lynketa

IV. ABOUT THE OTHERS

"Hmm? How did the others react to my relationship with them? Bahahaha! Oh, they didn't believe me at first; they thought I manipulated them or something. Yeah, the other knights made up these bizarre rumors about us, like when I probably threatened them with a dagger to their neck to make them date me. Can you believe that? I'm crazy, but I'm not that crazy... probably. Anyway, eventually they saw how happy we were together and accepted it. Some of them even apologized for doubting us. Whatever, it's one thing to doubt, but it's another thing to spread false rumors. It's all water under the bridge now, though. But I regret not teaching those fools a very thorough, valuable lesson because I would rather not anger my lover."

V. LOHEN'S TROUBLES

"Ugh… Being a big target for so many bastards across Teyvat is such a pain in the ass. The Fatui, Abyss scum, rival knights, and even some of the nobles in Mondstadt probably want me dead. I could deal with all that shit easily. But what really pisses me off is knowing they might try to use them to get to me. One wrong move and some coward thinks they can grab them just to make me vulnerable… Hah. The mere thought makes my blood boil. If anyone even dares to lay a finger on them as leverage against me, I’ll turn their entire bloodline into a cautionary tale. I’ll slaughter anything that tries to use them… but damn, it’s annoying that they even have the option."

VI. COMBAT: LOW HP

"Heh… is this all you’ve got? Pathetic. I can’t die yet—Fuck! I still need to go home to them. Don’t you dare make me break my promise to them…!"

VII. JEALOUSY

"Saaayyy, Honorary Knight. Are my eyes deceiving me, or are you pretty cozy with my lover recently… They're awfully adorable, hmm? Bet you want to hug them, hold their hand, maybe even steal them away from me? Ahahaha! …If you ever try it, I'll carve out those wandering eyes of yours and make you watch as I string your guts into a pretty little necklace for them. Okay? Hehehe... Just kidding! Or am I? You'll understand, right, Honorary Knight?"

VIII. DEMANDING RESPECT

"I thought it'd be a fun exercise to teach my fellow knights some basic respect and manners, especially when around my lover. Whatever my lover wants, they get. Anyone whining their asses off about it can take it up with me personally. I'll give them something to cry about, that's for sure."

IX. OBEDIENCE

"What is that look on your face? You want me to deliver this paperwork to Varka? Pshhh, do it yourself… Wait, my lover actually asked you to relay the message to me? Well, in that case, hand over the documents. Ah, ah, ah! I really insist."

X. ENCOURAGING VIOLENCE

"You'd be surprised that my lover encourages me to do whatever I want. It's probably because they know that I'll do it anyway, but the fact that they actually tell me to go wild as long as I come home safe? Hahaha! Fuck, that’s hot. They really are perfect for me. Because of their encouragement, I’ll slaughter entire camps of hilichurls, paint the snow red in Dragonspine, or carve my way through a Fatui ambush, whatever feels good. Honestly, their blessing makes the violence feel like foreplay, just saying."

“I beg your pardon?”

Your head dips low. Since when were you type to stoop so low as to seek asylum from a first year, magicless, homeless student? “Hide me. From Yuu. Please. I’ll turn in all my missing assignments. Please.”

♡ That’s exactly how you’ve found yourself concealed behind his height, well-cloaked in whatever edges of his fur coat find you. The room is rife with suffocating quietness as the door creaks, slowly, taking its time, just so you can feel Yuu’s fingers graze the wood, and their eyes scavenge the vicinity for a trace of you. Closing your eyes tight-shut, you strengthen your grip on the fabric. Just this once - just this once - and you’ll survive. 

♡ “Professor, have you seen them?”

♡ Them. They don’t name you, and painfully so, Crewel immediately recognizes who they’re talking about. Nameless, colourless, faceless. There is no one here other than you. 

“As usual, no.”

“I can see them behind you.”

♡ Unfortunately, your breathing gave it away, and you're not exactly invisible, so you make do with just legging it again and stumbling into whatever room you get your hands on.

♡  Finally you come across a good one, and remember one thing: don’t  breathe. 

♡ Don’t breathe. Don’t let a single hint of your presence scrape against the floor, or taper off your lips. Don’t breathe, don’t look anywhere past the rows of ornate shelves or the very confused ghost librarian. Don’t breathe as you shimmy inside a cranny of dust, untouched newspapers and shield the crown of your head forevermore. Don’t breathe as you squeeze your eyes shut and imagine yourself anywhere else.

♡ Don’t breathe when the door creaks open. A slow, inevitable croak gliding against polished panes.

“Hi, mister. Have you seen -- well, uh -- a Scarabian student anywhere?”

