"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves."
― Federico García Lorca

Sorry for the interruption but storytime:

"Did they kiss yet?" My sister asked me about Bar and Clems after I published the last chapter, her not being sure bc of all the extra not-yet-used scenes I have in my docs (including what their first kiss is going to be).

"Nope," I said back to her. "You made me have them interrupted, remember?"
(this is a fact, btw, I was originally gonna have them kiss at Butterfly land for their date and for a monarch to land on Bar's nose right after— but she suggested otherwise and I got a better idea, oops.)

And this was her beautiful reply:
"Shit. Fuck. Bitch."

This was at like 1 AM you guys, so I wish I could say her being tired or sleep-deprived was why she had such a thoroughly thought through response (sarcasm) but I can't, she's usually like that.

Lol, love you guys (you too sissy)!

Anywaaaaaaays,

chapter 17

Bar was sitting in his living room, wearing a white long sleeve under a black leather jacket with dark washed jeans and combat books, a thick philosophy book between his fingers and his focus was on it almost completely.

The other part of Bar's concentration was using his free hand to pet Culpa, his cat, and keeping his ears keen in case Clementine needed him.

It was the dreaded day of the party and everyone was supposed to meet at Bar's apartment.

The little goddess was already dressed in high waisted black jean shorts with lace, thigh-high fishnet stockings underneath, and a soft blue fitted long sleeve and— just like Bar— she was wearing combat boots but hers were gold instead of black.

Bar thought Clementine looked absolutely beautiful, as she always did, and when he saw her, he honestly had to stop himself from grabbing her by the waist and just kissing her.

Bar sighed, thinking back to their date and his lost opportunity. He felt cheated of a kiss, somehow.

But he also knew the wait would be worth it.

A slam of his front door alerted the brute that someone has just entered his apartment and since they didn't knock and the door was locked, it had to be one of his best friends— they're the only ones with keys.

"Hey," Bar nodded to Law as he entered the living room, a sneaky look in his best friend's eyes.

"Sup, man." Law sunk into the beanbag across from where Bar was reading on the couch. He looks around, eyes locking on the purring cat before moving back to Bar. "What's your girl up to?"

The last time Bar saw the little goddess she was moving her laptop onto his kitchen counter and was seated on a stool, a lollipop stuck in her mouth.

But that was almost an hour ago.

Bar didn't notice the time go by with Culpa next to him and his attention drifted away and onto the book.

Frowning, Bar said, "I actually don't—"

"Oly!" Clementine suddenly screamed, making Bar tense and alert— his hand pausing in Culpa's fur causing the cat to look at his owner reproachfully. "I hate the word sq-squelch! It's worse than m-moist! It's worse I, I hate it!"

Ah, she's working on her book, Bar thought.

Clementine had been writing for years and had a whole world thought out into this weird reading app she— Bar was impressed, he could barely make out his own emotions but she could create emotions and feelings and lives for imaginary people.

Being a writer is a harder job than most.

Other jobs can be taught; no one can teach you how to create a world that doesn't exist.

It takes time, dedication, frustration, research, and many years of practice to be good.

Bar hasn't read her work but he knew that whatever the cute goddess has made, he'd enjoy.

"Sorry that the words are being mean to you, sweetheart." Bar calls back. "You okay?"

"Ugh!" She exclaims.

Bar grins to himself, even when frustrated she's just so goddamn cute.

"Babygirl, have you tried looking up synonyms to squelch instead of just using that word?" He offers up a solution, trying to help.

"No..." Clementine pauses, then typing can be heard through the apartment again, which Bar hadn't noticed before. "T-thank you, Oly."

"Of course, now finish that damn chapter." Bar orders. "I miss you."

Her giggles are his only reply.

Turning back to an amused Law, Bar explains, "She's writing."

"I could tell." Now the nerd had a lazy smirk covering his features. "You really like her, huh?"

"Yes." Bar sets down his book and leans back, hand still petting Culpa who was usually just as grouchy as his owner.

