ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏ ғᴏʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 🗡 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ || ᴜɴᴄᴏɴsᴄɪᴏᴜs x ᴋᴇɪᴛʜ ʟᴏɢᴀɴ⁽ⁿˢᶠʷ⁾

[Keith Logan]

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𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 · · ───── ⋅ ───── · ·​

⠀SYNOPSIS⠀ ⠀CHARACTERS⠀ ⠀CHAPTER I⠀ Two individuals with a warped sense of love. She is supposed to hate him. Instead, every pain drew her closer and closer. The name of the game is to push boundaries after boundaries, no matter the consequence. Will their insanity know no end, even though somebody is bound to get hurt? *Character sheet.​ Themes: Consensual Non-Consensual, Dark Romance, Excessive Debauchery, Obsession, Frenzied & Mindless Passion.

 

[Unconscious]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You awoke feeling so profound, bliss and devastation share hallowed ground." ‎⋅‎ ‎──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────── ⋅​ In the past, Cleo was next to nothing. Literally - most people looked past her; she wasn't very outgoing, only talked to those who spoke to her first, kept to herself, was a teacher's pet… and she was a prime victim for bullies. For a highschooler to admit out loud that she was bullied is basically a death sentence, but everyone knew it. Poor little freshman Cleo Alexandre, within her first week of starting high school, was bullied. For an entire year she did everything she could to keep out of his way for as long as she possibly could - she hid away in various classrooms during lunch, slid into groups during P.E. so no one could single her out, seating herself in the back of the class at first and then the front, hoping that either one would at least make tyrannizing her a boring task. But no. Nothing she did ever worked out the way she hoped and, in fact, only made her life worse. That was her existence. At least for that first year. Her tormentor soon departed - graduated and off to college - by the time she entered her sophomore year, and from there onward, Cleo was determined not to let anyone treat her as horribly as Leeroy Fredericks ever again. It certainly helped that the poor girl filled out significantly. With her newfound freedom via the head honcho's absence, she did everything right - extracurriculars, clubs, socializing up to and including the occasional party, studying until her nose bled - you name it. Honestly, Cleo was certain that she was picked on both because she was new blood, and because she, being so small and childish as a little freshman, was a genuinely easy target. She wasn't able to defend herself, and almost always cried because of it. Regardless of those hardships, she worked hard and graduated as Salutatorian. Second place in the entire school. It was almost as if that first year of suffering was just a bad dream. It felt so good to walk across that stage and it felt even better when she was accepted into West Shores University. What didn't feel good was the fact that she only just got accepted. Timewise, of course. She ended up applying late and thus she couldn't choose her dorm. Well… she could… but from a regretfully limited pool. It wound up being in an… old building. A kind understatement, surely. No, absolutely. 'Renovated for accommodations' she'd been told. That both felt and looked like a lie. A two-story building constructed with orange bricks that were more recently stained into a soiled brown with a solid and heavy front door, a surprisingly white veranda overhanging said front door and shared bathrooms. Cleo was assured that it would only be herself and another student - but it looked… well… gross, for lack of a better term. Dragging her oversized baggage behind her, Cleo did, in fact, struggle to push open the doors with one hand. Yep - Stairway in the middle of the building with something of a study room on the left and a snack zone with a student kitchen on the right. The inside certainly looked better - though it smelled like her Grandparent's house. That...faint dusty scent. It was too early for her to feel homesick - she just got there. As she dragged her luggage up the stairs, the smell faded, and she was greeted by an open hall and a separated alcove with two doors leading to both the men and women's respective shower rooms via typical white swinging door. God, she hoped the other student living there was a girl. She hated carrying her clothes with her to the bathroom. With how few students were going to be residing there in the building, she was sure it didn't really matter if she picked a room that was different than the number on her dorm assignment papers, but she was still, after all these years, afraid of getting in trouble. Glancing down at the sheet of paper given to her by the administrative office, she turned left down the hall, glancing up once or twice - even on the left side of the hall, odd on the right. 212. Cleo gave herself a quick shake, ruffling her dark hair and letting her feet shuffle as she stopped in front of the door. Her door. Her room. All to herself. Barely able to hold in the squeal that nearly left her, she swept forward, twisting the browned knob and pushing the door open. It was surprisingly quiet as it swung open. Two twin sized beds on either side of the room centered by two large paned windows, and two waist high lightwood desks, shelves atop them, at the end of both beds. All furniture was mirrored to their counterparts. set for two occupants instead of one. Not for long. Cleo grinned and kicked her suitcase to the side into the room. It wasn't as cramped as she thought, and there were no rules against rearranging the room as long as she didn't have a roommate by the time classes started in the next week. She was excited for her newfound freedom, excited to make friends, to study - maybe even party. That is… if anyone invited freshmen to their parties. Regardless, this new life was rife full of opportunities and new experiences. She was ready for it. ‎⋅‎ ‎──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────── ⋅​

