“So then I said to Varka, what’s the point of all this new gear if we don’t go looking for enemies to test it on? And everyone looked at me like I’m the crazy one!”

Lohen was pouting at you, his cheek held in one hand while the other drummed his fingers against your desk. You smiled at him, giving him an encouraging nod.

“I feel like no one really gets me,” he complained. “They’re all like, ‘Vice Captain Lohen’s a bloodthirsty monster’! I mean, they’re not entirely wrong, but I’ve got a head on my shoulders too!”

“Mm,” you answered, your eyes focused on those drumming fingers of his. “It sounds like they assumed you just wanted to fight.”

“Yeah! Which, I guess I do. But my idea was actually practical!”

Your hand slid across the surface of your desk. You watched Lohen’s face as you weaved your fingers through his, taking immediate notice of how wide his eyes turned. His drumming fingers immediately stopped, and with a sharp turn of his head, he gawked at your joined hands like he couldn’t believe it.

It didn’t take long for his cheeks to become consumed by a fiery red color. He lifted a gloved hand to his face, shifting his gaze away from you as he muttered, “I thought you said you wouldn’t do that in public anymore.”

You smiled fondly at him. “It’s empty in the library right now. If someone comes in, I’ll let you go.”

“The damage’s already done,” he said into his palm. “You’re gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack, Bun.”

“That’s a little dramatic,” you laughed. “The Vice Captain of the 5th Company can’t fall to his girlfriend’s hand. That would make a horrible epitaph.”

“…You’re my girlfriend,” he said, almost as though he was trying to convince himself of it.

“I’m your girlfriend,” you said. “Remember how you desensitized yourself to dandelions? We should desensitize you to my hand, too.”

Lohen’s eyes pressed shut. After a pause, he muttered, “I guess you’ve got a point.”

You squeezed his hand. The way Lohen’s shoulders jumped made you giggle.

“Quit that,” he complained. “You’re not making this any easier for me.”

“Oh? But I thought you liked a challenge, Lohen.”

He let his hand fall from his face, revealing a sardonic smirk. “Am I imagining things, or are you enjoying this?”

“I’m enjoying holding your hand,” you chirped. “But your cute reactions are definitely a plus.”

“Don’t call me cute,” he answered, the corner of his smirk twitching. “Once we’re outta here, I swear I’ll get you.”

“Get me?” You grinned. “Get me how, exactly?”

His face was still scarlet, but with a cocky smirk, he popped his eyebrows and murmured, "Wouldn't you like to know?”

You felt warmth touch your face. Giggling shyly, you squeezed his hand again, your heart skipping a beat in your chest. Lohen leaned across the desk, his face coming closer to yours, and when the tip of his nose brushed yours, you let out another uncontrollable giggle. You pressed your eyes shut, your wide smile hurting the corners of your mouth.

“You like me,” he crooned, “don’t you?”

You couldn’t stop laughing. Nodding at him, you said, “Of course I do.”

“Say it for me,” he murmured, his breath ghosting across your lips.

“I like you,” you replied, nursing his hand in yours. “I like you a lot, Lohen.”

He let out a laugh, the sound and feel of it tickling your cheeks. Quietly, he said, “I like you too, Bun.”

He kissed you so fast, by the time your eyes opened, he was already pulled away from you. His hand left yours, you instinctively reached after it, but Lohen had already stood to his feet with his back facing you. You could see the redness in his neck, and the peek of his smile from the slight turn of his head towards yours.

“I gotta get back to work,” he said casually. “Don’t leave without me, though. I’ll walk you home.”

You held your face in your hand, smiling fondly. “I’ll be waiting, then. Good luck, Vice Captain.”

He snorted. “Later, library girl.”

With a casual wave of his hand, the tall wooden door to the library closed behind him. Cupping your cheeks under your palms, you let out a pleased sigh.

“He’s so cute,” you whispered to yourself.

“Oh, your boyfriend’s gone now?”

When you heard Lisa’s voice, you let out a yelp. You whipped your head to your right, seeing the coy-eyed woman sauntering towards you with a knowing smile. Face smoldering, you sputtered, “L-Lisa! How long have you been here?!”

“About as long as the Vice Captain has,” she told you with a giggle. “I didn’t realize you liked flirting on the clock, cutie.”

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, your heart hammering in your ears. “I’ll get back to work.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Lisa shook her head, lifting her pointer finger to her lips. “I promise I won’t tell a single soul. Besides, it’s nice to see you look so happy about something.”

“O-okay,” you stammered. “Sorry. I’m getting back to work, I promise.”

“Hehe…it’s a shame the Vice Captain didn’t get to see you like this, cutie. Should I bring him back here?”

You closed your eyes. “Lisa, please stop.”

“Okay, okay. Here’s a few new books that need labeling. I’ve got some business to attend to, so I’ll be back later, okay?”

You nodded, accepting the stack of novels from your coworker with a small smile. When Lisa left, and you were alone in the library once again, you let out another lovesick sigh. Lohen’s red eyes consumed your thoughts, and the feel of his lips on yours had your cheeks flushing with warmth all over again.

“…I miss him already.”

does destiny exist?

it's hard to think so considering how your past relationships ended. honestly, you should get a participation award. you must've pissed somebody off in a past life to deserve this.

as an employee for a large international fashion brand that worked closely with sports, you've met many players throughout your time there. football players were your largest demographic.

you'd never been a huge football fan; you barely knew the game outside of "people kick balls and hands are a no no". but the players liked to talk, so you learned more about it through them. it was nice hearing about something people are so passionate about. football was life to these people. it was a refreshing change of pace. after all, your introduction to football wasn't the kindest.

it all started in japan when you were 11. your parents had booked a trip there and spent their time learning japanese and teaching you how to speak it as well. when you guys finally went, it was a lot of fun. your mom sucked at japanese, so your dad took over most of the talking while you got to stand there and look pretty (thank god, you didn't want to interact anyways).

at some point, you'd been given freedom to explore the nearby area. you were wandering around, forbidden from going too far, when you came across a boy your age practicing football. he had uniquely styled reddish brown hair with striking teal eyes, and a smaller and younger boy with the same eyes and dark green hair watched him with admiration.

you watched in fascination as well. his footwork was incredible. you'd never seen a football player up close, let alone one your age. so when you saw him, you were blown away. he noticed you quickly, and called you out for staring. that's where your relationship with sae itoshi began. he was your first love and your introduction to football. two years later, he moved to spain for a football academy.

neither of you ever said it out loud, but you both knew there was something there. he'd kissed you before he left for spain. you said you'd wait for him. you did, but you didn't realize a game could change someone so completely. sae unofficially broke up with you by 15 (unofficially, because you never dated). you should've expected that he'd do this eventually, he'd never asked you to be his, but it hurt so bad.

that same year, you had your internship with your current company. you'd been lucky to get it so early. you were immediately thrust into the life of interacting with foreign players, a job you loved. from there, you met bunny iglesias with his soft lavender hair with vibrant red eyes and a sideways cross shaped scar across his face. he was handsome, tall, and mysterious. so began your unraveling.

he'd spent all summer flirting with you. it was hard to resist a hot spainard being so openly interested in you, and it'd been forever since a guy showed interest in you. it was probably a bad idea to trip all over yourself after being so devastated by sae, but being a teenager was about dumb romantic decisions. bunny had the potential to be the one, right?