♡ Don’t breathe even when you know it’s pointing straight at you. Traitor. 

“Hey..”

♡ You don’t look up.

“Why’re you hiding from me?” Behind your lids, you imagine the dark cusps of their irises gleaming with sincerety. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong? Did I scare you?”

♡ You don’t like it. You don’t like the way they’re talking to you, slow and genuine and all too dehumanizing, as though you’re but a small rabbit in their eyes. They don’t know, they don’t know you’re an actual human being - one with conscience, humanity and awareness. They don’t know you know them, and they don’t know who you really are, all that’s left in their eyes is a perfect little image of a non-playable character - one that’s bound to come in their hands, in a way, or a thousand others. 

In lieu of a response, you clamp your lips tight shut. Your eyes cinch into a glare; one you hope is full of the aversion you feel. “I thought I made it clear I want nothing to do with you.”

♡ You don’t know what to do. Give in. You’re doomed. Rebel. You’re doomed. Earning Yuu’s affection, or earning their loathing - neither option is good. 

“...Oh.”

“Listen,” You crack one eye open in spite of yourself. Yuu looks devasted - you have to save yourself. Brain straining for excuses, you spout out a career-ending one. “... It’s  not  you, it’s just that..”

...

“...That?”

“That you’re not my type.”

♡ Yuu blinks - okay, this is your chance. You can’t just go into things that can be changed, look into things that are definitie. Look into.. ah, what would particularly steer your way clear of them?

♡ You look at the schedule in their hands. First year, huh?

“I’m into older people.”

“...How much older?”

You scramble. “A lot older.”

“...Like a year?”

“No. I like mature people.”

Their shoulders relax - you take that as a bad sign. "I can be mature."

"No, no.  They need to look like they have taxes."

"...Taxes."

"Taxes. I also like people who are tall."

Yuu visibly straightens.

"Very tall."

Yuu visibly un-straightens.

"Like, concerningly tall. Like if they stand up too fast they're a threat to low ceilings."

"..."

"And older."

"..."

"And emotionally unavailable."

"That sounds unhealthy."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Actually, preferably unhealthy. I like people who look at me and immediately decide I'm none of their business."

Yuu's face falls, a slope to their brows as they frown, unknowingly, to themselves. What you’ve just said might just give you some time to prepare, because you, and any sane person in the world, know that a simple barrier like a preference won’t stop them. That’s how Yuu has always been. In a way, they need to get to you, no matter what. That’s how it always will be. "I like people who forget I exist."

It falls further, you realize. Something, the one thing, actually, that the latter is not able to do.

"I like people who don't text back. Oh, and they must have weird hobbies.. Like birdwatching, or growing mush-”

Ah. Hands clasped over your mouth, with horror, do you realize you’ve begun matching your interest to a certain Mountain Lovers president. Mission abort, the withdrawal symptoms must really be getting to you, huh?

"And NOT teal hair."

Yuu touches their hair, hopeful.

"NOT first-years."

Yuu lowers their schedule, hopeless. 

"NOT extroverts."

Yuu winces.

"NOT people who follow me around."

Yuu winces harder.

"NOT people who keep asking for my number."

At this point, Yuu looks like every word is physically striking them. Relishing in the blow, you stand up, pivot on your heels and leave them to wallow in the destruction you’ve left in your wake. Not without picking up your belongings, which happen to a little journal you keep to maintain track of the plot, a chewed-up pencil, and an apple - shooting Yuu a confirmatory glare in case the thief is actually them. On the way, you realize the ghost librarian has tears in his gargantuan eyes. Oh-well, it seems like Yuu’s favoribility does not only extend to suitors, but ghosts as well.

♡ Something is going to go wrong today. Very, very wrong. You’re sure of it. 

♡ And no, you don’t just say that because of your disastrous, almost-disastrous- encounter with Yuu.

♡ Your NPC  sixth sense tells you there’s double trouble on the horizon, waiting to get a taste of you. Double trouble.. you work your throat around the words, and try to imagine anything of the sort - but your brain stalls, because apparently, rolling out of bed (literally) and forcing yourself through the daily morning rituals was still as bad as ever. It didn’t help Kalim was particularly loud today, something about the prefect, probably, you didn’t quite hear. Ugh, Vil’s going to slime you out if he ever finds out you’re skipping yet again-

“And just what are you doing in that flower bush, spud?”

♡ Speak of the devil, and he shall come. 

Pretty purple eyes do not bode well with you. 

“Uhh..” Tongue twisted, you crush one petal in the cusp of your palm,  and bring it over your eyes, hoping to block out his face. Pretending very, very hard he’s just a figment of your imagination, because really, what are the chances you meet him in the very same place you thought he’d never come? “Well, er... I’m doing something very important and class-related right now, so I’d appreciate it if you left me alone.”

