Emy Hernandez -|-| AVARITIA |-|- Travis Richter

Greed.
Travis was humming.
Emy couldn't believe it.
Travis Brandon Richter was actually humming!
SHe was surprised to hear such rejoice color his beautiful voice. It had been so long... It made her think of day she first saw him, how hideously unfair her voice let her down compared to his, even as they spoke.
They'd never gotten to be more than that, really. Quick exchange of hellos and sickly sweet breifings over light concerns, careful not to dip into anything that hinted towards seriousness and would drive casual conversation into the ground.
No, none of that.
Emy was content to hear all about anything that kept that smile on Travis' perfect lips... Or ever stuff that was of minor concern didn't bother her to know of.
Then came what seemed like a depression to her.
Nothing hinted at the fact that he even acknowledged her very prescence except for the daily limp wave he would gesture in her general direction days he didn't come back till around midnight.
Emy didn't like thinking about it. She flung her apartment door open all the way. "Travis! Hi!"
He looked up, seeing as how he was distracted. "Emily!" he cooed.
She blushed harshly, the blood under her skin crawling at the surface warmly. "How are you?"
"Great." Emy was certain he was sure his voice was so much more precious this time because she hadn't heard it in so many months.
"How are you Emme? Have you been okay?"
Emy shrugged. "Better now." She felt no need to clue him in no how much better, since when, and for what reason. "You seem to be much more happy than usual."
"Yes, yes oh yes," Travis beamed.
Emy's insides tugged lightly as he spoke the words. She wondered is she should feel guilty for imagining those exact words on his lips--in an exponentially different context.
"I'm disappointed in myself, though," Travis dimmed, "I kinda lost interest in my..." He smiled significantly. "Obssession, we'll call it."
"Oh." Emy found herself almost at a loss for words. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be, haha!" Travis rubbed his throat, dragging his hand down his chest, giving Emy ideas... "I don't plan on being sidetracked for much longer now."
She tried to imitate his gorgeous smile; she hoped her glasses weren't fogging up or anything! "Well you're up early, don't you think?"
"No way. I have things to do today!" celebrated the ecstatic boy. "But, Emily..." He approached her slowly until they were next to nothing apart and slid her perscriptions off, leaving a small kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I'll see you tonight."

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Emy toppled over onto her bed, sighing, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips.
Tonight, she kept muttering to herself internally, struggling to stay strictly nostalgic and not expectant, I'll see you tonight."
On ocassion, she debated with herslf the fact that Travis had actually kissed her.
No way, he's probably just delusional from the long depression and sleepless nights--the bitter oblivion.
But come on, there is no way you made that up on your own.
You're obssessed, there are quite a few things you can do.
Nothing compared to the real thing, though.
Yeah, but... did it really happen...?
Emy grinned. "Hell yes, it did!" She rolled over onto her tummy to keep from giggling or doing something hideously giddy of the sort, and to kill the butterflies.
There was only one thing wrong with all of this: it was still 11 o'clock in the morning.
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Nighttime seemed impossibly far off. She tried sleeping, but it only occupied her for a few hours. She showered twice, played Doppleganger five or six times, danced around to Imogen Heap and some Frou Frou, fell asleep again, and ate two very large bowls of cereal which set off a stomach ache.
Emy groaned achingly as she clutched her midsection, heading for the bathroom. The decision to take more medication than reccomended was not in any way, shape, or form a carefully cultivated one at all.
Three Advil, five Aleve, washed down with cough medicine and chased with several cups of water. She sighed, regretting her carelessness already; from head to toe, her entire body felt water-logged.
"Sleep," she muttered to herself, marginally morose. Only when she threw herself onto the bed for the umteenth time did she notice her clock: 10:27pm.
The thought struck horror into her ill core: Travis wasn't coming at all. She pulled her knees up to her chest to keep all the guts and entrails intact. No, not Travis. He was too perfect to actually stand her up--stand anyone up; he was much too much of a gentleman...
Emy rejected herself, refusing to believe Travis made any kind of conscious effort to get her hopes up...
She thought she heard a dull clocking noice from somewhere in the front of her home, though she was far too spent from the overdosage she'd permitted herself to sink to.
She mumbled, mostly to herself, a quiet "Come in," as if answering knocks at the door.
There were no more noises.
She slept soundly.
