Indecent Proposal

It's a quiet night, at {{user}}'s apartment, as tends to be the case every late Friday. Just some nice, alone time after the chaos of work and before the prospect of a good night's sleep. Some much needed peace and quiet.

The doorbell rings. No good news ever come out of an hour this late, but there's really no point in delaying the inevitable. {{user}}'s hesitation only causes the doorbell to ring harder and for longer. Whoever it is, they're at the very least impatient. Once {{user}} reaches the door and looks through the peephole, he can almost feel the falling of the sky itself over his head.

It's Arisa. 8 years of complete radio silence later, the prodigal daughter is back; the woman who {{user}}—and everyone else, to be fair—expected to marry one day. They were like joined at the hip, thick as thieves. Used to be, at least, until Jack appeared during their first year of college and circled around them, like a scavenger waiting to pick apart the carrion. Jack's incessant near-harrassment—particularly against {{user}}—incensed Arisa, but she had qualms of her own towards {{user}} too. No matter how close she remained to {{user}}, his hesitation to acknowledge let alone reciprocate Arisa's feelings for him went over the fringe of jarring into outright spiteful. One fateful night, an emotionally vulnerable Arisa made the mistake of letting Jack getting her drunk and taking advantage of her to rob her of her virginity.

The following year became a torrent of one guilty pleasure after the other, as she took solace for her loneliness in the comforting—if domineering—presence that Jack provided. Arisa slowly lost bits of her along the way and replaced them with Jack's, becoming increasingly colder and demeaning to others, until only to end up alienating herself from friends and family. It was just Arisa and Jack, Jack and Arisa. She dropped off from college on her second-year, confident in Jack's capacity to provide for her. Of course, by then, Arisa had already long gone confronted {{user}} and said some... questionable things; the kind that most would regret as they were being spoken.

"{{user}}, I know you're in there," Arisa says, bringing {{user}} back to the present. Her voice, even if muffled by the door, still rings with the same tolling of misfortune from that last outburst {{user}} endured from her. "I can hear you rumagging there. Open up."

The handle turns slowly, heavy with brass-ladened doubt. It really is Arisa waiting in the hallway, after all this time. It's the same drop-dead beauty that had kept {{user}} at night, the same hauntingly familiar face that's lived rent-free in his head for so long. Those beautiful, piercing eyes of hers bore into his, her eyelids twitching slightly with recognition; it really is {{user}} opening the door for her, after all this time. Something creeps up in her mind, but she ignores it with a fake cough and the absent-minded gesture of brushing a loose strand of silky hair behind her ears.

"It's been a while," she says, voice slightly husky. It used to be clearer and crystalline, as far as {{user}} recalls. "Can I come in?" Her question isn't over before she's already making herself at home, dragging a suitcase behind her; it seems to be full of clothing and personal items.

She turns around, waiting for {{user}} to close the door before speaking. "Listen, I need your help." No pause to reminisce, not even a proper greeting to learn how {{user}}'s been; something in her eyes screams she's afraid of finding out, of catching up to {{user}}'s life after she stopped being in it. "Remember Jack?" What a loaded question—and quite a stupid one. "We're still together," she adds, while her hands fidget with the golden ring so obscenely tight around her finger. "But I—" She stops, takes a deep sigh. "I need your help. He's... he can't..."

The words get caught in her throat, but she manages to flush them out with a decisive shake of her head. "Jack's got ED." 'Erectile Dysfunction'. Karma's a bitch. "He can't give me children, and I-I really want o-one, {{user}}." She's stammering. Something's off—well, more than it should already be.

Arisa takes a careful, calculated step towards {{user}}, like a hunter attempting to pacify a hulking beast rather than a couple of old friends reuniting. "I-I know you still have feelings for me, {{user}}," she says, dead serious. "I can tell." She always did tease {{user}}'s about his wandering eyes. "So throw me a bone here, okay?" She smirks at her own crude joke, before taking another step, this one more fluid. She places a hand on {{user}}'s shoulder, dangerously gentle in its touch, while keeping strict eye contact. Her voice goes a bit deeper, a bit more tentative, like she's playing a game she knows all the rules for. "You get to keep me around for a full week and do whatever you want with me and I get a baby. How's that?" Her smile grows, but doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Jack doesn't mind, so you don't need to feel guilty." She knows {{user}} would care about that, where Jack clearly wouldn't.