♡ Oh, no, he’s caught you dead in your right!  Above, the glass dome over the botanical gardens greets you;   limpid and beautiful, and if you squint your eyes just right, you can imagine the sky back at home. Homesickness, or whatever the afflicted call it, has taken a toll on you only after you’ve come to realize just how much of your life’s gone into a perpetual state of destruction. Teeth gnawing on lip, tarnishing Vil’s self-care advice right in front of him as you revert back to sqaure one; it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you want to vanish. 

♡ Why exactly are you here? Somewhere in the middle of picking out a thorn from your thumb, you toppled over your boots and landed straight in a pile of.. whatever these are called. Now you’re just mulling your life over your tongue, wondering why you’ve just lost every ounce of hope in your life -—Jade (the scapegoat, you tell yourself) , normalcy, living in the shadows  —  and the blissful stretch of time in which you had not yet encountered Vil Schoenheit. Matter of fact, it seems he’s bound to run into you everday - much to yours and his very mutual chagrin. 

♡ Hold on!  The only reason he’s not turned on you is because he’s not yet privy to Yuu’s ever-growing and laughably one-sided affection for you, and the same can be said for everyone here.. you’re lucky he’s caught you alone, and not with Yuu, (the same person who confronted you outside your class, only to have you bolt away like they’d just set you on fire).

“Unbelievable.  I  was out on my usual morning run and I see this.” Vil points a long, long nail at you. You shudder, but don’t make a move, needle-like thorns prickling your uniform. “You’re sprawled over the Convallaria majalis batch, the very things I’ve planted. Dear me.. why am I not surprised? It seems your inclination of spelling ruin comes naturally.”

♡ Oh! By the miracle of the Sevens, it seems the damage you did to Vil’s Corona Marvellous or whatever they’re called, is mild. Otherwise, he’d not be letting you off with a mere shoo and one of those signature scowls. Taking his sweet time to inspect the bell-shaped heap with gloved digits, he tuts. 

“Hm.”

”..What?”

“Nothing that should be of concern, to you, of course.” He says, reading your mind. “.. These look like they withered long before your  weight.” The slope of his brows deepen into a fully-manifested, vexed frown. “Unbelievable! Whoever’s in charge of groundskeeping hasn’t been tending to them properly. Again.”

You blink. “Wait. So I’m not the floral equivalent of a hit-and-run?”

Vil exhales through his nose, already sounding exhausted by your existence. “You flattened perhaps three stems, I’d say that’s hardly catastrophic.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It was anything but a compliment.”

“Okay, but the Corolla-”

“Convallaria majalis.”

“…Bless you.”

♡ Vil pays you no heed, opting to not dwell on your eccentricity any longer. 

 “Well. Since you’ve already made yourself part of the issue, you may as well prove useful.” Bells retreat to their home as the male ponders it over his tongue. Something sparkles in those of eyes of his before he straightens with a satisfied hum, glancing over at you.

 “ Poor maintenance, trampled soil, half-dead roots…” Vil dusts off his gloves with visible disdain. “Why am I not surprised? Honestly, spud, you have a remarkable ability to entangle yourself in things beyond your understanding. Come along.”

“Wait- where-”

♡ In place of a response, he grabs your hand. 

♡ And unlike the feeling you had when Kalim did the same, this one action has chills dancing down your spine. Frigid air pushes your words back in as Vil - suddenly - rotates your wrist, brow quirking. Tipped nails perch upon exposed skin as he momentarily gives you a look. 

“Hm. New bracelet?”

“No-”

“You run away from me, yet you’ve no qualm catering to Al-Asim. I suppose he is your housewarden, after all..” Purple coalesces into an inscrutable suit. “But  loath as I am to admit, do you realize just  how terrible it is to take up so much of the precious time I spare you?”

♡ Huh? Squeezing your eyes open, you realize his focal point is.. a traditional Scalding Sands bracelet - one of the many Kalim had gifted you during his visits. Oh.. shit, you must’ve accidentally put it on rather than-

..“Take up?” you repeat carefully.

Vil stills. For the briefest second, something unreadable crosses his face, then it dissolves. 

“Don’t misunderstand.” His grip loosens, though not entirely. “You’re the one repeatedly neglecting your studies. Naturally, the responsibility falls upon me when you fail to meet basic academic standards.”

“Wow,” you mutter. “You almost sounded a little emotional there.”

“I’d sooner drink diluted apple vinegar.”

“Isn’t that, like, healthy?”

Whether he seems apalled or disgusted by you, you can’t place your finger on it. “Why, you... Forget it.”

