i don't really want to be here

The air felt thick with Ruìsāng’s discontent as he halted his car sharply in front of the building. A deep sigh escaped him, almost in unison with the Vulpix and Mawile slipping eagerly through the open door.

Muttering under his breath, words lost in a blend of frustration and resignation, he raked a hand through his dishevelled hair. The strands, unbrushed and untamed, sprawled out in wild disarray like a crow’s nest defiantly resisting any order. There was no time, nor care, to tame it into a ponytail.

He quickly realised that Vince’s hair was probably in worse disarray, and how he’d love to make that worse, still. That thought, however, dissolved quickly into the sea of his current predicament — Kaye’s needless drama. The mere thought twisted his features into a grimace, yet here he was, unavoidably entangled in it.

His attention snapped back to the present as he double-checked his phone, its screen casting a dim glow in the early morning light. He pushed against the front door, which yielded easily — unlocked. “Nice and safe,” he muttered sarcastically, the words dripping with irony. He filed away a mental note that they ought to do something about that in case of intruders, before he himself intruded.

With a purposeful stride, he navigated to the right apartment. His finger jabbed the doorbell, not once but seven times, a staccato rhythm echoing his mounting impatience. Arms crossed over his chest, he stood there, waiting.

There she stood, materialising from the shadows like an unwelcome thought — Kaye’s latest fling.

Ah.

Oh no.

A visceral reaction clawed at Ruìsāng, his nose scrunching as if trying to physically ward off the distaste that washed over him at the sight of the redhead. The echoes of their mutual complaints reverberated in his mind, painting his expression with unfiltered repugnance. He stared at her, silent and brooding, the air between them heavy with his silent judgement. A few agonising seconds passed before the reminder hit him — words, he needed words to expedite this intolerable encounter.

“Your taste in women is awful,” Ruìsāng declared, his voice slicing through the tension. The bluntness of his statement was deliberate, a clear reflection of his current disdain. Whether his words landed or not was irrelevant to him; this wasn’t a time for niceties or banter. His mind was elsewhere, yearning for the solace of his own space, where a certain pretty prince awaited, eager to dive into explorations of... particular interests.

“Give me the Pokéball, now.” His demand was sharp, a clear command laced with an urgency to escape.

The incident with Djodie was never meant to escalate to an outright threat by taking his Pokémon — not initially, anyway. Ruìsāng's decision to bring his Pokémon along stemmed from a deep-seated lack of trust. Leaving the Vulpix and Lìeyàn back at home with Vince? Out of the question. Lìeyàn, especially, was a tempestuous spirit; she was manageable, yes, but only under his direct influence. Her potential for aggression in his absence was a risk he wasn't willing to take. And Hēixié? Trusting her was akin to playing with fire — literally.

But Ruìsāng was no fool; he recognised an opportunity when he saw one. He wouldn’t shy away from using his Pokémon if the situation called for it. It wasn’t as though he couldn't reduce the girl to a whimpering mess with nothing but a piercing gaze, so why resort to such extremes? Physical harm was a last resort, reserved only for those who tested his patience beyond the twelve-minute mark — his absolute limit.

As luck would have it, Djodie capitulated, albeit with a simmering annoyance evident in her eyes. Ruìsāng seized the Pokéball from her grip, already pivoting away, his mind set on departure. “Don’t make this happen again,” he called out, a casual hand raised in a nonchalant farewell. He didn't bother to glance back.

He was done here, thoroughly and unequivocally.