Sorry Is the Hardest Word
Ranar
ChaoticConcertina: I hate being mean to people.
I hate the way it makes me feel.
Even when I think it’s justified, and even when it is justified.
I hate the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach,
the knowledge that I’ve just ruined someone’s day.
And then I think I’m just being needlessly narcissistic.
ChaoticConcertina: Because who am I? I’m a nobody!
Why should my words matter?
But then I see in the other person’s eyes that they did matter, and I hate myself for it.
Even if I meant what I said, the second it’s out, I just want to beg for forgiveness.
And I hate that too.
PinksPosies wanted to snicker at her distress.
He wanted to go slithering past her with enough force to splash her ankles and dirty the hem of her dress .
.
.
But as soon as all of those terrible thoughts occurred to him, he felt a twist in his chest and a flip in his stomach.
He couldn’t.
The mean, petty little snake on his shoulder may have wanted him to, hissing atrocities in his ear, but he couldn’t even think it without feeling guilty instantly.
Would you want someone treating Ruma that way? Of course not.
There was no question of what he was going to do.
He had taken the box from her before even thinking through his plan, pushing his coffee cup into her hand, the umbrella he carried shifting from his hands to his tail, held over her and angled against the wind as he fixed the lid on her box.
Sumi gaped up.
Her eyes narrowed, disdain filling them for the briefest moment, and he wondered if she was going to fling the coffee down and snatch the box back .
.
.
But the look passed quickly. Her teeth sunk into that full lower lip, and he couldn’t identify the expression in her eyes then. Ruma probably could. She’s right, you’re hopeless.
“You really are pathetic, you know that?”
His voice was rougher than he’d intended.
He at least sounded like someone who hated her, even if his actions at the moment weren’t quite lining up with that.
No.
It’s because you’re not an asshole.
And even if she’s a backstabbing bottom feeder, you don’t need to let her make you worse than you are. She wore large gold hoops in her ears, their movement bringing his eye straight to the most kissable spot on her neck.
“Yeah, I know.” Her voice was toneless in her agreement.
“You didn’t need to do that, but thank you for doing it anyway.
I’m, um, I’m going back to my —“
“Obviously.” He handed the box back to her, having closed the lid entirely.
Their fingers brushed as she handed him back the coffee cup, a fraction longer than should have been necessary, like a bolt of electricity he felt shoot up his arm and straight to his groin.
In their sheath, his cocks stirred.
No, absolutely not.
Not now. She’s the enemy. “Keep your hand on the top of it, this wind isn’t going to let up until we turn the corner.”
Her dress that day was peachy pink with a deep V neck line, similar to what she had worn that morning outside the coffee shop.
It was already dotted in raindrops from her brief sojourn without a functioning umbrella, marring the lovely effect.
It’s fine, she’ll dry.
Ranar kept his eyes trained on the sidewalk before them, not wanting to notice how the color made her skin glow, nor the way the draping fabric hugged her curves.
“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out in an unprepared blurt, not at all the polished apology he’d practiced in his head.
“About the other day.
I shouldn’t have said those things to you.
Even if I think some of them are true—“ her eyes flicked to his, a ghost of a smile on her mouth, ”—I shouldn’t have said them.
I’m sorry I did.”
“I’m sorry too.” Her voice was small, so different from her sharp brassiness.
He didn’t like it, preferred her with a bit of an edge.
“For what I said.
For what I didn’t say.
For the things I didn’t understand. I’m sorry for all of it.”
They continued for the next few feet in silence, and he wondered if he was meant to break it.
Your rizz is mid.
That’s humiliating, right? Before he had the chance to draw breath, Sumi cleared her throat.
“Don’t you get tired?”
Her voice startled him out of his thoughts, her eyes trained on his tail, watching his rectilinear movement down the sidewalk, her teeth once again finding her lip.
He snorted, shaking his head.
Human raised.
“Don’t your legs get tired from walking? I have to imagine that it takes more muscle groups,” he pointed out.
“Left, right, left, right.
I’m exhausted just watching you.”
Her eyes flickered up to his, widening slightly, hand flattening over her mouth.
“That was probably a really insensitive question, wasn’t it.”
“Yeah, that’s the silliest thing I’m going to be asked today, without question.
Nicely done.”
From behind her hand, she began to giggle, hunching slightly, staying beneath the protective circle of his umbrella.
Ranar tried not to notice how adorable it was.
“I don’t know why it seems to me like you have to be so much stronger to move that way.
Like, your core muscles and your back .
.
.” Her eyes flickered to him, voice trailing off as she cleared her throat.
“Yeah, that was a real human observation. I’ll take L on that one.”
“You’re going to have to.
That was high key cringe.”
There.
