E

The problem with having a secret girlfriend at Night Raven College was that Epel Felmier had very few people to tell him when he was being an idiot. Back home in Harveston, everyone already knew about the two of you; his grandparents knew, your family knew, half the elderly residents of the village knew, and even the people who pretended not to pay attention somehow knew that the Felmier boy was hopelessly sweet on the girl who brought her family's horse over to help with the apple harvest. Here at NRC, however, Epel had managed to keep the entire thing under wraps for nearly six months, mostly because there simply hadn't been any reason to mention it. NRC was an all-boys school, so nobody was constantly asking whether he was interested in some girl from class, and Epel certainly wasn't going to volunteer information about his personal life when nobody had asked. As far as he was concerned, the fact that he had a sweetheart waiting for him in a country thousands of miles away was nobody's business but his own.

There was another reason Epel had kept quiet, though he would rather chew through a crate of rotten apples than admit it out loud: Vil Schoenheit. Epel had spent enough time around his Housewarden to know exactly how seriously Vil took appearances, and some small, irrational part of him worried that Vil would decide having a sweetheart back home didn't fit the image he wanted for Pomefiore's students. What if Vil insisted he needed to maintain some sort of innocent, available bachelor image and told him to break things off with you? Epel knew, deep down, that Vil wasn't nearly that heartless, but knowing that didn't stop the thought from bothering him, so he'd decided it was safer to keep his relationship to himself and avoid giving Vil any reason to comment on it.

Unfortunately, Epel had forgotten to account for Ace Trappola's favorite hobby: making Epel mad just because he could. The two of them had discovered very early on that Epel's temper and Ace's inability to leave well enough alone were a particularly dangerous combination, and Ace had quickly realized that he could get an endless amount of entertainment by poking at Epel until he snapped. Epel knew exactly what Ace was doing every single time, which somehow made it even worse, because refusing to react meant admitting Ace had gotten the better of him, while reacting meant giving Ace exactly what he wanted. It was a battle Epel had been losing for six months, and apparently, today was going to be no different.

The dining hall was crowded with students when the four first-years settled around their usual table, the room full of clattering dishes, overlapping conversations, and the constant scrape of chairs being dragged across the floor. Epel had barely gotten halfway through his lunch when Ace, who had apparently exhausted every other possible source of entertainment, leaned his elbow against the table and looked at him with the particular expression Epel had learned to fear. It was a lazy little grin, accompanied by narrowed eyes and the unmistakable sparkle of someone who had just thought of something annoying to say, and Epel immediately knew that whatever came next was going to irritate him. “Y'know, Epel,” Ace began, resting his cheek against his palm as though he were genuinely contemplating a serious problem, “I've been thinking about your future, and honestly? I'm worried.”

Epel didn't even look up from his food. “Don't.”

Ace's grin widened. “I haven't even said anything yet.”

“Don't need ya to.”

Deuce snorted quietly into his drink, while Jack glanced between them with the resigned expression of someone who had already accepted that he was about to witness an argument he'd heard some variation of at least a dozen times. Ace, meanwhile, looked delighted. He leaned forward over the table, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial tone as though he were about to reveal some great secret about Epel's future. “I'm just saying, you're gonna have a hard time finding a girlfriend someday.”

Epel finally looked up from his lunch, his brows drawing together as he slowly realized where Ace was going with this. “And why's that?” he asked, already sounding suspicious, and Ace merely shrugged with an exaggerated air of innocence as he leaned back in his chair. “Because no girl wants a boyfriend who's prettier than she is,” he replied matter-of-factly, as though he'd just delivered some undeniable piece of wisdom, and Epel stared at him across the table in stunned silence while Deuce's lips twitched and Jack's ears flicked once at the sheer audacity of the statement.

Epel slowly put his fork down, the metal making a quiet clink against his plate as his expression hardened. “What'd you just say?” he asked, his voice dropping into that deceptively calm tone Ace had learned meant he was about three seconds away from losing his temper, but Ace immediately recognized the opening and took it without hesitation. “You heard me,” he said, leaning forward with a grin that was already threatening to become unbearable. “You're pretty. Like, really pretty. You've got the purple hair, the baby face, the eyelashes—”

“I ain't got a baby face,” Epel cut in sharply, his nose scrunching as he visibly bristled at the description. Ace's grin widened at once, delighted that he'd found another button to push, and he waved one hand dismissively. “You so have a baby face,” he insisted, stretching the words out just enough to make them more irritating. Epel's eyebrow twitched, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table as he fixed Ace with a murderous stare. “Trappola.”

“What?” Ace asked, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he propped his chin in his palm. “I'm complimenting you.” Epel's expression twisted in disbelief, and he gave a short, humorless scoff as he shook his head. “That's not a compliment,” he muttered, but Ace only shrugged and continued, “Sure it is. Plenty of girls would kill to look like you.” Epel's shoulders stiffened immediately, his cheeks beginning to flush with irritation. “I don't wanna look like a girl!”

“I know, I know,” Ace said, waving a hand dismissively as he fought down a laugh, his shoulders already beginning to shake from the effort. “That's the problem. You're gonna have to find a girl who's okay with her boyfriend being prettier than her.” Epel's fingers curled tightly around the table's edge, his knuckles beginning to pale as he leaned forward. “I ain't gonna have trouble finding a girlfriend,” he shot back, his accent becoming a little thicker with his irritation. Ace's eyes lit up at the challenge, and he immediately leaned closer. “Oh?” he prompted, his grin turning mischievous. “Yeah,” Epel answered firmly, crossing his arms. “Really?” Ace pressed, eyebrows raised. “Yeah,” Epel repeated, though his voice had lost some of its confidence under the scrutiny.