"What about her do you like?" Law asks. "I mean, I get why you do. She's sweet and hot and a cool chick but you've been around a look of girls like that. Why is she different?"

"Because, in a weird way, she gets me." Bar said and Law's eyebrows go up in surprise. "She said I wasn't a bad person. She somehow fucking knew I don't like fighting and hell, I think she knows more than she lets on. Eli and that firecracker brat knew who I was, somehow. And after every goddamn thing I put her through, she still thinks that I can be good, that I'm not just what the rumors say. And I like that, I like feeling warm around her, y'know?"

"And? Anything else?

"And I don't know, man." Bar racks his hand through his hair. "I just love it when she comes and sits on my lap looking all cute and shit. Like, fuck. That's my babygirl."

"Aw." Law's tone is teasing. "You're so fucking whipped."

"What the fuck ever," Bar scowled. "You said that last fucking time too, dickbag. Whipped. Shackled. Might as well call me a damn slave. Why am I 'stuck' to her when there's not a single other place that I'd rather be?"

"Fine," Law shrugged, eyes alight with mirth. "You're not shackled. You're not even wrapped around her finger. You're tightly coiled around a single strand of her hair. Completely and utterly under her control."

Bar shrugged in an 'I don't fucking care' way mixed with a 'you can't prove it' expression.

"Does she feel the same?" Law asked, sensing Bar wouldn't let out much more information.

Bar hesitated, "I'm not... entirely sure but I think she at least likes me?"

His best friend laughed and Bar instantly glared at the nerd.

Fucker.

"You're so goddamn oblivious that it hurts," Law said. Bar narrowed his eyes further.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Oblivious means not aware of or—"

"I know what the definition of oblivious is, smartass." Bar said, anger spiking. "I meant, why'd you call me that."

"Ah, should've been more specific," Law said that and then nothing else, seeming to want to piss Bar off.

The brute grounds his teeth together, glaring venomously at Law and Culpa, seeing the look, turns to smartass and hisses— which in turn makes Bar snicker while Law's jaw dropped.

"Your... Your cat just fucking hissed at me!"

"I know," Bar smirked. "He hates stupidity."

"Then why— oh, you bastard," Law said, rolling his eyes. "I ain't stupid, fuckhead, I'm not even silly. Gus, on the other hand—"

"What about me?" Gus suddenly asked, head popping into the living room making both of his best friends jump.

"Fuck!" Law gasped. Bar remained rigid from surprise but silent. "How the hell do you always just pop out like that?"

"Magic," Gus answered, grinning.

"It's not magic," Law argued. "You're just sneaky."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's magic. Y'know, teleporting beans?" Then Gus frowns, momentarily unsure. "Or was it potatoes?"

"It's beans," Law said and Bar nodded, both of them watching their best friend as he sits on the floor instead of on the couch next to Bar or Bar's favorite chair— always being scared of Culpa because the cat bit anyone that got too close to Bar. "And they don't even exist. You just have a light tread or something."

"For the last time you walnut, it's magic."

"No, idiot, it's the way you walk."

"Lies. Magic is the only thing that's real."

"Since when?"

"Since forever. Duh!"

"That's not even remotely correct!"

"It's factual."

"Here in reality," Law said. "It's not."

"Yes, it is!" Gus retaliated. "It's not reality!"

"Yes, it is!" The nerd argued.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Ha," Gus pointed his finger. "You agreed!"

"What?" Law gaped. "No, I didn't. You tricked me, you wanker!"

"Stop fucking fighting," Bar growled, brain hurting from the constant back and forth.

"We're not fighting," Law scoffed. "We're having a debate-like discussion about reality."

"We are so fighting," Gus corrects.

"Creative discussion," Law argues.

"Fight!"

"Discussion!"

"Fight!"

"Discussion!"

Clementine giggles while entering the room, instantly interrupting the tension, "Are, are you really fighting a-about whether or n-not you're fighting?"