Using the vernacular in the wild.
He was rather proud of himself, having committed the entirety of Pinky’s cheat sheet to memory.
Ruma was less impressed with his attempts to use her slang, groaning and protesting every time he did so at home, but at least he had a slightly better understanding of what she was saying.
Sumi’s head swung up, eyes meeting his again, only this time they sparkled, the corners of her mouth turning up in a wide grin.
“It was.
What is this called? The-the way you’re moving now? Clearly I was never very good at biology.
Don’t ask me to name any of the lakes or rivers in the state either, they’re all just Big Water #1 and Big Water #2.”
He snorted.
“Rectilinear.
This movement, I mean.
Not a river.
You’ve probably seen this on a small scale in a caterpillar or inchworm. It’s not what I prefer, but it keeps the end free.” He motioned to the tip of his tail holding the umbrella over her and she flushed, nodding quickly. “Serpentining is the movement most people think of for nagas, that’s the side-by-side, but we also use concertina and sidewinding.”
Her head swung up, eyebrows raised, but remained silent.
“Basically any movement you’ll find in larger snake species we use as well.
And if you ask me if I get tired holding myself upright, I’m going to ask you the same thing.”
Sumi laughed again, and he ground his teeth as a city truck drove by slowly.
How much poison do you think will stay in the well now that the whole town is probably watching you practically hold her hand all the way back to her store?
“They’re probably on their way to empty the trash.
Some asshole keeps putting monkey brains in it or something.”
“Fish guts, I think,” he clarified.
“Or so I would guess.
Easier to acquire than monkeys.
Did you have success at that place on Commerce?”
Her head whipped to the side, and the sparkle in her eyes made his chest hurt.
“I decided to save my money,” she huffed.
“No sense in ruining my expectations with a cheap knockoff.”
The pain spread through his lungs, making it hard to breathe.
Is this a stroke? Do you smell toast? Blithely unaware of his inner turmoil, Sumi’s eyes shimmered with the force of her smile .
.
.
at least, until they trailed down, taking in the rest of his appearance. He could feel her eyes on his chest, taking in his sodden shirt, almost as if she’d pressed her palms to his bare skin. The weight of her observance seared him, and for an echoing moment, he couldn’t remember if he was meant to be sabotaging her or taking her in his arms, scooping up and bringing her home. You should treat her like a goddess.
“Oh no, you’re soaked! Wait! You should have this over both of us!”
Ranar stopped abruptly.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you even remember who she is, what she’s done? “It’s not big enough for both of us,” he snapped, heat burning his neck.
“If you want to go ahead on your own, be my guest.” It’s not big enough for us both and you know it.
Her eyes filled with tears, nodding miserably.
“I know.
But I didn’t then.” She paused miserably, lip quivering for a moment before motioning to the building beside them.
“We’re here.
I usually use this back entrance. I appreciate your help,” she murmured, that sad, toneless voice returning. “I-I only meant that I feel bad that you’re all wet now. I do feel bad, Ranar. I didn’t know that it wasn’t big enough for both of us. I understand now.”
He looked away, unable to tell if it was rain or tears running down her cheeks.
“I-I have a bunch of promotional T-shirts, if you want to just change into something dry until you get back . . .”
“If you give me something that says Bloomerang on it, I’m taking us both back to Main Street and we’re going to stand in the middle of the park until we drown.”
Her musical laughter tinkled and chimed all around him, breaking the tension, and his stomach twisted again, although this time Ranar knew it was regret that ached within him.
Grace was right.
How could he be this unlucky?
“Okay, I mean, give me a little bit of credit.
Even I know better than to do that.
Do you want to come —“
“No, I don’t.”
Her mouth snapped shut, her head nodding quickly.
He didn’t want to go into her shop.
Ranar had no doubt that it was lovely, as lovely as its owner, shiny and new and expensive.
He didn’t need to see exactly what would be replacing him in the community.
Sumi nudged down the doorstop before disappearing inside. Ranar could see a tall, middle-aged troll woman peering around the corner at him curiously.
“It’s actually from the company who makes floral foam,” Sumi called out, returning a moment later.
“I would apologize, but I think pink is probably your color.”
He recognized the shirt instantly.
There was a stack in his own shop, a promotional item sent once or twice a year by the company who made the floral foam.
He idly wondered how long it would be until Bloomerang bought them out, one less player on the board.
Another one bites the dust.
They were tucked beneath the overhang outside the back of her building safe from the rain, for the moment.
Sumi stood before him, holding out the pink shirt with a look of uncertainty.
The troll, he noticed, had moved her work juuust far enough down the table so that she could see out the door.
Ranar handed Sumi the coffee cup he still held, closing his umbrella and resting it against the side of the building.
