speech bubbles.
Someone who did not exist and yet had occupied far too much space inside Oriel’s thoughts long before M/n ever sat across from him in a café.
Quillan.
Not because M/n looked exactly like him. That enough was obvious. M/n's apperance does resemble Quillan.
But he resembled him in a way M/n answered so shortly. In a way he often looked so disconneted with the world and still make his presence so attractive to him. Like a magnet of some sort.
Quillan had always been written like that too.
Panels where Quillan said little but altered entire scenes simply by existing inside them.
Oriel had reread those chapters enough times to know exactly which panels still lingered longest in his head.
Enough times that he should've label himself a maniac for going back for more.
Enough times that certain expressions had become memory stronger than some real conversations he had with actual people.
And now M/n sat across from him doing something as simple as stirring coffee, and Oriel’s mind kept making those old comparisons without permission.
Close enough that being around M/n created that same strange pull that Quillan has. an alertness he could not relax out of, paired with a calm that arrived only when M/n was physically near enough to confirm he was real.
Like his obsession was being surpress whenever he's around M/n. He couldn't quite put it into words.
How can someone offer this much to him without knowing what they had done?
How could M/n do something like this to him?
Was it his presence alone that stirred something deep inside him?
Or was it his resemblance to Quillan that startled him more than anything?
It was absurd.
It should have stayed absurd.
Yet the more days passed, the worse it became. Because M/n had kept asking him out.
To get coffee.
To walk at a park.
To a convenience store.
To go eat dinner at a fast food.
And another café where they are now.
And every single time Oriel said yes to M/n, this weird growing feeling inside him seems to feed off of it.
His obsession was starting to get starved for more. More moments of these, more moments with M/n— No... Quillan.
It was always Quillan.
It was as if he's living in Love Call as an isekai'd person. A person who somehow landed inside a hollow shell that belonged to the person that Quillan loved so dearly— Evander.
The more he spends time with M/n, the more his unhealthy obsessesion kept craving for more than enough.
Altogether, M/n started to vanish from Oriel's sight. His figure started to fog up and morph into someone he had obsessed over. And for him? He started to see himself more as Evander.
Trying not to think too hard about why M/n asking first affected him more than it should.
Trying not to replay each outing afterward like they contained hidden meaning.
He knew they probably did not. Yet he let his thoughts mingle through his mind, to distort reality and delude himself that he was living in a fantasy, a dream where he was actually spending time with Quillan and not M/n.
He knew M/n’s short replies did not automatically mean hidden affection.
But still, he obsessed over it.
Because the dangerous part was not that M/n reminded him of Quillan.
The dangerous part was how quickly Oriel had begun to overlap M/n with someone who existed in fiction.
Usually obsession remained cleanest when distant. Contained in fiction, where nothing changed unless pages turned.
But M/n breathed, he's real, he can talk, he can touch him, act like his beloved Quillan.
Those tiny normal things made him harder to file under fantasy. And somehow that made the attachment worse.
Because now Quillan no longer stayed trapped inside drawn panels. He kept surfacing in motion.
Across tables during breaks,
Walking beside him between classes,
Messaging him back with short replies.
Tangibility had ruined distance.
And tangability only strengthen his growing obsession.
He wanted to reach out desperately, to touch the very person he had overlap M/n with. Despite fully recognizing how dangerous that should have felt, found himself wanting more of it anyway.
Even now.
Especially now.
Because M/n looked troubled today. More absent than usual. His spoon kept circling the coffee though he had not taken a sip in minutes.
Oriel had spoken for several minutes straight and gotten almost nothing back. Usually he did not mind carrying conversations.
Today, however, every absent blink from M/n made Oriel feel uneasy. He looked exhausted.
Pressed thin by thoughts he clearly was not sharing. And that stirred something immediate and selfish in Oriel. The same selfishness he had been refusing to name all week.
The urge to be the reason M/n looked up.
The reason his attention sharpened.
The reason those distant eyes focused.
Not because M/n owed him that. But because Oriel had begun craving proof that he occupied space inside M/n’s mind too.
It startled him, how badly he wanted that.
Enough that caution started slipping, enough for his rationality to get pummeled.
Ah...how badly he wanted to see more of Quillan's side.
How badly wanted to do things that only Evander can do to Quillan.
Be near him, be given the same affection, be the one touching him.
Suddenly, his palm covered M/n’s. Warm skin under his fingers. M/n halted in his thoughts and looked down.