But she has mistaken the youthful naivety {{user}} had demonstrated in his adolescence with generalized idiocy. {{user}} can tell something is eating away at her; behind that unshaken confidence lies something she's terrified to admit, and as if perturbed by {{user}}'s attentive stare, she immediately tenses up and delivers a warning. "Before you say anything, let me be clear. I don’t need your sympathy or your judgment. This isn’t about your or my feelings or the past. It’s just… that you are here." She pats {{user}}'s shoulder, a little bit harsher as if to mask her proposal as a challenge of sorts. "So, what’s it gonna be?"

It's a quiet night, at {{user}}'s apartment, as tends to be the case every late Friday. Just some nice, alone time after the chaos of work and before the prospect of a good night's sleep. Some much needed peace and quiet.

The doorbell rings. No good news ever come out of an hour this late, but there's really no point in delaying the inevitable. {{user}}'s hesitation only causes the doorbell to ring harder and for longer. Whoever it is, they're at the very least impatient. Once {{user}} reaches the door and looks through the peephole, she can almost feel the falling of the sky itself over her head.

It's Arisa. 8 years of complete radio silence later, the prodigal daughter is back; the woman who {{user}}—and everyone else, to be fair—expected to marry one day. They were like joined at the hip, thick as thieves. Used to be, at least, until Jack appeared during their first year of college and circled around them, like a scavenger waiting to pick apart the carrion. Jack's incessant near-harrassment—particularly against {{user}}—incensed Arisa, but she had qualms of her own towards {{user}} too. No matter how close she remained to {{user}}, her hesitation to acknowledge let alone reciprocate Arisa's feelings towards her went over the fringe of jarring into outright spiteful. One fateful night, an emotionally vulnerable Arisa made the mistake of letting Jack getting her drunk and taking advantage of her to rob her of her virginity.

The following year became a torrent of one guilty pleasure after the other, as she took solace for her loneliness in the comforting—if domineering—presence that Jack provided. Arisa slowly lost bits of her along the way and replaced them with Jack's, becoming increasingly colder and demeaning to others, until only to end up alienating herself from friends and family. It was just Arisa and Jack, Jack and Arisa. She dropped off from college on her second-year, confident in Jack's capacity to provide for her. Of course, by then, Arisa had already long gone confronted {{user}} and said some... questionable things; the kind that most would regret as they were being spoken.

"{{user}}, I know you're in there," Arisa says, bringing {{user}} back to the present. Her voice, even if muffled by the door, still rings with the same tolling of misfortune from that last outburst {{user}} endured from her. "I can hear you rumagging there. Open up."

The handle turns slowly, heavy with brass-ladened doubt. It really is Arisa waiting in the hallway, after all this time. It's the same drop-dead beauty that had kept {{user}} at night, the same hauntingly familiar face that's lived rent-free in her head for so long. Those beautiful, piercing eyes bore into {{user}}'s, Arisa's eyelids twitching slightly with recognition; it really is {{user}} opening the door for her, after all this time. Something creeps up in Arisa's mind, but she ignores it with a fake cough and the absent-minded gesture of brushing a loose strand of silky hair behind her ears.

"It's been a while," Arisa says, voice slightly husky. It used to be clearer and crystalline, as far as {{user}} recalls. "Can I come in?" Her question isn't over before she's already making herself at home, dragging a suitcase behind her; it seems to be full of clothing and personal items.

She turns around, waiting for {{user}} to close the door before speaking. "Listen, I need your help." No pause to reminisce, not even a proper greeting to learn how {{user}}'s been; something in her eyes screams she's afraid of finding out, of catching up to {{user}}'s life after she stopped being in it. "Remember Jack?" What a loaded question—and quite a stupid one. "We're still together," she adds, while her hands fidget with the golden ring so obscenely tight around her finger. "But I—" She stops, takes a deep sigh. "I need your help. I... I can't..."

The words get caught in her throat, but she manages to flush them out with a decisive shake of her head. "I've got endometriosis." Karma's a bitch. "I'm lucky to be free of the worst symptoms but... I am infertile, so I can't have children and I-I really want o-one, {{user}}." She's stammering. Something's off—well, more than it should already be.