When he gripped the soaked edge of his shirt, her teeth sank into her lip once more.
He wondered if she realized he was going to be completely naked in front of her.
If she didn’t want to see, he rationalized, she can look away.
But she didn’t look away.
She seemed glued to the spot, unable to turn and afford him a second of privacy, not even blinking.
When he pulled the wet fabric up over his body, Ranar thought he could hear her soft intake of breath, his own eyes fluttering closed as he pulled the wet shirt up and over his head.
She was no longer biting her lip when he reached out to take the bright magenta T-shirt from her hand, another zap of electricity to his cocks as their fingers brushed.
Her mouth was open in a soft O, and he was positive that lips had never looked as kissable as hers did just then.
His eyes followed the movement of her throat as she swallowed hard, once again feeling the weight of her gaze like a brand as her eyes moved over his bare chest and down his stomach.
He had lied, technically.
Nagas were well known for being incredibly strong and fast, owing to their enhanced core muscles.
The ability to keep one’s human half upright while engaging the necessary muscle groups to locomotor their thick tails into forward movement necessitated strength, back and abdominal muscles that were honed from infancy onward.
Sumi’s eyes moved down his body slowly, coming to rest, as he pulled the bright pink T-shirt over his head, on his scales.
Like his kitsune neighbor, she had landed a few inches higher than where his genital slit actually was.
Ranar wondered what her reaction would be if he led her hand, as he had moved the kitsune’s, to the right spot, if her fingers would stroke him just as adroitly.
Another soft intake of breath from her, her eyes snapping up to his, her cheeks spotting with color as she realized he’d caught her staring.
“Thanks for the shirt.” His voice was low, completely absent of its earlier bite.
He wanted to feel her hands on his skin, her nails scraping his nipples and over his stomach; wanted to feel the heat of her breath as he kissed her neck.
He dropped his wet clothes into the bag she’d also provided, taking up his umbrella once more.
“I’d say have a good day, but I think we both know I’d be lying.” It didn’t matter what he wanted.
It wouldn’t do to forget who they were to each other, what they were. It didn’t make a difference what they might have been, if she had been someone different.
She choked out what was meant to be a laugh, and he tried not to notice the glossy sheen that still spilled from her dark eyes as he turned away.
“Ranar!”
That he did feel behind his groin, the sound of his name on her lips, the caress of her tongue over each letter, making his cocks vibrate within him.
Ranar turned, holding his breath, willing himself to keep control.
“Your coffee.”
Their fingers brushed again as she stepped out into the rain, arm extended, handing him the cup.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” he responded automatically, unsure of what he was even apologizing for at that point.
He wanted to taste her skin and determine what was the rain and what were her tears.
You are the unluckiest bastard in the world.
“I know.
I told you, you’re forgiven.
Have a good day.
I do mean it.”
Ranar grumbled to himself all the way back to his shop, irritated with himself for even stopping in the first place.
He hated this war within himself.
He needed to go in and have a conversation with his mother, at the very least.
They needed to begin discussing what would happen next, which really meant he would need to decide what happened next, and then carry the emotional weight of the fall-out for everyone.
Fun times, good times.
Love this for me.
Maybe you should just sell the building now, call it early, move away while you can still salvage an ounce of dignity.
It was the last thought in his head as he pulled the front door open, hearing the familiar jangle of the bell.
Ruma was at the counter with his father, laughing uproariously as they played a fast-paced card game, one that originated on the island their family had left, one that he had grown up playing with his own grandfather at that same counter, what felt like a lifetime ago.
“Ruma, you have to keep up, you’re never going to win that way.”
“Thatha, you’re too fast!” she squealed, slapping her card down against the glass.
Ranar turned quickly away, a fast sidewind out the door and around the building as he was sucked beneath an unexpected wave of emotion, gasping to keep from breaking down right and there.
This wasn’t just a used car he could sell off.
His family had more history in these walls than they had in the house he’d grown up in, and it didn’t matter how much Jack Hemming assured him he could get for the land or how much her eyes sparkled when she looked at him .
.
. but he didn’t know how to just walk away.
One last steadying breath, opening his eyes .
.
.
and meeting the gaze of the goblin from the laundromat, pulling into the lot slowly.
Ranar raised a shaky hand, waving slightly as her lips pressed together, her head shaking sadly. He turned away, disguising his despairing laughter with a cough. Well, you didn’t even need to try hard for that one. You’re pathetic and everyone knows it.
She was beautiful and he loved her laugh, and maybe if their paths had diverged somehow, they would have been able to meet under circumstances that allowed a future.
But they weren’t and they hadn’t, and Ranar was certain that was all that would ever matter.
Just watch the ripples grow.