WRONG!!! LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER!!! BLARING SIREN WARNING!!!

not only did bunny iglesias lead you on, but after he got what he wanted from you, he GHOSTED you. what the fuck man? isn't spanish supposed to be the language of love??? bunny clearly did not get the memo, because a whore's love means nothing.

the worst part is that you should've seen it coming. bunny always hated happiness. he said it made him want to die. and despite your heartbreak with sae, you'd stayed full of joy and whimsy, something that bunny pointed out constantly. it should've been a compliment, but from a guy like bunny iglesias, your misery is what makes him smile.

but out of all of them, michael kaiser broke your heart the most. he was an upcoming star when you met him, someone who'd been scouted recently and was making a name for himself. you'd met him the same time you'd met bunny, but michael never made a move the way bunny did. and with bunny preoccuping your thoughts, michael didn't have much of a chance to start with.

you guys got closer as time went on. you texted frequently. you were friends before he confessed to liking you, and the two of you started dating. you supported his career the most, being genuinely happy and proud when he succeeded.

he was your first boyfriend. the first person to ever put a label on it and be serious about it. neither of you had experience, you were both awkward teens. your first date ended with you both being rained on, your first kiss was shy, your first time together was a massive trial and error. yet it never made your love falter. you fought everyday to make it work, and he learned to trust you with his feelings.

you guys worked until you didn't.

michael loved you dearly. you both knew that. but the issue was that he didn't think he deserved forever, and he knew you wanted forever. so he left before he promised you anything.

in a way it was mercy. he was letting you go, allowing you to move on and find somebody worthy. but it wasn't what either of you wanted. you cried, you argued, and you both said "i love you" before finally splitting up. his fear of messing it up made him dump you before he could make you hate him. nothing you said would've changed his mind.

michael moved on faster than you did. he started dating some model two years later, and that fact became public because she threw a fit when he dumped her. funny how none of the relationships after you lasted.

he'd become a player to the public, someone who couldn't make a relationship last a year, but you knew better. the michael in those relationships wasn't the michael you had, and for a while you'd haunt yourself with that knowledge, wondering if he'd ever come back.

would he realize he was wrong? was something you asked daily. at some point you gave up on that hope. he told you he was gone, and begged you to move on. he'd moved on, so it was time for you as well.

except you couldn't. after three failed romances, you'd convinced yourself you were unlovable. you kept their hearts warm until they discarded you for something they actually wanted. sae wanted his career, and he saw you as an obstacle in it. bunny wanted sex, and once he got it he left to go find another to seduce. michael wanted love, but didn't know how to receive everything that came with it and he ran away out of fear. every man that showed the slightest interest in you dipped.

you were soooo done with men. one more soul crushing breakup like michael and you'd never recover emotionally. the funny part about your exes is that all of them became part of new generation 11. ironic that you'd been involved with three of them. you met lorenzo and loki too, but they were just friends who treated you kindly and even suggested people you could date.

but one magical day, you met vivian hugo. someone who changed your life. it's an ordinary day that started with stress. some player was coming in for fitting adjustments because somebody in design fucked up his measurements, which meant more paperwork for you. you're annoyed since the week has already been rough with the english team complaining, the german team flying in (meaning you would have to avoid michael at all costs), the spanish team not liking their outfits, and now a french player having to be refitted by you because apparently no one else is competent.

you took a deep breath, resting your hand on the handle. you've got this. you're definitely not about to meet a scary player who will curse you out and maybe ruin your day. everything is fine. the french are friendly, right? with a dose of self-confidence, you pushed the door open.

football players are always so tall and muscular. yeah, that's the point of the sport, but it still freaks you out. especially since the man in front of you has burgundy hair with the most empty black eyes you've ever seen. he looked serious, but not unfriendly. he studied you carefully, eyes scanning you up and down. you couldn't tell if he was unimpressed, uninterested, or something else.

"um... hello." you said awkwardly.

"hello." he tilted his head. "are you here to fix my suit?"

"yes. we have to get the measurements done now so the tailor can fix it before your event tonight."

he paused, then nodded. "i apologize for the inconvenience."

"you're fine, its nothing to be sorry for. our design team messed up, so its our fault we have to rush." you held out a measuring tape. "extend your arm, please." he did as you asked. he was surprisingly obedient; most players argued or got impatient. he was silent the whole time, his abyss of eyes following you around as you moved.

"you're very beautiful." he blurted.

"oh." you paused, unsure of how to respond for a second. "thank you. i wasn't expecting that."

he hummed. another moment of silence before: "do you believe in destiny?"

you looked up from where you were measuring his legs. "what?"

"destiny. do you believe in it?"

"i'm... not sure i follow."

he pointed up at the ceiling, gazing up like he was looking at something beyond it. "every human is born with traits that make them suitable for something. that means they have a role to play and straying from this leads to unnecessary struggle."

"so we all have a path to follow?"

"precisely." he tilted his head again, "so do you believe in destiny? because i do. and i believe that destiny led us to meet today."

"...how?" you asked, nervously sorting a pile of books that didn't need to be sorting.

"isn't it obvious? we're fated to meet and fall in love."

you turned toward him slowly. "excuse me?"

"i'm in love with you."

"WHAT." you cleared your throat. "are you serious?"

"of course. why would i lie?"

"we don't even know each other."

"we can start. i'm vivian hugo. and you are?"

"i'm [full name]. nice to meet you as well. so like... why are you in love with me exactly?"

"you're pretty, kind, and competent. you are well-suited to the role you currently play and i admire that about humans. everybody should be more like that." vivian said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. "destiny has brought us together."

"right... well i'm all done now, and i will be off. cya, i guess?"

"can i have your number?" jesus, he was persistent.