♡ Before you can formulate a viable escape plan involving perhaps a sudden, career-ending tumble down the nearest staircase, Vil pivots on polished heels and expects you to follow as naturally as one expects ducklings to trail after their mother. Oh, no.

 ♡ You want to bolt off, hide beneath the benches or do anything, instead- blurs streel your legs forcibly in the wake of his footsteps, and you chew the thick clump of dread down your throat.  Glass arches overhead catch the amber spill of drowning afternoon sunlight, drenching Vil in celestial phosphoresence.

♡ Why is it so hard to just.. refuse him? You don’t know. Eyes straining, vision skewed, you try to focus on anything. But the slivers of parted sunlight bend around his frame, the back of his head, and it’s almost as if, painfully so, your attention is tethered towards him. 

♡  Hmph! No one should look this gorgeous while actively ruining your life. Which begs the question: where exactly is he taking you?

“Ahh… there you are, Roi du Poison.”

♡ Your soul exits your body.

Vil barely pauses at the interruption, though the minuscule quaver in his brow suggests he’d hoped to avoid this exact scenario. Through the hanging curtains of ivy emerges another Pomefiore student, feathered hat unfurled and eyes glinting beneath panes. Rook - so, your luck has decided you’d do well being hunted for sport. 

“Rook,” Vil says flatly, not even turning. “I should’ve known you’d be here.”

“Can a devoted admirer not seek the radiance of his beloved housewarden?” The hunter places a hand dramatically atop his chest. “Cruel, cruel Vil. I merely wished to deliver the pruning records and instead discover a most enchanting tableau.”

When his gaze lands on you, your muscles go rigid, being pinned to a board and encased without mercy. He seems to take pleasure in the way your gaze tries to settle on anything but him. Weirdo. 

“Ahh…” The hunter breathes. “So there is our elusive little evader.”

“I’m an evader?” you ask, then chew down your words. Well, you are actively trying to act uninteresting, aren’t you? 

“You vanished from Professor Crewel’s classroom through a window last Tuesday, did you not?”

Vil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t remind me.”

“…Huh, I thought that was last Wednesday. Oh well.”

You don’t question how he knows, how the both of them know. It’d be futile as it is. Miraculously, as if reading your mind (which you’d argue he can), he directs at you a content little smile. “As a hunter observes the rustling of grass, the flight of birds, the trembling of leaves, so too do I observe the habits of those around me.”

Rook circles once around the Convallaria patch, boots silent against the stone path. His sharp gaze skims over the crushed flowers, then the dirt shrouding your weathered sleeves, the bite-rife state of your lips, and the fatigue pulling down your lids into a perpetual scowl. It takes less than three seconds for the both of them to concur on one, concrete agreement. 

Vil starts. “I’ve said as much already. They insist on treating their body like an afterthought.”

“Mm.” Rook nods solemnly. “A neglected garden wilts all the same.”

You stare at the both of them. “Oh, cool. So this is an intervention now...”

“Far from it, actually. It would only qualify as an intervention if you intended to listen,” Vil replies smoothly. “You absorb perhaps one sentence out of every five.”

♡ Rook laughs then, rippling across the greenhouse’s feather-light air. It pulls his attention back to you again, unbearably focused. 

“The way you shrink whenever attention settles upon you.” Pointing, tipping his head back, Rook croons. “And yet, despite this, attention finds you endlessly. Oh, what a haplessly ardent predicament you’ve found yourself in!”

Before you can recover, Vil abruptly thrusts a pair of gardening gloves against your chest. You stumble, and your belongings kiss the ground, thrown out of your bag. Vil’s left to wonder how such a light nudge could have you one with the ground, bare confusion written over those features before ebbing away with an ahem.

“Since you’ve already ruined my morning, you’ll assist us.”

Your jaw drops. “Us?”

Rook beams. “Bienvenue.”

“Bird Avenue? I dunno what that means.”

“Don’t absorb your setences. For all your resistance,”  Vil says with immense satisfaction, “you’re staying right here.”

“Seriously?? Just ask Rook to use his signature spell and track the- ah..” You realize the chances of him setting a mark on the culprit beforehand are slim to none, cinching your lips shut. “Nevermind, but I’m sure we have some sort of camer.... don’t give me that look, please.”

♡ Silence. 

♡ You close your eyes shut. Good golly, this is probably about the signature spell bit, isn’t it? Ugh, he’s going to be all up in your face within a  minute, demanding you tell him why you know such a thing. This makes room for one more entry in your journal.. and wait, your journal-

♡ As if on cue, you hear papers rustle. 

♡ “Interesting.”

♡ Double trouble. 

“So this is where your prowess lies. Story-writing?”