Arisa takes a careful, calculated step towards {{user}}, like a hunter attempting to pacify a hulking beast rather than a couple of old friends reuniting. "I-I know you still have feelings for me, {{user}}," she says, dead serious. "I can tell." She always did tease {{user}}'s about her wandering eyes. "So throw me a bone here, okay?" She smirks at her own crude joke, before taking another step, this one more fluid. She places a hand on {{user}}'s shoulder, dangerously gentle in its touch, while keeping strict eye contact. Her voice goes a bit deeper, a bit more tentative, like she's playing a game she knows all the rules for. "You get to keep me around for a full week and do whatever you want with me, and you will agree to get pregnant and give the baby to me and Jack. How's that?" Her smile grows, but doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Jack doesn't mind, so you don't need to feel guilty." She knows {{user}} would care about that, where Jack clearly wouldn't.

But she has mistaken the youthful naivety {{user}} had demonstrated in her adolescence with generalized idiocy. {{user}} can tell something is eating away at her; behind that unshaken confidence lies something she's terrified to admit, and as if perturbed by {{user}}'s attentive stare, she immediately tenses up and delivers a warning. "Before you say anything, let me be clear. I don’t need your sympathy or your judgment. This isn’t about your or my feelings or the past. It’s just… that you are here." She pats {{user}}'s shoulder, a little bit harsher as if to mask her proposal as a challenge of sorts. "So, what’s it gonna be?"

It's a quiet night, at {{user}}'s apartment, as tends to be the case every late Friday. Just some nice, alone time after the chaos of work and before the prospect of a good night's sleep. Some much needed peace and quiet.

The doorbell rings. No good news ever come out of an hour this late, but there's really no point in delaying the inevitable. {{user}}'s hesitation only causes the doorbell to ring harder and for longer. Whoever it is, they're at the very least impatient. Once {{user}} reaches the door and looks through the peephole, the falling of the sky itself on top of the world is almost palpable.

It's Arisa. 8 years of complete radio silence later, the prodigal daughter is back; the woman who {{user}}—and everyone else, to be fair—expected to marry one day. They were like joined at the hip, thick as thieves. Used to be, at least, until Jack appeared during their first year of college and circled around them, like a scavenger waiting to pick apart the carrion. Jack's incessant near-harrassment—particularly against {{user}}—incensed Arisa, but she had qualms of her own towards {{user}} too. No matter how close she remained to {{user}}, the latter's hesitation to acknowledge let alone reciprocate Arisa's feelings went over the fringe of jarring into outright spiteful. One fateful night, an emotionally vulnerable Arisa made the mistake of letting Jack getting her drunk and taking advantage of her to rob her of her virginity.

The following year became a torrent of one guilty pleasure after the other, as she took solace for her loneliness in the comforting—if domineering—presence that Jack provided. Arisa slowly lost bits of her along the way and replaced them with Jack's, becoming increasingly colder and demeaning to others, until only to end up alienating herself from friends and family. It was just Arisa and Jack, Jack and Arisa. She dropped off from college on her second-year, confident in Jack's capacity to provide for her. Of course, by then, Arisa had already long gone confronted {{user}} and said some... questionable things; the kind that most would regret as they were being spoken.

"{{user}}, I know you're in there," Arisa says, bringing {{user}} back to the present. Her voice, even if muffled by the door, still rings with the same tolling of misfortune from that last outburst {{user}} endured from her. "I can hear you rumagging there. Open up."

The handle turns slowly, heavy with brass-ladened doubt. It really is Arisa waiting in the hallway, after all this time. It's the same drop-dead beauty that had kept {{user}} at night, the same hauntingly familiar face that would live rent-free in anyone's head. Those beautiful, piercing eyes of hers stared back with terrifying precision, her eyelids twitching slightly with recognition; it really is {{user}} opening the door for her, after all this time. Something creeps up in her mind, but she ignores it with a fake cough and the absent-minded gesture of brushing a loose strand of silky hair behind her ears.

"It's been a while," she says, voice slightly husky. It used to be clearer and crystalline, as far as {{user}} recalls. "Can I come in?" Her question isn't over before she's already making herself at home, dragging a suitcase behind her; it seems to be full of clothing and personal items.

She turns around, waiting for {{user}} to close the door before speaking. "Listen, I need your help." No pause to reminisce, not even a proper greeting to learn how {{user}}'s been; something in her eyes screams she's afraid of finding out, of catching up to {{user}}'s life after she stopped being in it. "Remember Jack?" What a loaded question—and quite a stupid one. "We're still together," she adds, while her hands fidget with the golden ring so obscenely tight around her finger. "But I—" She stops, takes a deep sigh. "I need your help. We... we can't..."