"...fine. you may." full of suspicion and against your reasonable mind, you gave him your number. despite how cold he looked, he was surprisingly sweet. and determined. and also way more expressive and emotional than he seemed???

he had the most stoic face in the universe, but he beeped when he backed up like a car (who are you warning?? there is nobody behind you at the moment you're just walking backwards dude). once time he stuck his tongue out at you and said "bleh" so seriously you laughed. vivian had more of a personality than he seemed to. it showed with his passion for football, how frequently he talked about destiny, and his admiration for his teammates. he spoke about loki so highly you almost admired him too.

weirdly enough, vivian was content with being #2. instead of wanting to be the best in the world, he wanted to be #2 and control the whole playing field as a midfielder. it was a huge change of pace from the other players you'd met. it was like finding gold among pretty rocks.

he was still on with that "we're meant to be together, it came to me in a dream blah blah blah" stuff, but knowing more about him made you realize he was serious and not love-bombing. he genuinely believed you were somebody he was supposed to be with. you worried he might die if destiny failed him with how much pressure he puts on it.

vivian hugo was a passionate man. he slipped through your defenses when you least expected it and snuck his way over to your heart. still, the idea of falling for someone again was terrifying. what if he WAS love-bombing you? what if this was all a setup? you'd push him away sometimes just to see if he'd get tired and leave.

he didn't. he never did. which was annoying considering you wanted him to be evil so you had a reason to shut him out completely. his patience with you was infuriating as well. you'd snap at him, tell him to go away, say that you know he's faking it, and not speak to him for a bit. and he always came circling back like a damn boomerang. one time he mailed you flowers because you were mad at him for something stupid. another time he showed up at your door with chocolates and a teddy bear (which is insane considering he was supposed to be out of the country at the time).

"why do you do it?" you asked one day, curled up on the couch wrapped in warm blankets.

"do what?" vivian asked, stirring honey into freshly brewed tea because you were starting to get sick and he knew you liked your tea with honey.

"why do you stay?" it sounded silly but you had to get that weight off your chest. you had to know his motives.

he clinked the spoon against the cup to remove the extra liquid before placing it in the sink. he looked over at you. "because you're important to me."

"you didn't say i'm your destiny."

he frowned, "[name], i've said you're my destiny multiple times. it doesn't mean anything to you, so i opted for something different this time." he leaned forward, pulling up his sleeves to wash the dishes. "but look at us. i'm here, aren't i? i'm always here. i'm not leaving, not just because you are my destiny, but because i love you and i value you as a person."

tears welled up in your eyes. all you'd ever wanted was for someone to see and love you. "do you promise?"

"i do."

"do you pinky promise though?"

"of course."

you held up your pinky. "swear it."

a smile tugged at his lips as he mimicked your hand motion. "i swear."

"...can i have a kiss with that promise?"

"i thought you'd never ask." he came over, carefully bringing your tea with him. he set it down on the table carefully before leaning over and placing a soft kiss on your lips. it was warm and comforting, a silent vow of love and trust.

"thank you for choosing me." you murmured against his lips.

"i will choose you everyday for as long as you let me." you let yourself believe him. because vivian hugo was a man of his word, and he'd proven himself to you time and time again.

perhaps destiny was a real thing. either way, you're grateful that the universe brought him to you.

Nobody— absolutely nobody could've foresaw this outcome. Not even Hugo, who acutely understood the adjacent possible, could've possibly predicted this probability!

The irony of the situation really was the work of fate's quaint mockery, something that even Hugo himself didn't argue against.

Which was, to say the least, strange.

Besides the notion of Hugo having a crush being completely unbelievable, the fact that he didn't refute the teases of his teammates — not at all in denial like most would be with their feelings — that, might've been the strangest part of it all.

Just who could this mysterious being possibly be?

"Hey, Hugo?"

"Hm?"

The boy in question didn't so much as glance up from his book at the call of his name. Instead, he merely hummed in response, visibly preoccupied with whatever was written in the pages before him — a habit that came to be after their suspicions of his crush arose.

It's as if he physically couldn't put that book down!

"Do you— um," Renoir briefly cringed as he stumbled on his words, the embarrassment of actually voicing out his curiosity finally dawning upon him.

He cast a pitiful gaze to his teammates that had forced him up to the task, hoping they would be merciful even when he finished last in a childish round of 'turn around, touch the ground, bagsy not it'. But alas, their pointed looks of encouragement urged him to bite his tongue and steel his skyrocketing nerves.

"Doyouhaveatype?!"

"…."

That, promptly snapped Hugo out of the rose-tinted reverie he was living in. Had he heard that right or were all those maladaptive daydreams finally getting to him?

"I asked if you—"

"I heard." Hugo blinked, his lashes fluttering comically with disbelief as he processed the bullshit that just came out Renoir's mouth. So he did hear correctly after all.

"Oh… um, then— do you..?"

"….."

It seems he wasn't going to give up anytime soon, not with that hopeful glint in his eyes at least. Well, it certainly wouldn't hurt to entertain their curiosity… It's just a type, nothing more and nothing less. Just an ideal individual that he would be happy to be with— it really wasn't that big of a deal.

Heaving a deep sigh that had Renoir and the curious-eyed audience flinching momentarily, Hugo snapped his book shut and thought back on its plot — or more accurately — the female lead. A fictional being that he had taken a particular liking to.

"Someone who likes reading…"

Collective groans of disappointment were quick to fill the suspenseful air from before. Of course Hugo, the quiet guy with only disdainful things to say would have such a boring type.

"Around about this height." Standing up to his full height, he gestured to the approximate height he wished his ideal partner would be. A sight so unbelievably inconceivable from the usually reserved midfielder.

Oh?

Well, this was certainly new.

"Oh! And what else?" Charles, finding quaint interest in this topic, quickly hopped at the chance to take reigns of the amusing turn in conversation.

"Someone with this specific hair and eye colour." Proudly, he pointed to the specific colour he had — for some strange fucking reason — saved on his phone.

"Ideally someone who's got nose shaped like this—" he drew his ideal nose shape in the air and promptly began gesturing wildly to all the features he desired his type to have.

Hugo went on and on, and on.

The aloof boy was no more, not in the midst of listing out each and every detailed description of all his required traits and proportions.

They all knew he wasn't the nicest guy on the planet, the midfielder was a member of the new generation eleven, arrogance was a required part of who they were, but heavens! With the way he was motioning around his chest and rambling on about the exact, precise fucking measurement he coveted from this clearly non-existent person, Hugo might've gained the title for the World's Biggest Scum!

The guys who were victim to his explicit details could only bite their tongue with defeat. Hugo having a crush was one thing, but scoring whoever this chick was?

Im-fucking-possible.

"Oh, I would be quite pleased if they liked chocolate as well."

As if this cute and endearing trait would nullify all the other bullshit he was spouting just a second ago!