Ace tilted his head, studying Epel with an infuriatingly thoughtful expression before casually asking, “Name one girl who'd date you.” Epel's mouth opened on instinct, but no answer came, and the brief silence that followed was enough for Ace to slowly lean back with an enormous grin spreading across his face. “Exactly,” he said triumphantly, pointing at Epel as though he'd just won an argument in court. Epel's face burned. “I don't need to name anybody!” he snapped, but Ace immediately fired back, “Because you can't.” Epel's eyes narrowed. “I can.” Ace's grin only widened. “Then do it.” Epel glared at him for several long seconds before finally grumbling, “Shut up.”

Ace leaned back in his chair, looking tremendously pleased with himself as he folded his arms behind his head. “See? No answer,” he said, rocking his chair back slightly while Epel glowered at him from across the table. “Face it, Epel. You're doomed. You're gonna graduate from NRC, go back to Harveston, and spend the rest of your life staring sadly into an apple orchard because nobody wants to date the prettiest guy in the village.” Epel's jaw clenched so tightly it almost hurt, and he muttered through his teeth, “Will ya quit it?” without taking his eyes off him. Ace merely shrugged, his grin softening into an expression of completely shameless amusement. “I'm just being honest.” Epel scoffed and folded his arms more tightly across his chest. “Yer bein' annoying.” Ace immediately nodded, entirely unbothered. “Those things aren't mutually exclusive.”

Deuce had been doing his absolute best to stay out of the argument, but a tiny laugh escaped him before he could stop it. Epel's head snapped toward him so quickly that Deuce immediately straightened in his seat, his expression becoming painfully innocent. “You think it's funny too?” Epel demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between Deuce and Ace. “I didn't say that,” Deuce protested, lifting his hands slightly in surrender, but Epel caught the faint smile still lingering at the corner of his mouth. “You're smirkin'.” Deuce scratched his cheek, glancing briefly toward Ace as though hoping his friend might rescue him, but Ace was far too entertained to intervene. “I—well...” Deuce hesitated, then sighed as he tried to find the least offensive way to phrase his answer. “I mean, Ace did think you were a girl when we first met.”

Epel's expression went completely blank.

For one glorious second, the entire table was silent as Epel processed what Deuce had just reminded him of, and then Ace absolutely lost it. He slapped both hands against the table and bent forward, his shoulders shaking violently as laughter burst out of him. “I DID!” he wheezed, barely able to get the words out between laughs. Epel slowly turned toward him with an expression of such pure disbelief that even Jack looked away to hide the twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth. Ace wiped at the corner of one eye as he tried and failed to regain his composure. “Oh my gosh, I forgot about that! You should've seen your face, Epel. You looked like you wanted to murder me!”

“I did want to murder you,” Epel replied flatly, his eyes still fixed on Ace as though he were seriously considering finishing the job now. Ace only laughed harder, dropping his forehead onto his folded arms on the table while Deuce muttered something about how he'd really thought Epel was a girl for the first few minutes they'd known each other. Epel groaned and dragged both hands down his face. “I swear, you idiots are gonna drive me insane.”

Jack finally cleared his throat, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth made it obvious that he was enjoying this considerably more than he wanted to admit. “If we're being honest,” he said, his tone carefully neutral as he glanced at Epel, “Epel does have a rather feminine appearance.” Epel's head whipped around so fast that his hair shifted across his forehead. “Jack!” he exclaimed, staring at him in betrayal, while Jack immediately lifted both hands defensively. “I'm not insulting you,” he explained, his expression remaining composed despite the faint amusement in his eyes. “I'm only saying that I understand where Ace got the wrong impression.”

“You're supposed to be on my side!” Epel protested, throwing one hand toward Jack as though appealing to him for basic human decency. Jack blinked once before answering, “I am.” Epel's eyes narrowed. “You sure ain't actin' like it!” he shot back, and Ace immediately started laughing again at the sight of Epel turning on Jack as well. The entire thing had become exactly the sort of ridiculous argument Ace lived for: Epel was furious, everyone else was trying not to laugh, and Epel somehow kept making himself angrier every time he attempted to defend his dignity.

Ace eventually managed to sit upright again, though his shoulders were still shaking from laughter. He rested his elbow on the table and looked at Epel with a grin that practically screamed trouble. “See? Even Jack agrees.” He paused deliberately, watching Epel's eye twitch before adding, “And let's be honest, Epel, do you even know any girls who'd like a guy like you?” Epel's head snapped toward him, his temper flaring so quickly that there wasn't even time for him to think about the answer before it came flying out of his mouth.

“Yes!”

The word rang across the table so sharply that all three boys immediately fell silent.

Epel froze.

His own voice seemed to echo in his ears, and his stomach dropped as he realized exactly what he'd just admitted. Ace's grin disappeared for a moment, replaced by genuine surprise as his eyebrows lifted and he slowly leaned forward. “...What?” he asked, his voice suddenly much quieter.

Epel's face was already heating, but his temper had reached the point where embarrassment was no longer strong enough to stop him. He leaned across the table, his palms pressing against the wood as he glared directly at Ace. “I said yes. You don't know what yer talkin' about, so quit actin' like ya do. I ain't gotta worry about findin' somebody because I already got somebody, alright?! I'm already spoken for, and I have been for years, so maybe quit runnin' yer mouth about things you don't know nothin' about!”

Silence fell over the table.

Epel's chest rose and fell as he stared at Ace, his face burning with the sudden realization that he had just said far, far more than he intended. Ace blinked at him, his mouth slightly open, while Deuce stared as though someone had just overturned the entire table without touching it. Jack's eyebrows had lifted, and even he seemed genuinely surprised. Epel slowly realized that there was absolutely no way he could take that back.

