So I wrote a thing (Cain/Yvette)
That coffee shop AU I’ve been thinking about since December is still alive, though slow to develop. I have a title. I wrote something — the only something — and it’s Cain/Yvette 0rz
The crowds leap in frenzy; ecstatic cries for the winning team. Yvette surges with them as she rides the heady liveliness of the stadium. So contagious the joy of the audience that Yvette, high on the victory of her school, turns on her left and grabs the face of the guy next to her, and smacks her lips to his.
At this point there are three (3) things you should know about Yvette:
- Yvette is an A-student.
- She hates people.
- She has neither kissed nor been kissed ever in her entire life.
Going by these facts about Miss Yvette Sinclair, we can hypothesise a few things about the present situation:
- She’s lost her mind.
- She’s possessed by an ectoplasmic entity that maintains a predilection for initiating intimate physical contact towards strangers.
- That combination of brewed coffee with Turbo shot and Jagermeister last night must’ve been a mistake, a delayed yet intense reaction culminating into this precise moment.
- The excitement of the crowds latched onto her nerves and hence this. Or:
- She’s lost her mind.
When she breaks the kiss, she’s still smiling, victory lingering on her lips. But that proves to be short-lived as reality crawls up to her like a venomous snake slithering towards its prey, loosening its jaw to devour her. And bit by bit the curves of her smile pull downwards, an inevitable realisation.
Meanwhile, the recipient of her misplaced affections stands frozen, caught off-centre. But he proves to be the more adjusted one as the expression of surprise morphs into a saucy smirk, accompanied by an emphatic once-over.
“Well,” the guy says, and Yvette shatters.
As if scalded, she snaps her hands off and sputters, skin burning red as though fried by the look. “Oh, god,” Yvette says, with feeling, and covers her face in an attempt to erase her existence. “Oh, god.”
And, because the world is that merciful to her and wishes her a life full of rainbows and unicorns and eternal damnation in the form of abject embarrassment, the guy smiles further, one elegant eyebrow raised.
Now this is the part where it should sink to Yvette one little detail about This Guy:
He is, honest to god, fucking gorgeous.
I was debating the merits of turning this into an AU comic instead of a fic but dropped it because I wouldn’t be able to start on that, and I wouldn’t have the same freedom of style as I have in prose.
That’s a first draft; to continue or not to continue?