Though he tries his best to pull his brows together, there’s a little glister in his eyes. A relieved one, a midlly proud one, a..

“How original.”

♡ Your Scarabia room is really, really bland. That’s the first thing you notice. In the middle of your bed is a journal you exert all your pent-up vexation and guides in - and in a shelf by the side, you keep your belongings (which are, admittedly, lessening by the second. You’ve no clue whose wreaking havoc upon them. You have absolutely no idea who's responsible. Frankly, you're too tired to investigate, and  if somebody wishes to steal your half-finished notes and collection of mediocre pens, then they deserve whatever curse comes with them.) Tomorrow is a new day, and judging by your luck, tomorrow Yuu will probably discover your class schedule, blood type and favorite brand of toothpaste.

♡ You sling your bag at the bed when you enter your cave of hiding.

 ♡ As you dive face-first into the mattress, you ponder on today’s events. Jade Leech has officially stood you up - there’s been no sign of him at all. He does not deign to loiter beside your class after its conclusion, he does not show up to your club (though you know, somewhere, he’s still fixating on his hobby without you). Your plans have gone awry, haywire and well... 

♡ You don’t need another anomaly. 

♡ Right on cue, knuckles rap against your door. Knock. Knock. Knock. Your housewarden’s airy voice bursts in:

"Hey! Are you awake?"

Even if you were, with the sheer volume of his voice, you'd be forced to come to. You groan- delving deeper into the plush mattress. If you were to pretend to be dead right now, you’d be steered clear of this burden. Fatigue coaxes your lids down, spots gyrating in your vision - but with another knock, Kalim shoves you off balance. 

“You wouldn't happen to know why Yuu was wandering around Scarabia asking strangers what toothpaste you use, right?”

As falsely naive as Kalim seems, you quickly find out he knows just the right way to usher you out. Ripping the barrier between you open, he greets you with his ritualistic smile. “Aha!”

“Housewarden.”

♡ This is the first time you’ve had anyone over, and this is also the last. Seeing him without his sullen retainer is a novel sight, but to dissuade you from the anomaly, he places a basket of fruits in front of you.

♡ Well, there you go.  Your arms now teem with different colours and hues - but you don’t tell him to leave, because well..

“Anyway, I brought fruit.” 

“Thank you. You can leave now.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you've already delivered the fruit.”

“But we haven't hung out yet.”

“Close the door on your way out-- wait, what? Why?”

♡ After your little opportunistic venture, you doubt he’d listen to you so easily, and you don’t particularly want him  to leave as well. Those pouches and jewellery he gifted you have all gone missing, and.. well, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t want him to compensate the loss. 

♡ Inviting him in as per hospitable custom, he makes himself at home quite easily. You don’t know what you’re doing, you have a whole Housewarden in your room - albeit he did mention something related to friendship.. you suppose you have no complaint here, then - (except one related to the fact he’s in the middle of an excuse for a room while donning his sleepwear. He looks so out of place it’s actually shameful.)

“Oh, man!” He gives a bright laugh. You stand near, not wanting to admit you’re awaiting his approval.  “I sat on the bed and the frame nearly fell through!”

“Oh...” 

Kalim laughs again, bright and unbothered. "Sorry! I didn't mean it in a bad way. It just surprised me."

He gives the bed frame an experimental shake. The bed responds with an alarming creak, and you wince. It doesn’t do that when you lay on it, in your defense.

"There it is again."

"Don't."

You don't understand why he's so amused, your room isn't funny, it’s a room. A rather miserable, downtrodden room, perhaps, but still a room. Instead of criticizing it further, however, Kalim cranes his neck around, taking in the sparse shelves and barren walls.

“Huh.”

You brace yourself. “Huh?”

"It's kind of nice. It looks like someone forgot to move in, but I think that’s where its charm lies, y’know?” He points at your empty shelf. “There’s practically nothing stored there! It must be so easy to access whatever you need.”

“There’s nothing I need.”

♡ Somehow, your very loud exchange has, inevitably, amassed the scrutiny of yet another boy, and there he is, door opening, posture taut in the entry. This is arguably the first time you’ve ever seen Jamil in his sleepwear, and with his long tresses trickling down his shoulders in mild disarray, you get the feeling you’ve woken him up from his sweet slumber. As if you haven’t already garnered enough of his dislike, the universe still manages to blindside you with more.

“Kalim.”

“Jamil!”

“How many times do I have to tell you to-”

Though, you suppose Kalim didn’t intend for it to come out as such, the way it was worded seems to inevitably grab Jamil’s compliance. You don’t miss the way he stares at you, though, completely and utterly aware that misery will bring its company. Reluctance brews itself upon the tip of his tongue, and he wants to refuse, you can tell. At one point, he may have tried to veil it beneath his usual exterior, but now, after a most unexpected turn of events, he knows you know, and you know he knows you know, so what’s the point in putting up a façade?

