Spindle Koleso

100 follower tag game!!!

make urself/ur sona with this picrew, and see what calico critter u are with this quiz :3

mine (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

tags!!: @jesters-landmine @sad-emo-dog @basstobe @harmony-of-the-dead @sadsilkymoth @purgatorial-guide @rottingcannibaby @sicklysweet420 @host-objectified-irl @sketched-mess @birdres @asg4rd14n-angel-f4ngs @cybertoybox @dinkingmyoiter6 @euph0r1ac @number1odasakufan @witheringinthehospital @6perfect6angel6 @hpdamechan @maluberi @yourlocaloaf + open!!!

The quiz isn't half wrong, but I hate lying or exaggerating the truth incase it nabs me in the ass later.

-🚫🫀

well perfect time to make us a syssona :3 had to include smth that looked like my aventurine necklace. -dewey

@get-jinxed666 @freakysatan @sweetbuniiiii @siriusthesleepy @silliest-of-the-sillies @silvervanrouge123 @trashy-trout46 @dark-world-apple + open tags :3

Not very creative so I wanted to make myself :3

@ram-anon

“Hiiiiii!!!”

((@lil-th0rn))

" Hiiii!"

((@lil-th0rn))

" Hiiii!"

(a starter for @lil-th0rn ! Thanks for doing this with me !)

Amos Roothyde is quite good at most of the subjects he takes. He's an expert in math, has straight A's in all things history, and when it comes to anything magic, he could confidently tutor someone and have them get as good grades as he does. He's a prodigy at knowing the history, symbolism, and how to control his own magic powers. However, if there's one subject that he would rather die than study, it would be flying. But that's the one subject he's failing, which, for him, unfortunately means that a study session is due.

Amos hops onto his broom, taking a deep breath in and out. He closes his eyes, channeling his magical capacity into the broom like he's been taught so many times.

Focus... focus...

He takes off, getting two feet off of the ground before he tips over and lands splat on the ground again. He did worse than before, so it seems. Just his luck.

"Urgh..."

Amos closes his eyes and sighs. He probably looks like an idiot, with his hair all tousled from falling one too many times and his jacket and pants covered from head to toe with grass. His gloves have also taken quite the beating, and there's now a rip on the left one that Amos hopes isn't too big so that he doesn't have to spend too much on it. Beads of sweat drip from his forehead, but wiping them off just replaces it with grass, which isn't his favorite alternative.

Sevens, why did flying have to be so hard for him? He watches his other classmates fly and compete in spelldrive tournaments without breaking a sweat, and here he is, not even able to get three feet off the ground. This is so unbelievably embarrassing. He wishes that he could be better at this instead of magic, which is something he'll never even be able to pursue. All of his talents were put into the wrong subject for him.

Never mind. He can get better at this. He has to get better at this.

Just before Spindle had gone off campus where no one would bother him. When he had enough alone time, he walked back to Diasomnia. It was quicker to cut across the PE area than it was walk the perimeter until he reached the path.

Spindle didn’t think he would run into anyone. The PE area was usually deserted that time of day. No one wanted to be around what most of the student body considered ‘torture’ when there was no need to take part in said torture.

At least, that was what he had thought before he saw a student on a broom trying to dig himself an early grave it seemed. Spindle was good at sneaking around and staying unnoticed, so he watched in silence for a few moments before making himself known.

Amos tilts his head, taking a solid minute to comprehend what the boy said. He shakes his head, a soft smile spreading on his face.

"I'm okay, but thank you. Just in a bit of a pickle here. My body has taken worse."

He has to lean on his knees a considerably long amount of time to stand upright. He's about to dust off his pants—a nervous habit, making sure that he looks like someone that can be interacted with—but then thinks better of it and decides to pass on the idea. It would be easier to dust himself off if Amos just took off his gloves, and it's... pretty obvious, actually. But he doesn't seem to notice.

"There's a thing I do. Kind of like a reward system. I can't drink water if I don't get up five feet."

By the Seven, people nowadays are absolutely foolish, Spindle thought to himself. He shook his head in exasperation.

By the looks of it, the other had been at this for a while. Spindle couldn’t pin point how long, and honestly he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the exact amount. He might actually feel concerned.

"Ah... thank you, but I'm afraid that I won't get anything done if I don't stick to my system. I'm... stubborn like that..."

His movements stutter, and he gulps, trying to get any semblance of water that he can without actually using the bottle that was offered to him. He can't tell who this stranger is. His head is spinning. The world is spinning. His muscles are cramping. He can't tell what's going on.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern."

He looks up from beneath his bangs, frozen in place. He's afraid that if he moves any more he'll fall.

His day had been going so smoothly before he got himself involved in this. He made a mental note to never waste his time with this sort of thing again. The only thing that pulled Spindle out of his thoughts of annoyance was when he came to the realization that the other guy did actually look like he was about to faint.

Spindle didn’t exactly looked concerned, but his voice definitely took on a more urgent tone, “Sit down and drink. Don’t be a dunce.”

The thorn fae looked around the area hoping he could see someone - anyone who would be more writ and willing to help. Unfortunately for him, the PE area was deserted except for him and the dunce.

He takes one long sip of water, blacking out for a second or two before coming back to reality. The water seemed to have replenished him somewhat, so with this newfound discovery Amos drinks until the bottle is empty.

When he can't keep sucking anymore, Amos places the bottle down, leaning against it slightly.

"I... thank you. I didn't think that it would get this bad. Really, I owe you a lot."

Despite the water, his voice is hoarse, and he looks up with glossy eyes. It doesn't seem as if he's crying because of the help, but that could be part of the equation. He looks a bit terrified, now that the realization of near-fainting has fully dawned on him.

After watching the other chug the once full bottle of water, Spindle sat down in the grass next to him. The Sun was hot on the back of neck. Honestly, it had been a wonder the other had lasted so long, assuming he took no break.

“You wouldn’t have owed me anything if you had just stopped when your body told me to stop,” Spindle scolded. He sighed and mumbled quietly under his breath, “This generation of humans, I swear…”

Why does he looked petrified…? Spindle distantly wondered. He didn’t give the thought any mind. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

Sevens, this couldn't have ended any more horribly. Amos just had to almost have a heat stroke in front of this poor stranger, all covered in grass and grime and looking absolutely disheveled, and he still couldn't even fly more than three feet up! All he's doing is embarrassing himself today, and he scolds himself internally for it.

"Right. My name is Amos Roothyde. I'm the brother of Riley Roothyde. You've probably heard his name floating around."

He hates it whenever he has to introduce himself. "Amos Roothyde, brother of Riley Roothyde. Quieter, weirder, inferior person, brother of one of the most outgoing and popular people in NRC." Nobody knows him until he's in another person's shadow.

And then he hears the part about getting another drink, and he curses himself mentally.

The request of a new drink from the person who you just drank all of their water from should've been obvious to Amos, but even that he doesn't know if he can fulfill. Lately, the two Roothyde brothers haven't had money for anything but the food that they have at home, so their money for buying things outside is scarce. He'll try his best, but Amos doubts that he has enough change in his pockets to get something new for Spindle.

"Sure, I'll get that drink for you now. Bt, if you wouldn't mind, would you allow me a minute or two to recover? I don't think I can stand up without falling back down again in my state."

“Amos… I think I’ve heard you,” Spindle commented. Then he finally introduced himself, “Spindle Koleso.”

Spindle doubted Amos had heard of him before. He was a first year and hadn’t gotten into quite enough trouble just yet for people other than the ones in his grade to have heard of him.

Well, maybe they had heard of one of Malleus’ bodyguards. Or the only thorn fae at NRC. But Spindle doubted anyone at NRC recognized him as anything other than another intimidating fae of Diasomnia.

Spindle nodded at Amos’ request, “Sure. I’ll help you get to the infirmary, you’ll buy my drink, then I’m gone.”

Then he noticed the tear in Amos’ glove, “Can I fix that for you?”

Amos smiles, changing his position from kneeling to criss-crossed. He's blushing a little, half from the sun and half from embarrassment after everything that's happened. He nods at the plan, not wanting to get in Spindle's way anymore, but then freezes when Spindle offers to fix his glove.

"Ah... you'd really do that? Are you sure? I wouldn't want to bother you any more than I already have."

Amos rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

The last thing he needed was to be treated like a pet by some popular kid. The thought alone made his skin crawl. Spindle would rather eat one of Lilia’s meals. Not to mention Spindle assumed this Riley wanted to be his friend was because he wanted to prove he was so nice that he could friend the ‘unfriendable’ or some stupid trivial thing like that. Because this was NRC and the only one without ulterior motives is Kalim.

Spindle held a hand out for the glove, “I want something to do.”

"He believes that everybody has something unique to offer him friend-wise, and in return he has something unique to offer them. He sees people in such an interesting light. I wish I could see everybody the way he does, but unfortunately I'm more wary than he is. It's my job, as the older brother."

Amos extends his hand, allowing Spindle to do what he'd like with it. He's never seen sewing in action before, so he isn't completely sure if Spindle wants him to keep the glove on or not. However, something that Spindle notices is that he's making a pointed attempt to keep the palm of his hand facing down.

"If you think it's irritating, which some people do, then you can tell him and he won't bother you. He's nice like that."

Spindle sighed, “If I maybe blunt, it’s better to be wary than too trusting. Being too trusting is the move of a half-brained mouse. At least when you’re wary, you can say you have the ability to think…” he shook his head, “Apologies, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?”

It was very unclear whether he meant that apology or not.

“It would be easier for you to take the glove off. That way I don’t prick you,” Spindle instructed while digging through his bag. He pulled out a sewing kit and a push cushion poked with needles.

Amos chuckles self-deprecatingly as he takes off the glove. On his palm, Spindle could spot many scars that clashed against each other and drove deep into his skin. They don't look new, but they don't look old, either. Maybe from a few weeks ago.

"Because of my wariness, I am very, very lonely. I haven't found any real friends who actually care about me and will wait for me despite my busy schedule to do things. Riley has already found hundreds of those, and those same hundreds of friends would beat up anybody who did something bad to him in a heartbeat. Because of his stance right now, he doesn't really have to be wary. But I do. That's how I made myself to be."

He sighs, resting his hands on his lap as he watches Spindle get to work. His eyes watch the pattern of the needle as it weaves through the fabric, mesmerized. Sewing does look interesting.

He shrugged, “I don’t mind the rant. Honestly it’s nice talking to someone who mostly shares my sentiment.”

“And if you really want friends that badly, I suggest talking to Ace Trappola and honestly all of his friends. They see ‘I don’t want friends or to be around anyone’ and take that as a challenge…” Spindle suggested, clearly annoyed by the group of first years.

The glove repair was halfway done at this point. The rip hadn’t been too big in the first place. Nothing Spindle couldn’t handle.

Much more complicated. Amos doesn't have the time for friends, working two jobs on the weekdays and three on the weekends. Nor does he have the money. He doesn't even have a phone—he needs to use a computer at the library for work so often that his seat is reserved. Not to mention that his social skills are down in the dumps. Ace Trappola hasn't come to make friends with Amos yet because Amos just wouldn't be a good friend.

"I'll let him know. He'll probably get off of your tail after that, but I can't promise that he won't run into you a few times. He's just like that, but I don't think he'll bother much."

Amos looks up at Spindle, who's completely focused on the glove and isn't meeting his gaze.

"Do you not have friends? It's not that you look like it or anything—I don't mean to offend. I'm just curious. How could you live without any friends by your side? Who do you tell your fears to? Your worries? All of your moments, both the good and the bad? What are your... 'coping mechanisms,' so to speak?"

His shoulders visibly sagged as Amos agreed to put in a ‘good’ word for him, “Thank you. I don’t want to be your brother’s little pity friend, as I’ve mentioned before.”

Spindle couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at all the questions. It caught him off guard. Well he’s definitely a curious one…

“Well to start, I do have friends,” Spindle said, “Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and Malleus. And well, I guess Ortho, but I don’t know him too well. Period. I don’t need anymore. They’re the only support system I need.”

‘Coping mechanism’? That was a tad deep for someone he had just met not too long ago.

“My coping mechanism are none of your concern,” Spindle stated. Derealization, depersonalization, isolation, slashing at a practice dummy, occasionally opening up to someone I deem worthy-

Amos nods as he listens to what Spindle has to say, gulping. He needs more water, but he's also feeling even more embarrassed than before. What the hell is wrong with him? Just because things have been getting worse lately doesn't mean that he can ask advice from a literal stranger. Is he already that pathetic?

He rubs the back of his neck again, chuckling.

"Yeah. Don't answer anything you don't want to. Sorry for being so bold right off the bat."

He takes the glove gingerly, putting it on and curling his fingers in and out to make sure it's actually repaired.

"You're good at this. I've always wanted to try sewing, but I've... never gotten the chance. Thank you so much for this."

He looks up at Spindle, tilting his head.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he was grateful Amos didn’t push. A lot of people would try to pry a little more, to see if they can get anything out of him. Spindle appreciated that this wasn’t the case here.

The compliment wasn’t expected. He had never even thought of his sewing skills as much more than something that was useful on occasion. Also he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

“Oh- uh, you’re welcome. And thank you,” Spindle managed. Seven, he could only pray that he didn’t sound as awkward as he thought he did…

He cleared his throat, “As for the second favor…” he thought over his options for a moment, then pulled out his wallet, “I need to study for a test in Professor Trein’s class, but I also needed to pick up some more metal polisher from the student store. I won’t have time to do that, so you can buy it once you’re feeling better.”

He pulled out twenty dollars worth (idk the thaumarks to dollars ratio-) to of thaumarks and handed them to Amos.

Amos looks back at the broom, sighing.

"If only some of that talent could've been transferred to flying. I'm probably going to fail our next flying test. I didn't get anything done today."

Amos stands up slowly, resting his hands on his knees. He feels better now, but he's still cautious of his body in case it decides to fail him again. His eyes widen at the two-thousand thaumarks, accepting them with careful hands.

Two-thousand. It's been a long, long while since Amos had been able to actually hold this kind of money in his hands. Maybe if he were able to get twenty thaumarks per shift, things would be better off when it came to money in the Roothyde household. He wouldn't have to toil over the next day's meal.

These thaumarks aren't his, though. They're Spindle's, and he'd feel guilty for the rest of his life if he used them on something that isn't their original purpose.

He enjoyed learning about history (because history could not be allowed to repeat). It was interesting, but he was having trouble remembering all the specific things they went over in the unit. It was one of the longer ones.

“Great. That works for me,” Spindle packed up his sewing kit and put it back in his bag, “Do you feel like you can walk to the infirmary yet? I could help if you need it.”

Spindle found himself ignoring a lot of things today. Another one added onto the list being the way Amos ogled at the cash in his hands. Part of Spindle wondered if he should take it back, but he decided against it. Anyone looking at two thousand thaumarks like it was a genie’s lamp probably needed it more than he did. As long as he got his metal polisher, he didn’t care if the rest was pocketed or not.

Amos stretches his legs, picking up his broom and beginning the walk out of the field and to the infirmary with it tucked under his arm. He checks behind him to make sure that Spindle is following, and once he's sure that the other boy is, he slows down a bit so that the two can be side by side.

"That's right. The infirmary shouldn't take long, since you saved me before anything major could happen. Thank you again. If you spot any vending machines before I do, tell me, okay?"

He doubts that he has enough in his wallet to pay for a drink. Just one bottle of water is already 300 thaumarks, and Amos is unsure if he can spare even that little amount. He still needs to pay rent, buy their meals, make sure that Riley has enough to do what he wants—

"Ah. That's a vending machine, isn't it? Do you know if the drink that you want is in there?"

Amos approaches the vending machine, already scanning the prices. 600, 400, 500, 350... oh, hell. What if he wants a snack, too? I can't say no to that. He saved my life.

There were sweeter drinks that he liked, but what he said was true. He’d rather drink water while practicing with his dagger over chocolate milk. Plus it seemed to be the cheapest thing.

He examined some of the prices, “300 for water? Crowley better be using that to pay for a school therapist…”

A foolish and hopelessly desperate wish. It would probably fund his next vacation. Still, Spindle could hope, pointless as it was.

Amos reaches into his pocket, taking out a small, teared-up wallet. He flips it open and has to check every pocket in the wallet to find something, and even then it's just a few cent coins.

"I..."