"Everyone! Hugo is secretly texting somebody!"

Charles' announcement was most likely another lie. The contrarian was rather fond of deceiving others despite it being a socially unacceptable thing.

And everybody here knew how much Charles lied, it was nothing new for the boy, the act came as natural as breathing for him. But… that did not, by any means, dictate that his lies weren't head-turners. Not this one. Especially not this one.

This lie, the one about Hugo secretly texting someone, obviously false, because who in their right mind would hear Hugo's strict list of required qualities and think to themselves, 'Oh! This guy just is the most dreamiest guy ever.'

Nobody. Absolutely nobody would.

Right, nobody would. And yet— somebody did.

Everybody watched with gaping mouths and bulging eyes as Hugo abruptly flinched in his spot and held his phone securely close his chest— a pathetic attempt to conceal whatever he was doing on it previously. Hugo looked the very image of a comically guilty criminal with his nervously darting eyes that sung of his unlawful act.

"…I can explain."

There was no need to defend himself. Everybody in the room universally could agree on that. After all, they were all men who shared the same thought. Hugo had somehow managed to get this chick's number despite his scummy behaviour.

Truly, the boy had achieved an incredible feat amongst all players his age.

If only they knew, Hugo was not texting this mysterious chick who somehow met his impossible standards. If only they knew just what kind of degenerate behaviour he got himself into…

"Hugo, want to come hang out with us? We're going to eat at this—"

"Nope." Hugo firmly declined their invitation and promptly began to pack his bags, clearly ready to leave practice and get some alone time to do his little hobby.

"What!? But you never spend time with us anymore!"

The boy could only roll his eyes at their desperation, just how pathetic were they seeking his attention like some maiden in love?

"I've ran out of money. So I can't come."

"You ran out of money?! HOW???"

"Sigh."

It wasn't a lie, Hugo really was low on funds, especially after everything he'd spent his earnings on. This was the same guy who had a strict standard, it was only natural of him to buy the best of the best for his…. yeah.

Well, anyway, that was besides the point.

Hugo had even taken up more modelling gigs than usual just to rack up his income, he couldn't afford to be cheap for his— in any case, his wallet was bleeding dry because of his hobbies and other stuff…

Heaving another deeply frustrated sigh, Hugo ruffled the tuffs of his short hair and prepared to berate his annoying teammates for the umpteenth time this week.

"Hey, cut him some slack. Unlike you guys, Hugo here has other, more important priorities." Turning to face the aloof boy with a mellow expression, Loki raised a friendly brow at him. "Isn't that right, Hugo?"

"…." Mirroring his expression, Hugo chewed on his lips as he processed the quaint enjoyment evident in Loki's expression. It's like, he knows…

Lashes fluttering, his eyes narrowed with paranoid scrutiny as Loki returned back to the information on his tablet. "Well, I'll be off…"

"Mhm, don't be late for tomorrow's morning practice."

"Yeah, yeah." Hugo huffed with mild annoyance, pulling his duffle bag over his shoulders and mentally cursing Loki for being so uptight. It looks like Charles' lax attitude was rubbing off on him—

"Oh, and Hugo?" Loki called out, voice curt and serious.

What now?! Stopping in his tracks, Hugo cast him a nervous side glance, his stomach churning with dread as he awaited for soul crushing news.

"Use protection." Not looking up from the tablet, Loki continued his business as if he hadn't just knocked the air out of every other member there.

"Huh."

Hugo blinked, face morphing into puzzlement as he took in Loki's advice. Just what would he need to protection for when— oh. Of course! He needed to use protection when doing his little hobby!

"I'll wear my blue light glasses." Hugo nodded appreciatively, unaware of the way Loki's face contorted with confusion at his misleading words.

Sigh.

It was… really bad, wasn't it?

The boy sighed self-deprecatingly, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he aimlessly walked down the familiar street. Thoughts of his unrequited love and his desperation to seek the tangible spirit of his fictional crush weighing down on his shoulders with heavier weight than his pr ever could.

Damn it.

There was no 'chick', no mysterious person who met his unfathomably high standards like his teammates thought there was.

That time Charles had caught him texting this mysterious person?

Charles had actually caught him reading a smau of his favourite character with himself. A texting, self-insert fucking fanfic of his fictional crush.

And what about the protection that Loki teased him for along with coming early to practice the next day?

That was actually because Hugo had gained a bad habit of sleeping late at night and waking up late as a result of it. Was it from supposedly sleeping with this chick?

No. It was not.

Hugo had developed a bad routine of reading self insert fanfics of his fictional crush late into the night…

But what about the time when his wallet has been bled dry from the 'priorities' Loki was berating others for not having!

Oh, that!

That, actually was because Hugo had spent a disgusting amount of money on merchandise and commissions.

The best of the best for his lover? As if.

That dime was spent on posters of his fictional crush, yumeship fanarts of his non-existent crush with himself, and figurines of said character….

Hugo was, to say the very least, down bad.

So down bad that he was actually on his way to the local bakery to buy a cake to celebrate the birthday of his fictional crush…

Just how bad had he fallen?

Really bad.

"Good morning Sir! What can I get for you today?"

Huh?

What was this?

A tender voice, soft and mellifluous, resembling a hymn sung only by the most divine of all beings reached his unsuspecting ears.

No seriously, what the hell was this?

Was this fate's cruel mockery playing him right in face again? Or was it his hysteria that had conjured up the most eeriest imitation yet of his fictional crush's voice?

No, Hugo shook his head firmly. He was already batshit crazy for being so down bad, this most likely was a withdrawal he was facing from the lack of fanfics— he's binge read all the existing ones already.

"Sir?"

"…Chocolate cake." Hugo refused to look up, he was here for one reason and one reason only. To get chocolate cake for the birthday of—

"What kind of occasion is it? Belated New Years or Early Valentines? Heh!"

Hugo, for all his nonchalance, couldn't resist his desires any longer, not when the sound of your titters resembled wedding bells. Not when the lilt that adorned your voice was the incarnation of temptation. How could he even think to refuse what his heart ached so desperately for?

Your smile greeted him first. Wide and toothy, framed by the curve of your soft lips, and above all, familiar. Like he'd seen it before, like he'd read of it before.

Hugo's heart tinged with jealousy at the kind words that got to touch them before him. His chest grew heavy at the sight of your lashes caressing the swell of your cheeks in place of his hands. And his legs weakened with envy at the thought of others witnessing the sight of your sublimity.

Just how long has he been searching for you, the incarnate of his fictional crush— the bane of his existence and the object of all his desires. You.