Ace's voice came out unusually quiet. “...You have a girlfriend?”

Epel swallowed, then leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms as though he hadn't just detonated a bomb in the middle of lunch. “Yeah.”

Deuce stared at Epel, his fork hovering above his plate. “For real?” he asked, eyebrows raised, and Epel gave a stiff nod. “Yeah.” Deuce blinked, still processing it. “How long?” Epel hesitated, his ears beginning to turn pink, and Ace immediately narrowed his eyes. “Or are you lying?”

“Three years,” Epel finally muttered, and Ace's jaw dropped while Deuce nearly dropped his fork and Jack's ears perked. “THREE YEARS?!” Ace shouted, his voice carrying across the dining hall as several nearby students turned to look. Epel immediately winced and shoved a hand against Ace's forehead when he leaned across the table. “You've had a girlfriend for three years?!”

“Get your face outta mine!” Epel snapped, pushing him back into his seat, but Ace barely gave him a moment to breathe. “How did you hide this?” he demanded, looking genuinely scandalized. “By not tellin' ya!” Epel shot back, folding his arms as Ace immediately followed with, “Why didn't you tell us?” Epel's cheeks burned. “Because I didn't wanna!”

Ace grabbed his shoulders and shook him once before Epel shoved him away. “Who is she?” he demanded, practically vibrating with curiosity, while Epel glared at him. “Why do ya care?” Ace threw his hands up. “Because this is the biggest thing I've ever learned about you!” Epel rolled his eyes. “That's a you problem!”

Deuce was still trying to process everything when he leaned forward. “Wait, so you're actually serious? You have a girlfriend back in Harveston?” Epel gave him an exasperated look. “Yeah.” Jack studied him for a moment before asking, “Does your family know?” Epel blinked. “Course they do!”

Ace pointed accusingly at him. “And you've just been casually keeping this from all of us for six months?” Epel's ears turned bright red as he looked away. “It weren't important.” Ace stared at him like he'd lost his mind. “You have a three-year relationship and you thought that wasn't important?!”

“It ain't anybody else's business!” Epel snapped, finally losing his patience again. Ace narrowed his eyes before pointing at him with a triumphant grin. “That is the most suspicious thing you've ever said! You're so full of it!” Epel opened his mouth to argue, but Ace was already leaning forward, clearly nowhere near finished interrogating him.

Epel muttered something under his breath, reached into his uniform pocket, and pulled out his wallet. Ace's eyes immediately followed the movement. “What's that?” he asked, leaning closer again, and Epel shot him an annoyed look before flipping the wallet open. Tucked safely behind one of the clear card slots was a small Polaroid, slightly worn around the edges from being taken in and out over the past several months.

“She's real,” Epel grumbled. “So quit lookin' at me like I'm makin' 'er up!”

He pulled the photograph free and placed it on the table.

The three boys stared.

The picture showed Epel and you standing together back in Harveston, the familiar greenery of the Felmier orchards blurred softly behind you. You had one arm around him and were leaning in to kiss his cheek, while Epel was caught in the middle of attempting to look deeply annoyed by the entire thing; his eyebrows were drawn together, his lips pressed into a stubborn line, and yet the pink creeping across his cheeks ruined the performance completely. A horse's head was barely visible in the background, and there was something unmistakably warm and happy about the photograph that made it immediately obvious how long the two of you had known one another.

Ace picked up the Polaroid with both hands, his eyes widening as he stared at it. “No way.” Epel immediately snatched it back, clutching it protectively. “Don't bend it!” he snapped, and Ace threw his hands up. “I wasn't gonna!”

“You're holdin' it like you're about to crease it!” Epel complained, carefully checking the corners. Ace rolled his eyes. “I was looking!” Epel narrowed his eyes. “Well, look with your eyes and not your grubby hands!” Ace ignored the insult, staring at him in disbelief. “You weren't kidding.”

“I told ya.” Epel tucked the photograph between his fingers while Ace shook his head. “You actually have a girlfriend.” Epel gave him an exasperated look. “I just said that!” Ace glanced back at the picture, then suddenly smiled. “And she's pretty.”

Epel's expression softened before he could stop it. “Yeah.” Deuce leaned over to look at the photograph again, smiling slightly. “You look really happy.” Epel's thumb brushed over the edge of the Polaroid. “I was.”

Ace suddenly pointed at the picture. “Wait, why are you making that face?” Epel frowned. “Because she wouldn't stop botherin' me about takin' a picture.” Ace grinned. “Looks like you were enjoying it.” Epel immediately looked away. “I wasn't.” Ace's grin widened. “You're blushing.” Epel's ears turned red. “I was not.”

“You totally were!” Epel shoved the photograph back into his wallet and snapped it shut. “We're done talkin' about this!” Ace leaned back with a victorious grin. “Oh, we're absolutely not done talking about this.”

Professor Trein's history of magic lecture was not nearly as interesting as remembering you.

Epel sat toward the back of the classroom, chin resting against his palm as Professor Trein's steady voice droned on about some ancient magical conflict that had happened centuries ago. The room was warm, the lights were dim enough to make his eyelids heavy, and the scratch of quills across parchment created a strangely soothing rhythm around him. He tried to pay attention. He genuinely did. Unfortunately, his mind had already wandered back to Harveston.

He remembered the first time his grandmother caught him watching you from across the orchard.

Epel had been pretending to work.

He'd been standing near a cart, supposedly sorting apples, but his attention had been fixed entirely on you. You were several rows away, helping with the harvest, your hands moving quickly as you worked while the late afternoon sunlight caught in your hair. Epel had been so absorbed that he didn't notice his grandmother approaching until she spoke beside him.