Wow, he's shaking, and his face is redder than usual. He feels like an idiot, only coming up with a few cents to his name. He can't even pay for a measly water? How stupid.

"I'm so sorry. I swear that I have the money, it's just... not on me right now. It's at home. I can, ah, give you something of mine if you want, and then when I give you the bottle of water you can give it to me back? As, like, a promise?"

Amos hands Spindle the broom, trying his best to keep up his smile so that Spindle doesn't notice how unbearably idiotic and ashamed he feels. He almost looks close to tears again.

Was… was Spindle supposed to ignore how Amos was one misinterpreted comment away from a breakdown? It seemed like he was, anyway. Spindle had never been good at comforting people. He blamed that on the lack of connection with all but one person in his earlier stages of life.

He grabbed the broom and looked down at it, “I can think of a different favor, if you’d rather,” then Spindle hit him, “Actually, I do have a much better idea. Vouch for me and tell Sir Lilia that I’ll have to miss dinner tonight.”

This was much better than a bottle of water. It was Lilia’s turn to cook tonight. Some people would argue that Spindle was just being dramatic, but then they’d have to argue Sebek, Silver, and Malleus were also being dramatic.

Amos is as good as lying as he is with flying. He has a poker face whenever he lies, but he usually ends up apologizing right after, because he hates the feeling of being guilty. Amos can't apologize when it comes to this, though. He's already done so little for the other boy.

It would be better for him if he said a truthful lie. He wouldn't feel so pressured and guilty if he did that.

"Sorry again. I just... forget to put it in my wallet. The money. Ah."

He's rambling again, isn't he? Spindle already got the point. You're sorry. You need to shut up.

To be honest, Spindle could lie his own way out of this, but then he’d have to get one of the first years vouch for him, then they’d make him do something in return, it would just become a whole thing. This, however, was much easier.

“Just meet me at Diasomnia once you get out of the infirmary,” Spindle said, “I’ll be waiting near the entrance.”

The trip to the infirmary doesn't take long, since it was a minor heat stroke and didn't escalate into anything serious. The doctors send him out with a large bottle of water and a warning, but instead of keeping it to drink for himself, he puts the water into Spindle's water bottle that he realized that he accidentally kept with him and chugged the rest. He knew that he'd be fine. As he told Spindle before, his body has handled much worse than this.

The next thing he does is go to the mystery shop, where he picks up the metal cleaner and leaves with ten thousand thaumarks left to spare. These, he does not pocket, because he would feel absolutely terrible about it and would think about it for the rest of his life. Instead, he keeps them safely in his pocket for when he meets up with Spindle again.

All in all, the whole endeavor takes about thirty minutes to complete, so he's' pretty sure he's in good time. He hopes he is, anyway, when he steps foot inside of Diasomnia's dorm and sees Spindle waiting there for him.

"Hello again. Sorry if I took too long; I tried my best to get here as fast as I could."

Amos holds up the three things he was meant to give: the water bottle, the metal cleaner, and the ten thousand thaumarks. He gives Smindle a shy smile, hoping he'll forgive him now for the trouble.

“It’s alright. Lilia hasn’t finished with dinner yet,” Spindle said, standing to greet him. He grabbed the three things, putting the water in his bag, pocketing the thaumarks, and keeping the metal polisher in his hand. “Thank you.”

He meant it, but he didn’t try to make it obvious. Not that that was any different than usual. Thank the Seven Amos managed to get his hands on the metal polisher. He’d been meaning to give it a cleaning for a while now…

“I’ll show you the way. It’ll be more convincing if I’m there. Plus he won’t interrogate you if I stay,” Spindle explained, leaving no room for debate as he walked off into the actual dorm part.

Amos trails behind Spindle, hands behind his back as he steels himself to meet the Diasomnia housewarden and vice housewarden. He's heard good things about Lilia from Riley, but he doubts that he'll get the same genuine kindness Lilia gives Riley reciprocated to him. He always thinks that he will, and then at the end he ends up either being treated like a piece of shit or treated with unnerving faux-kindness because he's the brother of a really popular kid at school. He hates both options.

"This dorm is nice," Amos comments, looking around the hallways of the dorm. The gothic windows sandwiched in between statues of bat's heads was just Amos' style, and the candles on candelabras glowing a dim green tied the atmosphere together. He could imagine living here instead of the Savanaclaw dorm, and he was one of the top in the school when it came to magic...

After walking for a minute or two, Spindle pulled out a white handkerchief and poured some of metal polisher on it. He then put the bottle of metal polisher in his bag. Once that was away, he pulled out something from a pouch(?) on his belt.

A dagger.

Most of Diasomnia knew Spindle kept a dagger on him. They’d seen him walk around with it before, so he pulled it from his sheath without thinking much about it. He forgot Amos had never seen his dagger or knew he had one to begin with.

Spindle began to polish his dagger, clearly still forgetting how jarring this probably looked to an outsider. While he polished, he answered, “Perhaps, if you’re lucky. Prince Malleus has the slight tendency to wander around without warning anyone of where he’s going. Plus he’s trying to get as far away from Sir Lilia as he can while he’s cooking.”

"I see. That's alright then. No worries."

Amos plays with his gloved fingers for a few silent moments, careful to not break the stitch Spindle made before he starts again.

After polishing a specifically dirty spot on his dagger, he held it up to the dim candle light. It shined in the under the light. He hummed in satisfaction then started to polish another spot before continuing, “Silver’s friendlier than he seems. He has-… I believe people are calling it RBF now.”

“Sebek can be a handful. Don’t stand too close to him. You’ll go deaf,” Spindle said, “Lilia’s great. A little much at times, but he cares. He just can’t cook.”

“Malleus is kinder than many people think he is. People seem to have trouble understanding that,” Spindle sighed. He felt sympathy for Malleus, but there was unfortunately nothing anyone could do. Things had improved a little after the overblot, but still…

"People also tell me that I have that RBF thing that you're talking about," Amos chuckles, scratching his chin. "I've been trying to change it, but it doesn't seem to be working very well."

He tries his best to remember the faces of the other Diasomnia students, but he doesn't see them around much. He never really is around much. Fridays are the only days where he doesn't have to work at such an early hour.

"Sebek does seem kind, from what I can tell. And so does Lilia, because I've heard of him from my brother who is also good friends with him. Malleus as well—I would consider myself adequately good at recognizing the kindness meant in someone stoic."

Amos stops with him in front of the door, nodding firmly at Spindle's question.

It was odd. Or, it would be if Spindle hadn’t been aware of Lilia’s antics by now.

“I know you’re here, Sir,” Spindle called out.

There wasn’t a response at first. Then a sound - a giggle - came from above them, “Khehehe~!”

Suddenly Lilia swung down, floating midair upside down like a bat. He grinned, “Ah, Spindle! You’re just in time!” He floated down until he was right side up again, though his feet weren’t touching the ground, “The chicken noodle soup is almost ready!”

Spindle looked past him to the sludge boiling on the stove. He respected Lilia a great deal, but that *ancient fae curse word* was NOT chicken noodle soup.

Lilia then looked at Amos, his smile seemingly only growing wider with actual happiness, “Who’s your friend, Thorn? Is he staying for dinner?”

Spindle had to fight the urge to say that Amos wasn’t his friend. Lilia would’ve scolded him on his manners. Oh well. Spindle would just correct him later, “Sir Lilia, this is Amos. And no, he’s not joining us for dinner. Neither am I actually.”

Now that Amos is actually in the kitchen, the smell isn't really that bad. It's nothing worse than the trash he had to eat from a few times after his parents died, that's for sure. Maybe...

"But we would love to take some of it to-go with us, if you're okay with that?"

Before Spindle can go ahead and shoot him a weird look, amos shoots him one back: Stay quiet. I'll explain later.

He didn’t say anything once Amos shot him a look. Hopefully he would explain it later, but until then Spindle opted to stay silent.

Lilia immediately lit up with joy, “Oh of course! You can take extra, if you’d like!” He immediately floated off to get to go bowls, still talking to him, “Everyone in this dorm is always somehow either busy or have somewhere to be when it’s my turn to cook. No idea why!”

The sludge bubbled as if to say ‘I might have a guess’.

Lilia returned with three to go containers that he filled with the ‘soup’, his back turned to them. It landed with a loud, wet PLOP.

He takes a spoon from the counter, waiting for Lilia's permission. When he's given the signal, he takes a spoonful and bites into it.

Not a terrible texture, and the flavor's alright. I could easily have this for lunch and dinner if I play my cards right.

"This is pretty good. What's in this, if I may ask?"

Spindle closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Sir… please tell me you at least put chicken in the soup…”

“Fufufu! Thorn, there wasn’t any left in the fridge, I had to improvise,” Lilia explained.

Improvised… what did Lilia substitute the chicken in chicken noodle soup f- never mind. I’d rather not know, Spindle thought to himself.

Spindle wondered why Amos was letting himself be tortured like this. Going through his memory, Spindle tried to recall any bits and pieces he had overheard in the halls. A few people whispered about the Roothyde brothers being low on cash.

Well… they whispered about Riley being low on cash, but the end result was still the same.

Soup and crunch are two words that shouldn't be not even in the same paragraph, but Amos doesn't look like he's realized the oddity of a sentence that just came out of his mouth. He takes another bite, nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes, this is pretty fine indeed. Please, go on with packing the servings up. I'm sorry that I interrupted."

Amos steps back, moving to the sink and washing the spoon that he used to put it back in its proper place still cleaned. He stays near Lilia in case he needs any help, as well as to carry the portions when he finishes packing them.

Oh Seven no. He didn’t need to be reminded of those days. Out of all the times to bring out the childhood stories why now? Plus the reason he ate them in the first place was because it was better than what he ate when-…

“Sir-“ Spindle interrupted, trying to stop him.

“He ate everything I made.”

“Sir Lilia, please stop-“

“Every last crumb. Then he just stopped. No idea why he stopped. Oh! I think I have a photo of him when he was nine or ten with his face covered in my food-“

“LILIA,” Spindle exclaimed loudly. That was the loudest he had spoken all day. At least in front of Amos. He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Amos takes the bag of food, looking happier than he has ever since he met Spindle. Having to spend half the money for food for him and his brother sure is a relief. Maybe he'll have more money to save for some good meals for him next week.

"Thank you so much, sir Lilia, Amos thanks, giving the man a deep bow.

"Me and Spindle will be enjoying the food that you made us wholeheartedly. Really, I cannot thank you enough. I'll deliver the dishes to you when we finish them. That, you can count on."

Amos sees himself out, saying another goodbye to Lilia and holding the door open for Spindle to walk through. When the two of them are a safe distance away from the kitchen, Amos begins to explain.

He shook his head, “Anyways, you’re free to take all of that. Or any other food Lilia makes for that matter.”

Spindle remembered at that moment that they had never properly confirmed or denied whether the study session was happening. It would help Spindle, sure, but he wasn’t exactly known for asking for help.

"I'm sure you've heard of others talking about how the Roothyde family is poor, and they'd be correct. I try my best to sustain me and my brother enough to look decent when we're at school, but when it comes to food, we have to take whatever we can."

He looks down at the bag of so-called "food" that he's holding, careful not to kick it too hard since he has it in front of his legs.

"Or... more like I do. Riley gets better food solely because he hasn't built up the tolerance for it like I have."

He tries his best for his brother, he really does. But when he has to give Riley the horrid food that he usually eats, or when Riley eats nothing on some days because his stomach nor their budget can handle it, Amos truly feels like a horrible brother. He wishes that he had the mental capacity and time to work three jobs instead of just two.

He looks up about the study session comment, breaking him away from his thoughts. At the slight nervousness in Spindle's voice, Amos smiles softly.

What am I supposed to say? Sorry doesn’t do anything… Spindle thought to himself. From experience, sorry loses all meaning after a while. At least it does when they say sorry for reasons other than actually being in the wrong.

Thankfully, the conversation moved on rather quickly. Spindle was thankful Amos didn’t make a big deal out of it.

"I think I'll be following you then, if you don't mind. I don't know where the library here is."

They walk in silence for a minute or two, save for the sound of footsteps coming from both them and other students and the sound of the candle flame's soft crackle. All the while, Amos is thinking of what to say to make the walk less awkward. He knows that Spindle probably doesn't mind that the walk is silent, but he doesn't want to seem ignorant.

It may sound stupid - it sounded stupid to Spindle - but even asking for help about something as easy as this made him feel a little vulnerable. Obviously not very vulnerable (not as vulnerable as he had once been), but still.

He pulled out one of his notebooks, “These are my notes. I hope they’re legible.”

Amos takes the notebook, flipping it to the first page and reading the notes on it. He appreciates the neat cursive compared of Spindle to his own handwriting—sometimes he can't even understand his own writing—and sits down at the table Spindle picked out.

"These are some good notes you have here, however they're lengthy. Most of the essays you wrote in here can be shortened into two or three paragraphs. Don't get stressed over it, though—I'll show you how to condense them now."

He closes the notebook, handing it back to Spindle.

"Before I start teaching you, I... want to let you know that you should stop me if you don't understand what I'm talking about. I actually have, like, lesson plans that I make for things related to magic in my free time at work, because I'm really passionate about it even if I can't pursue it when I get older."

It's a shame, really. Amos wishes that he could study magic, but magic isn't what brings the money home. He needs to study not to become a mage, but to become... an accountant. Or a lawyer. or someone in a box office. He hasn't decided which.

“I see… I’ll make my notes shorter next time,” Spindle decided.

Despite sometimes coming off as viewing himself above people (not the intention but oh well), he was very willing to listen to advice. He’d try it out for a while and stop if it didn’t suit him.

Spindle raised an eyebrow, “That is impressive. Although why can you not pursue a career with magic? I’m sure there’s a good job you can use magic for.”

Amos stands back up, looking down at the table. His bangs covered his face, and therefore his expression.

"I've always wanted to help people, but right now the number one person I have to help is my brother. And helping my brother means that I need to make money for the both of us, so that way he can grow to be whatever he wants. I can handle not being a mage."

It's conflicting for Amos. He hates having to twist and bend himself to help Riley other than himself, but at the same time he knows that this is what he deserves. He hates this, but he likes this at the same time. Is he sick in the head or something?

"Sorry. You didn't ask for my entire backstory. Yeah, I'll go get the history book now."

Amos stands up, walking to a bookshelf near where they picked a table. He easily recognizes the magic history book and swiftly picks it up from its shelf, staring at it for a minute longer than necessary before heading back to where Spindle was.

He could only nod and watch as Amos went off to grab a history book from the library shelf. Then he turned back to his notebook and flipped to the point in the unit he had been struggling the most with (ugh, struggling. How he hated that word…)

Amos opens the history book, flipping it to the unit they're reviewing on the first try. He points to a picture, the information flowing out of his mouth steadily.

If Spindle doubted his prowess before, then this would have him speechless. Amos really did know just about everything related to magical history. Whenever Spindle asked a question, Amos could answer without even glancing at the book. He had those studying techniques down as well, and when Spindle mastered them, he was able to grasp the concept of the lesson way better.

Along with this, Amos would give good amounts of praise whenever Spindle got something right. A "good job" here, a "that's right. You're getting better already" over there, general things that Amos knew that others liked when studying. He tried his best to never let Spindle get discouraged or down because he didn't know something.

"And... that's about the whole of it," Amos ended, looking at a clock up at the library wall.

He felt so awkward. By the Seven, he hated this feeling. Please tell me he can’t tell how awkward I am right now…

Anything akin to the feeling of uncomfortableness Spindle chalked up to feeling vulnerable and exposed. Awkwardness? Vulnerable. Embarrassed? Vulnerable. Uneasy? Vulnerable.

And Spindle hated feeling vulnerable.

Spindle had been too focused in his studying to notice, but that was probably also easy to overlook because Amos was keeping it a secret. He knew that everybody didn't exactly like Lilia's food, and he didn't want to make Spindle get grossed out from eating in front of him.

"I, uh... or you could bring it yourself, of course."

If you don't want anything to do with me anymore.

“It probably would be easier if you came with…” Spindle mumbled. He looked at the clock, “Fine, but we have to be quick. It’s almost curfew.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Yes, it was almost time for curfew, but Spindle usually spent the first hour or so practicing with his dagger. This had been approved by Malleus, so no one would be concerned if he wasn’t back before then.

