cw. homophobia, violence
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eyecandy by fox<3
Cassian didn’t try to contain his dismissiveness to what Gus had to say, the word rude bouncing off him like a rubber ball. It wasn’t like he made claims at being perfect, well aware of his numerous flaws. The most significant and lethal being the feelings he had for the person that now stood between them.
Hurt - the man scoffed as the remark dinged him. Gus earned Cassian’s hands furling and unfurling at his sides in silent agitation, but that’s where it ended. What the fuck do you know about hurt, he wanted to say, and he would have said, were he capable of looking anywhere else but at Vince. Simply put - Gus was not his target. The redhead didn’t have a figment of a clue about what he stepped into, moreover, the source of anger - and yes hurt - their togetherness caused. There was no rationalizing the cause of the pain, however. Not to himself, least of all out loud.
At least until Vince articulated it. When Vince’s words redefined the meaning of rage.
Malice in those green eyes showed Cass that he knew exactly what he did, even did it on purpose. Casually thrown out into the open air, something they swore to one another - as good as an unbreakable vow in his mind - to never, ever let anyone know. Blind-sided shock registered on Cassian’s face first, mixed in with something like resentment and anguish. Gus standing there to bear witness made things infinitely worse. Because this was never about the Hufflepuff, he realized then. This was everything about where he and his best friend left things off, and where things were quickly headed. A point of no return.
A distant part of his mind registered the new facts Vince gave him. That his selfish push for distance left the Slytherin like a sitting duck, receptive to all manners of retaliation. Another time, he’d feel awful for it. Another time, he might have just wept – if things were still and slow and silent enough for him to think this through.
But here, there was none of that. He could only see red and feel white-hot pain from a gaping, bleeding wound. To survive, his mind screamed for return fire. “And what the fuck did you hope for Vince? Is it my problem you want the impossible from me? Someone to entertain your delusional hopes,” he cut in with a special ire reserved only for Vince. Words were never his strong suit, and he didn’t consider much of what he said. Neither did he think about what would inevitably happen, as his feet rapidly closed the distance between them. “You do anything you fucking want, thinking you deserve none of the consequences – fuck you,” he puncutated the last with what could only be a full-strength punch aimed at Vince’s face.
Hurt - the man scoffed as the remark dinged him. Gus earned Cassian’s hands furling and unfurling at his sides in silent agitation, but that’s where it ended. What the fuck do you know about hurt, he wanted to say, and he would have said, were he capable of looking anywhere else but at Vince. Simply put - Gus was not his target. The redhead didn’t have a figment of a clue about what he stepped into, moreover, the source of anger - and yes hurt - their togetherness caused. There was no rationalizing the cause of the pain, however. Not to himself, least of all out loud.
At least until Vince articulated it. When Vince’s words redefined the meaning of rage.
Malice in those green eyes showed Cass that he knew exactly what he did, even did it on purpose. Casually thrown out into the open air, something they swore to one another - as good as an unbreakable vow in his mind - to never, ever let anyone know. Blind-sided shock registered on Cassian’s face first, mixed in with something like resentment and anguish. Gus standing there to bear witness made things infinitely worse. Because this was never about the Hufflepuff, he realized then. This was everything about where he and his best friend left things off, and where things were quickly headed. A point of no return.
A distant part of his mind registered the new facts Vince gave him. That his selfish push for distance left the Slytherin like a sitting duck, receptive to all manners of retaliation. Another time, he’d feel awful for it. Another time, he might have just wept – if things were still and slow and silent enough for him to think this through.
But here, there was none of that. He could only see red and feel white-hot pain from a gaping, bleeding wound. To survive, his mind screamed for return fire. “And what the fuck did you hope for Vince? Is it my problem you want the impossible from me? Someone to entertain your delusional hopes,” he cut in with a special ire reserved only for Vince. Words were never his strong suit, and he didn’t consider much of what he said. Neither did he think about what would inevitably happen, as his feet rapidly closed the distance between them. “You do anything you fucking want, thinking you deserve none of the consequences – fuck you,” he puncutated the last with what could only be a full-strength punch aimed at Vince’s face.
eyecandy by fox<3