"Uh..." Law blinked, a light blush coming onto his cheeks in embarrassment. "No?"

"Pfft, don't listen to him, Potato Queen," Gus said, looking up at Clementine. "He speaks nonsense."

"Okay, babygirl, don't listen to either of those fuckers, they're both knuckleheads." Bar said, patting his lap. "Come here, Culpa and I are better than those two."

"If that little monster wasn't a cat," Law said. "I'd be very insulted."

"Good." Bar said. "But you should be insulted anyways, bitchass."

"Queeny." Gus whines. "Your guy is being mean to me!"

"Snitch." Bar said when the little goddess gave him a scolding look. "Fight your own fights."

"But she's the only one who stands a chance against you, isn't that right, OJ?" Law switched sides, now helping out Gus.

"Yep!" Clementine giggled. "I-I'll easily win aga-against Oly."

The little goddess gingerly sat down on Bar's lap while his best friends laughed, trying not to agitate Culpa.

She let the cat sniff her hand slightly to get a sense of who she was even after petting and getting familiar with him for a little under a month now.

Culpa accepted the familiarity that Clementine brought and didn't protest her nearness to his owner besides an odd flick on his tail.

"So, Bar," Law said, a half-smirk on his lips. "She'll win, eh?"

"Depends on the game." Bar easily replied.

"Drink games? Football? Dance off?" Gus asked, reminding them all of the impending party. "Body shots?"

"I don't drink, ergo, she'd win." Bar said, jaw clenching.

Bar didn't drink. He never wanted to drink. He didn't want to know what it felt like to be drunk and annoyed; he didn't want to crawl inside his father's shoes and walk around in them.

Bar was always angry but he also had common sense and a moral code.

Given that his code was a little skewed and sometimes dodgy in regards to egotistical males— the ones he wanted to punch in the face.

And he didn't need any outside influence clouding his judgment.

Bar didn't need to be any more like his dad than Bar thought he already was.

His father is abusive, and because of that Bar has some uncharastical side effects that leak into his behaviors.

Abuse is such a strange thing. No one knows what it's like until they experience it themselves.

Abuse is an obsolete word.

In its five letters, it cannot contain the mere pain someone underwent nor the magnitude in which they felt while being abused.

Abuse is not a touchy-feely, descriptive word. It is a word that if you were in a car and ran right into it, your car wouldn't even be dented. It's not deep or meaningful; it's made of pain and so often the pain that someone feels isn't tangible— and it follows them like a ghost for the rest of their life.

Bar thinks abuse is a piss poor way of describing it.

"Right," Law frowns and Bar sees the anger in his eyes.

Both of his best friends absolutely despised his father and sometimes Bar thought they hated Talmai more than he did.

Which was saying something.

Without warning, Gus jabbed Law in his cheek and when the nerd missed slapping his hand away, the best friends jumped up, both trying to grab each other in holds.

Both of them, feigning anger and swearing at the top of their top, start their next fight.

Culpa slinks away, disturbed by the overwhelming volume, to find a quiet corner to hide in.

Bar snaps at them not to break anything and they punch each other, dragging themselves into the kitchen to get away from the brute and Clementine.

Both of Law and Gus knew that if they ended up hitting Clementine by accident due to one of their play fights, Bar would have their heads on sticks and their dicks chopped off by the end of the day.

They'd be brutally murdered, basically.

Crashes and vulgarity follow the two boys around the apartment like gum that won't unstick from someone's shoe.

"Am I-I missing something, Oly?" Clementine asked, shifting on his lap and instantly catching Bar's attention. "Auggie and Ren are, are both a-angry."

"We've all had some bad experiences around dumbass drunks," Bar simplified his pain. "Me more than them. They're just mad on my behave."

"Oh, o-okay," She nods, giggling when Gus waves at her. "Are you, are you sure you want to go to t-the party then?"

"Fuck yes, I'm not having you go alone." Bar said, knowing he'd go crazy if he was at his apartment doing nothing while she was surrounded by horny teens and potentially dangerous outcomes.