Your facial features— the curves of your nose, the arch of your brows, and the curve of your mellow eyes, it was you—

"No occasion—?"

"For our wedding. The cake's for our wedding."

"…." You blinked, huh?

"Marry me." He shamelessly grabbed your hands over the counter and encased them in his much larger ones. Lashes fluttering with desperation, he pleaded for you to return his love.

"Uh…. WHAT?!"

hehe hugo being down bad... 🤤

"thank you, master diluc," you expressed with a forlorn, tired smile. arms hugging yourself for comfort as the shouting slowly grew quieter.

diluc only nods in understanding, slowly making his way to stand beside you, being mindful of his distance from you. "i used to come here often, too. when i was younger," he confessed, eyes straining to watch the distant clouds shape themselves into a childhood memory — distant, intimate, but no less important.

you don't meet his eyes, not even sparing him another glance as you stare at the hand he held. he was a warm presence, the complete contrast to the brief contact you had with lohen at his tavern earlier today.

"i'm sorry for causing such an uproar so late in your own home, no less."

"there's no need to apologize," he reassures. you think he turns to face you, and in your mind, you can imagine an understanding smile creeping up his face. "arguments are normal."

not ours. you thought. they were normal in the sense that they happened too often. you'd even go as far as comparing it to breathing — natural, easy, a necessity.

"did it ever get better?" you ended up asking before you could stop. arms hugging yourself tighter and tighter when the wind caressed your figure. it was warm, surprisingly enough. it reminded you of home, wherever that is.

diluc hums. "it does with time. you just have to be… patient."

"speaking from experience?"

at that, he chuckles. his shoulders bounce with the quiet sound as he pushes himself up to his full height and returns inside. "yes, unfortunately."

you don't press further, only offering him one quiet "thank you" under your breath. you stay on the porch for a long while until your father comes to get you. you don't pay attention to how he begins to explain why your mother lashed out, nor do you care enough to play pretend when her tears greet you as you enter the living space.

you nod, accept, and bid them good night.

lohen's first impression of you that night in the tavern can be summed up with one word: miserable. you looked utterly, and wholeheartedly, miserable.

it was hard not to notice when he grew up with people who smiled all the time and laughed as if tomorrow wasn't guaranteed. you stood out like a sore thumb, even in the quietest corner of angel's share, with your hand absentmindedly swirling the drink in your cup, letting others pass you by as if you were some spectre meant to haunt the establishment.

maybe that's how he finds himself in this… precarious situation—

"vice-captain…?!"

— with him, right outside of your bedroom window, balancing his weight on a nimble branch on a tree.

"what are you doing? that's dangerous!"

lohen sighs heavily with a shake of his head. he should've expected this. why hadn't he? after all, you were the new pretty face in town who had no idea what his character entailed. but a part of him, that overbearingly, big part of him that loved the thrill, enjoyed your frazzled expression. how you hurriedly opened the window, hair still an unbrushed mess, leaning against the windowsill with your hand outstretched for him to take.

"what are you waiting for?! take my hand and get inside before you hurt yourself!"

he taps a finger on his chin, pretending to think about your suggestion deeply. a grin threatened to break out of his face as he swayed on the branch, purposefully stepping on one that couldn't hold his weight, and watched as you sucked in a terrified breath. "hmm… what about, no!"

"'no?!'" you startingly asked, "are you asking for a death wish? that drop is going to hurt you!"

he places a hand over his heart, a slight jut to his lips as he dramatically plays the act of a wounded man. "ouch, do you think of me so weak—"

"i think of you as stupid! now come on," you cut him off, bunching up the fabric of your sleepwear and leaning further out of the window. "get inside!"

"your grace, hold on—"

"for the love of…! just come here!"

"you're going to fall—!"

lohen can't even begin to imagine the expression on his face when your palm slipped from the windowsill. his body is moving faster than it ever has, adrenaline pumping into his veins as he leaps off the branch to wrap a secure arm over your shoulders, letting gravity pull him down as he uses his own body to shield yours from the impact.

"oh barbatos…" he curses under his breath, feeling the wind in his lungs get knocked out of him.

"shit…! are you okay?! come on, let me see if you hit your head."

"relax a little, your grace. i can take a little fall—"

"that was not 'little' by any means!"

when lohen comes back to his senses, he thinks he is doomed.

your hand is cradling his jaw again, your brows furrowed, and your lips set in a deep frown. his fingers flex, his throat goes dry, and his entire being freezes over like a lake during a horrid snowstorm.

you weren't wearing—

"what in the tsaritsa's name are you two doing?!"

lohen quickly sits up, taking you along with him. hands securely on your forearm while the other is wrapped around your waist. when he looks at you — really looks at you — there's a flush on your cheeks, and your mouth is agape. and when lohen slowly turns around, your mother is there, anger flaring in her eyes as your father and diluc rush out because of the noise.

he flashes her a strained smile, "duchess… good morning!"

"lohen…" diluc pinches the bridge of his nose as he helps him up and gives him a pointed look. he only chuckles nervously, or as nervously as his system would allow him, before it's overridden entirely with a new emotion blooming in his chest. "are you alright, your grace?"

"i'm fine, thank you."

lohen quietly hums to himself as you're ushered inside, leaving him alone with your seething mother and unreadable father. you take one last glance at him over your shoulder, and he sees it again — that same miserable look in your eyes.

your father clears his throat, pulling his attention from you to him. "vice-captain lohen, i expect to receive a reasonable explanation."

he sighs again. he's in deep shit now.

dawn winery is as lohen expected: bathed in a deep crimson curtain, carrying the afterscent of crushed grapes, and a tense, almost foreboding atmosphere as he's taken up to diluc's office on the second floor.

your parents followed behind the young master wordlessly—the duke kept his hand on the small back of the duchess as she spewed out every known insult in her mother tongue. lohen sighed, a deep, irritated sound as he caught your eyes when he went up the stairs. the worry is almost misplaced, with your hands interwined with one another and clutched at your chest. it's not like lohen was going to war and will never make it out alive—it's just another small scolding for his behaviour, something he's gotten used to since he joined the knights.

still.

lohen still flashed you a smile, praying it didn't come out depricating. he thought it might have worked when you finally eased your shoulders, reciprocating his own smile, though yours never quite reached the edge of your eyes.

he wondered in that moment what it would be like—if you smiled freely without another worry.