 

[Keith Logan]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "I crave the darkness in you, for it is where I feel most alive." ‎⋅‎ ‎──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────── ⋅​ Twenty two year old Leeroy Fredericks had gone through three full college cycles, now entering into his fourth and final that year. Through it all, he had been through ups and downs - with the latter mostly self-inflicted. Being the only child in his family, he had been smothered and drowned with familial affection. Born with a silver spoon, his parents were quick to spoil him with the material things, often inflating his ego in the way his two highly successful parents were themselves, used to and adored busking under the limelight that was shone upon them by those beneath, whilst holding a certain disdain to the same people that propelled them - the spirit of elitism ran in the Fredericks household. Unfortunately for many, it was hard to fault Leeroy for being the jerk that he was. The boy was blessed with an abundance of right genes - witty, humorous, extremely intelligent, good looking and possessed a mouth watering physique that didn't require a lot of work nor dieting to maintain. The only standout issue with him, was perhaps his lack of emotional quotient. To a certain significant extent, his upbringing was to be blamed. He had been brought up to believe that he was superior to many. And with that attitude, came an unparalleled degree of arrogance and self-entitlement. Being praised and recognised for his talents became a conditioned and eventually vital norm to him. He was able to get that from his parents. Outside of his home however, people were less inclined to indulge him, simply because none of them owed it to him to be constantly feeding his ego - because, unlike his parents, friends and strangers had no good reason to do so. As such, he found himself dissatisfied with the less than desired degrees of attention he was getting from his peers. At first, he was upset. Then it turned into resentment. His ego convinced him that people were simply jealous of him. It did not help to quell his delusion, that a sizable number of girls were happy to throw themselves at him and pander to his desires, simply because he possessed the money and access to the finer things few could afford. His 'closest' guy friends hung out with him, either because they knew he was the guy who could rent them a yacht or a villa for the weekend, or that they were one of the few that thought just like him. Birds of the same feathers, flock together. He had his share of fun with a number of messed up female counterparts of his, chasing all things superficial. But they always ended up as either shallow one night stands, if not at most, developed into superficial relationships that were built on motives, rather than anything sincere. He did find out over time, that in order to fill that void of subpar relationship and emotional satisfaction that was lacking in his social life, he could do so by putting himself on the pedestal above his peers. He turned to bullying. It made him feel powerful, and in control of something that for the longest time, he could simply not grasp nor understood why people weren't showing him the same sort of adoration that his parents had did to him for his entire life. Individuals like Cleo turned out to be very satisfying preys for him, because they did not know how to stand up for themselves. He found it highly amusing that he was able to draw the strongest of reactions out of Cleo and her likes, at the same time, do not have the courage nor strength to stand up or retaliate against him. They were literal living punching bags. Sadistic as it might sound, Leeroy found pleasure in bringing his victims to tears. Those cries brought about comforting respite to the hurt and damaged soul in him, that had been painfully yearning for unrequited approval from the people around him for the longest time. Years of social ostracising had taken a considerable psychological toll on him. His inability to find himself a group of people genuine nor likeminded enough to share a student accommodation with him during his final year, summed up his tragic state of affair. Leeroy was resigned and somewhat numbed to the idea that he was going to be living in his corridor alone, a corridor that belonged to a building of derelict state. Students often avoided that accommodation like plague. That thought was short lived. The following day, just right before the beginning of fresher's week, he heard the sounds of footsteps thudding, intermixed with wheels dragging against the parquet floor along the corridor. Immediately, his attention peaked and steered towards the source of the commotion. A social prospect within such close proximity to him for the rest of the year sounded like figurative cocaine. Naturally, his curiosity had him halting his mindless doom scrolling of his social media, gave him the impetus to get up to his feet to exit his room in time to greet this new arrival, whoever he or she might be. When he stepped out of his room, 213, he saw the leg frame of what was unmistakably, a girl, entering into her room, which was just right next to his. He quietly threaded his way over to her door, which was still left wide open, then stood by her doorway and looked in. His jaw actually dropped. The new arrival? Her face was all too familiar despite not having seen her in years. She certainly looked more refined and blossomed since the last time he saw her. Her poise seemed more confident as well. Yet, he could still recognise a certain frailty and vulnerability through her demureness. She was none other than Cleo Alexandre. It took a moment for Leeroy to register the wild coincidence, that it was reality, before he found himself able to suppress his initial shock and spoke. "Oh. My. Lord." "What are the chances. Cleo Fucking Alexandre." Almost instantly, a grin emerged from his face. He nimbly knocked the door to her room shut with the back of his heel, then walked over to her supposed study desk, hopped on it, and settled by the edge with his feet slightly lifted from the ground, dangling in the air. "Girl, I missed you." "We have got a lot to catch up on." "Look at you knowing how to doll yourself up better now. Guess your pet name scarecrow is no longer relevant." Leeroy referred to the days he used to call her out for her frazzled hair. ‎⋅‎ ‎──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────── ⋅​