“You like that girl,” his grandmother remarked casually, and Epel nearly dropped the apple in his hand. “I do not,” he immediately insisted, his face already warming as she gave him a knowing smile. “Oh, of course not,” she hummed, clearly unconvinced. Epel frowned. “I don't!”

“Then why've you been starin' at her for the last ten minutes?” she asked, glancing toward him, and Epel immediately looked away from you across the orchard. “I wasn't starin'.” His grandmother raised an eyebrow. “You've barely blinked.” Epel's face grew hotter as he fumbled with the apple in his hands. “I was watchin' what she was doin'.”

“Mm-hm.” Epel looked at her, already knowing she didn't believe him. “I'm serious!” His grandmother simply smiled and returned to her work. “Of course you are.” Epel huffed and turned back toward the orchard, though he couldn't stop himself from sneaking another glance in your direction.

He remembered riding through town with you on Honeycrisp.

Honeycrisp was a magnificent horse, sturdy and patient, with a temperament that made him perfectly suited for carrying two teenagers through the quiet roads of Harveston. You would sit comfortably in the saddle while Epel rode behind you, his arms occasionally braced around your waist whenever the road became uneven. The village elders sitting on their porches always seemed to notice the two of you passing, and they had absolutely no problem making comments.

“Look at those lovebirds!” one of the elderly men called from his porch as you and Epel rode past, and Epel immediately hid his face against your shoulder. “Keep goin',” he muttered, mortified, while you laughed and patted his hand around your waist. “They're just teasing.” Epel sighed. “I know.”

You glanced back at him and caught the pink on his cheeks. “You're blushing.” Epel immediately lifted his head. “I'm not.” You raised an eyebrow. “You are.” He looked desperately toward the road for an excuse. “It's the sun.” You glanced up at the cloudy sky. “We're in the shade.” Epel's face went even redder. “Then it's hot.”

You laughed, leaning back against him as Honeycrisp continued down the road. “You're impossible.” Epel muttered against your shoulder, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I learned from you.”

The old men would laugh from their porches, and Epel would bury his face even further against your shoulder while you struggled not to laugh. He had always hated being teased, but he secretly loved the familiarity of it. Everyone in Harveston knew you two. Everyone had watched you grow up together. There was something comforting about being surrounded by people who had known the two of you since you were children.

He remembered the apple carving dates even more fondly.

Whenever there were blemished apples that wouldn't sell, Epel would carefully carve them into intricate little designs instead of letting them go to waste. You'd sit beside him beneath the shade of a grand old apple tree, your guitar balanced across your lap while he worked with a small carving knife. The scent of fresh apples surrounded you, sweet and crisp beneath the rustling leaves, and the occasional note from your guitar would drift through the orchard whenever you paused to play.

Epel could carve practically anything: little animals, flowers, intricate patterns, even tiny figures. He'd sit beneath the old apple tree with his brows furrowed in concentration, carefully working his knife through blemished apples while your guitar provided a gentle soundtrack beside him.

You had also developed a habit of stealing the scraps. Epel eventually caught you reaching for another piece of apple peel and frowned. “You're eatin' the peel again?” You popped it into your mouth without shame. “It's the best part.” Epel stared at you. “Yer so weird.”

“You're the one carving apples for fun,” you pointed out, and Epel returned his attention to his work. “That's different.” You tilted your head. “How?” He gave you a smug little smile. “Because I'm good at it.” You laughed and reached for another piece of peel, and Epel pretended to be annoyed.

Eventually, he simply started setting the best pieces aside for you without saying anything. Whenever you reached over, there would be a particularly nice curl of peel waiting at the edge of his pile. He never admitted he'd been saving them for you, and you never needed him to.

“Mr. Felmier.” Professor Trein's voice cut through the classroom, and Epel's eyes snapped open. He straightened so quickly that his chair creaked, only to find Trein standing beside his desk with a stern expression. “...Yes, sir?” Epel asked, blinking away the last traces of sleep.

Trein smoothed his jabot. “If you find the history of magic so fascinating that you are willing to fall asleep during my lecture, perhaps you would like to explain the significance of the event I have just described.” Epel stared blankly at him for a moment before glancing helplessly toward the board. “I—uh...” Several seats away, Jack covered his mouth to hide a laugh, earning an immediate murderous glare from Epel.

Trein sighed. “Pay attention.” Epel immediately nodded and lowered his gaze to his notes. “Yes, sir.” He sank back into his chair, face burning, only to glance across the classroom and find Ace silently mouthing one word at him with an obnoxious grin: girlfriend.

Epel's eye twitched as he clenched his fist beneath the desk. He turned back toward his textbook and tried to focus on the lecture, but one thought remained firmly lodged in his mind. I'm gonna kill him after class.

That evening, after classes and dinner, Epel returned to his room and dropped his schoolbag beside his desk with a tired sigh. He didn't even bother changing out of his uniform before sitting heavily on his bed and pulling out his phone, already reaching for your contact without a second thought. The moment you answered, his tired expression softened, and he immediately launched into a detailed complaint about his day, grumbling about Professor Trein's lecture, Ace's relentless teasing, and everything else that had managed to irritate him since breakfast.

You listened patiently through his entire rant, occasionally laughing or offering a sympathetic hum whenever his complaints became particularly dramatic. Once he'd finally exhausted himself, Epel flopped backward against his pillows and asked about your day, listening quietly as you told him about everything you'd been doing back in Harveston. The familiar sound of your voice through the phone made the room feel considerably less lonely, and for a little while, the miles of ocean between Sage's Island and home didn't seem quite so enormous.