"vice-captain," diluc called out, one hand held the door open as your parents entered first. the business tycoon only raised a brow when lohen sighed, his fingers brushed off any remaining dust on his uniform, and fixing his hair.

he may not be the picture-perfect knight you had imagined to marry, but he could at least try to play the part in front of your parents.

when lohen entered, he crossed his hands behind his back, straightening his posture and met the duchess's eyes with unyielding force. the older woman hid half of her face behind a golden fan, her eyes narrowed into a deep glare, and lohen caught the slightest of frowns on her face. it took everything in his willpower not to poke fun at her; she was still your mother after all. it didn't mean he held her in high regard—not after he overheard the way she spoke to you as if you were a child in the streets of mondstadt.

lohen may be a lot of things, but he did not meddle in others' affairs, and he never will.

"young master diluc, are you sure you won't change your mind? clearly, this vice-captain is ill-suited for my child!"

it didn't mean he can't feel angry on your behalf, too.

"your grace—" diluc tried to argue. keyword: try. he couldn't even get a full sentence out as the duchess erupted into a flurry of reasons on why lohen shouldn't marry you.

"did you not see what happened earlier today?! who in their right mind would try to break into my child's room through the window! it's entirely improper, and downright incivil! my child has never wanted to marry the vice-captain in the first—"

"forgive my imprudence, your grace," lohen chimed in, a hand raised and that chilling smile on his face. his red eyes left the duchess to instead hold the duke's. clearly, he was more reasonable than his fury-striken wife. "but how can you be sure that the young heir doesn't want to marry me? have you asked?"

"lohen, your words," diluc warned, stepping in closer behind him.

"ask?!" the duchess exclaimed, her fan snapping shut as she pointed it accusingly at him.

lohen only smiled, his hand dropping to his side as he tilted his head. "yes, ask! you know, one of the crucial steps in understanding what the young heir wants? don't tell me you haven't asked a single thing?"

he knew he was entering treacherous lands. lohen could practically feel the hiss that diluc let out as his voice chirped into a higher tone—lacking the discipline of a knight and taking the form of a madman pointing mockery like a blade.

"with all due respect, duchess, i don't take you for the type to know your child at all!"

"lohen, enough—"

diluc's interventions go in one ear and out the other as he continued. the air turned icy as his hand tried to reach for the dagger hidden in his cape. the glare on the duchess's face remained directed at his smile. mocking, strained, and above all, knowing.

"your child doesn't trust you, do they, duchess?"

an echoing snap reverberated into the air as lohen's head flew to the side. the stinging followed, and then another harsh hit was directed at the opposite cheek. it wasn't the duchess's hand, but rather, her fan.

"duchess!" the man in red rushed in, his hand seizing the older woman's in his to stop another hit from landing on lohen's face.

"you vulgar, utterly uncivilized, monster—!"

"enough of this!"

if not for the duke's shouts, lohen was sure his wife wouldn't stop until his skull cracked open. cool, sticky blood dripped from the cut on his right cheek. he hissed when he dragged a finger on the open wound, but he kept his expression unreadable. a distinct contrast to the woman who stood before him, red in the face, and her hair coming undone from her outburst.

the duke looked to lohen, something akin to pity and a quiet apology swimming in his eyes. "vice-captain, i appreciate you wanting what's best for my child—"

"i somehow doubt that," lohen whispered under his breath. he received a warning glare from diluc, who now stood behind him, as if he was daring the older couple to make another rash decision.

"but they are my heir. our family name holds great expectations, and we want their future partner to help ease that load."

lohen held his tongue. he's quite sure he'd receive another unforgiving hit to the face if he made another comment about his wife.

"with your reputation and your hunger for battle, we can't help but worry that my child will be put in danger—"

"your grace, i can assure you," lohen cuts off, feeling the iron grip of diluc's hand holding the one behind his back that prevented him from unsheathing his dagger. "i have no plans of putting anyone in danger."

the glare in lohen's eyes remained, jutting his chin up at the duke as his smile dropped. "i care not for what you've heard about me. you can call me a monster, a barbarian, or anything along those lines. but do not even assume that i will put an innocent life in danger. i am a knight, and for you to insinuate that i can't even keep my fiancé safe, well, it's rather offensive."

he broke free from diluc's grasp and turned his back on the couple, uncaring for the duchess's shouts for him to stop. he swung the door open and let it shut with a loud bang. the stray maids and workers in the hallway flinched at the noise, but lohen paid them no mind. not when you're waiting by the end of the corridor, that look in your eyes again when they fall to the cut on his cheek.

"your grace!" he chortled, hands immediately crossing behind him as he sauntered to stand in front of you. his finger twitched, tempted to ease that furrow of your brows and tease you about getting wrinkles. "we we're just wrapping things up. now, why don't you go change. i have a tour to—"

"who hit you?"

lohen paused. his mouth hung open for a few seconds, no sound leaving his lips as he tried to come up with an answer you'll be satisfied with. he knew, though—he knew that you already knew the answer and you're already taking the blame.

"vice-captain, i asked you a question." your tone changed. no longer as quiet, but it comes out as a whisper—as if you were asking him to confess a crime he had committed.

he only sighed, a hand coming to press on the wound. a poor attempt at hiding it when your own came to hold his wrist in place. your frown deepened, stepping closer to his face to inspect it.

"it's nothing i can't handle, your grace," he assured. "this is practically a papercut in comparison to what i've—"

"that's not my question. i'm asking you who dared to lay a hand on you."

"… oh!"

lohen internally grimaced. of all the things he could have said, he chose the lamest one. he tried to break away from your gaze, finding more interest in the swaying chandelier in the main entrance, but you stepped right into his line of view.

"lohen."

this was the first time you called him by his name, he thought.

"who did this to you?"

another sigh, and lohen yielded. his shoulders relaxed, practically slumping into your arms. he doesn't answer, not the one you wanted to hear anyway. but you only dragged him further into the manor, taking a sharp left and unlocking a door. you ushered him inside, and lohen can only limply follow.

he took in the interior of your temporary room—still dominated by the color of red, a bit of gold, and a few pieces of parchment on your bedside drawer. he stood in the middle of it all, unsure if sitting on the foot of your bed would be too casual, rude, but you beat him to it by dragging the chair of your vanity.

"sit," you ordered, lohen followed without another word.

you worked quietly to patch his wound. he noted that your vision lay ignored in a wooden box to your right as you dabbed a cloth to his cheek, while your hand held the other to keep in place. you'd apologize quietly when lohen winced, and he'd only assure you with a playful grin that he could handle the pain.

"say," he started, eyes landing on the dendro vision on your bed. "why not use your vision like you did last time?"