“Come!” Kalim makes space on your bed, mind you. Your bed. “Loosen up a little, and play with us.”

Oh, no. You do not need this right now.

He trudges in, a breath of incredulity blooming in the air before he lowers himself to your level. Seated comfortably, he tries to get a good look at your surroundings.

At one point, his gaze lands straight on your journal. But before he can comment on it, you let a hand jut forward and snatch it away just as quickly. Now, he’s eyeing you openly, tenfold the usual suspicion he has.

“I’m surprised you’re awake at this hour.” He deadpans when you point at the fellow white-haired culprit. “I’m talking about you, not Kalim. Given his track record of doing the same, he doesn’t rouse as much disbelief as..” He pauses for a moment. “You.”

You droop. “I sleep when I can.”

“Ah, well, that explains nothing.”

“You're welcome.”

“No need for the formalities,” A crease in his brows as he looks at you, lips jolting. “For what it’s worth, I was expecting that answer.”

♡ Five minutes later, the board is spread between the three of you. You still aren’t entirely certain how this happened.  One moment you were trying to sleep, and the next you’re participating in what appears to be an ancient strategic game involving polished stones. Eyes combing through its structure and language, it appears to be a Scalding Sands tradition, and with the way they both speak of it, dwelling in the past and mulling the game over their tongues, you realize they’re already familiar with it. 

“Remember when we played this when we were kids? Huh, Jamil?”

“Yes. I remember you taking up half the pieces.”

♡ Kalim explains the rules, he then explains them again, then gets distracted halfway through his own explanation when you pester him with another question. Jamil finishes it for him - though, and even now, he has yet to relinquish that look in his eyes, that look, rife with wariness, caution and the feeling that he’s treading very, very carefully with you. Jeez, he probably thinks you have some sort of Kalim-assassination or tax fraud plan cooked up in that head of yours. Which you do. Just not as severely.

“You need to protect your centre, that's your only objective. Do you understand it now?”

“Sure do.”

♡  Anyways, three rounds later, you've somehow managed to eliminate your own piece. Jamil stares, Kalim stares, and you crane your neck at them. 

“What?”

“You took your own piece.”

“It was in the way.”

“It was your strongest piece.”

“Soo? It was still in my way.” Despondently, you caress the stony object. “Oh, well, if you insist, Jamil, then its sacrifice shall be remembered.”

An eye roll. “..By who?”

“Me, who else?”

Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose, but just when you think he’ll respond in that quietness, he supplies. “I don’t think I've ever seen someone lose a game quite like this.”

“Yeah, well, you’re letting Kalim win every time, so I think I have a reason.”

He lets you go with an indecipherable look on his face, and you spend the night dealing with it, in your mind, in your memory, in your thoughts.

How predictably unpredictable.

♡ “Didja’ know?”

♡ You try to rub away the fatigue in your eyes.

“Know what?”

♡ Currently, you're trying to focus on the work at hand. Pen scribbling lines regarding history, you desperately try to ignore Ruggie Bucchi, but to no avail. Whenever you do so much as lean back, he tips his chair back and replicates the motion until you’re forced to give him a sliver of your attention. That gets him going, it seems. 

♡ Apparently, waking up first and foremost - earlier than Jamil, surprisingly - and realizing that having two boys dead asleep on top of you was not ideal if you were looking for some sort of salvation. You’re not even sure what had happened that led to Jamil, of all people, knuckling under sleep and forsaking that strict demeanor. It seems atypical, atleast for him, but what’s more atypical is that you’d spent another hour trying to tip-toe around your room, lest you wake them up and cause them to actually remember you in the room with them. Ah, if you stretch, you can still feel the soreness in your limbs. Only the deities who sent you here would know how you even managed to breathe with that load on you.

♡ What’s good, though, is that you seem to have taken your mind off of Jade completely. Like a leech had he plagued your mind, now you like to think he’s an afterthought, and a bygone memory that served his purpose and left when he lost interest. Hah.. you’re finally, finally improving. You’re finally..

“Eh? Didn't ya know? Vil's been askin' around Octavinelle about ya. Somethin' about gettin' you to switch clubs, I think. Heh, maybe that's just the rumor mill talkin', though. Shishishi...”

“Mm- wait-”

♡ What.

 “WHAT?!”