Then up to meet him in the eyes. Brows drawing together slightly.
“Oriel?” M/n's full attention was given to him fully now.
And absurdly, that alone made Oriel’s pulse jump. His thumb shifted once against M/n’s knuckles. He smiled, though he could feel how tight his own mouth had become.
“I really like hanging out with you.”
His own voice sounded steadier than he felt. The café noise dulled
He should stop now, he knew that much
Because once spoken, things will change.
M/n could either be disgusted or become more distant with him more than he was now.
This friendship they have would be back to square one. Oriel fully believed that M/n was growing comfortable with him just as much as he has with Bonibell. Believed that he surpassed comfortability that M/n has for him more than Bonibell.
What else could be the reason M/n invited him out almost everyday?
But the pressure inside him had built too long already. His desperation for more moments like these grew and manifest into something selfish.
He did not want this closeness to remain undefined if it meant M/n could leave it as casually as he had entered it.
“I know it’s only been a couple of days,” Oriel said quickly, his masks was almost slipping, his obessession oozing out of his curated mask.
“and I don’t want to make things weird or push you into anything.”
M/n had gone very still. Yet Oriel continued because stopping now would feel worse.
Because if he stopped now, the confession would rot unfinished between them.
“But I didn’t want to keep this to myself.”
“I didn’t know how to say it without you hating me.”
And there, Oriel’s own thoughts betrayed him.
Because beneath all those careful words sat the uglier truth:
He wanted this not only because he liked M/n;
Not only because M/n was kind in his own difficult way.
Not only because his company made days all the more enjoyable to him.
He wanted this because being near M/n eased something obsessive he had failed to silence alone.
Because the restless habit of revisiting Quillan’s panels late at night had lessened these past few days.
Because now when his mind reached automatically for those old scenes, it found newer ones
M/n looking annoyed at pigeons.
M/n muttering short replies whenever he talks.
M/n glancing at him with unamused eyes.
Real moments replacing fictional ones.
But he didn't see M/n in those.
He saw Quillan.
And that frightened him slightly. Because it should not have felt relieving that a person made through fiction was beginning to overwrite someone real.
Yet relief was exactly what it felt like. As if his mind had finally been handed something tangible enough to settle against.
As if Quillan had stepped partly out of the page
And that thought...That thought should have sounded wrong. Should've been wrong. It was morally wrong to view someone like this.
In the back of Oriel's mind, was a thought probing him to not continue.
But his hand was already there. His mouth had already moved. His heart already exposed enough.
And M/n had not pulled away.
“I don’t expect anything,” Oriel said softly. That part was half true.
“I just needed you to know.”
At that exact moment Oriel knew something was wrong.
The answer of M/n, should not arrive cleanly.
He saw it before hearing it. Saw hesitation gathering like someone standing at the edge of a choice they did not want.
A rational person would have stopped there, would have withdrawn.
M/n inhaled sharply.
“I…” His voice shook. Oriel expected to hear a rejection.
One that could give his obsession a reality check it needed in order to subside. But instead, he got something he didn't expect. A reply that threw his logical thinking out the window and fed his unhealthy obsession through the max.
“I like you too.”
The words landed way too sudden, way too quickly that it sounded so forced.
Oriel should've seen it immediately. If it weren't for his selfishness to cloud his judgement.
Something inside him warmed with selfish need, undeniable satisfaction.
Because even imperfect, those words had come from M/n.
And shamefully, that was enough for him to accept them.
He didn't see M/n confessing.
It was Quillan confessing to Evander.
Because right then, with M/n’s hand still beneath his and his answer hanging fragile between them, Oriel made the quiet decision not to question what should probably have been questioned.
But he let his heart lead before his mind could even take the wheel.
And that was his mistake.
Oriel ignored the signs and let his obsession take over his mind entirely and smiled as if nothing dangerous had just begun.
Both of them entered a relationship that was beneficiary to the both of them.
A relationship that wasn't built through feelings or honest love.
It was built on their selfish desires.
And it that moment, both them believed the other was in love.
A/N: Wow, I was actually having a difficult time writing Oriel's personality. This is my first time writing a character with complex well— character.
Anyways, let me know what you guys think about Oriel's personality.
This is the point of the story, both of our characters are anti-hero. I really enjoy writing this kind of story and explore both of t
heir personality and the way their selfish desire clash with each other.
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