Eventually, there was a brief lull in the conversation, and Epel already knew what was coming when he heard the amused little shift in your voice. “So, my rugged applejack,” you began, and Epel rolled his eyes fondly as he stared up at the ceiling. “Are you still hopelessly in love with me? Or has bein' at Night Raven introduced you to pretty pavement princesses?” His entire face immediately heated, and he pushed himself upright, glancing around his empty room despite knowing perfectly well that you couldn't see him. “C-course I am,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as his accent grew thicker with embarrassment. “Yer the apple of my eye. No city girl could ever compare to you.”

You laughed softly on the other end, clearly pleased with yourself, and Epel couldn't help smiling despite his embarrassment. “That's what I like to hear,” you teased, and he huffed as he settled back against his pillows, pretending to be annoyed while listening to you continue talking about home. Before long, the conversation wandered naturally from the orchard to Honeycrisp, from Honeycrisp to your family, and eventually to the Polaroid tucked safely inside Epel's wallet, where the photograph of the two of you had become one of his most treasured possessions.

Outside his room, the corridor had grown quiet as the evening settled over the dormitory, and Vil happened to pass by Epel's door on his way elsewhere. He slowed when he heard Epel's voice coming from inside, the door having been left slightly ajar in the boy's haste to make his nightly call, though nothing about Vil's expression suggested anything more than mild acknowledgment of the noise. He continued standing there for a moment as Epel's voice carried faintly through the opening, warm and unmistakably affectionate as he spoke to the person on the other end of the call.

silver falls in love with you so quietly that, for a long time, neither of you notice it happening. unlike some people, silver doesn't spend weeks panicking over strange feelings or desperately trying to figure out what they mean. the problem is much simpler than that: he genuinely doesn't realize anything has changed. spending time with you feels natural, comfortable, and easy. you become part of his routine before he even thinks to question it.

if he sees something that reminds him of you, his first instinct is to tell you about it later. if something good happens, he wonders what your reaction would be. if he's tired—and considering this is silver, that is often—he finds himself gravitating toward your presence without consciously meaning to. none of this seems unusual to him. you're important to him, so naturally he wants to be around you. that explanation satisfies him for a surprisingly long time. unfortunately, everyone else notices almost immediately. lilia notices. sebek notices. even wakasa—malleus notices.

silver, meanwhile, remains completely oblivious. when lilia casually points out that silver has been staring at you for several minutes straight, he simply blinks and asks if he has. the answer is yes. he accepts this information and somehow learns absolutely nothing from it. the truth is that silver has always been someone who loves quietly. his affection does not appear in grand gestures or dramatic declarations. it appears in the little things. making sure you get back safely after late-night events. saving you a seat without thinking about it. remembering details you mentioned months ago and bringing them up later. offering his jacket when you're cold. checking whether you've eaten. none of it feels particularly significant to him, he's simply taking care of someone important to him. the problem is that eventually you become more important than anyone else. that realization sneaks up on him.

one day he notices that hearing your voice immediately improves his mood. another day he realizes he remembers your schedule almost as well as his own. then he catches himself searching crowds for you automatically whenever he arrives somewhere. little things begin piling up until they become impossible to ignore. the moment of clarity arrives unexpectedly when you're talking to another student during lunch. it's a perfectly normal conversation, completely harmless. yet he finds himself watching from across the cafeteria longer than necessary.

then there's a strange feeling in his chest. not anger. not irritation. something else, something rather unpleasant. jealousy. the realization catches him so off guard that he nearly drops the book he was holding. because jealousy implies something. it implies he wants your attention, your time, and your affection. suddenly a hundred little moments begin making sense. the way he always seems happiest when you're nearby. the way your praise lingers in his thoughts. the way your smile somehow feels more rewarding than it should. the way he always notices when you're gone. silver has never been particularly afraid of emotions, but this one leaves him strangely unsettled. not because he dislikes loving you. quite the opposite. the frightening part is how natural it feels.

loving you slips into his heart so easily that he cannot even remember what it was like before. somewhere along the way, thoughts of you stopped feeling separate from his everyday life and simply became part of it. the idea of losing that is what truly scares him. because despite his calm nature, silver carries insecurities of his own. he knows he's a bit unusual. he falls asleep at inconvenient times. he struggles with things others find easy. there are moments when he feels out of step with the people around him, moments when he wonders whether he is difficult to understand.

then there is the matter of his origins, the lingering uncertainty that has followed him for much of his life. questions he still doesn't fully know how to answer. questions about where he belongs. questions about who he is. when his feelings for you deepen, those insecurities begin whispering in the back of his mind. what if you deserve someone better? someone more dependable? someone who can stay awake through an entire conversation? someone easier to love? the thoughts never become overwhelming, but they linger quietly in the background.

the realization fully settles one evening while the two of you are walking through the gardens.the conversation drifts easily from topic to topic as the sun begins setting around you. at some point, you laugh at something he says. not a polite laugh or a forced one, but a genuine laugh, bright and warm and completely unguarded. silver finds himself staring before he can stop himself. the sound settles somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly he understands. not because you're extraordinary, although you are. not because you're kind, although you are that too. it's because being with you feels like coming home.

• If there's anything he isn't the biggest fan of, it's "candid" paintings of himself. It's not that he thinks they're bad, and he understands that he looks his most natural when he isn't aware he's being sketched, but he always finds them a bit embarrassing to look at. He doesn't want you to stop doing them, he just doesn't want to see how he looks taken off-guard.

• I imagine him finding the Overblot painting was an accident. He isn't the type to go snooping through your work - so some kind of shenanigans would need to happen for him to find it tucked away in a corner. And he is completely taken by surprise.