"i can't," was your only reply.

lohen tilted his head in curiosity, to which you reprimanded him for. he only chuckled out an apology as the question lay heavily on the tip of his tongue. he noticed, of course, your faces were mere inches apart. if he leaned just a little closer, he was sure your lips would ghost over his. he wondered what it would feel like? lohen wasn't one for romance—barbatos forbid if he picked up those cheesy romance novels from inazuma his team would indulge themselves in.

but still, he can't help but be engrossed in the idea of it. you're his fiancé, he'd have to kiss you at the wedding. the idea douses him in a fluster, making him cough as you worriedly ask if he's alright. he waved you off, another chuckle leaving his lips as he lets you tend to his wound with utmost care.

the thought came back, a little quieter this time. your hands were gentle—softly wiping away the blood and placing a bandage over the wound. you eventually tilted his head to the side, and a frown settled on your face as you saw how red it truly is. it was unlike anything he's ever felt before. there was no sharpening of arrowheads or harsh training regimes. it was quiet, not like a night spent hiding behind the curtains of a ransacked carriage, but the kind when a storm had finally settled, and you can finally open the window and greet the sun.

"is it because of her? your mother?" lohen sneered, his eyes held yours in a locked stance. "is that why you can't use your vision?"

you only shook your head, "it's not important—"

"but it is," he insisted, a gloved hand held you in place before you could even take a step back. "it is important—to me. i am your fiancé, and it's my job to know what's bothering you."

you stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you mull over his words. mincing every little shift of his expression, but lohen remained steady in his proclamation. you quietly sat on the edge of your bed, his red eyes not once leaving your figure as you reached for the vision, placing it on your lap.

a sigh escaped you. lohen felt your palm lay flat on his unwounded cheek as the smell of dewdrops and soil invaded his senses. he realized then, as your fingertips glowed with a light green, that you were using it to heal the sharp pain on his face.

"do you think flowers can grow under the ice?"

"pardon?"

you flashed him a sad smile, retracting your hand as you returned the vision in its wooden box, snapping the lid shut and shoving it under your pillows.

"there's this story, one from my childhood that my mother would often tell me," you recounted, and lohen leaned forward, his arms braced on his thighs as he watched you. "the story tells the adventure of a gardener and his dying wife. there's no cure for her ailment, and her only wish is to see the flowers in their garden finally bloom. but they lived atop a snowy mountain where the sun is constantly behind the clouds—no flower could survive its harsh climate."

you took a deep breath. "the gardener, determined to find a way to grant his wife's wish, ventured into the unknown in search of a flower that could withstand the snow. he eventually finds it, but comes home too late. his wife had already passed, and struck with grief, the man burned the flower he found. when it was time to bury her, he realized grimly that there were flowers in their garden—hidden beneath mountains of snow."

"then flowers can grow under the ice," lohen noted.

you only shook your head, "it's not about the flowers, vice-captain."

"then what is it about?"

"the moral of the story is that, when under harsh circumstances, love pushes you to ignore the things that matter."

he frowned. "so, the garden never mattered?"

"it didn't, not as much as his wife did," you correct forlornly. "love cannot take root under such harsh conditions, but it's still love nonetheless."

his tongue prodded against his cheek, eyes landing on the floor as his foot started tapping. his mind mulled over the fairytale until it all clicked. when he looked up, you're already looking at him, patiently waiting for him to catch up to what the real reason you've been forbidden to use your vision.

lohen only scoffed. "don't tell me you're calling that love."

you're wrong, the thought. if love cannot take root, then it can't be love.

it shouldn't have to struggle in harsh conditions to begin with.

the vice-captain only sighed, a hand coming to ruffle his hair as he stood. "okay, enough mopping. go change, i'll wait for you outside," he announced, already making his way to the door.

"hold on!" you tried to catch up to him but he's already out of the room. faintly, you heard him call out to you.

"oh, and bring your vision!"

the vice-captain told you he'd be taking you on a tour around mondstadt, and he did. well, only in one area in particular.

"vice-captain—"

"lohen."

you stared at the back of his head, burning holes as he held your hand and practically dragged you across the fields of dorman port. he hasn't once turned to look back at you unless it's to catch you when you stumble on uneven ground, or when you tug at his hand to stop and greet the villagers.

"lohen," you tried again, and this time, he hummed. "where exactly are you taking me?"

"it's a secret," he quipped, and you let out an exasperated breath.

"are we even allowed to be here?"

he chuckled at your words, "relax, your grace. i am the vice-captain for a reason. if we get in trouble, i'll handle it."

"i'd prefer if we didn't get into any trouble at all."

"well, a little trouble won't hurt anyone."

you raised an amused brow at him when he finally turned around, catching your gaze with equal mirth in his eyes. "it can land a fan on the cheek, apparently."

lohen blinked at you, stopping dead in his tracks, and you fear you may have overstepped. but much to your shock, lohen leaned closer to your face, his head tilted to the side in glee.

"so you can take a joke. good to know!"

you let out an offended sound as he lohen returned to dragging you to archon knows where. "and what is that supposed to mean?!"

"nothing!" he shrugged off.

"it clearly does."

"and i'm telling you, your grace, it means absolutely nothing."

another exasperated sigh escaped you before finally giving up on questioning the man. he had no intentions of answering you directly or telling you where you're going. with a shake of your head, you turned your gaze away from him and to the setting sun in the horizon. there are beds of wild grass and flowers as you walk further and further away from the main city.

"i used to practice archery around here," lohen suddenly spoke. he stopped and you bumped into his back. with a quick apology, he gently guided you to look at where his eyes had landed. "i would watch my dad set up the targets, and he'd spend the entire day shooting them down only to set them back up. pretty boring routine, if you ask me."

you remained quiet behind him, not making any effort to follow him as he crossed the small river in front of you. but still, he continued his story.

"he never let me practice, that's why i never fought back that night," lohen turned back to you, his hand outstretched, waiting for you to take. you had a faint idea of what he was referring to. rumours travel fast, especially if it's about a grim tragedy that involved your fiancé's involvement in a kidnapping case years ago. "after that, i'd sneak out to train. fight a few hillichurls here and there. and then slip back into my room so my mom wouldn't realize."

he noticed your hesitation, so lohen stood in the river, letting his boots be soaked in cold water, his hand still outstretched. "you asked me if flowers could bloom under ice this morning. it reminded me of how my mom would always plant flowers in our backyard when i was a kid. my old man would call them a waste of time, and she got so mad, she hid his bow and all the arrows, forcing him to work on the garden with her."

a chuckle escaped him; his eyes stared distantly at his own reflection on the water. he only raised his head when another pair of shoes stood right across from his, and his reflection rippled to replace it with yours.

"can i ask you a question, your grace?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

you only nodded, and you felt his hand tighten around yours as he took a deep breath.

"can a flower bloom if it's unloved?"

you stared at him in shock, brows furrowed as you questioned, "what do you mean?"

