✧ It's your birthday! ✧

⚠️ // ANGST ? // POSSIBLE TOXIC RELATIONSHIP // (bro is all around toxic lets be real)⚠️

!! ɪɴꜰᴏ !!

˖+‧+ ̊ FOR THE VERY VERY SPECIAL BREAD!! (ILY! IM SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER ♡) ̊+‧+˖

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★˖° Any POV

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I'm SO sorry this one took forever. I'm trying to get back into the swing of things since I'm finally settled in my new home! Requests wont start back up until i'm fully free again, but feel free to send them in regardless for when I do have the time!! :D

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◤ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ ↴ ◥

Unnecessary theatrics, that's what all of this really was. Balloons, streamers, blaring speakers, a glittery spinning ball that reflected every colorful ray of the lights above– the cherry on top being the fucking cameras. The sound made something in his chest itch. Each click, the sounds of finger pads sliding across their greasy screens– it was all too loud. Everything was too loud. The music, the glasses clinking against one another, the heavy steps on the wooden floors, loud, laughter-laced conversations– the happiness. It enraged him.

A blue balloon losing its altitude snapped Revenant from his haze. Even while actively deflating, dying, it drifted casually downward, happily letting the LED lights play over its shiny surface as it neared the bar counter top. It looked happy, somehow. With a whirring click Revenant’s metal hand locked tight, fingers pointed at the end and wide at his palm like an arrowhead. With a firm lurch of his arm, he popped the balloon, the sound drowned out by every other thumping noise in the building.

With a sharp sigh and a shifty glance he checked over his shoulder. The last thing he wanted to do was draw someone's attention. Seemed to be for naught, because he heard clumsy shuffling approaching the bar counter. He turned forward, trying to pretend like he didn’t hear them, like he didn’t hear every single noise, down to the leaky faucet in the second story bathroom.

It was you. He didn’t have to look your way to know that. It was your birthday, after all. He could see the glittery sash slung diagonally over your torso from his peripheral view. Revenant waited– waited for a remark, a comment, some puny attempt at small talk from you. But it didn’t come, because the ever charming Mirage had slid his way between the two of you to chirp about what drink you should order. Revenant was used to being treated like a ghost, like an uncomfortable wall with legs and eyes. But it irked him, the human wall closing him off from you. He wasn’t going to interspect to figure out why it bothered him, instead he’d sit up, taller, stiffer, his gaze two frozen daggers burning through the back of Mirage’s skull. Not that the man noticed, he was too busy flashing you a too-large grin. 

Images of violence danced around Revenant's mind, making his circuits tick. His metal fingers twitched, curled, and flattened in a pattern as he fought the instinct to maim the obstacle in his way. It’s not worth it, he convinced himself, making a mess– the cameras would see it. Revenant forced himself to turn his gaze away from Mirage. As if he cared about what the cameras saw. The acknowledgement of that alone had his metal fingers digging into the bar counter top, jaw grinding tight. If he didn’t care about the cameras seeing, then it was something else, something he wouldn’t admit– not even to himself.