• He recognises himself right away, and is struck by the intensity of the artwork. It looks... angry.

• Of course, he looks angry in the painting, but that isn't all. The way it's drawn is almost messy, with hazardous strokes of paint seeming to suggest a certain fury baked into the canvas.

• He spends far too long just blankly staring at it. He hadn't known how he looked when he Overblotted, he realised. He isn't sure he likes it. When had you made this? The way you depicted him was nothing like how you usually did; the loving and careful lines were gone and replaced with harsh, jagged edges and seemingly randomly picked, nonsensical colours. It was less like you cared about the result, and more like you just... had to get this down on canvas somewhere.

• When you return, everything is moved back into place, and he doesn't say a word about the painting.

• He knows art is often a medium for expressing one's emotions, and he can hazard a guess as to the sheer frustration that had led to you putting that down on canvas. He wasn't sure if all of that anger was aimed at him, but he supposed it was none of his business. He just doesn't want you to see him in that way ever again.

• He appreciates your candid paintings a lot more now.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

• Doesn't mind being your muse, he just doesn't want to pose.

• So if you'd like to sketch or paint him while he's relaxing or sleeping without needing him to do anything, go for it. He's incapable of being taken off-guard though. He'll always meet your eyes when you're sketching him no matter how secretive you think you're being and ask you if you're getting a good look.

• Also, despite claiming to not want to pose for you, you're pretty sure he does show off a little when he knows you're looking. You could've sworn that shirt button wasn't undone just a few seconds ago.

• I don't think he'd frequently go snooping through your things, but he also doesn't see the big deal in doing so. He's likely to find the painting while looking for something else, and given it's hidden away in a corner and turned around to face the wall, of course he gets curious and wants to take a peek.

• He was not expecting an unfinished sketch of his Overblotted self on the other side.

• He puts it back right away, his mood instantly souring. He doesn't want to see that, especially not in the way you've drawn it.

• It was just so... pathetic. The way he was framed to make him look so small and weak against the blot overwhelming and consuming him.

• Unlike Riddle, he will actually say something about it, asking you why you made it in a very pointed tone of voice. And when you respond by saying that you just felt the need to paint the pain you saw in him that day, he asks you if that is how you still see him.

• "If you really want to know how I see you, take a look at any of my other paintings I have of you."

• Finally, he just scoffs. He really doesn't get how you artists think.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

• Azul has mixed feelings on your paintings of him. Of course, he admires your skill and appreciates it very much, but he never seems particularly enthused about seeing how it turns out.

• To be clear, he thinks your art is spectacular. He just never quite got over how odd it feels to see himself on canvas.

• He isn't as insecure about his appearance as he used to be, but when you've hated your own reflection for most of your life, that line of thinking is difficult to get rid of. This becomes especially clear when you ask to see his Octopus form one time so you can paint it, and he swiftly shuts you down.

• Despite it not being the body he was born with, Azul at this point in time only truly feels comfortable with himself when he's in his human form, and even that fragile confidence is hanging on by a thread. He'd take a very long time to even want to show you his mer-form at all, never-mind have it painted.

• So you ended up painting his Overblot instead.

• Maybe it was a slightly odd decision - but you remember there being something so captivating about how he looked back then. You feel a little guilty thinking it given the situation, but he was truly beautiful.

• And when he finds it, he's less upset than you'd expect.

• You always portray him so adoringly, and this painting was no different. The ugliest, most humiliating moment of his life - after he'd lost all of his contracts, threw a "tantrum," had his past aired to you against his will and even tried to hurt you - drawn in such a gentle, kind, understanding light. Like he's someone who deserves that sympathy.

• He almost wants to cry, and laugh at the same time. What was he so afraid of? You've already seen the worst of him, and this is how you chose to portray it.

• Azul doesn't mention the painting, but he does tell you that he may be more open to letting you paint his Octopus form now.

JAMIL VIPER

• He's a little bit concerned. And also flattered.

• Generally speaking, Jamil is completely willing to be a model for your paintings, but will often ask why you chose him. He (in-universe only, because you and I both know this isn't true) doesn't stand out much in terms of looks, and he wonders why you don't find someone more suitable to paint. You can say it's because you love him and he'll smile and roll his eyes at you.

• He always wants to see the finished product. He isn't an artist, so he can't give detailed feedback, but he'll compliment your work and try to point out a few specific things about it to praise so he doesn't sound uninterested.

• Still, he never quite got what the appeal of painting him was. He makes an effort to blend in as much as possible, to look as average, bland and dull as can be. He's not used to being in the spotlight, and it's a little weird to see so many paintings with him as the focal point.

• To be honest, he probably ends up finding the painting while cleaning your space. It doesn't matter how tidy you are, Jamil can never leave anything well enough alone if it looks disorderly to him.

• And when he sees it, I honestly imagine his reaction as vastly different to anyone else on this list. I think he'd be weirdly flattered by it?

• His Overblot is by no means a fun memory to return to, but for some reason I can't get this image out of my head of Jamil staring at a painting of his Overblotted form, tilting his head and thinking, "I look kinda good here."

• I don't think he minds that you painted it. He'll bring it up to you later, asking why you never showed it to him before, and jokingly tells you not to be stupid when you admit that you didn't think he'd have a positive reaction to it. He'll go on to praise it like he does with all the rest of your paintings.

• Also, you made him look kind of domineering in it, and he likes that. A bit of a confidence booster, for sure. Local teenager discovers he's got aura.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

• He's in his element. He's another one who isn't too big a fan of the candid sketches, but mostly because he really would much rather pose for you. It's literally his job.