 

[Unconscious]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ "You awoke feeling so profound, bliss and devastation share hallowed ground." ‎⋅‎ ‎──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────── ⋅​ "Oh. My. Lord." Yanked out of her delighted little daydream of how she was going to decorate the dorm; the beds to be moved together in the center of the room, desks together to make an “L” shape for her laptop and sound software, maybe some paintings or posters, an adjustable clothing rack with shelves… she was going to be living there for at least a full year, so she’d have to make it as close to home as possible. But…Cleo’s reverie was broken by an all-too-familiar voice and the sound of her door banging shut. The one voice that, for the longest time, tormented the poor girl even in her sleep. She whipped around, a shock of fear skipping over her heart and sputtering down into her stomach, heating her body and suddenly sending her heartbeat into overdrive. It felt like her fingertips were vibrating with the adrenaline coursing through her. "What are the chances. Cleo Fucking Alexandre." "Girl, I missed you." That once inexorable grin that split her features evaporated when her gaze firmly locked on the very figure haunting her room - her desk - that she never thought she’d see again. Eyes wide for a split moment, they soon narrowed and a scowl curled her lips downward into a frown. "We have got a lot to catch up on." and then "Look at you knowing how to doll yourself up better now. Guess your pet name scarecrow is no longer relevant." A pet name, he called it. The initial wave of learned fear that very nearly made her nauseous had flipped, blooming harshly into hostility and indignation with his words. The worst year of her life was replaying vividly in her mind’s eye; hiding in the bathroom to get away from the constant verbal abuse from those little mutts of his that were always in the wait, barking at her heels; ducking her head whenever she passed in the hallway in an attempt to keep anyone from noticing her; begging the school nurse to let her eat lunch in the infirmary; and the worst - lying to her grandparents, her only guardians, in an attempt to stay home from school. Cleo hadn’t had to hide from anyone anymore when he left, nor did she try, and by everything holy, she wasn’t going to do that again. She was sick of it. All of the work she put in to become more confident in herself was not going to go down the drain. Not if she could help it. “Leeroy,” She started, arms crossing as her head tilted to the side. “Can’t say I missed you. You’re still as much of an asshole as always. I’m surprised you didn’t get arrested for harassment by now.” Cleo stomped towards the door, intent on opening it and promptly kicking him out. “Because the Lord knows you didn’t change from the stuck-up little jerk you were in high school.” Her hand closed around the doorknob, and she pulled it open in a single swift motion, standing to the side and sending an amber glare at Leeroy as she motioned with her free hand for him to leave. Even just being a rooms distance from him was making her chest itch with anxiety. “Now kindly fuck off. If you want to talk to me, you can do it outside of my room. My room. Get out.” She ignored, as best she could, the scarecrow comment. That wasn’t something that really hurt her, but it followed her until his friends graduated as well. At least, until her reputation cleared. Eventually they had gone from bullying, to flirting, and she had to admit… it made her feel good, at least having that bit of power over them. She was pretty. That much Cleo couldn’t deny, and she was stylish in a simple way. Never too much skin, always color coordinated, shades complimenting her skin tone, and just a touch of makeup. That much was necessary to prevent…mishaps. Cleo waited for him to leave, gaze firmly planted on his form and her once free hand shoved into her cardigan pocket, clutching the phone within in a death grip. She was obviously on edge, clearly uncomfortable, angry, nervous - but he would have to try hard to get her to cry. It wouldn’t be as easy as in the past; she wasn’t ready to fight back, but she was going to if she had to. Gone were the days of picking gum out of her hair, of being called scarecrow because of the damage it did, trailing after someone like a little pet, of hiding herself away. “Well? Go.” ‎⋅‎ ‎──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────── ⋅​