However if he was gone too long then people would start to worry and Spindle liked to get at least an hour of practice a day. Plus he had done much more talking with people he wasn’t close to than he would like.

He stood and shouldered his bag, “There’s probably enough to fill a bag with. We have a calendar for whose turn it is to cook in Diasomnia. Some people plan weeks ahead to get out of this.”

Amos checked the time two seconds earlier. Amos knew that it wasn't actually almost time for curfew. But if Spindle wants Amos to hurry up, Amos won't hesitate to comply. He still feels bad for everything that happened, so he doesn’t want to bother the other boy a more than he already has.

Idiot. Always sticking to the past. That guy doesn’t care about what happened anymore. This is all just YOU.

“Are Lilia’s meals usually so bad? Because this one didn’t taste that awful. It was pretty mediocre, actually.”

Amon follows Spindle, holding the bag with the other portion firmly in his arms. He still ate, and yet his stomach is still growling. Not from sickness, but from the desire to eat more. Today was one of those days where he doesn’t eat until he can’t handle it anymore.

“…If you want dessert that badly, I’m just going to buy you something from the vending machine,” Spindle decided, not leaving room for argument, “And don’t say you’d be able to stomach his dessert. Last time he made a cake, it wasn’t cake. It was stone. You would break all your teeth before it reached your stomach acid, so lose the ‘I-don’t-want-to-be-a-bother’ attitude and accept the offer.”

Normally Spindle wasn’t so helpful with people he barely knew, but he took pity on those who had to eat Lilia’s food. Also, he had gotten used to most people’s arrogance that this was starting to annoy him more than others’ ego.

Is Amos’ “I don’t want to be a bother” attitude actually bothering Spindle? After all he’s tried to not irritate the boy?

The thought gives Amos a sick feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t know how to act anymore. Should he stop acting submissive like this and instead be more outward? Is there a point in which someone can be too humble? Has he reached that point? How can he go back?

No matter what you do, you’ll always be a BURDEN…

“…Number nine,” he mumbled, referencing to a snickers bar in the vending machine.

“And number eleven. I’m—“

I’m sorry for making you do this, Amos almost says, but thinks better of it and shuts his mouth. He’s not making Spindle do anything. He’d probably get annoyed if Amos said something like that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, watching as he inserts money in the machine to buy the bar and the sandwich. Riley will be sure to like this for lunch tomorrow.

“Of course,” he replied, handing Amos the food, “This is much better than Lilia’s food, I promise you.”

Then he turned back to the vending machine and inserted a few more thaumarks. He got himself what had to be one of the most sugary drinks that was legally allowed to be sold. It would probably send the average person into cardiac arrest, but it was just enough for Spindle’s treat after practice.

Amos takes the sandwich, trying to stop himself from drooling. He can't take a bite. It's for Riley, and anyway he's already full. Full, but hungry. Full, but...

This is bad for him, and he knows it. This constant hunger that gnaws at him. Amos puts the new food into the bag with the other food, trying not to think about it by making conversation.

"Thanks for everything, again. If you ever need any more tutoring, you can let me know. I'm always happy to help. And if you any help with clearing out Lilia's food, feel free to tell me as well. I don't mind."

He sighed, remembering the one time Lilia almost cost Diasomnia a kitchen, “Let’s just say what cooking techniques he lacks, he makes up for in combat. And he’s very good in combat.”

Scarily good at combat, considering the analogy…

Spindle walked into the kitchen, giving Amos a nod of thanks. Lilia and Silver were in there, helping clean up. Silver looked just the smallest bit nauseous. He looked a shade or two paler as well and looked up as the two walked in.

“Ah, Spindle and… Amos, right? I hope you both enjoyed your study session,” Silver said. He then turned to Lilia, “Fath-… Lilia, may I go lay down? I’m feeling just a little unwell…”

Lilia smiled caringly and patted Silver’s shoulder, “Sure, Silver, go relax. Spindle can help once his friend leaves,” he watched as Silver walked off. Then he looked back to Amos and Spindle, “How was the study session? You two back for seconds?”

Amos' nods, waving goodbye to Silver as he leaves to rest. When he's out of sight, he faces Lilia, giving him a sheepish smile.

"Our study session went well, I'd hope. From what I could tell, Spindle left more informed. I'm around of him, really."

Amos chuckled, blushing when Spindle mentioned the leftovers tidbit.

"Ah... yes, that is right. I promise not to take too much of your time, not to worry. I understand it's late. However, I do have a container for you from Spindle's leftovers, and if you wouldn't mind, it would be a great help to me if you were to put any leftovers of the food you made today in here. If you are not saving them, of course."

Lilia walked over to the fridge and pulled out the pot of leftovers. It still looked pretty full. He then took then container from Amos and filled it up, “Is that enough? You can take more if you’d like,” then he had a thought, “You can stay for ice cream if you’d wish! Then you two can tell me about your study session. Thanks for helping Spindle, by the way. He rarely ever asks for help, even from m-“

Spindle coughed into his fist loudly, “Lilia.”

“Oh, alright,” he sighed and shook his head in amusement, “You and your pride, Little Thorn, my Seven.”

Spindle didn’t say anything further, but he did glare at Lilia’s last remark. He wasn’t that prideful. He could ask for help when he really needed it, he just didn’t need help that often…

"Anytime. I am always happy to help. Thank you again for the leftovers, sir."

He puts the spoon away, closing the drawer and taking the time to reorganize his things. Only when Lilia asks Amos what flavors he'd like from the group is when the offer dawns on him.

"Ice... cream...?"

Amos feels especially stupid right now. It seems to be a common reoccurrence today. He's heard sometimes of Riley going out to get ice cream with friends, but it was usually much too expensive to get when it was hot outside. He would usually opt for shitty lemonade. Therefore...

As much as Spindle wanted to say no, he really couldn’t say no to ice cream.

Spindle walked over to the tub labeled cotton candy and opened the lid, revealing bright blue and pink ice cream. He’ll never understand how some people didn’t like it. He grabbed a spoon and took a bite. He looked like he was in heaven.

Amos locates the cups easily, taking out cups for the three of them and taking the ice cream scooper gently from Lilia's hands. The tubs are almost entirely frozen, making it exceptionally hard to scoop anything up, yet Amos does it without a struggle.

For Spindle and Lilia's cups, he fills it to the brim with the ice cream that they choose, but for himself he only fills it halfway. He then gives each person their cup and a small spoon, moving out of the way of the toppings. He doesn't know when is appropriate to start eating it.

Lilia looked at Amos’ bowl and chuckled, “Oh you’re allowed more than that!” He grabbed the ice cream scooper and filled Amos’ bowl as high as theirs, “You’re the guest. It’s alright if you don’t finish it all!” Lilia then grabbed the chocolate syrup and poured it all over his own ice cream.

Spindle hesitated before pushing the caramel syrup towards Amos, “Chocolate ice cream tastes better with caramel,” he shrugged, “Or don’t use it. I’m not you.”

"I've never had caramel, either. I don't think."

Oh, sevens. Not again. Don't cry don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...

Amos wishes that he wasn't close to tears. He doesn't cry in front of anybody, and yet it's already happened three times today. Three times? What the hell? Is he that sensitive? Grow up, Amos.

"Sure, I'll... get a bit. If you wouldn't mind."

Who would mind. Who would mind? Amos is overthinking as he grabs the bottle and pumps a few squirts. As usual.

"Thank you so much for being so accepting of me. I... I really appreciate it. If you two want to ask me any questions about myself, you can go right ahead. Just to, ah... show that I'm completely safe."

…Shoot, Spindle thought to himself. He slid the chocolate sprinkles over, hoping they would help. The only forms of comfort Spindle could give were advice and gifts. Everything else came awkwardly to him.

Lilia smiled at Amos’ suggestion, “Sure! And that gives me a great idea! What if we all play 20 Questions. You can ask questions about us, and we’ll ask some about you!”

"That sounds like a good idea. I think that one of you should ask me a question to start, since I'm the unknown one here. For the most part. I don't find any question as being too personal, so please ask whatever you'd like."

Amos scoops up a small bite of his ice cream and puts in it his mouth, his eyes widening at the taste. It's so good. His stomach growls a little louder as he takes another bite, trying his best to eat slowly.

Thankfully, that was what ended up happening. Lilia thought for a moment before finally saying, “Ooooh, I got one!” He pointed his spoon at Amos and grinned, “Who’s your favorite housewarden?”

Spindle pretended not to be listening for Amos’ answer, but he definitely was. Obviously the best housewarden was Malleus, Amos would probably say it was Leona.

Amos' face turns a little red as he continues.

"I admire his power and how he's determined to change since his overblot. It's inspiring, and... well. I really have an affinity for magic, so meeting him personally has always been one of my dreams."

A dream that he knows he shouldn't have. It'll only fuel his desire to learn about magic even more, despite the fact that he can't. No matter what he does, Amos Roothyde will never be able to continue pursuing his love of magic because his duty is to make money. Magic doesn't make money.

Magic doesn't make money.

"I doubt it'll ever happen, though. Which is fine by me."

Amos takes another bite, thinking of a question to ask.

…He was saying all of this out loud, wasn’t he?

He quickly cleared his throat and regained composure, “…a very powerful figure, yes,” there was silence. And then Spindle said, “…I practice with my dagger, sewing, and bird watching.”

Seven, end me now…

Lilia chuckled at Spindle’s outburst of enthusiasm, but didn’t comment on it, “In my free time, I enjoy traveling alone. It’s quite relaxing.”

Amos rubs the back of his head, crafting his answer carefully.

"Ah... my favorites would be cats. I love cats. Riley—my brother, as you know well, sir Lilia—is also fond of cats, but he's allergic, which ends up with me having to go to a nearby CVS to get him allergy medication."

A lie. Amos can't afford to get medicine unless it's free, which leads him to resort to some sketchy places to get what he needs. He hates doing it, but he has to.

Spindle shot Lilia a glare. He knew the older fae was absolutely lying through his teeth - Lilia never ran out of questions for everyone. He shot Spindle a wink that went unnoticed by Amos that clearly meant “Go on”.

Spindle rolled his eyes and looked at Amos, “How about your favorite… song? Or genre of music?”

Amos rubs the back of his neck, thinking of what he should ask next.

"I'll ask the next question, then. Uh... the only thing that comes to my mind is something a little more personal, so I hope that you two don't mind. But, ah... what are your biggest influences?"

“That’s because you only like two songs and they’re both lullabies, Little Thorn,” Lilia said. He gave a long, dramatic yawn, “Well I’m going to hit the hay. You two finish the game. Spin, if I’m still up, come see me afterwards. I wanna talk to you about something afterwards.”

Spindle glared at Lilia. This lying old *ancient fae curse word*. He’s a nocturnal fae, he doesn’t get tired that easily, especially not this late at night.

In the end, Spindle sighed, “Of course, Sir Lilia,” then he got to thinking about his answer, “I’d say… discrimination. Oppression of groups, genocide of those who are ‘different’, things along those lines,” then he realized how that sounded, “Influenced in a good way.”

That didn’t help, “As in I do not want to end up like that.”

"That's a fair motive. One of the reasons that I wish to study magic as well. Both me and my brother face those oppression groups every day, even though you're probably not talking about this specific one. So it's good that you're striving to not be the one at fault."

Then, after realizing that he, too, should give further context:

"Because... well. He's aroace. And I may be something similar."

Amos would usually mind telling somebody of him and his brother's sexuality, but not Spindle. Hell, even Spindle himself looks aroace, so he doesn't really care. He deserves the context anyway.

"Gossip?" Amos repeats, almost laughing at the question.

True, that wasn’t the exact discrimination he was referring to, but he should probably add that to the list of oppressing group that just seemed to keep growing…

He hadn’t exactly experienced any discrimination for being aroace yet, but most people here seemed accepting.

The sentiment is genuine; he's proud of Spindle for learning something so important about himself. He himself doesn't know whether he's aroace or asexual, and it's been something that has been nagging him for a while now. At least someone else he cares about was able to make that discovery.

"I probably won't have enough time to do so, but maybe I'll tell my brother to try it out and see what he can find."

After a moment or two of silence, Amos chuckles nervously, scratching his chin.

Oh by the Seven, he was way too quick with that reply. It almost sounded like he wanted to keep talking and getting to know him. Like he was having fun-

No. No he wasn’t. He just wanted to make Lilia happy and proud. That’s all.

“I mean… if you don’t want to that’s fine. I believe it was your turn to ask a question,” Spindle said.

"I'm glad, then. Sure, I can ask a question. How about... what do you look for in a friend?" He says with that same smile, tilting his head.

"For me, it's mainly people who are kind and understanding. I'm pretty busy all ways of the week—I work two jobs, unfortunately—so people who don't mind my busy schedule are crucial for me. I also just generally like people that are nice and fun to be around."

He takes another bite of his ice cream, tilting his head.

Hang on a moment.

“Are you asking so you can either fit yourself to meet the criteria or so you can see it you’re what I’m looking for?” Spindle asked.

In the short day Spindle had known Amos, it had seemed exactly like the kind of thing he would do. The way he got nervous so easily in conversation, the way he went oddly quiet when Spindle called him out for his pushover behavior…

"I understand why you would think that, but those are not my intentions. Despite whatever happens, I don't plan on changing myself for others anytime soon. Too tired to."

He takes another bite, but this time it's intentional—the movement showcases the scars on his arms, the closing of his eyes heightens the bags under them, the gloved hands changing position reminding Spindle of the scars on his palms.

Amos did say that no question was too personal for him... maybe...

He sighed and thought about for a moment, “Someone loyal. Any other trait can come second. While I do have more traits I look for in a friend, loyalty is above all.”

The question was a tad personal for his tastes, but he supposed it didn’t reveal too much.

On the other hand, the question he wanted to ask was a bit more personal. Spindle’s gaze snagged on Amos’ scars. He hesitated before he finally asked what he wanted to.

"Ah?"

The boy's eyes widen when Spindle asks about the scars on his hands. He had said that no question was too personal, but he didn't actually think that Spindle had noticed those scars. he was trying to hard to hide them...

"The... scars," he says finally, "are self-inflicted."

Amos' voice is quiet when he says this. He sets his cup of ice cream down, its contents already melted.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t have asked. How could he have been so foolish? Curiosity truly did kill the cat…

“I’m- sorry,” he said, standing up and putting both the bowls in the sink, “You can leave if you want.”

Amos doesn't want to admit that Spindle is the closest thing he's ever had to a friend, both for his sake and for Spindle's. And he also knows not to ask about any of Spindle's scars, because he probably won't give the backstory to any of them. He can be a little hypocritical in that sense. Amos can already tell.

"I'll be staying here, if you'll let me. And... I don't really mind if you ask anything else about them. I need to come to terms with them at some point, and I think this may help. But don't ask me anything if you're uncomfortable with it, of course."

“If you insist on staying…” Spindle said, confused as to why Amos was staying. Spindle knew he would’ve left by now…

Why hadn’t he left by now?

I’m just tired… he thought to himself.

Amos knew that Spindle wouldn't start rambling to him about birds, but he wishes that the other boy would. It makes him feel happy, whenever someone starts rambling to him. It lets him know that the other person feels safe around him.

He knew this because he may or may not have accidentally on purpose befriended a few of the ones on campus. One time they say him through a window during class. Thankfully it was animal linguistics, so it only earned him points, but still. Nonetheless, when he went home to look it up, he learned crows absolutely do memorize faces.

"My favorite season is winter, to nobody's surprise. I love the cold and building snowmen and whatnot. Although, the favoritism kind of backfires on me, because winter and the snow both limit my ability to use my UM and is my depression season."

He sighs, scratching his head. If his parents dying made this any worse already, one of his dads had depression, and genetics gave it to him as well. How horrid.

“I tend to prefer colder seasons as well. Fall or winter, I haven’t decided,” he pulled out a mug from a cabinet and poured water into it.

Spindle thought about all the projects he had done over the years. Little stuffed animals, blankets on occasion, a few patchwork clothes when he was feeling in need of a longer and more difficult project…

That easy? Amos had thought that Spindle would have put up a few more walls in regards to inviting Amos to his room. But he's happy nonetheless, so he doesn't complain or ask questions.

"Of course. Ah... what's your favorite tea flavor?"

He approaches Spindle with his hands behind his back, tilting his head at all of the flavors. jasmine green, matcha, chamomile, hibiscus, earl green...