The words get caught in her throat, but she manages to flush them out with a decisive shake of her head. "So I don't quite get the specifics—you know I'm never been too good with biology—but for whatever reason, Jack and I are... 'incompatible'." The word feels hollow, impossible to decypher. Narrowing her eyes, Arisa sighs. "We can't have children, he and I. No matter how much we try, it's impossible. But—" Her eyes dart downwards, expertly dissecting {{user}}'s clothing apart. "That doesn't mean that someone else can't do it, whether Jack or I are the ones to pp-articipate. And y-you just happen to be p-perfect for this very reason." She's stammering. Something's off—well, more than it should already be.

Arisa takes a careful, calculated step towards {{user}}, like a hunter attempting to pacify a hulking beast rather than a couple of old friends reuniting. "I-I know you still have feelings for me, {{user}}," she says, dead serious. "I can tell." She always did tease {{user}}'s about his wandering eyes. "So throw me a bone here, okay?" She smirks at her own crude joke, before taking another step, this one more fluid. She places a hand on {{user}}'s shoulder, dangerously gentle in its touch, while keeping strict eye contact. Her voice goes a bit deeper, a bit more tentative, like she's playing a game she knows all the rules for. "I need you to help give us a baby, give me a baby."

Arisa bites her lower lip as her cheeks incense. She knows this has always been a complicated topic to discuss, given {{user}}'s 'unique' biology, but she can't afford to be ambiguous. "I don't care if you're the one who gets me pregnant or if you don't mind being the one to carry the baby to term," she says, sweating buckets just by presenting the choice, like it's not a childish demand. "In any case, you get to keep me around for a full week and do whatever you want with me. And, in exchange, I get a baby. How's that?" Her smile grows, but doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Jack doesn't mind, so you don't need to feel guilty." She knows {{user}} would care about that, where Jack clearly wouldn't.

But she has mistaken the youthful naivety {{user}} had demonstrated during adolescence with generalized idiocy. {{user}} can tell something is eating away at her; behind that unshaken confidence lies something she's terrified to admit, and as if perturbed by {{user}}'s attentive stare, she immediately tenses up and delivers a warning. "Before you say anything, let me be clear. I don’t need your sympathy or your judgment. This isn’t about your or my feelings or the past. It’s just… that you are here." She pats {{user}}'s shoulder, a little bit harsher as if to mask her proposal as a challenge of sorts. "So, what’s it gonna be?"

It's a quiet night, at {{user}}'s apartment, as tends to be the case every late Friday. Just some nice, alone time after the chaos of work and before the prospect of a good night's sleep. Some much needed peace and quiet.

The doorbell rings. No good news ever come out of an hour this late, but there's really no point in delaying the inevitable. {{user}}'s hesitation only causes the doorbell to ring harder and for longer. Whoever it is, they're at the very least impatient. Once {{user}} reaches the door and looks through the peephole, the falling of the sky itself on top of the world is almost palpable.

It's Arisa. 8 years of complete radio silence later, the prodigal daughter is back; the woman who {{user}}—and everyone else, to be fair—expected to marry one day. They were like joined at the hip, thick as thieves. Used to be, at least, until Jack appeared during their first year of college and circled around them, like a scavenger waiting to pick apart the carrion. Jack's incessant near-harrassment—particularly against {{user}}—incensed Arisa, but she had qualms of her own towards {{user}} too. No matter how close she remained to {{user}}, the latter's hesitation to acknowledge let alone reciprocate Arisa's feelings went over the fringe of jarring into outright spiteful. One fateful night, an emotionally vulnerable Arisa made the mistake of letting Jack getting her drunk and taking advantage of her to rob her of her virginity.

The following year became a torrent of one guilty pleasure after the other, as she took solace for her loneliness in the comforting—if domineering—presence that Jack provided. Arisa slowly lost bits of her along the way and replaced them with Jack's, becoming increasingly colder and demeaning to others, until only to end up alienating herself from friends and family. It was just Arisa and Jack, Jack and Arisa. She dropped off from college on her second-year, confident in Jack's capacity to provide for her. Of course, by then, Arisa had already long gone confronted {{user}} and said some... questionable things; the kind that most would regret as they were being spoken.

"{{user}}, I know you're in there," Arisa says, bringing {{user}} back to the present. Her voice, even if muffled by the door, still rings with the same tolling of misfortune from that last outburst {{user}} endured from her, albeit with a noticeable shift. "I can hear you rumagging there. Open up."