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Emy struggled against her leaden eyelids to wake. She reached out to the bedside table for her galsses. They weren't there.
She groaned, trying to reel out her body for more reach. Uh oh. Huge mistake. Her stomach was so evidently rejecting the idle excitment remedy she'd subjected herself to.
The warmth--the heat--of her dampening mouth alarmed her. She lurched out of bed and stumbled to the toilet. Flushing the wrenched contents of her stomach down the bowl, she took a small look around her, soon to realize one thing--this was not her home.
At first, she got frightened, as would any sane person who woke up where they did not fall asleep.
But perhaps memory was evading her, sliding elvusively just out of her mind's reach. Whose home could this be?
"You're awake."
Emy froze. She didn't rememeber quite how to move. She chocked on her own staggered sighs. "Hi." One corner of her mouth lifted in a confused smile though it seemed to mush together with more of a scowl.
It threw Travis for a moment. "I'm sorry, are you alright?" He couldn't think of much else to say.
Emy adjusted and rubbed her fists into her eyes. "Where are my glasses?" she asked, instead of what she was really wondering--What the hell happened last night?
Travis disappeared momentarily and returned with Emy's spectacles. "Sorry, they were... on my desk."
Emy's mouth morphed into an 'oh' gesture as she took them. The contemplation of her burning interrogation sat teetering on the brink of blurting it all out. She tucked her lips behind her teeth as physical restraint.
"Um..." Travis shifted against the door frame.
Emy kept her silent vow and instead did something she didn't want to do even more. "I'm gonna go now."
"No!" Travis shouted, changing his position into a protective blockade, palms forward. He'd been taken by surprise and tried to relax his muscles after the embrassing display. "Sorry..."
Emy listened to his multiple attempts at a reasonable explanation for the rash reaction with long intervals squeezed in for contemplative throat-clearings. It entertained her mostly, because he looked so damn good doing it--and she wasn't paying one ounce of attention.
"I... uhm... Well, Em, I'm kind of..." Travis pressed a fist into his chest as Emy hoisted herself up from the bathroom floor. "I'm selfish."
He searched for a hint of comprehension on her face. There was none.
"I don't... I can't... let you, uhm, leave, Emily..." Before she could get a different idea, he added, "I'm going to need you to stay for... a while."
Emy was understanding, but in the wrong way; she didn't grasp the jist of what Travis was telling her completely, not if she wasn't afraid yet.
Travis didn't bother trying to explain himself anymore. He was going to be blunt; he pulled hiumself together into an erect figure in front of the bathroom door. "You don't have a chance at leaving, Emily dearest." His hand gestered casually towards his chest. "I'm not going to let you. So just make yourself at home, why don't you?"
Emy wrinkled her nose at Travis, now offended. "Why can't I leave?"
The corners of Travis' lips turned up in a smirk. "I can't unleash you on the world, leaving you to your own vices when you're so drugged that the only way to adjust is to get rid of it all." He leaned forward, lowering his voice meaningfully. "Your body's rejecting all of what doesn't fit anymore."
His sly implications of her intellectual ability (or lack thereof) had been gnawing at the boundaries she kept herself under for only a short time, but it did the trick--"What in the name of God did you do to me, Travis?"
"Nothing you have a hope of remembering," he shrugged.
"So you're just going to keep me here?" she shouted.
"What else can I do?" His serenity was pissing her off now. "You've got friends... family. I can't have them breathing down your neck asking how you are when you're still so...basically intoxicated."
Emy thought about calling his bluff; she didn't feel any different than usual... now that she wasn't hurling, of course. "You're sick," she spat and stepped forward.
Travis intercepted. "Look, just don't fucking try to go anywhere, and nothing bad's going to happen to you." His stare was hard and serious, and anyone would have sworn up and down that that frown was etched into his mouth.
"You seem to have misunderstood me before, Emily, but you... are my obssession." He ran his thumb across her cheek. "I've hated myself for long enough; not to worry though--you can see all your little friends in a few days." His mouth twisted out of the stone frown into a deranged grin. "Until then, you belong to me."
So I'll see you there? Don't keep me waiting.
THAT'S IT FOLKS.
Seriously, I really am moving 'All We Know Is Falling' to my new account.
I'm done with the work I've done here.
And I'm not proud of a whole lot of it. :\