“I like black tea,” Spindle replied, pulling out the mug. He put the tea bag in the water the cover the mug with a plated.

Pulling out sugar cubes and honey, he asked, “Did you want tea?”

Spindle pulled out a mug for Amos to make his own tea, then looked at the clock. It was 9:30. He but the inside of his cheek while doing mental math. He wanted to be back from training by 12:00 AM, and talking with Lilia could take a while…

Amos blushes faintly, setting the mug down. He understands that not knowing or trying so many things may be getting to a point, so he takes one of the tea bags and inspects it, trying to learn how to make the tea before he has to ask. It's to no avail, though, because the instructions are in the box where the tea bags come from, and not on the bags themselves.

Therefore, however reluctantly, Amos speaks up.

He then put the mug in the microwave for three minutes. Then he took the plate off his own mug and added a spoon of honey and three cubes of sugar.

"Is this one any good?" He asks, throwing the papers in the trash before he forgets. By the time he's returned, the timer on the microwave goes off, and he picks up the mug and drops the tea bag in.

He looked at the chamomile bag and shrugged, “I think it’s alright. Don’t forget to add at least sugar in it though. Most teas taste better with it.”

He pushed the sugar and honey towards him. Spindle didn’t mean for it to come off as, ‘don’t add it in, I dare you’ but unfortunately that was the vibe he carried around with him.

"Are you positive? I- uh- don't have anything to repay you with but favors, as you can see..."

He takes out a sugar cube from the compartment, inspecting it. He's never seen a square-shaped ball of sugar before. He hesitantly drops it into the tea, adding a little honey with it.

He took a sip of his tea, the added one more sugar cube. Then another. And one more for luck. Spindle took a sip and nodded in satisfaction. He grabbed a few teabags and pushed them into Amos’ hand.

“Let’s get going,” Spindle ordered, already walking down the hall to his room.

"Wow. This is really good. What is tea usually made of? Flowers? Or just herbs in general?"

Spindle came to a door at the end of the hall. It was almost hidden in the shadows and it didn’t help that the color already made it blend into the wall. He pushed the door open and held it open for Amos.

The dorm room was mostly barren, a few decorations here and there, the most noticeable one being an ebony spinning wheel sat in the corner. It was very neat and tidy. However, it seemed like he was the only one living there.

“I somehow managed to luck out with my rooming situation. I don’t have a roommate,” Spindle explained. He walked over to his bed and crouched down beside it, reaching under it. He pulled out a plastic container and opened the lid.

Amos steps into the room, looking around the room and gauging his surroundings. It's minimalist, like Amos expected, hidden where nobody could see it. Just like Spindle, in a way. He glances over the spinning wheel a few times, wondering briefly why Spindle would have to use one of those. Besides the irony, of course.

Amos hovers over the bed, not yet wanting to sit down and intrude. He looks down at the things in the container and smiles, tilting his head.

He put it back in the container and closed the lid, shoving it under the bed again. Spindle sat on the bed and took another sip of his tea, “My turn to ask a question, I think.”

"Food? That's... not a very fulfilling question on your end," he admits, blushing.

"I eat anything, as you can see. Developed a tolerance to shitty food over time, so I eat whatever I can get. So my favorite thing to eat would probably be any restaurant food."

He thinks for a moment before asking his next wuestion.

Awkward silence fell over the room again. This was unnatural for Spindle. He very rarely went over to others’ dorm rooms, let alone have someone in his dorm room. Not counting people close to him, he had maybe had over company enough times to count on one hand. Two of those had been his ‘company’ making themselves at home uninvited (at least Deuce had the decency to buy his lunch the next day).

Point being this was a very new experience to Spindle.

He took another sip of tea before responding, “Maybe. I don’t really mess with the online phone things. It’s too confusing.”

Always about money. Never what he wants to do, never what his goals are in life. Only... "how much money does this make?" He hates this. Why does he have to be so different from all the others?

A historian did sound interesting. However, not as interesting as serving the Prince of Briar Valley, Malleus Draconia, “I’ll be working for Prince Malleus. Sir Lilia says if I keep training, I’ll-… never mind.”

Spindle wasn’t typically one to believe in jinxing, but this was just too good to risk. Thinking he could be the war general? It was too amazing of an opportunity to risk.

Maybe it was just something Lilia had told the grieving 12-year-old all those years ago to comfort Spindle, but despite that he chose to believe it. It wasn’t something Spindle usually did - he didn’t usually believe in the unlikely- but there was always usually exception to every definite.

Amos listens to Spindle talk about working for Malleus, and even though it's brief, Amos can already sense the joy and passion Spindle has to be the war general for his liege. Amos has to admit, working for somebody—especially Malleus—is something that he has also considered, but he does not know the man, and even so, he supposes that the other already has enough people working for him to go around.

"That's node. I have no doubt in my mind that you'll be able to work for him well."

Amos tilts his head at the last question, chuckling. Collecting...

A bit of a flush rises to his face.

"I do collect, actually. It's one of my only hobbies. I collect trains. Model trains, train tracks, anything regarding trains I collect. I have a closet in my room just for them, where I connect everything and make them move and whatnot. A bit of an odd hobby, I understand."

The compliment made Spindle feel really happy. He tried not to let it show, but there was practically a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He raised his mug to cover his mouth. Was he… smiling? He quickly cleared his throat, returning to his usual resting face, “Thank you.”

"Well, my parents gave me a train set for my birthday when I was five, and I guess I fell in love with it."

As long as Amos didn’t dig deep into Spindle’s life, he wouldn’t dig deep into his. Simple as that.

“I also have a train track that reaches about 146 feet. If I went into the specifics of the trains, I’m afraid that we’d be here all night.”

He chuckles rather nervously, looking up at the clock on the wall.

“Speaking of which. Our deadline is almost here.”

He looked at the clock, “Ah, so it is,” he finished off the rest of his tea before standing, “I’m assuming you’ll need me to show you to the exit?”

“Oh, ah… and I have to put this away as well. The tea was really good, thank you.”

When he hears the last part, he laughs, grinning from ear to ear.

“Of course, Spindle. I surely wouldn’t mind. You’re a pleasure to teach.”

He walks to the door, opening it for Spindle to come through. Once they’re out and heading to the kitchen, Amos speaks again.

And that he did. He walked Amos through all of the dark corridors until they both reached the exit.

“That’s right. Until next time. Reach out whenever, by the way. See you around.”

Amos waves before stepping out and into the hall with all of the dorms circling him. He looks back briefly, wondering to himself if this Spindle will actually reach out to him. You never know with that guy, do you?

It’s alright. Regardless of whether or not he’ll see the other boy again, he did have a good time today, and that he cherishes more than anything.

He walked off to Lilia’s dorm room. What business did Lilia have with him? Perhaps it’s to discuss upcoming plans…

After once again walking down the halls, Spindle came to a stop in front of Lilia’s door. Spindle knocked, “Sir Lilia?” He called out.

“Come in, little thorn!”

Spindle pushed the door open and entered the room. Lilia had been doomscrolling, but looked up and smiled when Spindle walked in, “How was the rest of the game?”

“It was alright,” Spindle admitted. He leaned on the door frame, “What did you want to talk about with me, Sir?”

Lilia completely ignored the question, “That boy, Amos. Did he seem to enjoy himself?”

“I suppose so, I wasn’t paying much attention to that. Back on track-“

“And what about you? Do you feel like you know him better?” Lilia asked, once again avoiding the point.”

Spindle gritted his teeth, biting back a more disrespectful retort, “I don’t really know, perhaps? What are you-“

Lilia cut him off playfully, “The boy wants to be your friend, Little Thorn.”

Spindle froze at that. Friend…? Why? Why on all of Twisted Wonderland-

While Spindle’s brain blue screened, Lilia chuckled. He floated over to Spindle and patted him on the shoulder, “I know how you feel about friends, but I think it would be good for you to come out of your shell a little. In the end, it’s your decision.”

There wasn’t a decision to be made. Even if there was, it would be a no. Coming out of his shell? Breaking down the walls he built oh-so carefully to keep himself safe? To bring those down would…

Still, he did enjoy himself…

“I’ll consider it…” Spindle finally decided.

Lilia smiled and ruffled his hair, “Atta boy. Now go rest up for tomorrow.”

((@lil_th0rn))

(a starter for @lil-th0rn ! Thanks for doing this with me !)

Amos Roothyde is quite good at most of the subjects he takes. He's an expert in math, has straight A's in all things history, and when it comes to anything magic, he could confidently tutor someone and have them get as good grades as he does. He's a prodigy at knowing the history, symbolism, and how to control his own magic powers. However, if there's one subject that he would rather die than study, it would be flying. But that's the one subject he's failing, which, for him, unfortunately means that a study session is due.

Amos hops onto his broom, taking a deep breath in and out. He closes his eyes, channeling his magical capacity into the broom like he's been taught so many times.

Focus... focus...

He takes off, getting two feet off of the ground before he tips over and lands splat on the ground again. He did worse than before, so it seems. Just his luck.

"Urgh..."

Amos closes his eyes and sighs. He probably looks like an idiot, with his hair all tousled from falling one too many times and his jacket and pants covered from head to toe with grass. His gloves have also taken quite the beating, and there's now a rip on the left one that Amos hopes isn't too big so that he doesn't have to spend too much on it. Beads of sweat drip from his forehead, but wiping them off just replaces it with grass, which isn't his favorite alternative.

Sevens, why did flying have to be so hard for him? He watches his other classmates fly and compete in spelldrive tournaments without breaking a sweat, and here he is, not even able to get three feet off the ground. This is so unbelievably embarrassing. He wishes that he could be better at this instead of magic, which is something he'll never even be able to pursue. All of his talents were put into the wrong subject for him.

Never mind. He can get better at this. He has to get better at this.

Just before Spindle had gone off campus where no one would bother him. When he had enough alone time, he walked back to Diasomnia. It was quicker to cut across the PE area than it was walk the perimeter until he reached the path.

Spindle didn’t think he would run into anyone. The PE area was usually deserted that time of day. No one wanted to be around what most of the student body considered ‘torture’ when there was no need to take part in said torture.

At least, that was what he had thought before he saw a student on a broom trying to dig himself an early grave it seemed. Spindle was good at sneaking around and staying unnoticed, so he watched in silence for a few moments before making himself known.

Amos tilts his head, taking a solid minute to comprehend what the boy said. He shakes his head, a soft smile spreading on his face.

"I'm okay, but thank you. Just in a bit of a pickle here. My body has taken worse."

He has to lean on his knees a considerably long amount of time to stand upright. He's about to dust off his pants—a nervous habit, making sure that he looks like someone that can be interacted with—but then thinks better of it and decides to pass on the idea. It would be easier to dust himself off if Amos just took off his gloves, and it's... pretty obvious, actually. But he doesn't seem to notice.

"There's a thing I do. Kind of like a reward system. I can't drink water if I don't get up five feet."

By the Seven, people nowadays are absolutely foolish, Spindle thought to himself. He shook his head in exasperation.

By the looks of it, the other had been at this for a while. Spindle couldn’t pin point how long, and honestly he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the exact amount. He might actually feel concerned.

"Ah... thank you, but I'm afraid that I won't get anything done if I don't stick to my system. I'm... stubborn like that..."

His movements stutter, and he gulps, trying to get any semblance of water that he can without actually using the bottle that was offered to him. He can't tell who this stranger is. His head is spinning. The world is spinning. His muscles are cramping. He can't tell what's going on.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern."

He looks up from beneath his bangs, frozen in place. He's afraid that if he moves any more he'll fall.

His day had been going so smoothly before he got himself involved in this. He made a mental note to never waste his time with this sort of thing again. The only thing that pulled Spindle out of his thoughts of annoyance was when he came to the realization that the other guy did actually look like he was about to faint.

Spindle didn’t exactly looked concerned, but his voice definitely took on a more urgent tone, “Sit down and drink. Don’t be a dunce.”

The thorn fae looked around the area hoping he could see someone - anyone who would be more writ and willing to help. Unfortunately for him, the PE area was deserted except for him and the dunce.

He takes one long sip of water, blacking out for a second or two before coming back to reality. The water seemed to have replenished him somewhat, so with this newfound discovery Amos drinks until the bottle is empty.

When he can't keep sucking anymore, Amos places the bottle down, leaning against it slightly.

"I... thank you. I didn't think that it would get this bad. Really, I owe you a lot."

Despite the water, his voice is hoarse, and he looks up with glossy eyes. It doesn't seem as if he's crying because of the help, but that could be part of the equation. He looks a bit terrified, now that the realization of near-fainting has fully dawned on him.

After watching the other chug the once full bottle of water, Spindle sat down in the grass next to him. The Sun was hot on the back of neck. Honestly, it had been a wonder the other had lasted so long, assuming he took no break.

“You wouldn’t have owed me anything if you had just stopped when your body told me to stop,” Spindle scolded. He sighed and mumbled quietly under his breath, “This generation of humans, I swear…”

Why does he looked petrified…? Spindle distantly wondered. He didn’t give the thought any mind. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

Sevens, this couldn't have ended any more horribly. Amos just had to almost have a heat stroke in front of this poor stranger, all covered in grass and grime and looking absolutely disheveled, and he still couldn't even fly more than three feet up! All he's doing is embarrassing himself today, and he scolds himself internally for it.

"Right. My name is Amos Roothyde. I'm the brother of Riley Roothyde. You've probably heard his name floating around."

He hates it whenever he has to introduce himself. "Amos Roothyde, brother of Riley Roothyde. Quieter, weirder, inferior person, brother of one of the most outgoing and popular people in NRC." Nobody knows him until he's in another person's shadow.

And then he hears the part about getting another drink, and he curses himself mentally.

The request of a new drink from the person who you just drank all of their water from should've been obvious to Amos, but even that he doesn't know if he can fulfill. Lately, the two Roothyde brothers haven't had money for anything but the food that they have at home, so their money for buying things outside is scarce. He'll try his best, but Amos doubts that he has enough change in his pockets to get something new for Spindle.

"Sure, I'll get that drink for you now. Bt, if you wouldn't mind, would you allow me a minute or two to recover? I don't think I can stand up without falling back down again in my state."

“Amos… I think I’ve heard you,” Spindle commented. Then he finally introduced himself, “Spindle Koleso.”

Spindle doubted Amos had heard of him before. He was a first year and hadn’t gotten into quite enough trouble just yet for people other than the ones in his grade to have heard of him.

Well, maybe they had heard of one of Malleus’ bodyguards. Or the only thorn fae at NRC. But Spindle doubted anyone at NRC recognized him as anything other than another intimidating fae of Diasomnia.

Spindle nodded at Amos’ request, “Sure. I’ll help you get to the infirmary, you’ll buy my drink, then I’m gone.”

Then he noticed the tear in Amos’ glove, “Can I fix that for you?”

Amos smiles, changing his position from kneeling to criss-crossed. He's blushing a little, half from the sun and half from embarrassment after everything that's happened. He nods at the plan, not wanting to get in Spindle's way anymore, but then freezes when Spindle offers to fix his glove.

"Ah... you'd really do that? Are you sure? I wouldn't want to bother you any more than I already have."

Amos rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

The last thing he needed was to be treated like a pet by some popular kid. The thought alone made his skin crawl. Spindle would rather eat one of Lilia’s meals. Not to mention Spindle assumed this Riley wanted to be his friend was because he wanted to prove he was so nice that he could friend the ‘unfriendable’ or some stupid trivial thing like that. Because this was NRC and the only one without ulterior motives is Kalim.

Spindle held a hand out for the glove, “I want something to do.”

"He believes that everybody has something unique to offer him friend-wise, and in return he has something unique to offer them. He sees people in such an interesting light. I wish I could see everybody the way he does, but unfortunately I'm more wary than he is. It's my job, as the older brother."

Amos extends his hand, allowing Spindle to do what he'd like with it. He's never seen sewing in action before, so he isn't completely sure if Spindle wants him to keep the glove on or not. However, something that Spindle notices is that he's making a pointed attempt to keep the palm of his hand facing down.

"If you think it's irritating, which some people do, then you can tell him and he won't bother you. He's nice like that."

Spindle sighed, “If I maybe blunt, it’s better to be wary than too trusting. Being too trusting is the move of a half-brained mouse. At least when you’re wary, you can say you have the ability to think…” he shook his head, “Apologies, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?”

It was very unclear whether he meant that apology or not.