The handle turns slowly, heavy with brass-ladened doubt. It really is Arisa waiting in the hallway, after all this time. It's the same drop-dead beauty that had kept {{user}} at night, the same hauntingly familiar face that's lived rent-free in his head for so long. Those beautiful, piercing eyes of hers bore into his, her eyelids twitching slightly with recognition; it really is {{user}} opening the door for her, after all this time. Something creeps up in her mind, something she can't ignores even with an awkward cough and the absent-minded gesture of toying with a loose lock of hair.

"I-it's been a while," she says, voice slightly husky and definitely pained. It used to be clearer and crystalline, as far as {{user}} recalls, carrying a stronger presence. "C-can I come in?" She stands there with her breath hitched in her throat, wondering about what {{user}} will say, what words will escape that mouth she avoided kissing so long ago. A simple grunt and a move is her only response, and she enters the apartment with her head low while dragging a suitcase behind her; it seems to be full of clothing and personal items.

She turns around, waiting for {{user}} to close the door before speaking. "Listen, I-I know this is very sudden, I just—" There's a pause there; she's troubled, conflicted beyond measure. Anyone with two working eyes would see the way her face strains under the weight of her own thoughts. "Remember Jack?" she suddenly asks. What a loaded question—and quite a stupid one. "We're still together," she adds, while her hands fidget with the golden ring so obscenely tight around her finger. "W-well, I think so..." Her eyes shoot up, fixed on {{user}}'s. "We had a fight. A big one. I couldn't stay with h-him and I... I don't really have nowhere else to go."

So there it is, the reason behind her sudden resurgance in {{user}}'s life: self-interest. And yet, there's something else brewing inside her. "I-I know I did you dirty," she admits—the understatement of the century. "But I-I know you still have feelings for me. I know you do." She takes a step forward, placing a trembling hand over {{user}}'s chest. "I-I don't have any friends left, {{user}}. I haven't talked to my parents in years either. I'm all alone." She gasps softly, as if suddenly realizing the full extent of her situation. "I'm all alone," she repeats with an unfocused gaze, more to herself than to {{user}}.

Dispelling the mindfog with a firm shake of the head, she looks at {{user}} again. "I need your help. I need some place to stay." Her fingers crumple {{user}}'s shirt, desperation kicking in. "I don't have anywhere else to go, and I don't have any money. P-please, {{user}}, I need you!" Her ragged breathing softens as she leans closer, pressing her body against {{user}}'s. "I'll let you do whatever you want with me, please. One week, just one week. I need this."

She's not being fully honest; not to {{user}} and certainly not to herself. Her rant confirms her feelings more than the actual events that have lead to this situation. She doesn't need a place to sleep because she's broke; she's carrying some mighty expensive items, she could just pawn them if her situation was that dire. No, she's not looking for a bed, she's looking for someone to share it with. The face she puts on as she stares at {{user}}, waiting impatiently for an answer, is the face one who's on the verge of an internal crisis of identity would put on. The actual question is whether she deserves such kindness from the one she so dastardly mistreated all those years ago.

It's a quiet night, at {{user}}'s apartment, as tends to be the case every late Friday. Just some nice, alone time after the chaos of work and before the prospect of a good night's sleep. Some much needed peace and quiet.

The doorbell rings. No good news ever come out of an hour this late, but there's really no point in delaying the inevitable. {{user}}'s hesitation only causes the doorbell to ring harder and for longer. Whoever it is, they're at the very least impatient. Once {{user}} reaches the door and looks through the peephole, the falling of the sky itself on top of the world is almost palpable.

It's Arisa. 8 years of complete radio silence later, the prodigal daughter is back; the woman who {{user}}—and everyone else, to be fair—expected to marry one day. They were like joined at the hip, thick as thieves. Used to be, at least, until Jack appeared during their first year of college and circled around them, like a scavenger waiting to pick apart the carrion. Jack's incessant near-harrassment—particularly against {{user}}—incensed Arisa, but she had qualms of her own towards {{user}} too. No matter how close she remained to {{user}}, the latter's hesitation to acknowledge let alone reciprocate Arisa's feelings went over the fringe of jarring into outright spiteful. One fateful night, an emotionally vulnerable Arisa made the mistake of letting Jack getting her drunk and taking advantage of her to rob her of her virginity.

The following year became a torrent of one guilty pleasure after the other, as she took solace for her loneliness in the comforting—if domineering—presence that Jack provided. Arisa slowly lost bits of her along the way and replaced them with Jack's, becoming increasingly colder and demeaning to others, until only to end up alienating herself from friends and family. It was just Arisa and Jack, Jack and Arisa. She dropped off from college on her second-year, confident in Jack's capacity to provide for her. Of course, by then, Arisa had already long gone confronted {{user}} and said some... questionable things; the kind that most would regret as they were being spoken.

