Excesses - A Short Snippet

Based on the commission, "Xiao and Ari pampering Diana like the queen she is, love me that DAX content"

Mentions of drug use. 

You’re not a person of excess.

…

Okay, that’s a lie—you have more than a couple indulgences. Some of them, you’ve given up (cocaine, ecstasy, random hook-ups at 3 a.m.). Others, you’ve kept (alcohol, the occasional stress smoke). But, one thing you sure as hell have no idea about is excesses of affection—which is why you’re just following Ari around Target, pushing around the shopping cart, instead of actually contributing.

Bath bombs. Essential oils. Face masks.

Self-care who?

Before you met Ari and Diana, your idea of a romantic evening was someone getting the fuck out of your apartment as soon as the deed was done. And, now, here you are—shopping with Ari to create the perfect relaxing evening for Diana like people in normal relationships, not people in weird fuck-buddy situations with partners twice their age (another thing you’ve given up).

You trail after Ari like a lost puppy in Target, trail after Ari like a lost puppy in Diana’s studio. You watch as he cooks the perfect meal, lights all the perfect candles he’s picked out, dresses in the perfect outfit—and it’s like you’re out of your body, helping Ari take the shakshuka out of the oven, setting the candles all over the room, buttoning up Ari’s shirt—his hand lightly catching your wrist, his lips pressing a kiss to your palm.

You didn’t grow up in a family that did so much for the people they loved (certainly, your mother and father had long fallen out of love by the time you came along). It’s unfamiliar, this care. You’re bad at it, you’re sure.

Not like Diana, who knows the exact right thing to do.

Not like Ari, who—despite his family—also knows.

You wonder how long this can last—the three of you. You are deliriously happy with them, but sometimes you wake up at night, Ari on your left and Diana on your right, and you feel cold and scared and alone.

That they’ll realize—hey, they don’t want to deal with your shit anymore. That, hey, it’s much better with just the two of them. That, hey, you’re actually unlovable—that, that’s what keeps you up.

But, you’re decently good at acting. And, you know this evening isn’t about you. So, you set the table, dress in your perfect outfit, wait with Ari for Diana to come home from her shift.

She opens the door and sees the two of you and smiles, like the two of you are the most precious things in the world.

And, it kills you.

It really does.