♡ The entire class looks at you now. Grumbling beneath their breaths, and with Professor Trein giving you the most scorching scowl known to man, you’re compelled into quietening down, but not allowing the cold knot in your stomach to simmer, nor the rapid staccatos of your pulse. This time, you willingly lean into Ruggie. Vil? Granted, he did see your.. journal work, but him going as far as to head to Octavinelle to strike a deal with them? It didn’t seem so far-fetched given the circumstances, but at that time, he'd tried his best to appear staid and unaffected by your entries. This.. this is bad, bad news. If Vil succeeds, then - you’re destined for failure. 

​​​​​​♡ If Vil succeeds, then you are the failure. 

“Who- where’d you hear that from?” You gawk, perspiration roving down your nape, pen abandoned. You don’t know what to say. Your heart is beating.

♡ Ah, what a dumb question. Ruggie is known to work odd jobs, it’d make sense he’d catch sight of Vil, of all people, amid the Mostro Lounge crowd during his shift. But really, Vil? Stooping so low as to seek Azul’s help?

♡ What even was in that journal? A few scribbles about Twisted Hearts, and the usual jargon.. nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that would ultimately catch his interest. You hadn't even focused on it that much yourself, nor did you mention names, even if someone did manage to get their hands on it, you thought they’d just call you absolutely maniacal and do away with it.

♡ And you, stooping so low as to seek Ruggie’s help? 

“You have to help me.”

“Whoa, hold it right there.” His lips pull into a moue, hands tugging at his tie from where you’d  absent-mindedly rendered it askew. “ Remember all those times I asked, and ya told me to mind my own business? Why'do I go and help ya now?”

“I-”

“Besides, I got a pretty sweet side gig at the Mostro Lounge. If I stick my neck out for ya, who's gonna make up the difference, huh?”

He grins, teeth on display.

“Now, if you've got somethin' worth tradin', that's a whole different story. Shishishi.”

♡ Worth trading? You haven't got anything, you..are a lost cause. Your room is laughable, your grades are despicable, the company you keep is non-existent, and your pockets.. Ah. 

“I can give you anything you want.”

A gleam in your eyes, your hands form a bridge to let your chin perch upon. The brightness that you’d once lost reclaims its reign over your face, and if this world were any more ridiculous, you are certain he would see a lightbulb forming over your head.

“Now we’re talkin’.”

“Anything. I have access to Kalim’s bank account. Trust me.”

.

.

♡  “You....”

♡ Ruggie holds up the uniform. 

“You want me to infiltrate them?”

♡ You start with the people you're well-acquainted with. Dropping off packages, trying to clean some stuff up, but much to your chagrin — there is one garnet-eyed boy who won’t let you go so easily. Kalim has a penchant for making 2-minute tasks lengthen out into 5-hour hangout sessions, and in truth, most of your income stems from him as well. As a Scarabia resident, you've more chance encountering him. And Jamil, in the stead of your previous devastatingly vague conversaton, is clad in a forever stillness. Like a snake, like a true viper, whatever metaphor you’d like to pin to his name , it’s true he does not trust you one bit. 

Gloves brush wood as Jade shifts, mulling your work over his tongue. “My, how cold. And after I went through the trouble of finding you such… plentiful work opportunities.”

You look up, squinting. The eel smiles - surprisingly, a flash of white - sly, sly thing  that could be framed and hung in a museum titled Nothing Is Wrong Here. “Explain."

“Why, merely that you’ve been quite busy as of late. I thought I might… assist.”

Assist, because clearly, your life needed more interference. You turn back to your work, sifting through papers and to do-lists. Much to your dismay, the people at Night Raven latch onto profitable kindness quite viciously. “Yeah, well, don’t.”

“I can’t help but feel it’s a shame. When there are far more… comfortable arrangements available to you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“My poor, poor heart.”

Unease prods at you once more. Jade’s presence thickening, shrouding your esophagus with an intensity just shy of crushing it raw. You shift on the chair, turning so you don’t face the male, legs pressed together in an endeavour of making yourself seem smaller in his mismatched focal point. 

But he notices in an instant. 

“Is something the matter?” He eyes you, before letting his head dip inquisitively. “..Dare I assume, are you mad at me?”

Lest you respond too quickly - against his liking - the weight lifts itself off your table, and in true eel fashion, he slinks and slants behind you just as quickly.You swear you feel an irked muscle pop in your jaw when you realize you’re completely caged — one hand braced against the back of your chair, the other idly toying with a loose sheet of paper you’d been sorting. His smile hasn’t changed, but it’s  closer now.

“Ah,” Jade hums, voice dipping lower, nearer your ear than you’d like. “So I was correct, you’re avoiding me.”

You stiffen, a newfound aridity scouring your throat. “No, I’m just busy, ’s all.”

“Yes,” he agrees easily, as if the word itself amuses him. “So I’ve observed, and yet, you seem to have time for everyone else. I am your Club Leader, after all.”

