Chapter Text
It becomes their thing. During the day, they act the same as they always have, and Apple is heartlessly cruel with a loving smile on her face. When they click the door shut behind them at night, they find one another’s lips in a fluttering kiss that keeps them both up. The dark circles beneath Raven’s eyes should have a pair in Apple, but she uses a bright enough concealer to look normal. No one wonders why Apple is a bit more quiet and withdrawn. It’s no wonder she is, they whisper, Raven stole her chance at her happily ever after. Everyone wonders why Raven is losing sleep. She’s evil, they whisper, she should love to be ruining Apple’s life.
There are some nights, admittedly, when Apple pulls back and Raven thinks it’s over. Her brilliant blue stare is so cold that it might just put Raven out of her misery for good. It doesn’t last (it never does) and Raven scoots back on her bed frame so she can sit upright even as Apple straddles her. Her subdued enjoyment of their little exchange grows something upon itself, a little bitter resentment on the shoulder of being content. Perhaps it stems from the fact that Apple doesn’t want to spend any time away from Raven.
“I don’t get it, Ray, why won’t you eat lunch with us?”
If she weren’t up the whole night without a wink of sleep–hell, she was even late to her spellcraft class because Apple refused to give her any room to breathe–Raven might have had the energy to scoff at such a stupid question. But she doesn’t, so she spends the full three seconds that it takes for the words to register just standing there, staring and blinking like a fool.
“I dunno, Apple, why don’t you tell me?” There’s a rasp and some venom behind the words, but it doesn’t tip anyone off. The snark in her comments could be chalked up to being evil, in some vague description of the word. She means to imply the sleepless nights, resignedly seating Apple in her lap. She always set her legs in the same direction like a lady riding a horse, because Fairy Godmother forbid she lose her reputation. Raven tiredly wonders what kind of reputation she wants to maintain with her face pressed against her supposed nemesis’. Blondie would certainly have a time with that story posting it all over the scrolls far and wide. With a widening of her eyes, she shakes the mean thoughts from her head, as if remembering all at once that she’s standing in the middle of the castleteria with a tray full of some spiraling fries. It’s about all she can stomach anymore.
“C’mon, everyone knows I forgive you–that is, as long as you tell Headmaster Grimm you’ll sign your page.” Apple smiles so sickeningly sweet and honey-coated, as if she isn’t lying through her teeth. As if Raven’s tongue hasn’t been between those teeth, tasing the words ‘I hate you’ between the strike of midnight and noon. All her royal friends turn to Raven, as if to reluctantly agree. There’s a seat open anyway. The singular fry Raven managed down from the food line to Apple’s table threatens an appearance as Apple takes a bite from her namesake–bright red and bursting at the seams with juice. She watches with bated breath as the translucent liquid drips from Apple’s perfectly manicured hands down to her elbow. There was no poison in it, no. That stayed perfectly contained in her eyes.
“I think I’m fine, princess. Enjoy your…” The sentence trails off behind Raven like her dress, leaving the air around the royals sour and ruined. There’s a respite waiting for her off on the far side of the vaulted room. Hunter saved her a spot at their usual table, but Raven has grown accustomed to Apple’s gaze, flinching when she turns around to spot the girl with a pout on her face. It’s almost ridiculous for her to feel upset, to feel at all sad at Raven for not sitting with them. She could stand there for ever after trying to find where she gets the right to do that, but she doesn’t want to do that. She wants to nap. And eat.
After Raven chokes down a fry–that now tastes like sawdust–she tries hard to shake the feeling of eyes on her. The slightly chemical taste of the orange juice doesn’t help either. Hunter keeps waving his hand to get her attention, to ask if she’s okay, but she brushes him off. Somehow, she convinces him she’s just stressed and dumps her food on his tray before wandering out into the hall. She just needs a moment alone. It seems like there isn’t any time anymore for Raven to be by herself. Usually, she’s letting Apple bite her lip a little harder than strictly necessary.
The empty corridor is a gentle reprieve from the poison-green feeling of Apple looking at her. Being around her is suffocating, but there is no other option.
No, Raven tells herself, closing her eyes and finding solace in a small niche between the walls and the door to a classroom. She’s entirely hidden. This is not about Apple. For once, think about something else.
So, Raven leans her head back and thinks about nothing. She stares at the almost black color of her eyelids, relishing in the slight movement of light where she traces her vision. It’s close to a night sky, she muses, drifting off in her own small peaceful place. It’s not comfortable, not by any means, but she can’t find sleep with Apple’s legs around her middle.
Her peace doesn’t last long, and wouldn’t you know it–Apple’s at fault again.
“Raven, I noticed you running off. Are you doing okay?” Apple’s porcelain white hand rests on the corner of the wall.
“There’s no one else around. You don’t have to pretend.” At the very least, Apple has the courtesy to sober up and drop the act. Much like every other attempt from Raven to sleep, it’s stopped by kissing. This one shocks Raven, much more than even the first one. Apple is supposed to be obsessed with Daring Charming, the kissing is nothing more than…well, Raven isn’t really sure what purpose it serves, but it happens and–
The sound of footsteps pulls Apple back, who straightens up and wipes a smudge of red lipstick off her chin. Raven belatedly follows suit, rubbing the red all along the inside of her shirt. Apple talks to whomever it may be. Raven can’t be bothered to pay attention. She can’t get the bitter taste out of her mouth, or blink the sleep from her eyes. Certainly, now, she has less of a clue why this is happening at all.