"don't pretend, your grace," lohen bellowed. "i'm starting to wonder if you're even allowed to do anything under your mother's scrutinizing gaze. does she even love you?"

a flash of hurt swam in your eyes as you abruptly pried your hand out of his grasp. but lohen was faster, seizing your wrist before you can turn away from him and run where he couldn't follow. "forgive my imprudence, i seem to be doing that a lot nowadays, but i can't sit idly and let you accept this."

"why do you care?" you seethed out, shoulders shaking.

"i'm your fiancé—"

"on paper, vice-captain. we are expected by everyone to be married."

"but do you want to?"

lohen turned you around, his hands came up to hold you by your shoulders as his presence demanded you to meet his gaze. he didn't glare, not really—not at you. but his jaw is locked, his shoulders are squared. as if he's waiting for some monster to hit him on the back when he least expects it.

he repeated the question, "do you want to, your grace? do you want to get married to me?"

"why so suddenly?" you asked in bewilderment, ears ringing with each ragged breath he took.

"because i refuse to be like them. you deserve to choose what you think is best for you," lohen mumbled, his grip on you loosening as his eyes fell to where your shoes are both soaked. "i refuse to take away something that was yours to begin with—your ability to choose. so answer me: do you or do you not want to marry me?"

it sounded like a pained plea, as if lohen was already stricken with a deadly blow and was bleeding out in your arms at this very moment. he very well may be just that, with the way his lips are tugged into a deep frown, or how his voice came out shaky, lacking that recklessness you've come to associate him with.

"say something, your grace. you're killing me here."

your mind is telling you no. no, you don't want to get married, not to him, not to anyone. but your heart—that traitorous little thing—had taken reign of your emotions as you continued to look into lohen's eyes.

you looked back to the night you met him—all spunk and blood and flowers. flowers you've kept safe from your mother's hands by hiding them behind your clothes in the closet. you remembered the maids of dawn winery helping you slip into a spare room to overhear the conversation in diluc's office, uncaring of how improper you had looked as curiosity took over. you recalled the flush in your cheeks as lohen defended your honor vehemently against the person who made it her job to break you down in pieces.

lohen stood still in that room, going against all instincts that told him to fight back—all for your sake.

and now, he's taken you here—to where he grew up and told you a story of his own—to give you something no one has ever offered you.

a choice.

your mouth moved before you can fully catch up.

"i do."

you relished it, you thought to yourself, the way lohen's head snapped up at your voice and how his cheeks immediately flushed.

"y-you… do?" he sounded meek, so unlike the brave vice-captain who moved before danger could take a step in their direction. your selfish heart can't help but want all that to yourself—that vice-captain who would blush, and stutter, and give you a choice.

"yes, i do," you decided then and there, that everyone was wrong about him. you flashed him a smile, hands reaching up to brush the hair that shielded his eyes from your view. that rush of delight came back when lohen straightened his back, a curled fist hiding half of his face as he fumbled out a reply.

"… okay. okay! that settles it then!"

you don't point out that he's rambling, or how that blush on his face never really cooled down. he'd tug at his collar, look at anywhere but you, and when he caught it, lohen would quickly duck with a clear of his throat. a quiet laugh left your chest as you look down at your hands—you don't even recall when his fingers had intertwined with yours.

"we… we should go back," you uttered, eyes watching the sun dip over the horizon until you can barely see it. "they might be wondering where we are."

lohen nodded stiffly, clearing his throat one last time. "you're right…"

you only hummed as you both began the journey back to dawn winery. it would take a while, but you didn't mind. every now and then, you'd try to catch a glimpse of lohen, who would always look away when your eyes locked. and each time, you'd laugh under your breath. it felt strange—to see this fighter, known for his unmatched desire for danger, be so shy. it almost felt unreal.

a shiver racked up your arms as a chilly breeze came to greet you. by the time you had fully left dorman port, the sun had fully set. in the distance, you both could hear the gallops of horses. when you met lohen's gaze, who was already looking at you, you both share another laugh.

"i suppose they've come to get us," you surmized.

lohen only hummed, his fingers unclasped the cape on his shoulder and draped it across yours. "i guess so. it has gotten pretty late."

"lohen, i—" before you could finish, a familiar boisterous voice interrupted you.

"there you are, your grace, lohen!" varka trutted in on his stallion, a wide grin on his face as a lantern is held in his grasp.

"of course it's the grandmaster," lohen grumbled under his breath, to which you chuckled.

"i'd be more surprised if it wasn't him," you murmured back, waving your hand to notify the gradnmaster that you've heard him.

varka quickly left his horse and jogged up to you, his blue eyes surveying your form wrapped in lohen's coat. his gaze eventually settled on the vice-captain, a smirk on his face as he called for the other nights to hurry.

you're eventually escorted onto the back of a carriage as lohen conversed with the grandmaster. you faintly heard the rise in his voice, and when you looked in their direction, an amused smile made its way to your face as a fervent blush overtook his pale cheeks. he eventually stomped his way to your carriage, freezing in the motion of lifting the curtains to find you staring at him with mirth in your eyes.

he glared at you, but it only spurred you to laugh louder.

"taking the grandmaster's side now, are we?" he hissed with a roll of his eyes.

"it wasn't my intention to eavesdrop," you admit. but lohen only rolled his eyes again, playfully pushing you further into the carriage to make room for him. you raised a brow in question when he settles right beside you, "don't you have your own stallion?"

he dramatically clutched at his chest, "so you don't want me here?"

"that's not what i meant!" you argued back, but it barely registers when you're a giggling mess.

"no, no, i understand," he's already trying to get up with a pained sigh. "i'll ride on my horse, let my back be in pain until we reach the city, while you stay here."

"lohen," you whined out, a smile on your lips as you caught the edge of his sleeve. a playful grin on your face as you lowered your voice to a whisper, "won't you stay and keep me warm?"

the reaction is immediate. his cheeks erupt into another blush, his voice breaking as he stammered out a reply. you don't hear any of it—not like his words made any sense—and tugged him down to sit again. this time, you took the initiative to slip your fingers into his. relishing in the way his pulse jumped when your brush against his pulse point.

"you're making fun of me," lohen huffed, his lips ghosting just the crown of your head. you don't hide the smile on your face—not when you felt him lean back and the carriage finally be set in motion.

you scoot closer to him, looping your arm in his as you only hummed. your other hand tugged his cape closer to you, letting yourself be wrapped entirely in him. lohen hesitantly raised an arm to fix the cape before it settled across your shoulders.

"i'm not," you retorted.

he only chuckled, his arm tugging you closer until your head lay on his chest. "sure, whatever you say, your grace."