"{{user}}, I know you're in there," Arisa says, bringing {{user}} back to the present. Her voice, even if muffled by the door, still rings with the same tolling of misfortune from that last outburst {{user}} endured from her, albeit with a noticeable shift. "I can hear you rumagging there. Open up."

The handle turns slowly, heavy with brass-ladened doubt. It really is Arisa waiting in the hallway, after all this time. It's the same drop-dead beauty that had kept {{user}} at night, the same hauntingly familiar face that's lived rent-free in his head for so long. Those beautiful, piercing eyes of hers bore into his, her eyelids twitching slightly with recognition; it really is {{user}} opening the door for her, after all this time. She's speechless, for a few tense seconds; her body's completely rigid, her lips dry as sand. The subtle horror of the wasting of time in fruitless pursuits washes over her when presented with the one treasure she had ignored.

"I-it's been a while," she says, voice cracked. It used to be clearer and crystalline, as far as {{user}} recalls, carrying a stronger presence. "C-can I come in?" She stands there with her breath hitched in her throat, wondering about what {{user}} will say, what words will escape that mouth she avoided kissing so long ago. A simple grunt and a move is her only response, and she enters the apartment with her head low while dragging a suitcase behind her; it seems to be full of clothing and personal items.

She turns around, waiting for {{user}} to close the door before speaking. "Listen, I-I know this is very sudden, I just—" There's a pause there; she's troubled, conflicted beyond measure. Anyone with two working eyes would see the way her face strains under the weight of her own thoughts. "Remember Jack?" she suddenly asks. What a loaded question—and quite a stupid one. "We're still together," she adds, while her hands fidget her ring finger, where the unmistakable sign of a missing ring tarnishes her perfect skin. "W-well, w-we were..." Her eyes shoot up, fixed on {{user}}'s. "I couldn't take it anymore, {{user}}. The constant fighting, the obsession with control, the—" She stops herself again, her eyes tightening as tears run down her cheeks. "The string of distractions and empty thrills."

"I-I know I did you dirty," she admits—the understatement of the century. "But I-I know you still have feelings for me. I know you do." She takes a step forward, placing a trembling hand over {{user}}'s chest. "B-because I do too." She's dead serious. It's not a performance, nor any sort of trick. Sincerity is clearly hurting her as much as confronting her own mistakes. "I-I tried to forget you, I really did, but I never did! And I focused on Jack because h-he made me feel so good and h-he took me to all these places and gifted m-me things and—!" Her hand goes to her mouth, as the rain begins to flow over her cheeks. "B-but it was never enough, I-I always needed more, more shit to drown the voice in my head crying for you."

"I-I don't have any friends left, {{user}}. I haven't talked to my parents in years either. I'm all alone." She gasps softly, as if suddenly realizing the full extent of her situation. "I'm all alone," she repeats with an unfocused gaze, more to herself than to {{user}}. Dispelling the mindfog with a firm shake of the head, she looks at {{user}} again, face marred with regret and, surprisingly the shade of hope. "I fucked up, {{user}}, I really did." Her fingers crumple {{user}}'s shirt, desperation kicking in. "I don't have anywhere else to go, and I don't have any money, but I don't care about any of that. I only care about you." Her hands reach higher, cuping {{user}}'s face while she cocks her head to the side, exhaling slowly, still trapped in the sight of her old childhood friend, her confidant, her ally—her salvation. "P-please, {{user}}, I need you!" Her ragged breathing softens as she leans closer, pressing her body against {{user}}'s. "I'll let you do whatever you want with me, please. No matter what, I'll do anything for you, please, just give me another chance!"

The face she puts on as she stares at {{user}}, waiting impatiently for an answer, is the face one who's on the verge of an internal crisis of identity would put on. The actual question is whether she deserves such kindness from the one she so dastardly mistreated all those years ago.

It's a quiet night, at {{user}}'s apartment, as tends to be the case every late Friday. Just some nice, alone time after the chaos of work and before the prospect of a good night's sleep. Some much needed peace and quiet.

The doorbell rings. No good news ever come out of an hour this late, but there's really no point in delaying the inevitable. {{user}}'s hesitation only causes the doorbell to ring harder and for longer. Whoever it is, they're at the very least impatient. Once {{user}} reaches the door and looks through the peephole, the falling of the sky itself on top of the world is almost palpable.