Bar was a horny teen too but he respected women and their unspoken boundaries and knew what the word consent meant and entailed.

He had to be there to make sure that Clementine was safe, that nothing would hurt her.

Bar was sure she could protect herself— her scarred knuckles can only be earned by fighting, boxing, or punching things hard enough that you get busted knuckles, so he knew that the little goddess could throw at least a decent punch.

But to him, that didn't matter.

Bar didn't want her to be in any danger, ever. His instincts would go haywire along with his thoughts if Clementine got hurt.

"What i-if you get bad anxiety or h-have a panic attack?" The little goddess asked with wide eyes.

"Please don't worry about me, babygirl." Bar said, hand rubbing circles into Clementine's exposed thigh. "I know how to handle myself around alcohol and how to handle other people being drunk."

As long as that person wasn't his dad.

"Are y-you sure you'll be, be okay?" The little goddess leaned into him, worry encasing her minty eyes.

"Yes, I am." Bar said before making a  compromise, "But since I know that beautiful mind of yours will be a worrywart, let's settle on this: if I feel uncomfortable or like I'm about to have an attack, I'll let you know so we can leave. Fair?"

"Fair."

"Good." Bar nuzzles her body closer to his making the little goddess release tiny giggles.

"Y-you're adorable," Clementine told him. "You're hunched over m-me like an overprotective h-house-cat."

Which was true, Bar had positioned the both of them so his body was hovering slightly over her, like how a Cat does when it's protecting their young.

"Somewhere in here, Culpa was just offended." Bar said instead of arguing over whether or not he was adorable.

Not that Bar agreed with what she said, but he knew that he was overprotective.

He just wasn't any form of attractive or cute or adorable— although many, many people, girls in particular, disagreed— nor was he a cat.

"H-he'll be fine," Clementine reassured. "You're my kitty."

"Kitties bite."

That was the only warning Bar gave before nipping at Clementine's jaw, which makes her squeak.

In seconds, her freckles were hidden away by a flush.

"B-bad kitty!"

Bar smirked, "I can be even worse, if you'd like."

Clementine gave him a pout but whatever complaint she had resting on the tip of her tongue was swallowed down as three rather clumsy knocked came from Bar's door.

Bar looked to Clementine with an eyebrow raised. "Those your friends, babygirl?"

"I-I think so." The little goddess nodded.

"Do you know if Fen ever apologized to Gus?"

"Yes!" The goof shouted from the kitchen before resuming the fight. "Fuck- ow, stop it you—"

"Both of you," Bar began to speak with a raised voice, tone dripping with authority and he noticed how the fighting instantly stopped and even Clementine froze. "Stop playing around and get your ass in here, please."

Both of his best friends walked into the room with wrinkled clothes, messed up hair, and at least one fresh bruise— also looking like they just had a quickie in a back ally— and disgusted looks on their faces, though Gus looked like he was having trouble not smiling.

"Ew," Law said, lips pulled down. "Why are you being nice? Shit, you even said please. The hell?"

"I actually use my goddamn manners when I'm with my babygirl but if you hate it so much let me repeat that." Bar spat out. "Hey dick-faces, stop fucking fighting before I beat your asses black and blue making us late to the party. One of you open the door and let the other fuckers in. Now."

"That's more like the crouch we fucking know and love." Law quipped, slapping Gus on the back before moving towards the door. "That was much better."

"Yeah, okay," Bar glared at Law. "Fuck you."

Law's only reply was his deep laughter rolling through the apartment.

Bar could hear the door being opened and then Eli's hello mixing with Law's and Fen's following a second later.

Then, Law shouted out, "Who's ready to get shit-faced and wasted?"

"Babygirl," Bar said, making eye contact with Clementine. "Is there any chance we can leave them to go to the party and have one of our own?"

"Nope." She smiles at him and Bar sighs, even if seeing her smile made him unexplainably happy.

"Damn." Bar groans.

And, just like that, they were on their way to Bar's personal hell.