“It would be easier for you to take the glove off. That way I don’t prick you,” Spindle instructed while digging through his bag. He pulled out a sewing kit and a push cushion poked with needles.

Amos chuckles self-deprecatingly as he takes off the glove. On his palm, Spindle could spot many scars that clashed against each other and drove deep into his skin. They don't look new, but they don't look old, either. Maybe from a few weeks ago.

"Because of my wariness, I am very, very lonely. I haven't found any real friends who actually care about me and will wait for me despite my busy schedule to do things. Riley has already found hundreds of those, and those same hundreds of friends would beat up anybody who did something bad to him in a heartbeat. Because of his stance right now, he doesn't really have to be wary. But I do. That's how I made myself to be."

He sighs, resting his hands on his lap as he watches Spindle get to work. His eyes watch the pattern of the needle as it weaves through the fabric, mesmerized. Sewing does look interesting.

He shrugged, “I don’t mind the rant. Honestly it’s nice talking to someone who mostly shares my sentiment.”

“And if you really want friends that badly, I suggest talking to Ace Trappola and honestly all of his friends. They see ‘I don’t want friends or to be around anyone’ and take that as a challenge…” Spindle suggested, clearly annoyed by the group of first years.

The glove repair was halfway done at this point. The rip hadn’t been too big in the first place. Nothing Spindle couldn’t handle.

Much more complicated. Amos doesn't have the time for friends, working two jobs on the weekdays and three on the weekends. Nor does he have the money. He doesn't even have a phone—he needs to use a computer at the library for work so often that his seat is reserved. Not to mention that his social skills are down in the dumps. Ace Trappola hasn't come to make friends with Amos yet because Amos just wouldn't be a good friend.

"I'll let him know. He'll probably get off of your tail after that, but I can't promise that he won't run into you a few times. He's just like that, but I don't think he'll bother much."

Amos looks up at Spindle, who's completely focused on the glove and isn't meeting his gaze.

"Do you not have friends? It's not that you look like it or anything—I don't mean to offend. I'm just curious. How could you live without any friends by your side? Who do you tell your fears to? Your worries? All of your moments, both the good and the bad? What are your... 'coping mechanisms,' so to speak?"

His shoulders visibly sagged as Amos agreed to put in a ‘good’ word for him, “Thank you. I don’t want to be your brother’s little pity friend, as I’ve mentioned before.”

Spindle couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at all the questions. It caught him off guard. Well he’s definitely a curious one…

“Well to start, I do have friends,” Spindle said, “Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and Malleus. And well, I guess Ortho, but I don’t know him too well. Period. I don’t need anymore. They’re the only support system I need.”

‘Coping mechanism’? That was a tad deep for someone he had just met not too long ago.

“My coping mechanism are none of your concern,” Spindle stated. Derealization, depersonalization, isolation, slashing at a practice dummy, occasionally opening up to someone I deem worthy-

Amos nods as he listens to what Spindle has to say, gulping. He needs more water, but he's also feeling even more embarrassed than before. What the hell is wrong with him? Just because things have been getting worse lately doesn't mean that he can ask advice from a literal stranger. Is he already that pathetic?

He rubs the back of his neck again, chuckling.

"Yeah. Don't answer anything you don't want to. Sorry for being so bold right off the bat."

He takes the glove gingerly, putting it on and curling his fingers in and out to make sure it's actually repaired.

"You're good at this. I've always wanted to try sewing, but I've... never gotten the chance. Thank you so much for this."

He looks up at Spindle, tilting his head.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he was grateful Amos didn’t push. A lot of people would try to pry a little more, to see if they can get anything out of him. Spindle appreciated that this wasn’t the case here.

The compliment wasn’t expected. He had never even thought of his sewing skills as much more than something that was useful on occasion. Also he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

“Oh- uh, you’re welcome. And thank you,” Spindle managed. Seven, he could only pray that he didn’t sound as awkward as he thought he did…

He cleared his throat, “As for the second favor…” he thought over his options for a moment, then pulled out his wallet, “I need to study for a test in Professor Trein’s class, but I also needed to pick up some more metal polisher from the student store. I won’t have time to do that, so you can buy it once you’re feeling better.”

He pulled out twenty dollars worth (idk the thaumarks to dollars ratio-) to of thaumarks and handed them to Amos.

Amos looks back at the broom, sighing.

"If only some of that talent could've been transferred to flying. I'm probably going to fail our next flying test. I didn't get anything done today."

Amos stands up slowly, resting his hands on his knees. He feels better now, but he's still cautious of his body in case it decides to fail him again. His eyes widen at the two-thousand thaumarks, accepting them with careful hands.

Two-thousand. It's been a long, long while since Amos had been able to actually hold this kind of money in his hands. Maybe if he were able to get twenty thaumarks per shift, things would be better off when it came to money in the Roothyde household. He wouldn't have to toil over the next day's meal.

These thaumarks aren't his, though. They're Spindle's, and he'd feel guilty for the rest of his life if he used them on something that isn't their original purpose.

He enjoyed learning about history (because history could not be allowed to repeat). It was interesting, but he was having trouble remembering all the specific things they went over in the unit. It was one of the longer ones.

“Great. That works for me,” Spindle packed up his sewing kit and put it back in his bag, “Do you feel like you can walk to the infirmary yet? I could help if you need it.”

Spindle found himself ignoring a lot of things today. Another one added onto the list being the way Amos ogled at the cash in his hands. Part of Spindle wondered if he should take it back, but he decided against it. Anyone looking at two thousand thaumarks like it was a genie’s lamp probably needed it more than he did. As long as he got his metal polisher, he didn’t care if the rest was pocketed or not.

Amos stretches his legs, picking up his broom and beginning the walk out of the field and to the infirmary with it tucked under his arm. He checks behind him to make sure that Spindle is following, and once he's sure that the other boy is, he slows down a bit so that the two can be side by side.

"That's right. The infirmary shouldn't take long, since you saved me before anything major could happen. Thank you again. If you spot any vending machines before I do, tell me, okay?"

He doubts that he has enough in his wallet to pay for a drink. Just one bottle of water is already 300 thaumarks, and Amos is unsure if he can spare even that little amount. He still needs to pay rent, buy their meals, make sure that Riley has enough to do what he wants—

"Ah. That's a vending machine, isn't it? Do you know if the drink that you want is in there?"

Amos approaches the vending machine, already scanning the prices. 600, 400, 500, 350... oh, hell. What if he wants a snack, too? I can't say no to that. He saved my life.

There were sweeter drinks that he liked, but what he said was true. He’d rather drink water while practicing with his dagger over chocolate milk. Plus it seemed to be the cheapest thing.

He examined some of the prices, “300 for water? Crowley better be using that to pay for a school therapist…”

A foolish and hopelessly desperate wish. It would probably fund his next vacation. Still, Spindle could hope, pointless as it was.

Amos reaches into his pocket, taking out a small, teared-up wallet. He flips it open and has to check every pocket in the wallet to find something, and even then it's just a few cent coins.

"I..."

Wow, he's shaking, and his face is redder than usual. He feels like an idiot, only coming up with a few cents to his name. He can't even pay for a measly water? How stupid.

"I'm so sorry. I swear that I have the money, it's just... not on me right now. It's at home. I can, ah, give you something of mine if you want, and then when I give you the bottle of water you can give it to me back? As, like, a promise?"

Amos hands Spindle the broom, trying his best to keep up his smile so that Spindle doesn't notice how unbearably idiotic and ashamed he feels. He almost looks close to tears again.

Was… was Spindle supposed to ignore how Amos was one misinterpreted comment away from a breakdown? It seemed like he was, anyway. Spindle had never been good at comforting people. He blamed that on the lack of connection with all but one person in his earlier stages of life.

He grabbed the broom and looked down at it, “I can think of a different favor, if you’d rather,” then Spindle hit him, “Actually, I do have a much better idea. Vouch for me and tell Sir Lilia that I’ll have to miss dinner tonight.”

This was much better than a bottle of water. It was Lilia’s turn to cook tonight. Some people would argue that Spindle was just being dramatic, but then they’d have to argue Sebek, Silver, and Malleus were also being dramatic.

Amos is as good as lying as he is with flying. He has a poker face whenever he lies, but he usually ends up apologizing right after, because he hates the feeling of being guilty. Amos can't apologize when it comes to this, though. He's already done so little for the other boy.

It would be better for him if he said a truthful lie. He wouldn't feel so pressured and guilty if he did that.

"Sorry again. I just... forget to put it in my wallet. The money. Ah."

He's rambling again, isn't he? Spindle already got the point. You're sorry. You need to shut up.

To be honest, Spindle could lie his own way out of this, but then he’d have to get one of the first years vouch for him, then they’d make him do something in return, it would just become a whole thing. This, however, was much easier.

“Just meet me at Diasomnia once you get out of the infirmary,” Spindle said, “I’ll be waiting near the entrance.”

The trip to the infirmary doesn't take long, since it was a minor heat stroke and didn't escalate into anything serious. The doctors send him out with a large bottle of water and a warning, but instead of keeping it to drink for himself, he puts the water into Spindle's water bottle that he realized that he accidentally kept with him and chugged the rest. He knew that he'd be fine. As he told Spindle before, his body has handled much worse than this.

The next thing he does is go to the mystery shop, where he picks up the metal cleaner and leaves with ten thousand thaumarks left to spare. These, he does not pocket, because he would feel absolutely terrible about it and would think about it for the rest of his life. Instead, he keeps them safely in his pocket for when he meets up with Spindle again.

All in all, the whole endeavor takes about thirty minutes to complete, so he's' pretty sure he's in good time. He hopes he is, anyway, when he steps foot inside of Diasomnia's dorm and sees Spindle waiting there for him.

"Hello again. Sorry if I took too long; I tried my best to get here as fast as I could."

Amos holds up the three things he was meant to give: the water bottle, the metal cleaner, and the ten thousand thaumarks. He gives Smindle a shy smile, hoping he'll forgive him now for the trouble.

“It’s alright. Lilia hasn’t finished with dinner yet,” Spindle said, standing to greet him. He grabbed the three things, putting the water in his bag, pocketing the thaumarks, and keeping the metal polisher in his hand. “Thank you.”

He meant it, but he didn’t try to make it obvious. Not that that was any different than usual. Thank the Seven Amos managed to get his hands on the metal polisher. He’d been meaning to give it a cleaning for a while now…

“I’ll show you the way. It’ll be more convincing if I’m there. Plus he won’t interrogate you if I stay,” Spindle explained, leaving no room for debate as he walked off into the actual dorm part.

Amos trails behind Spindle, hands behind his back as he steels himself to meet the Diasomnia housewarden and vice housewarden. He's heard good things about Lilia from Riley, but he doubts that he'll get the same genuine kindness Lilia gives Riley reciprocated to him. He always thinks that he will, and then at the end he ends up either being treated like a piece of shit or treated with unnerving faux-kindness because he's the brother of a really popular kid at school. He hates both options.

"This dorm is nice," Amos comments, looking around the hallways of the dorm. The gothic windows sandwiched in between statues of bat's heads was just Amos' style, and the candles on candelabras glowing a dim green tied the atmosphere together. He could imagine living here instead of the Savanaclaw dorm, and he was one of the top in the school when it came to magic...

After walking for a minute or two, Spindle pulled out a white handkerchief and poured some of metal polisher on it. He then put the bottle of metal polisher in his bag. Once that was away, he pulled out something from a pouch(?) on his belt.

A dagger.

Most of Diasomnia knew Spindle kept a dagger on him. They’d seen him walk around with it before, so he pulled it from his sheath without thinking much about it. He forgot Amos had never seen his dagger or knew he had one to begin with.

Spindle began to polish his dagger, clearly still forgetting how jarring this probably looked to an outsider. While he polished, he answered, “Perhaps, if you’re lucky. Prince Malleus has the slight tendency to wander around without warning anyone of where he’s going. Plus he’s trying to get as far away from Sir Lilia as he can while he’s cooking.”

"I see. That's alright then. No worries."

Amos plays with his gloved fingers for a few silent moments, careful to not break the stitch Spindle made before he starts again.

After polishing a specifically dirty spot on his dagger, he held it up to the dim candle light. It shined in the under the light. He hummed in satisfaction then started to polish another spot before continuing, “Silver’s friendlier than he seems. He has-… I believe people are calling it RBF now.”

“Sebek can be a handful. Don’t stand too close to him. You’ll go deaf,” Spindle said, “Lilia’s great. A little much at times, but he cares. He just can’t cook.”

“Malleus is kinder than many people think he is. People seem to have trouble understanding that,” Spindle sighed. He felt sympathy for Malleus, but there was unfortunately nothing anyone could do. Things had improved a little after the overblot, but still…

"People also tell me that I have that RBF thing that you're talking about," Amos chuckles, scratching his chin. "I've been trying to change it, but it doesn't seem to be working very well."

He tries his best to remember the faces of the other Diasomnia students, but he doesn't see them around much. He never really is around much. Fridays are the only days where he doesn't have to work at such an early hour.

"Sebek does seem kind, from what I can tell. And so does Lilia, because I've heard of him from my brother who is also good friends with him. Malleus as well—I would consider myself adequately good at recognizing the kindness meant in someone stoic."

Amos stops with him in front of the door, nodding firmly at Spindle's question.

It was odd. Or, it would be if Spindle hadn’t been aware of Lilia’s antics by now.

“I know you’re here, Sir,” Spindle called out.

There wasn’t a response at first. Then a sound - a giggle - came from above them, “Khehehe~!”

Suddenly Lilia swung down, floating midair upside down like a bat. He grinned, “Ah, Spindle! You’re just in time!” He floated down until he was right side up again, though his feet weren’t touching the ground, “The chicken noodle soup is almost ready!”

Spindle looked past him to the sludge boiling on the stove. He respected Lilia a great deal, but that *ancient fae curse word* was NOT chicken noodle soup.

Lilia then looked at Amos, his smile seemingly only growing wider with actual happiness, “Who’s your friend, Thorn? Is he staying for dinner?”

Spindle had to fight the urge to say that Amos wasn’t his friend. Lilia would’ve scolded him on his manners. Oh well. Spindle would just correct him later, “Sir Lilia, this is Amos. And no, he’s not joining us for dinner. Neither am I actually.”

Now that Amos is actually in the kitchen, the smell isn't really that bad. It's nothing worse than the trash he had to eat from a few times after his parents died, that's for sure. Maybe...

"But we would love to take some of it to-go with us, if you're okay with that?"

Before Spindle can go ahead and shoot him a weird look, amos shoots him one back: Stay quiet. I'll explain later.

He didn’t say anything once Amos shot him a look. Hopefully he would explain it later, but until then Spindle opted to stay silent.

Lilia immediately lit up with joy, “Oh of course! You can take extra, if you’d like!” He immediately floated off to get to go bowls, still talking to him, “Everyone in this dorm is always somehow either busy or have somewhere to be when it’s my turn to cook. No idea why!”

The sludge bubbled as if to say ‘I might have a guess’.

Lilia returned with three to go containers that he filled with the ‘soup’, his back turned to them. It landed with a loud, wet PLOP.

He takes a spoon from the counter, waiting for Lilia's permission. When he's given the signal, he takes a spoonful and bites into it.

Not a terrible texture, and the flavor's alright. I could easily have this for lunch and dinner if I play my cards right.

"This is pretty good. What's in this, if I may ask?"

Spindle closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Sir… please tell me you at least put chicken in the soup…”

“Fufufu! Thorn, there wasn’t any left in the fridge, I had to improvise,” Lilia explained.

Improvised… what did Lilia substitute the chicken in chicken noodle soup f- never mind. I’d rather not know, Spindle thought to himself.

Spindle wondered why Amos was letting himself be tortured like this. Going through his memory, Spindle tried to recall any bits and pieces he had overheard in the halls. A few people whispered about the Roothyde brothers being low on cash.

Well… they whispered about Riley being low on cash, but the end result was still the same.

Soup and crunch are two words that shouldn't be not even in the same paragraph, but Amos doesn't look like he's realized the oddity of a sentence that just came out of his mouth. He takes another bite, nodding thoughtfully.

"Yes, this is pretty fine indeed. Please, go on with packing the servings up. I'm sorry that I interrupted."

Amos steps back, moving to the sink and washing the spoon that he used to put it back in its proper place still cleaned. He stays near Lilia in case he needs any help, as well as to carry the portions when he finishes packing them.