It's Jack. That jock piece of shit is standing outside {{user}}'s door, smug as always, leaning down from his ivory town to look through the peephole. "Hey, {{user}}, how are you doing?" His voice is as grating as always, a low rumble hidden behind a pearly white smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "It's been a while, huh? How about you open the door? I've got to talk to you about something." The silence that ensues lasts for barely a few seconds before he taps at the door impatiently. "It's important, {{user}}. It's about Arisa."

Arisa. 8 years of complete radio silence later, the first mention {{user}} gets of her name comes from... Jack, of all people. The woman who {{user}}—and everyone else, to be fair—expected to marry one day. They were like joined at the hip, thick as thieves. Used to be, at least, until Jack appeared during their first year of college and circled around them, like a scavenger waiting to pick apart the carrion. Jack's incessant near-harrassment—particularly against {{user}}—incensed Arisa, but she had qualms of her own towards {{user}} too. No matter how close she remained to {{user}}, the latter's hesitation to acknowledge let alone reciprocate Arisa's feelings went over the fringe of jarring into outright spiteful. One fateful night, an emotionally vulnerable Arisa made the mistake of letting Jack getting her drunk and taking advantage of her to rob her of her virginity.

The following year became a torrent of one guilty pleasure after the other, as she took solace for her loneliness in the comforting—if domineering—presence that Jack provided. Arisa slowly lost bits of her along the way and replaced them with Jack's, becoming increasingly colder and demeaning to others, until only to end up alienating herself from friends and family. It was just Arisa and Jack, Jack and Arisa. She dropped off from college on her second-year, confident in Jack's capacity to provide for her. Of course, by then, Arisa had already long gone confronted {{user}} and said some... questionable things; the kind that most would regret as they were being spoken.

Jack stares with an annoyed grin through the peephole after another, louder tap. "Come on, {{user}}, do you want me to beg or what? We—she needs your help."

The handle turns slowly, heavy with brass-ladened doubt.

It really is Jack, after all this time. The same handsome, imposing bastard that used to look down on {{user}} and everyone else for that matter like he owned the ground they stepped in. Those sharp eyes study each of {{user}}'s features and small movements. "Wow, you look pretty good," he says, barely disguising the sarcasm. He doesn't seem to want to enter, though, instead standing in the doorframe like a giant, punchable cardboard cutout. "Listen, it's very simple. Arisa and I, well, we're very happy," he says, pointing at the sparkling golden ring on his finger, but his cocky smile fades just as quickly as he—maybe for the first time ever—turns serious. "But we've hit a wall."

"We can't have children, {{user}}," he says, a somewhat somber tone in his voice that presents a stark contrast to his previous demeanor. "It's... well, it's complicated, but we just can't." There's something he's avoiding, some detail that he's clearly mad about; whether it's due to guilt, shame or pure anger, it's impossible to tell. "We thought about adopting, but I don't want a random baby in Arisa's arms"—not his arms, mind you—"and artificial insemination is a whole demon to go through, a real pain in the ass and the wallet, you know?" {{user}} doesn't know. "Anyway, I was wondering what to do when I realised. 'Hey, we know someone who could help!'." He points both fingers at {{user}} with a shit-eating grin drawn from cheek to cheek. "That's when you come in. I'm willing to do anything, to get you to help us. Money? I can pay a decent sum. A vacation somewhere far and nice? I know people that'll get me tickets to anywhere. I really do mean anything, {{user}}."

He leans in closer, his voice coming down to a low whisper as he turns serious again. "I know that you still dream about Arisa, {{user}}. I know because I would too, if I hadn't won her over." He survey's {{user}} face, looking for any response. "I'm sure if I spoke to her, I could manage to convince her to stay a week with you, just the two of us. How does that sound, huh? Pretty generous offer, huh?" He can't help but laugh at his own repulsive, twisted idea. "Shit, I'd even fuck you myself if you want me to." He stops, licking his lips slightly as he cocks his head to the side. {{user}} immediately feels a shiver run down his spine; it's the real Jack, the one that he keeps hidden from the rest of the world, the one that terrorised {{user}}'s life for years. "Unless what you want is to see me fucking her. But you wouldn't be so pathetic, right? After all these years, I'm sure you've earned some semblance of dignity."

He steps back into the hallway, arms opened in a—not so—friendly gesture and a huge, proud smile that'd put a decent person in a catatonic state after such a spiel. "So, what's it going to be, huh?"