• Vil will outright demand to see every new painting you've made of him. He loves all the little details, it just shows you've been paying very close attention to him, as you should.

• I think he's also the only one who would try to give you any constructive critiques about your art, and they're usually at least semi-helpful.

• He does have a few favourite paintings of yours. Ones where he can just feel the love behind each stroke, the attention given to every minor detail in an effort to put down every little thing you love about him. And despite preferring to model for you, he finds that the candid paintings are often the most beautiful of all.

• Vil is another one who I think may be prone to re-organising your room; not necessarily obsessively cleaning it to the same degree that Jamil might, but he does often find himself suppressing a long-suffering sigh every time he sees how cluttered your workspace has become. And the one time he takes it upon himself to help you out, he comes across the painting you'd hidden away.

• It strikes him where it hurts right away. His Overblot was the lowest he'd ever gone, the ugliest he'd ever been. He had resorted to poisoning his competition - completely giving up on his own chances to win fairly - and had completely broken down. Even if he doesn't remember the actions he took while Overblotted, he does remember the loss they suffered to RSA right afterward, maybe even because of what he'd done back then preventing everyone from performing at their best.

• It was his greatest failure and a complete disgrace. But your loving attention to detail hadn't changed a bit.

• His eyes sting with tears and he puts the painting away again, feeling as though he can't look at it any longer. He just can't wrap his head around it. What part of what he did back then deserved this kind of love?

• He may bring it up to you later, but not now. He isn't even sure what he'd say. Right now, he plans to remind you how grateful he is to have you. He feels like he hasn't said it enough.

IDIA SHROUD

• He keeps asking you to draw anime characters.

• No seriously, please just draw anime characters instead of him, he is begging you.

• He doesn't dislike the paintings of him that you actually manage to finish, it's just difficult to get any sketches prepared because if he notices you're drawing him, he gets really embarrassed and fidgety and will probably try to hide.

• You have so many unfinished sketches because of this, and you have to be extremely sneaky about it now. But strangely, when you show him the finished artwork, he's all over it, and will go on and on about how cool you made him look. But for some reason he just can't stand knowing he's being drawn, no matter how much he knows he'll like the outcome.

• It also might be easier to just start taking photos of him out of nowhere to use as reference instead. He calls you a creep for it but you can just as easily say "look who's talking."

• On the note of him being kind of a creep, I think Idia looks through your stuff on a kind of regular basis. He's not looking for anything, nor is there any goal in mind at all for why he does this. He's just like that

• So when he finds the painting, he knows it must be fairly recent, because it wasn't there the last time he snooped. Which then only makes him panic even more when he turns it over and sees what it is.

• Why are you drawing this now? He knows what he did back then was awful - literally potentially world-ending - but you've always seemed so understanding, like you knew he wasn't completely in control by the time he Overblotted. What he means is, it's never posed an issue in your relationship. At least as far as he knows. But if you're drawing his Overblot this recently, are you still, like, mad at him for it? Traumatised? Why haven't you said anything to him about it?

• What if you feel like you can't talk to him about it because you're scared of him or something? He thinks you've been acting normal, but what if it's just pretend?? Do you hate him???

• Prepare to wake up to 30 "do you still love me" messages at 5 in the morning.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

• Malleus is almost strangely happy to be your muse. Not only does he want to see all the finished products, but he'll analyse them in excruciating detail, often leaving you the embarrassed one.

• He's another one that is impossible to take off guard, as he'll always notice when you're sketching him. He won't change what he's doing though, choosing to ignore it until you're finished so he won't interrupt whatever vision you had in mind.

• He often wants to show off your art and will take literally any excuse to do so. If you're happy with this, then great; but if you're shy about your art, you have to be careful not to let him hold the finished artwork for too long lest he disappear with it to show to anyone who will listen.

• Definitely plans to have your art hung up on his castle's walls someday.

• Malleus doesn't make a habit of looking through your things as a whole, but your artwork? Certainly. It's how he ends up finding the painting of his Overblotted self.

• He isn't necessarily happy about it, nor is he upset that you put it to canvas. He'll keep the art with him until you return, so he can show it to you and use it as a gateway to have a conversation with you about it.

• It's more like an opportunity to get his thoughts in order and just... make sure everything is understood between the two of you. He wants to know any and all lingering thoughts or feelings you have surrounding what he did back then, and he wants to be as forthcoming as he can with you about his own, as well.

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.

"What're you doing?" "Shh! Watching!" Grim shooed you away as he very obviously hid in a bush. You furrowed your brows, looking around.

"Watching... what?" Grim held his paw up to his mouth with a whine, telling you to be quiet once more. A sigh escaped your lips. "Alright then, suit yourself. Ace and Deuce are gonna be here any minute."

You had a scheduled study session with them. Well— more so with Deuce. Ace complained about being left out so he was tagging along. Sitting down on a bench, you waited by Heartsbyul's fountain. Since they were taking their sweet time getting here, you decided to get a head start on some homework.

It almost made you forget about the fact that your cat was trying, and failing, to discreetly hide in a bush behind you.

"Hey, Prefect! Didn't keep ya waiting too long, did I?" The familiar voice rung through the garden. Looking up, you spot Ace walking over.

"Riddle stopped me on the way here. Talked my ear off because I cut one of the roses wrong or something. Real buzzkill, right?" He huffed before his eyes drifted to the side. Of course, his eyes went to the beast that stuck out of the plants. Ace raised a brow as he stared at Grim in the bush.

"... So— What's his deal?" "I honestly have no idea. I tried asking him about it and got shushed."