Oh Seven no. He didn’t need to be reminded of those days. Out of all the times to bring out the childhood stories why now? Plus the reason he ate them in the first place was because it was better than what he ate when-…

“Sir-“ Spindle interrupted, trying to stop him.

“He ate everything I made.”

“Sir Lilia, please stop-“

“Every last crumb. Then he just stopped. No idea why he stopped. Oh! I think I have a photo of him when he was nine or ten with his face covered in my food-“

“LILIA,” Spindle exclaimed loudly. That was the loudest he had spoken all day. At least in front of Amos. He buried his face in his hands, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Amos takes the bag of food, looking happier than he has ever since he met Spindle. Having to spend half the money for food for him and his brother sure is a relief. Maybe he'll have more money to save for some good meals for him next week.

"Thank you so much, sir Lilia, Amos thanks, giving the man a deep bow.

"Me and Spindle will be enjoying the food that you made us wholeheartedly. Really, I cannot thank you enough. I'll deliver the dishes to you when we finish them. That, you can count on."

Amos sees himself out, saying another goodbye to Lilia and holding the door open for Spindle to walk through. When the two of them are a safe distance away from the kitchen, Amos begins to explain.

He shook his head, “Anyways, you’re free to take all of that. Or any other food Lilia makes for that matter.”

Spindle remembered at that moment that they had never properly confirmed or denied whether the study session was happening. It would help Spindle, sure, but he wasn’t exactly known for asking for help.

"I'm sure you've heard of others talking about how the Roothyde family is poor, and they'd be correct. I try my best to sustain me and my brother enough to look decent when we're at school, but when it comes to food, we have to take whatever we can."

He looks down at the bag of so-called "food" that he's holding, careful not to kick it too hard since he has it in front of his legs.

"Or... more like I do. Riley gets better food solely because he hasn't built up the tolerance for it like I have."

He tries his best for his brother, he really does. But when he has to give Riley the horrid food that he usually eats, or when Riley eats nothing on some days because his stomach nor their budget can handle it, Amos truly feels like a horrible brother. He wishes that he had the mental capacity and time to work three jobs instead of just two.

He looks up about the study session comment, breaking him away from his thoughts. At the slight nervousness in Spindle's voice, Amos smiles softly.

What am I supposed to say? Sorry doesn’t do anything… Spindle thought to himself. From experience, sorry loses all meaning after a while. At least it does when they say sorry for reasons other than actually being in the wrong.

Thankfully, the conversation moved on rather quickly. Spindle was thankful Amos didn’t make a big deal out of it.

"I think I'll be following you then, if you don't mind. I don't know where the library here is."

They walk in silence for a minute or two, save for the sound of footsteps coming from both them and other students and the sound of the candle flame's soft crackle. All the while, Amos is thinking of what to say to make the walk less awkward. He knows that Spindle probably doesn't mind that the walk is silent, but he doesn't want to seem ignorant.

It may sound stupid - it sounded stupid to Spindle - but even asking for help about something as easy as this made him feel a little vulnerable. Obviously not very vulnerable (not as vulnerable as he had once been), but still.

He pulled out one of his notebooks, “These are my notes. I hope they’re legible.”

Amos takes the notebook, flipping it to the first page and reading the notes on it. He appreciates the neat cursive compared of Spindle to his own handwriting—sometimes he can't even understand his own writing—and sits down at the table Spindle picked out.

"These are some good notes you have here, however they're lengthy. Most of the essays you wrote in here can be shortened into two or three paragraphs. Don't get stressed over it, though—I'll show you how to condense them now."

He closes the notebook, handing it back to Spindle.

"Before I start teaching you, I... want to let you know that you should stop me if you don't understand what I'm talking about. I actually have, like, lesson plans that I make for things related to magic in my free time at work, because I'm really passionate about it even if I can't pursue it when I get older."

It's a shame, really. Amos wishes that he could study magic, but magic isn't what brings the money home. He needs to study not to become a mage, but to become... an accountant. Or a lawyer. or someone in a box office. He hasn't decided which.

“I see… I’ll make my notes shorter next time,” Spindle decided.

Despite sometimes coming off as viewing himself above people (not the intention but oh well), he was very willing to listen to advice. He’d try it out for a while and stop if it didn’t suit him.

Spindle raised an eyebrow, “That is impressive. Although why can you not pursue a career with magic? I’m sure there’s a good job you can use magic for.”

Amos stands back up, looking down at the table. His bangs covered his face, and therefore his expression.

"I've always wanted to help people, but right now the number one person I have to help is my brother. And helping my brother means that I need to make money for the both of us, so that way he can grow to be whatever he wants. I can handle not being a mage."

It's conflicting for Amos. He hates having to twist and bend himself to help Riley other than himself, but at the same time he knows that this is what he deserves. He hates this, but he likes this at the same time. Is he sick in the head or something?

"Sorry. You didn't ask for my entire backstory. Yeah, I'll go get the history book now."

Amos stands up, walking to a bookshelf near where they picked a table. He easily recognizes the magic history book and swiftly picks it up from its shelf, staring at it for a minute longer than necessary before heading back to where Spindle was.

He could only nod and watch as Amos went off to grab a history book from the library shelf. Then he turned back to his notebook and flipped to the point in the unit he had been struggling the most with (ugh, struggling. How he hated that word…)

Amos opens the history book, flipping it to the unit they're reviewing on the first try. He points to a picture, the information flowing out of his mouth steadily.

If Spindle doubted his prowess before, then this would have him speechless. Amos really did know just about everything related to magical history. Whenever Spindle asked a question, Amos could answer without even glancing at the book. He had those studying techniques down as well, and when Spindle mastered them, he was able to grasp the concept of the lesson way better.

Along with this, Amos would give good amounts of praise whenever Spindle got something right. A "good job" here, a "that's right. You're getting better already" over there, general things that Amos knew that others liked when studying. He tried his best to never let Spindle get discouraged or down because he didn't know something.

"And... that's about the whole of it," Amos ended, looking at a clock up at the library wall.

He felt so awkward. By the Seven, he hated this feeling. Please tell me he can’t tell how awkward I am right now…

Anything akin to the feeling of uncomfortableness Spindle chalked up to feeling vulnerable and exposed. Awkwardness? Vulnerable. Embarrassed? Vulnerable. Uneasy? Vulnerable.

And Spindle hated feeling vulnerable.

Spindle had been too focused in his studying to notice, but that was probably also easy to overlook because Amos was keeping it a secret. He knew that everybody didn't exactly like Lilia's food, and he didn't want to make Spindle get grossed out from eating in front of him.

"I, uh... or you could bring it yourself, of course."

If you don't want anything to do with me anymore.

“It probably would be easier if you came with…” Spindle mumbled. He looked at the clock, “Fine, but we have to be quick. It’s almost curfew.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Yes, it was almost time for curfew, but Spindle usually spent the first hour or so practicing with his dagger. This had been approved by Malleus, so no one would be concerned if he wasn’t back before then.

However if he was gone too long then people would start to worry and Spindle liked to get at least an hour of practice a day. Plus he had done much more talking with people he wasn’t close to than he would like.

He stood and shouldered his bag, “There’s probably enough to fill a bag with. We have a calendar for whose turn it is to cook in Diasomnia. Some people plan weeks ahead to get out of this.”

Amos checked the time two seconds earlier. Amos knew that it wasn't actually almost time for curfew. But if Spindle wants Amos to hurry up, Amos won't hesitate to comply. He still feels bad for everything that happened, so he doesn’t want to bother the other boy a more than he already has.

Idiot. Always sticking to the past. That guy doesn’t care about what happened anymore. This is all just YOU.

“Are Lilia’s meals usually so bad? Because this one didn’t taste that awful. It was pretty mediocre, actually.”

Amon follows Spindle, holding the bag with the other portion firmly in his arms. He still ate, and yet his stomach is still growling. Not from sickness, but from the desire to eat more. Today was one of those days where he doesn’t eat until he can’t handle it anymore.

“…If you want dessert that badly, I’m just going to buy you something from the vending machine,” Spindle decided, not leaving room for argument, “And don’t say you’d be able to stomach his dessert. Last time he made a cake, it wasn’t cake. It was stone. You would break all your teeth before it reached your stomach acid, so lose the ‘I-don’t-want-to-be-a-bother’ attitude and accept the offer.”

Normally Spindle wasn’t so helpful with people he barely knew, but he took pity on those who had to eat Lilia’s food. Also, he had gotten used to most people’s arrogance that this was starting to annoy him more than others’ ego.

Is Amos’ “I don’t want to be a bother” attitude actually bothering Spindle? After all he’s tried to not irritate the boy?

The thought gives Amos a sick feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t know how to act anymore. Should he stop acting submissive like this and instead be more outward? Is there a point in which someone can be too humble? Has he reached that point? How can he go back?

No matter what you do, you’ll always be a BURDEN…

“…Number nine,” he mumbled, referencing to a snickers bar in the vending machine.

“And number eleven. I’m—“

I’m sorry for making you do this, Amos almost says, but thinks better of it and shuts his mouth. He’s not making Spindle do anything. He’d probably get annoyed if Amos said something like that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, watching as he inserts money in the machine to buy the bar and the sandwich. Riley will be sure to like this for lunch tomorrow.

“Of course,” he replied, handing Amos the food, “This is much better than Lilia’s food, I promise you.”

Then he turned back to the vending machine and inserted a few more thaumarks. He got himself what had to be one of the most sugary drinks that was legally allowed to be sold. It would probably send the average person into cardiac arrest, but it was just enough for Spindle’s treat after practice.

Amos takes the sandwich, trying to stop himself from drooling. He can't take a bite. It's for Riley, and anyway he's already full. Full, but hungry. Full, but...

This is bad for him, and he knows it. This constant hunger that gnaws at him. Amos puts the new food into the bag with the other food, trying not to think about it by making conversation.

"Thanks for everything, again. If you ever need any more tutoring, you can let me know. I'm always happy to help. And if you any help with clearing out Lilia's food, feel free to tell me as well. I don't mind."

He sighed, remembering the one time Lilia almost cost Diasomnia a kitchen, “Let’s just say what cooking techniques he lacks, he makes up for in combat. And he’s very good in combat.”

Scarily good at combat, considering the analogy…

Spindle walked into the kitchen, giving Amos a nod of thanks. Lilia and Silver were in there, helping clean up. Silver looked just the smallest bit nauseous. He looked a shade or two paler as well and looked up as the two walked in.

“Ah, Spindle and… Amos, right? I hope you both enjoyed your study session,” Silver said. He then turned to Lilia, “Fath-… Lilia, may I go lay down? I’m feeling just a little unwell…”

Lilia smiled caringly and patted Silver’s shoulder, “Sure, Silver, go relax. Spindle can help once his friend leaves,” he watched as Silver walked off. Then he looked back to Amos and Spindle, “How was the study session? You two back for seconds?”

Amos' nods, waving goodbye to Silver as he leaves to rest. When he's out of sight, he faces Lilia, giving him a sheepish smile.

"Our study session went well, I'd hope. From what I could tell, Spindle left more informed. I'm around of him, really."

Amos chuckled, blushing when Spindle mentioned the leftovers tidbit.

"Ah... yes, that is right. I promise not to take too much of your time, not to worry. I understand it's late. However, I do have a container for you from Spindle's leftovers, and if you wouldn't mind, it would be a great help to me if you were to put any leftovers of the food you made today in here. If you are not saving them, of course."

Lilia walked over to the fridge and pulled out the pot of leftovers. It still looked pretty full. He then took then container from Amos and filled it up, “Is that enough? You can take more if you’d like,” then he had a thought, “You can stay for ice cream if you’d wish! Then you two can tell me about your study session. Thanks for helping Spindle, by the way. He rarely ever asks for help, even from m-“

Spindle coughed into his fist loudly, “Lilia.”

“Oh, alright,” he sighed and shook his head in amusement, “You and your pride, Little Thorn, my Seven.”

Spindle didn’t say anything further, but he did glare at Lilia’s last remark. He wasn’t that prideful. He could ask for help when he really needed it, he just didn’t need help that often…

"Anytime. I am always happy to help. Thank you again for the leftovers, sir."

He puts the spoon away, closing the drawer and taking the time to reorganize his things. Only when Lilia asks Amos what flavors he'd like from the group is when the offer dawns on him.

"Ice... cream...?"

Amos feels especially stupid right now. It seems to be a common reoccurrence today. He's heard sometimes of Riley going out to get ice cream with friends, but it was usually much too expensive to get when it was hot outside. He would usually opt for shitty lemonade. Therefore...

As much as Spindle wanted to say no, he really couldn’t say no to ice cream.

Spindle walked over to the tub labeled cotton candy and opened the lid, revealing bright blue and pink ice cream. He’ll never understand how some people didn’t like it. He grabbed a spoon and took a bite. He looked like he was in heaven.

Amos locates the cups easily, taking out cups for the three of them and taking the ice cream scooper gently from Lilia's hands. The tubs are almost entirely frozen, making it exceptionally hard to scoop anything up, yet Amos does it without a struggle.

For Spindle and Lilia's cups, he fills it to the brim with the ice cream that they choose, but for himself he only fills it halfway. He then gives each person their cup and a small spoon, moving out of the way of the toppings. He doesn't know when is appropriate to start eating it.

Lilia looked at Amos’ bowl and chuckled, “Oh you’re allowed more than that!” He grabbed the ice cream scooper and filled Amos’ bowl as high as theirs, “You’re the guest. It’s alright if you don’t finish it all!” Lilia then grabbed the chocolate syrup and poured it all over his own ice cream.

Spindle hesitated before pushing the caramel syrup towards Amos, “Chocolate ice cream tastes better with caramel,” he shrugged, “Or don’t use it. I’m not you.”

"I've never had caramel, either. I don't think."

Oh, sevens. Not again. Don't cry don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...

Amos wishes that he wasn't close to tears. He doesn't cry in front of anybody, and yet it's already happened three times today. Three times? What the hell? Is he that sensitive? Grow up, Amos.

"Sure, I'll... get a bit. If you wouldn't mind."

Who would mind. Who would mind? Amos is overthinking as he grabs the bottle and pumps a few squirts. As usual.

"Thank you so much for being so accepting of me. I... I really appreciate it. If you two want to ask me any questions about myself, you can go right ahead. Just to, ah... show that I'm completely safe."

…Shoot, Spindle thought to himself. He slid the chocolate sprinkles over, hoping they would help. The only forms of comfort Spindle could give were advice and gifts. Everything else came awkwardly to him.

Lilia smiled at Amos’ suggestion, “Sure! And that gives me a great idea! What if we all play 20 Questions. You can ask questions about us, and we’ll ask some about you!”

"That sounds like a good idea. I think that one of you should ask me a question to start, since I'm the unknown one here. For the most part. I don't find any question as being too personal, so please ask whatever you'd like."

Amos scoops up a small bite of his ice cream and puts in it his mouth, his eyes widening at the taste. It's so good. His stomach growls a little louder as he takes another bite, trying his best to eat slowly.

Thankfully, that was what ended up happening. Lilia thought for a moment before finally saying, “Ooooh, I got one!” He pointed his spoon at Amos and grinned, “Who’s your favorite housewarden?”

Spindle pretended not to be listening for Amos’ answer, but he definitely was. Obviously the best housewarden was Malleus, Amos would probably say it was Leona.

Amos' face turns a little red as he continues.

"I admire his power and how he's determined to change since his overblot. It's inspiring, and... well. I really have an affinity for magic, so meeting him personally has always been one of my dreams."

A dream that he knows he shouldn't have. It'll only fuel his desire to learn about magic even more, despite the fact that he can't. No matter what he does, Amos Roothyde will never be able to continue pursuing his love of magic because his duty is to make money. Magic doesn't make money.

Magic doesn't make money.

"I doubt it'll ever happen, though. Which is fine by me."

Amos takes another bite, thinking of a question to ask.

…He was saying all of this out loud, wasn’t he?

He quickly cleared his throat and regained composure, “…a very powerful figure, yes,” there was silence. And then Spindle said, “…I practice with my dagger, sewing, and bird watching.”

Seven, end me now…

Lilia chuckled at Spindle’s outburst of enthusiasm, but didn’t comment on it, “In my free time, I enjoy traveling alone. It’s quite relaxing.”