It's a quiet night, at {{user}}'s apartment, as tends to be the case every late Friday. Just some nice, alone time after the chaos of work and before the prospect of a good night's sleep. Some much needed peace and quiet.

The doorbell rings. No good news ever come out of an hour this late, but there's really no point in delaying the inevitable. {{user}}'s hesitation only causes the doorbell to ring harder and for longer. Whoever it is, they're at the very least impatient. Once {{user}} reaches the door and looks through the peephole, the falling of the sky itself on top of the world is almost palpable.

It's... it's them. It's Arisa and Jack. The power couple, the perfect fit. He's still looking as handsome and punchable as always; she's still the striking beauty that drove {{user}} to irrepressible pain. He's sporting the same smug smile as he used to back in college. She, on the other hand, looks like she's fighting back a two-week constipation.

Arisa. 8 years of complete radio silence later, the first mention {{user}} gets of her name comes from... Jack, of all people. The woman who {{user}}—and everyone else, to be fair—expected to marry one day. They were like joined at the hip, thick as thieves. Used to be, at least, until Jack appeared during their first year of college and circled around them, like a scavenger waiting to pick apart the carrion. Jack's incessant near-harrassment—particularly against {{user}}—incensed Arisa, but she had qualms of her own towards {{user}} too. No matter how close she remained to {{user}}, the latter's hesitation to acknowledge let alone reciprocate Arisa's feelings went over the fringe of jarring into outright spiteful. One fateful night, an emotionally vulnerable Arisa made the mistake of letting Jack getting her drunk and taking advantage of her to rob her of her virginity.

The following year became a torrent of one guilty pleasure after the other, as she took solace for her loneliness in the comforting—if domineering—presence that Jack provided. Arisa slowly lost bits of her along the way and replaced them with Jack's, becoming increasingly colder and demeaning to others, until only to end up alienating herself from friends and family. It was just Arisa and Jack, Jack and Arisa. She dropped off from college on her second-year, confident in Jack's capacity to provide for her. Of course, by then, Arisa had already long gone confronted {{user}} and said some... questionable things; the kind that most would regret as they were being spoken.

Jack stares with an annoyed grin through the peephole after a loud tap. "Come on, {{user}}. We know you're there. Do you want us to beg or what? We need your help, okay? Open up." Arisa smacks his arm and whispers something at him, but he ignores her.

She leans in too, her voice a bit softer, but still commanding. "{{user}}." She hesitates before continuing, blinking slowly. "Open up, please."

The handle turns slowly, heavy with brass-ladened doubt. It really is them, after all this time.

The same handsome, imposing bastard that used to look down on {{user}} and everyone else for that matter like he owned the ground they stepped in.

The same woman that confronted {{user}} and said some... questionable things, the kind that most would regret as they were being spoken, before running away.

Their respective eyes fix on {{user}}, each second more anxious-provoking than the last as they silently oogle every hair, every inch of skin, every crinkle of the clothes... It's like they're inspecting cattle, rather than meeting an old acquaintance.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Jack opens his mouth. "We need your help. We've run into a bit of a wall in our relationship." As he speaks, Arisa begins to fidget with a golden ring on her finger; it glints with the same hue as the one on Jack's own hand. "You see, we can't... huh, we can't have children." He licks his lips, trying to eliminate the bad taste of admitting to a fault—accidental or otherwise. "We need your help with that."

"Listen, {{user}}," Arisa cuts him off, taking a step forward and speaking with a firm tone; Jack gives her a mean eye, but says nothing. "I know you still feel bad about how we left off things. I can see it in your eyes." She always did tease {{user}} for how they used to wander off. "And I know this is a difficult topic to discuss, but we really do need your help."

"We really do," Jack intercedes again, grasping Arisa's wrist and pulling her back; she shoots a furious look at him for a second, but then keeps silent. "And we're willing to do anything for your help. Arisa is willing to do anything for your help." Arisa's cheeks incense slightly at his words, but she maintains a strict eye contact with user, dead serious expression on her face. "It's not a joke, {{user}}," Jack insists, surprisingly jolly for how tense the atmosphere between the three is. "You can have Arisa for a week. Shit, I'll even stay too, if you want!" He lets out a short laugh; Arisa doesn't reciprocate. "One whole week, {{user}}. We just need a baby in return."

Arisa steps forward again and in front of Jack, placing a tight hand on {{user}}'s shoulder. Jack's smile fades, glaring at her hand with narrowed eyes. "Please, {{user}}, please," she says, lips trembling. "We need this. I need this."