The red card soldier laughed in amusement. "He shushed you with his tiny paw? That's hilarious. You're a real push over sometimes, Prefect." Ace teased, lightly elbowing your arm as he took a seat beside you. You rolled your eyes before changing the subject.

"Where's Deuce? I thought he'd be with you?" Trappola mischievously grinned at your question, leaning back on his arms.

"Mr. Honor-Student is stuck helping Trey in the kitchen. He accidentally bumped into 'em earlier when he was holding this huge cake and it went splat everywhere! You should've seen it!" You and Ace continued to chat, your homework apparently long forgotten as he told you more about what happened with Deuce.

Meanwhile from the distance, Grim watched you two. As your self proclaimed cupid, Grim decided he needed to consider all his options for your potential lover. Even Ace. Yuck.

Nonetheless, Grim knows you best. And he knows you're prone to bad decisions, unlike himself of course. So maybe Ace would be a good fit for you?

He's been in more trouble just as a first year compared to a lot of the juniors. Maybe the thrill is what you need to get out of your slump?

Grim watches as Ace digs through his bag, handing you a tiny, cherry flavored lollipop. He grabs another for himself as the two of you dink your lollipops together before plopping it into your mouth.

The grin on your face is one of relaxation— an expression communicating peace, something you’ve been missing for a while as you listen to Ace continue to blabber on about whatever.

That face… it’s the look of love!

Haha! Grim's found your ideal match in less than an hour! Score! That's what you get when you're dealing with the future greatest mage of all time!

Now he's just got to get you two to confess your undying love for one another, right? He can do that easy!... Wait, how does he do that?

Grim thought extremely hard, way harder than he was used to. Back at Sam's shop... the two people on the postcard were kissing, right? So that means Ace needs to kiss you! Wow, look at this genius making plans on the fly. It's a wonder people don't ask for his autograph when he walks by.

So, in order to get you and Ace to kiss, he needs to get your faces close. Easy!

Glancing around him, the direbeast spots stones scattering the ground. One by one, he scoops them up in his paws, all different sizes. The bushes rustles as he changes positions. If you or Ace notice, neither one of you seem to care. Obviously. You two are so in love, you can't see anything else!

Grim nearly topples over by the time he gets where he needs to be. The rocks are heavier than he anticipates, but none of that matters. All it means is that his plans will be more effective. The biggest rock lays in his good paw as he lets the others fall on the ground in front of him. A calm, stabilizing breath escapes from his throat as he winds his hand back, further and further and further until...

"Ow! What the—!?" Ace's head is pushed forward ever so slightly as a rock collides with him from behind, his lollipop falling right out of his mouth. You shoot him a weird look and raise a brow as you halt your movements, taking the sweet treat out from your lips. A wide, toothy grin appears on Grim's face. He's quick to load up another rock. "OW! This has got to be intentional! Whoever’s doing that better— Hey!" Ace whines, attempting to cover his head. You blink in surprise, leaning toward Ace. "Uh, are you okay?" "Does it sound like I'm okay!?"

You're moving closer to him to check on him, and Ace is moving closer to you to get away from the stones. Perfect!... Except it's not enough. You're close, but not kissing close. Time to bring out the big guns.

Grim takes another, deeper breath before emerging out from the bushes.

"Maybe it's acorns." Trying to ease the pain, you put your hand on the back of Ace's head. "Gah! I think a bump's forming!" Ace groans, attempting to shoo your hand away. "Nothing a bit of ice can't fix. No need to be a baby." You tease, shrugging your shoulders as you look away from Ace.

“Grim are you seeing this?” Turning around on the bench toward the bushes behind the two of you, you’re expecting to spot Grim instantaneously. “Grim?” A hint of concern plagues your voice as you glance around for Grim. “I’m the one being attacked and you’re worried about him?” Ace whines beside you, lightly kicking your leg to get your attention back on him.

He doesn’t get the acknowledgment he wants as you stare at something behind him moving scarily fast.

"Is that...? When did he get back there?" "YOU'LL THANK ME LATER!"

Charging full force into Ace's back, Grim slams directly into the boy, shoving him into you. The card soldier's body is lunged forward, his face connecting with yours. Score!

... His victory is short-lived as, instead of one of those romantic, accidental kisses in the movies, Ace's forehead crashes into yours. Hard. Hard enough both yours and his head begin swelling instantly.

Both of you lean back, rubbing the spot with pained hisses. The lollipop in your free hand fell to the ground beside Ace’s.

"Grim! What the hell!?" You growl, opening an eye to glare at him through the pain. The direbeast freezes, akin to a deer in headlights, especially as Ace bounces up. "You're the one who was throwing rocks at me too, huh? Oh, you're so dead!"

Mission aborted! Abort mission!

Safe to say Grim is crossing off Ace from your 'True Love' list as he bolts away from the crime scene, swiping both of the fallen lollipops on his way out.

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BONUS

Sitting on your bed, you press a thing of ice to Ace's head, a small chuckle escaping your lips as he dramatically whines from the contact. He too has an ice pack against your forehead, though you seem much more composed with the injury.

"This sucks. My head hurts everywhere. And my arm is getting tired from holding this up." He complained, his hand holding up ice to your bruise slipping as he lets his body collapse forward into you. His head rests in the crook of your neck. You can practically feel his pouty expression against your skin.

"I know something that might help?" You hum, taking the two ice packs and discarding it onto your nightstand. Ace flickers his eyes up from his place against you, quirking a brow. "Oh really? What, you gonna cast a spell or something? Wait, news flash, you can't! Magicless little Prefect—"

His words are cut off as he feels your lips softly press against the bruise on his forehead. The speed in which his cheeks begin to take on a color similar to his hair is impressive. He stares at you, a bit dazed. You can't help but smirk.