Amos rubs the back of his head, crafting his answer carefully.

"Ah... my favorites would be cats. I love cats. Riley—my brother, as you know well, sir Lilia—is also fond of cats, but he's allergic, which ends up with me having to go to a nearby CVS to get him allergy medication."

A lie. Amos can't afford to get medicine unless it's free, which leads him to resort to some sketchy places to get what he needs. He hates doing it, but he has to.

Spindle shot Lilia a glare. He knew the older fae was absolutely lying through his teeth - Lilia never ran out of questions for everyone. He shot Spindle a wink that went unnoticed by Amos that clearly meant “Go on”.

Spindle rolled his eyes and looked at Amos, “How about your favorite… song? Or genre of music?”

Amos rubs the back of his neck, thinking of what he should ask next.

"I'll ask the next question, then. Uh... the only thing that comes to my mind is something a little more personal, so I hope that you two don't mind. But, ah... what are your biggest influences?"

“That’s because you only like two songs and they’re both lullabies, Little Thorn,” Lilia said. He gave a long, dramatic yawn, “Well I’m going to hit the hay. You two finish the game. Spin, if I’m still up, come see me afterwards. I wanna talk to you about something afterwards.”

Spindle glared at Lilia. This lying old *ancient fae curse word*. He’s a nocturnal fae, he doesn’t get tired that easily, especially not this late at night.

In the end, Spindle sighed, “Of course, Sir Lilia,” then he got to thinking about his answer, “I’d say… discrimination. Oppression of groups, genocide of those who are ‘different’, things along those lines,” then he realized how that sounded, “Influenced in a good way.”

That didn’t help, “As in I do not want to end up like that.”

"That's a fair motive. One of the reasons that I wish to study magic as well. Both me and my brother face those oppression groups every day, even though you're probably not talking about this specific one. So it's good that you're striving to not be the one at fault."

Then, after realizing that he, too, should give further context:

"Because... well. He's aroace. And I may be something similar."

Amos would usually mind telling somebody of him and his brother's sexuality, but not Spindle. Hell, even Spindle himself looks aroace, so he doesn't really care. He deserves the context anyway.

"Gossip?" Amos repeats, almost laughing at the question.

True, that wasn’t the exact discrimination he was referring to, but he should probably add that to the list of oppressing group that just seemed to keep growing…

He hadn’t exactly experienced any discrimination for being aroace yet, but most people here seemed accepting.

The sentiment is genuine; he's proud of Spindle for learning something so important about himself. He himself doesn't know whether he's aroace or asexual, and it's been something that has been nagging him for a while now. At least someone else he cares about was able to make that discovery.

"I probably won't have enough time to do so, but maybe I'll tell my brother to try it out and see what he can find."

After a moment or two of silence, Amos chuckles nervously, scratching his chin.

Oh by the Seven, he was way too quick with that reply. It almost sounded like he wanted to keep talking and getting to know him. Like he was having fun-

No. No he wasn’t. He just wanted to make Lilia happy and proud. That’s all.

“I mean… if you don’t want to that’s fine. I believe it was your turn to ask a question,” Spindle said.

"I'm glad, then. Sure, I can ask a question. How about... what do you look for in a friend?" He says with that same smile, tilting his head.

"For me, it's mainly people who are kind and understanding. I'm pretty busy all ways of the week—I work two jobs, unfortunately—so people who don't mind my busy schedule are crucial for me. I also just generally like people that are nice and fun to be around."

He takes another bite of his ice cream, tilting his head.

Hang on a moment.

“Are you asking so you can either fit yourself to meet the criteria or so you can see it you’re what I’m looking for?” Spindle asked.

In the short day Spindle had known Amos, it had seemed exactly like the kind of thing he would do. The way he got nervous so easily in conversation, the way he went oddly quiet when Spindle called him out for his pushover behavior…

"I understand why you would think that, but those are not my intentions. Despite whatever happens, I don't plan on changing myself for others anytime soon. Too tired to."

He takes another bite, but this time it's intentional—the movement showcases the scars on his arms, the closing of his eyes heightens the bags under them, the gloved hands changing position reminding Spindle of the scars on his palms.

Amos did say that no question was too personal for him... maybe...

He sighed and thought about for a moment, “Someone loyal. Any other trait can come second. While I do have more traits I look for in a friend, loyalty is above all.”

The question was a tad personal for his tastes, but he supposed it didn’t reveal too much.

On the other hand, the question he wanted to ask was a bit more personal. Spindle’s gaze snagged on Amos’ scars. He hesitated before he finally asked what he wanted to.

"Ah?"

The boy's eyes widen when Spindle asks about the scars on his hands. He had said that no question was too personal, but he didn't actually think that Spindle had noticed those scars. he was trying to hard to hide them...

"The... scars," he says finally, "are self-inflicted."

Amos' voice is quiet when he says this. He sets his cup of ice cream down, its contents already melted.

He knew he shouldn’t have asked. He shouldn’t have asked. How could he have been so foolish? Curiosity truly did kill the cat…

“I’m- sorry,” he said, standing up and putting both the bowls in the sink, “You can leave if you want.”

Amos doesn't want to admit that Spindle is the closest thing he's ever had to a friend, both for his sake and for Spindle's. And he also knows not to ask about any of Spindle's scars, because he probably won't give the backstory to any of them. He can be a little hypocritical in that sense. Amos can already tell.

"I'll be staying here, if you'll let me. And... I don't really mind if you ask anything else about them. I need to come to terms with them at some point, and I think this may help. But don't ask me anything if you're uncomfortable with it, of course."

“If you insist on staying…” Spindle said, confused as to why Amos was staying. Spindle knew he would’ve left by now…

Why hadn’t he left by now?

I’m just tired… he thought to himself.

Amos knew that Spindle wouldn't start rambling to him about birds, but he wishes that the other boy would. It makes him feel happy, whenever someone starts rambling to him. It lets him know that the other person feels safe around him.

He knew this because he may or may not have accidentally on purpose befriended a few of the ones on campus. One time they say him through a window during class. Thankfully it was animal linguistics, so it only earned him points, but still. Nonetheless, when he went home to look it up, he learned crows absolutely do memorize faces.

"My favorite season is winter, to nobody's surprise. I love the cold and building snowmen and whatnot. Although, the favoritism kind of backfires on me, because winter and the snow both limit my ability to use my UM and is my depression season."

He sighs, scratching his head. If his parents dying made this any worse already, one of his dads had depression, and genetics gave it to him as well. How horrid.

“I tend to prefer colder seasons as well. Fall or winter, I haven’t decided,” he pulled out a mug from a cabinet and poured water into it.

Spindle thought about all the projects he had done over the years. Little stuffed animals, blankets on occasion, a few patchwork clothes when he was feeling in need of a longer and more difficult project…

That easy? Amos had thought that Spindle would have put up a few more walls in regards to inviting Amos to his room. But he's happy nonetheless, so he doesn't complain or ask questions.

"Of course. Ah... what's your favorite tea flavor?"

He approaches Spindle with his hands behind his back, tilting his head at all of the flavors. jasmine green, matcha, chamomile, hibiscus, earl green...

“I like black tea,” Spindle replied, pulling out the mug. He put the tea bag in the water the cover the mug with a plated.

Pulling out sugar cubes and honey, he asked, “Did you want tea?”

Spindle pulled out a mug for Amos to make his own tea, then looked at the clock. It was 9:30. He but the inside of his cheek while doing mental math. He wanted to be back from training by 12:00 AM, and talking with Lilia could take a while…

Amos blushes faintly, setting the mug down. He understands that not knowing or trying so many things may be getting to a point, so he takes one of the tea bags and inspects it, trying to learn how to make the tea before he has to ask. It's to no avail, though, because the instructions are in the box where the tea bags come from, and not on the bags themselves.

Therefore, however reluctantly, Amos speaks up.

He then put the mug in the microwave for three minutes. Then he took the plate off his own mug and added a spoon of honey and three cubes of sugar.

"Is this one any good?" He asks, throwing the papers in the trash before he forgets. By the time he's returned, the timer on the microwave goes off, and he picks up the mug and drops the tea bag in.

He looked at the chamomile bag and shrugged, “I think it’s alright. Don’t forget to add at least sugar in it though. Most teas taste better with it.”

He pushed the sugar and honey towards him. Spindle didn’t mean for it to come off as, ‘don’t add it in, I dare you’ but unfortunately that was the vibe he carried around with him.

"Are you positive? I- uh- don't have anything to repay you with but favors, as you can see..."

He takes out a sugar cube from the compartment, inspecting it. He's never seen a square-shaped ball of sugar before. He hesitantly drops it into the tea, adding a little honey with it.

He took a sip of his tea, the added one more sugar cube. Then another. And one more for luck. Spindle took a sip and nodded in satisfaction. He grabbed a few teabags and pushed them into Amos’ hand.

“Let’s get going,” Spindle ordered, already walking down the hall to his room.

"Wow. This is really good. What is tea usually made of? Flowers? Or just herbs in general?"

Spindle came to a door at the end of the hall. It was almost hidden in the shadows and it didn’t help that the color already made it blend into the wall. He pushed the door open and held it open for Amos.

The dorm room was mostly barren, a few decorations here and there, the most noticeable one being an ebony spinning wheel sat in the corner. It was very neat and tidy. However, it seemed like he was the only one living there.

“I somehow managed to luck out with my rooming situation. I don’t have a roommate,” Spindle explained. He walked over to his bed and crouched down beside it, reaching under it. He pulled out a plastic container and opened the lid.

Amos steps into the room, looking around the room and gauging his surroundings. It's minimalist, like Amos expected, hidden where nobody could see it. Just like Spindle, in a way. He glances over the spinning wheel a few times, wondering briefly why Spindle would have to use one of those. Besides the irony, of course.

Amos hovers over the bed, not yet wanting to sit down and intrude. He looks down at the things in the container and smiles, tilting his head.

He put it back in the container and closed the lid, shoving it under the bed again. Spindle sat on the bed and took another sip of his tea, “My turn to ask a question, I think.”

"Food? That's... not a very fulfilling question on your end," he admits, blushing.

"I eat anything, as you can see. Developed a tolerance to shitty food over time, so I eat whatever I can get. So my favorite thing to eat would probably be any restaurant food."

He thinks for a moment before asking his next wuestion.

Awkward silence fell over the room again. This was unnatural for Spindle. He very rarely went over to others’ dorm rooms, let alone have someone in his dorm room. Not counting people close to him, he had maybe had over company enough times to count on one hand. Two of those had been his ‘company’ making themselves at home uninvited (at least Deuce had the decency to buy his lunch the next day).

Point being this was a very new experience to Spindle.

He took another sip of tea before responding, “Maybe. I don’t really mess with the online phone things. It’s too confusing.”

Always about money. Never what he wants to do, never what his goals are in life. Only... "how much money does this make?" He hates this. Why does he have to be so different from all the others?

A historian did sound interesting. However, not as interesting as serving the Prince of Briar Valley, Malleus Draconia, “I’ll be working for Prince Malleus. Sir Lilia says if I keep training, I’ll-… never mind.”

Spindle wasn’t typically one to believe in jinxing, but this was just too good to risk. Thinking he could be the war general? It was too amazing of an opportunity to risk.

Maybe it was just something Lilia had told the grieving 12-year-old all those years ago to comfort Spindle, but despite that he chose to believe it. It wasn’t something Spindle usually did - he didn’t usually believe in the unlikely- but there was always usually exception to every definite.

Amos listens to Spindle talk about working for Malleus, and even though it's brief, Amos can already sense the joy and passion Spindle has to be the war general for his liege. Amos has to admit, working for somebody—especially Malleus—is something that he has also considered, but he does not know the man, and even so, he supposes that the other already has enough people working for him to go around.

"That's node. I have no doubt in my mind that you'll be able to work for him well."

Amos tilts his head at the last question, chuckling. Collecting...

A bit of a flush rises to his face.

"I do collect, actually. It's one of my only hobbies. I collect trains. Model trains, train tracks, anything regarding trains I collect. I have a closet in my room just for them, where I connect everything and make them move and whatnot. A bit of an odd hobby, I understand."

The compliment made Spindle feel really happy. He tried not to let it show, but there was practically a light in his eyes that wasn’t there before. He raised his mug to cover his mouth. Was he… smiling? He quickly cleared his throat, returning to his usual resting face, “Thank you.”

"Well, my parents gave me a train set for my birthday when I was five, and I guess I fell in love with it."

As long as Amos didn’t dig deep into Spindle’s life, he wouldn’t dig deep into his. Simple as that.

“I also have a train track that reaches about 146 feet. If I went into the specifics of the trains, I’m afraid that we’d be here all night.”

He chuckles rather nervously, looking up at the clock on the wall.

“Speaking of which. Our deadline is almost here.”

He looked at the clock, “Ah, so it is,” he finished off the rest of his tea before standing, “I’m assuming you’ll need me to show you to the exit?”

“Oh, ah… and I have to put this away as well. The tea was really good, thank you.”

When he hears the last part, he laughs, grinning from ear to ear.

“Of course, Spindle. I surely wouldn’t mind. You’re a pleasure to teach.”

He walks to the door, opening it for Spindle to come through. Once they’re out and heading to the kitchen, Amos speaks again.

And that he did. He walked Amos through all of the dark corridors until they both reached the exit.

(a starter for @lil-th0rn ! Thanks for doing this with me !)

Amos Roothyde is quite good at most of the subjects he takes. He's an expert in math, has straight A's in all things history, and when it comes to anything magic, he could confidently tutor someone and have them get as good grades as he does. He's a prodigy at knowing the history, symbolism, and how to control his own magic powers. However, if there's one subject that he would rather die than study, it would be flying. But that's the one subject he's failing, which, for him, unfortunately means that a study session is due.

Amos hops onto his broom, taking a deep breath in and out. He closes his eyes, channeling his magical capacity into the broom like he's been taught so many times.

Focus... focus...

He takes off, getting two feet off of the ground before he tips over and lands splat on the ground again. He did worse than before, so it seems. Just his luck.

"Urgh..."

Amos closes his eyes and sighs. He probably looks like an idiot, with his hair all tousled from falling one too many times and his jacket and pants covered from head to toe with grass. His gloves have also taken quite the beating, and there's now a rip on the left one that Amos hopes isn't too big so that he doesn't have to spend too much on it. Beads of sweat drip from his forehead, but wiping them off just replaces it with grass, which isn't his favorite alternative.

Sevens, why did flying have to be so hard for him? He watches his other classmates fly and compete in spelldrive tournaments without breaking a sweat, and here he is, not even able to get three feet off the ground. This is so unbelievably embarrassing. He wishes that he could be better at this instead of magic, which is something he'll never even be able to pursue. All of his talents were put into the wrong subject for him.

Never mind. He can get better at this. He has to get better at this.

Just before Spindle had gone off campus where no one would bother him. When he had enough alone time, he walked back to Diasomnia. It was quicker to cut across the PE area than it was walk the perimeter until he reached the path.

Spindle didn’t think he would run into anyone. The PE area was usually deserted that time of day. No one wanted to be around what most of the student body considered ‘torture’ when there was no need to take part in said torture.

At least, that was what he had thought before he saw a student on a broom trying to dig himself an early grave it seemed. Spindle was good at sneaking around and staying unnoticed, so he watched in silence for a few moments before making himself known.

Amos tilts his head, taking a solid minute to comprehend what the boy said. He shakes his head, a soft smile spreading on his face.

"I'm okay, but thank you. Just in a bit of a pickle here. My body has taken worse."

He has to lean on his knees a considerably long amount of time to stand upright. He's about to dust off his pants—a nervous habit, making sure that he looks like someone that can be interacted with—but then thinks better of it and decides to pass on the idea. It would be easier to dust himself off if Amos just took off his gloves, and it's... pretty obvious, actually. But he doesn't seem to notice.

"There's a thing I do. Kind of like a reward system. I can't drink water if I don't get up five feet."

By the Seven, people nowadays are absolutely foolish, Spindle thought to himself. He shook his head in exasperation.

By the looks of it, the other had been at this for a while. Spindle couldn’t pin point how long, and honestly he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the exact amount. He might actually feel concerned.

"Ah... thank you, but I'm afraid that I won't get anything done if I don't stick to my system. I'm... stubborn like that..."

His movements stutter, and he gulps, trying to get any semblance of water that he can without actually using the bottle that was offered to him. He can't tell who this stranger is. His head is spinning. The world is spinning. His muscles are cramping. He can't tell what's going on.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for your concern."

He looks up from beneath his bangs, frozen in place. He's afraid that if he moves any more he'll fall.

His day had been going so smoothly before he got himself involved in this. He made a mental note to never waste his time with this sort of thing again. The only thing that pulled Spindle out of his thoughts of annoyance was when he came to the realization that the other guy did actually look like he was about to faint.

Spindle didn’t exactly looked concerned, but his voice definitely took on a more urgent tone, “Sit down and drink. Don’t be a dunce.”

The thorn fae looked around the area hoping he could see someone - anyone who would be more writ and willing to help. Unfortunately for him, the PE area was deserted except for him and the dunce.

He takes one long sip of water, blacking out for a second or two before coming back to reality. The water seemed to have replenished him somewhat, so with this newfound discovery Amos drinks until the bottle is empty.

When he can't keep sucking anymore, Amos places the bottle down, leaning against it slightly.

"I... thank you. I didn't think that it would get this bad. Really, I owe you a lot."

Despite the water, his voice is hoarse, and he looks up with glossy eyes. It doesn't seem as if he's crying because of the help, but that could be part of the equation. He looks a bit terrified, now that the realization of near-fainting has fully dawned on him.

After watching the other chug the once full bottle of water, Spindle sat down in the grass next to him. The Sun was hot on the back of neck. Honestly, it had been a wonder the other had lasted so long, assuming he took no break.

“You wouldn’t have owed me anything if you had just stopped when your body told me to stop,” Spindle scolded. He sighed and mumbled quietly under his breath, “This generation of humans, I swear…”

Why does he looked petrified…? Spindle distantly wondered. He didn’t give the thought any mind. After all, curiosity killed the cat.

Sevens, this couldn't have ended any more horribly. Amos just had to almost have a heat stroke in front of this poor stranger, all covered in grass and grime and looking absolutely disheveled, and he still couldn't even fly more than three feet up! All he's doing is embarrassing himself today, and he scolds himself internally for it.

"Right. My name is Amos Roothyde. I'm the brother of Riley Roothyde. You've probably heard his name floating around."

He hates it whenever he has to introduce himself. "Amos Roothyde, brother of Riley Roothyde. Quieter, weirder, inferior person, brother of one of the most outgoing and popular people in NRC." Nobody knows him until he's in another person's shadow.

And then he hears the part about getting another drink, and he curses himself mentally.

The request of a new drink from the person who you just drank all of their water from should've been obvious to Amos, but even that he doesn't know if he can fulfill. Lately, the two Roothyde brothers haven't had money for anything but the food that they have at home, so their money for buying things outside is scarce. He'll try his best, but Amos doubts that he has enough change in his pockets to get something new for Spindle.

"Sure, I'll get that drink for you now. Bt, if you wouldn't mind, would you allow me a minute or two to recover? I don't think I can stand up without falling back down again in my state."

“Amos… I think I’ve heard you,” Spindle commented. Then he finally introduced himself, “Spindle Koleso.”

Spindle doubted Amos had heard of him before. He was a first year and hadn’t gotten into quite enough trouble just yet for people other than the ones in his grade to have heard of him.

Well, maybe they had heard of one of Malleus’ bodyguards. Or the only thorn fae at NRC. But Spindle doubted anyone at NRC recognized him as anything other than another intimidating fae of Diasomnia.

Spindle nodded at Amos’ request, “Sure. I’ll help you get to the infirmary, you’ll buy my drink, then I’m gone.”

Then he noticed the tear in Amos’ glove, “Can I fix that for you?”

Amos smiles, changing his position from kneeling to criss-crossed. He's blushing a little, half from the sun and half from embarrassment after everything that's happened. He nods at the plan, not wanting to get in Spindle's way anymore, but then freezes when Spindle offers to fix his glove.

"Ah... you'd really do that? Are you sure? I wouldn't want to bother you any more than I already have."

Amos rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

The last thing he needed was to be treated like a pet by some popular kid. The thought alone made his skin crawl. Spindle would rather eat one of Lilia’s meals. Not to mention Spindle assumed this Riley wanted to be his friend was because he wanted to prove he was so nice that he could friend the ‘unfriendable’ or some stupid trivial thing like that. Because this was NRC and the only one without ulterior motives is Kalim.

Spindle held a hand out for the glove, “I want something to do.”

"He believes that everybody has something unique to offer him friend-wise, and in return he has something unique to offer them. He sees people in such an interesting light. I wish I could see everybody the way he does, but unfortunately I'm more wary than he is. It's my job, as the older brother."

Amos extends his hand, allowing Spindle to do what he'd like with it. He's never seen sewing in action before, so he isn't completely sure if Spindle wants him to keep the glove on or not. However, something that Spindle notices is that he's making a pointed attempt to keep the palm of his hand facing down.

"If you think it's irritating, which some people do, then you can tell him and he won't bother you. He's nice like that."

Spindle sighed, “If I maybe blunt, it’s better to be wary than too trusting. Being too trusting is the move of a half-brained mouse. At least when you’re wary, you can say you have the ability to think…” he shook his head, “Apologies, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?”

It was very unclear whether he meant that apology or not.

“It would be easier for you to take the glove off. That way I don’t prick you,” Spindle instructed while digging through his bag. He pulled out a sewing kit and a push cushion poked with needles.

Amos chuckles self-deprecatingly as he takes off the glove. On his palm, Spindle could spot many scars that clashed against each other and drove deep into his skin. They don't look new, but they don't look old, either. Maybe from a few weeks ago.

"Because of my wariness, I am very, very lonely. I haven't found any real friends who actually care about me and will wait for me despite my busy schedule to do things. Riley has already found hundreds of those, and those same hundreds of friends would beat up anybody who did something bad to him in a heartbeat. Because of his stance right now, he doesn't really have to be wary. But I do. That's how I made myself to be."

He sighs, resting his hands on his lap as he watches Spindle get to work. His eyes watch the pattern of the needle as it weaves through the fabric, mesmerized. Sewing does look interesting.

He shrugged, “I don’t mind the rant. Honestly it’s nice talking to someone who mostly shares my sentiment.”

“And if you really want friends that badly, I suggest talking to Ace Trappola and honestly all of his friends. They see ‘I don’t want friends or to be around anyone’ and take that as a challenge…” Spindle suggested, clearly annoyed by the group of first years.

The glove repair was halfway done at this point. The rip hadn’t been too big in the first place. Nothing Spindle couldn’t handle.

Much more complicated. Amos doesn't have the time for friends, working two jobs on the weekdays and three on the weekends. Nor does he have the money. He doesn't even have a phone—he needs to use a computer at the library for work so often that his seat is reserved. Not to mention that his social skills are down in the dumps. Ace Trappola hasn't come to make friends with Amos yet because Amos just wouldn't be a good friend.

"I'll let him know. He'll probably get off of your tail after that, but I can't promise that he won't run into you a few times. He's just like that, but I don't think he'll bother much."

Amos looks up at Spindle, who's completely focused on the glove and isn't meeting his gaze.

"Do you not have friends? It's not that you look like it or anything—I don't mean to offend. I'm just curious. How could you live without any friends by your side? Who do you tell your fears to? Your worries? All of your moments, both the good and the bad? What are your... 'coping mechanisms,' so to speak?"

His shoulders visibly sagged as Amos agreed to put in a ‘good’ word for him, “Thank you. I don’t want to be your brother’s little pity friend, as I’ve mentioned before.”

Spindle couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at all the questions. It caught him off guard. Well he’s definitely a curious one…

“Well to start, I do have friends,” Spindle said, “Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and Malleus. And well, I guess Ortho, but I don’t know him too well. Period. I don’t need anymore. They’re the only support system I need.”

‘Coping mechanism’? That was a tad deep for someone he had just met not too long ago.

“My coping mechanism are none of your concern,” Spindle stated. Derealization, depersonalization, isolation, slashing at a practice dummy, occasionally opening up to someone I deem worthy-

Amos nods as he listens to what Spindle has to say, gulping. He needs more water, but he's also feeling even more embarrassed than before. What the hell is wrong with him? Just because things have been getting worse lately doesn't mean that he can ask advice from a literal stranger. Is he already that pathetic?

He rubs the back of his neck again, chuckling.

"Yeah. Don't answer anything you don't want to. Sorry for being so bold right off the bat."

He takes the glove gingerly, putting it on and curling his fingers in and out to make sure it's actually repaired.

"You're good at this. I've always wanted to try sewing, but I've... never gotten the chance. Thank you so much for this."

He looks up at Spindle, tilting his head.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he was grateful Amos didn’t push. A lot of people would try to pry a little more, to see if they can get anything out of him. Spindle appreciated that this wasn’t the case here.

The compliment wasn’t expected. He had never even thought of his sewing skills as much more than something that was useful on occasion. Also he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

“Oh- uh, you’re welcome. And thank you,” Spindle managed. Seven, he could only pray that he didn’t sound as awkward as he thought he did…

He cleared his throat, “As for the second favor…” he thought over his options for a moment, then pulled out his wallet, “I need to study for a test in Professor Trein’s class, but I also needed to pick up some more metal polisher from the student store. I won’t have time to do that, so you can buy it once you’re feeling better.”

He pulled out twenty dollars worth (idk the thaumarks to dollars ratio-) to of thaumarks and handed them to Amos.

Amos looks back at the broom, sighing.

"If only some of that talent could've been transferred to flying. I'm probably going to fail our next flying test. I didn't get anything done today."

Amos stands up slowly, resting his hands on his knees. He feels better now, but he's still cautious of his body in case it decides to fail him again. His eyes widen at the two-thousand thaumarks, accepting them with careful hands.

Two-thousand. It's been a long, long while since Amos had been able to actually hold this kind of money in his hands. Maybe if he were able to get twenty thaumarks per shift, things would be better off when it came to money in the Roothyde household. He wouldn't have to toil over the next day's meal.

These thaumarks aren't his, though. They're Spindle's, and he'd feel guilty for the rest of his life if he used them on something that isn't their original purpose.

He enjoyed learning about history (because history could not be allowed to repeat). It was interesting, but he was having trouble remembering all the specific things they went over in the unit. It was one of the longer ones.

“Great. That works for me,” Spindle packed up his sewing kit and put it back in his bag, “Do you feel like you can walk to the infirmary yet? I could help if you need it.”

Spindle found himself ignoring a lot of things today. Another one added onto the list being the way Amos ogled at the cash in his hands. Part of Spindle wondered if he should take it back, but he decided against it. Anyone looking at two thousand thaumarks like it was a genie’s lamp probably needed it more than he did. As long as he got his metal polisher, he didn’t care if the rest was pocketed or not.

Amos stretches his legs, picking up his broom and beginning the walk out of the field and to the infirmary with it tucked under his arm. He checks behind him to make sure that Spindle is following, and once he's sure that the other boy is, he slows down a bit so that the two can be side by side.

"That's right. The infirmary shouldn't take long, since you saved me before anything major could happen. Thank you again. If you spot any vending machines before I do, tell me, okay?"

He doubts that he has enough in his wallet to pay for a drink. Just one bottle of water is already 300 thaumarks, and Amos is unsure if he can spare even that little amount. He still needs to pay rent, buy their meals, make sure that Riley has enough to do what he wants—

"Ah. That's a vending machine, isn't it? Do you know if the drink that you want is in there?"

Amos approaches the vending machine, already scanning the prices. 600, 400, 500, 350... oh, hell. What if he wants a snack, too? I can't say no to that. He saved my life.

There were sweeter drinks that he liked, but what he said was true. He’d rather drink water while practicing with his dagger over chocolate milk. Plus it seemed to be the cheapest thing.

He examined some of the prices, “300 for water? Crowley better be using that to pay for a school therapist…”

A foolish and hopelessly desperate wish. It would probably fund his next vacation. Still, Spindle could hope, pointless as it was.

Amos reaches into his pocket, taking out a small, teared-up wallet. He flips it open and has to check every pocket in the wallet to find something, and even then it's just a few cent coins.

"I..."

Wow, he's shaking, and his face is redder than usual. He feels like an idiot, only coming up with a few cents to his name. He can't even pay for a measly water? How stupid.

"I'm so sorry. I swear that I have the money, it's just... not on me right now. It's at home. I can, ah, give you something of mine if you want, and then when I give you the bottle of water you can give it to me back? As, like, a promise?"

Amos hands Spindle the broom, trying his best to keep up his smile so that Spindle doesn't notice how unbearably idiotic and ashamed he feels. He almost looks close to tears again.

Was… was Spindle supposed to ignore how Amos was one misinterpreted comment away from a breakdown? It seemed like he was, anyway. Spindle had never been good at comforting people. He blamed that on the lack of connection with all but one person in his earlier stages of life.

He grabbed the broom and looked down at it, “I can think of a different favor, if you’d rather,” then Spindle hit him, “Actually, I do have a much better idea. Vouch for me and tell Sir Lilia that I’ll have to miss dinner tonight.”

This was much better than a bottle of water. It was Lilia’s turn to cook tonight. Some people would argue that Spindle was just being dramatic, but then they’d have to argue Sebek, Silver, and Malleus were also being dramatic.

Amos is as good as lying as he is with flying. He has a poker face whenever he lies, but he usually ends up apologizing right after, because he hates the feeling of being guilty. Amos can't apologize when it comes to this, though. He's already done so little for the other boy.

It would be better for him if he said a truthful lie. He wouldn't feel so pressured and guilty if he did that.

"Sorry again. I just... forget to put it in my wallet. The money. Ah."

He's rambling again, isn't he? Spindle already got the point. You're sorry. You need to shut up.

To be honest, Spindle could lie his own way out of this, but then he’d have to get one of the first years vouch for him, then they’d make him do something in return, it would just become a whole thing. This, however, was much easier.

“Just meet me at Diasomnia once you get out of the infirmary,” Spindle said, “I’ll be waiting near the entrance.”

The trip to the infirmary doesn't take long, since it was a minor heat stroke and didn't escalate into anything serious. The doctors send him out with a large bottle of water and a warning, but instead of keeping it to drink for himself, he puts the water into Spindle's water bottle that he realized that he accidentally kept with him and chugged the rest. He knew that he'd be fine. As he told Spindle before, his body has handled much worse than this.

The next thing he does is go to the mystery shop, where he picks up the metal cleaner and leaves with ten thousand thaumarks left to spare. These, he does not pocket, because he would feel absolutely terrible about it and would think about it for the rest of his life. Instead, he keeps them safely in his pocket for when he meets up with Spindle again.

All in all, the whole endeavor takes about thirty minutes to complete, so he's' pretty sure he's in good time. He hopes he is, anyway, when he steps foot inside of Diasomnia's dorm and sees Spindle waiting there for him.

"Hello again. Sorry if I took too long; I tried my best to get here as fast as I could."

Amos holds up the three things he was meant to give: the water bottle, the metal cleaner, and the ten thousand thaumarks. He gives Smindle a shy smile, hoping he'll forgive him now for the trouble.

“It’s alright. Lilia hasn’t finished with dinner yet,” Spindle said, standing to greet him. He grabbed the three things, putting the water in his bag, pocketing the thaumarks, and keeping the metal polisher in his hand. “Thank you.”

He meant it, but he didn’t try to make it obvious. Not that that was any different than usual. Thank the Seven Amos managed to get his hands on the metal polisher. He’d been meaning to give it a cleaning for a while now…

“I’ll show you the way. It’ll be more convincing if I’m there. Plus he won’t interrogate you if I stay,” Spindle explained, leaving no room for debate as he walked off into the actual dorm part.

Amos trails behind Spindle, hands behind his back as he steels himself to meet the Diasomnia housewarden and vice housewarden. He's heard good things about Lilia from Riley, but he doubts that he'll get the same genuine kindness Lilia gives Riley reciprocated to him. He always thinks that he will, and then at the end he ends up either being treated like a piece of shit or treated with unnerving faux-kindness because he's the brother of a really popular kid at school. He hates both options.

"This dorm is nice," Amos comments, looking around the hallways of the dorm. The gothic windows sandwiched in between statues of bat's heads was just Amos' style, and the candles on candelabras glowing a dim green tied the atmosphere together. He could imagine living here instead of the Savanaclaw dorm, and he was one of the top in the school when it came to magic...