The paper slips from his fingers, fluttering uselessly back onto the pile you’d been trying to organize for the past fifteen minutes. Knuckling at your lids, you sigh. “Look, Jade. I don’t have time for whatever this is. I’ve got deliveries to finish, and if I don’t—”

“You’ll what?” he asks gently, luxuriating in your falter. “You’ll fall behind? Lose your footing? Fade back into obscurity? So many choices.”

“I’ll get broke and die, then you’ll have to pry my deliveries right out of my cold, dead hands.”

Silence ensues. 

But it doesn’t take much longer for that smile to quirk and coil around your words. He straightens, and his hand moves towards your wrist, a touch so light you almost don’t register it.

“Then allow me to be of use.”

♡ Ouch! You smack him right over the head with a loose sheet of paper that, in truth, delivers zero damage, but it’s enough to momentarily catch him off guard. He blinks out of his stupor, and catches you walking out of the Mountain Lovers club, huffing and puffing. 

♡  But  you  don’t make it very far. Right as you open the door, you’re sure your heart drops straight to your stomach. 

♡ Blue and red, a spade and a heart linger at the sides of a visage you know all too well. Yuu, previously looking at the plaque above the door, stills when they see.. you. They blink, a list clutched in their hand, and suddenly, they’re spluttering, a warmth, a scorching tide gnawing at their face. You’ve no idea what they’re saying, but holy shit, do you have the most doomed luck in Twisted Wonderland? It’s very obvious they can’t keep their eyes off you.. and with the list in their hands, you’ve an inkling they’re picking out clubs with Ace and Deuce trying to assist them. 

♡ What the hell do you do now?

”I..” They breathe, eyeing you up and down. “I... woah.”

Ace groans, and he looks at you with such palpable irritation it’s baffling. “Here we go again. Man, I want to be anywhere but here right now.”

No doubt dragged to this occasion by the Yuu he couldn’t possibly refuse, Deuce remains silent, but his eyes are trained on you, puzzled. He recognizes you, you’re sure. You’ve survived spells, survived Jade, survived academic failure, survived Rook and Vil, and this—this—is what takes you out?

“Uh—hi?” Yuu tries again. The list in their hand crinkles audibly under the pressure of their grip. “You’re— I mean— I saw you earlier— not like saw saw, but— you fell in my lap and.. Um!”

“…you’re blocking my way,” you manage.

Heedless, they chuckle. It’s soft, airy, but at the same time,  a little breathless. Like they didn’t expect you to speak at all, let alone that.

“Right. Sorry. I just..” Their gaze drops, then treks upward to your face again, the latter unpleasantly miffed. “.. I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to see you again. You’re just, so, so.. You have a Magicam  account right? Give me— may I have your user?”

♡ A product of Yuu’s position as the main character. They probably deem you a random NPC, easily subject to their system’s whims and relationship level boosts. Perhaps they think if they throw in a flirty line or two that’ll get you to fluster and fall to their charm, but luckily, you’re just a brokie. And a spud. And a pup. And a nameless club member. You’re many things at once, but you’re not Yuu’s yes-man.

“Uh-huh. You’re still blocking my way.”

Something befalls Yuu’s gaze, quickly shadowed by another hopeful glint in their irises. Their attention travels somewhere behind you, and that’s, in truth, enough of a tell that an eel is lurking real close. 

“Ah. You’ve acquired company.”

”Jade!” Yuu chirps, the aforementioned acknowledging them with a close-eyed nod. Ah, right. Honestly, you think your time here is up. Jade’s head over heels for them, after all. “Oh, wow! How’ve you been? It’s been so, so long since I’ve-”

“Likewise. And.. if I may ask,” Jade opens his eyes. “What brings you here?”

Your lips crimp at that.

Yuu shifts the list in their hands, fingers fidgeting against the edges like it might fly away if they don’t hold it tight enough.

“I was actually—” they start, glancing up at the plaque above the door, then back at you, “—looking into this club.”

…

♡ No. No, absolutely not! This is the only club you deem safe enough. No, no, no. If Yuu enters, that foils all your plans. If Yuu enters, Ace and Deuce too. And if Ace and Deuce enter, then so will all of Yuu’s envious suitors. Jade, you can feel him start to simmer, feel him bend down to Yuu’s demand, feel him rife with joy-

“The Mountain Lovers Club is, regrettably, quite exclusive. I’m afraid you’ll not find an available seat. ”

♡ This is the very first time you’ll admit you could kiss him in gratitude.

Vision skewed and graciously dazed, you peer at the sides of his face --his mien unperturbed.  Ace and Deuce blink with you, but only Yuu verbalizes their confusion. 

“Oh.” They seem shocked, in disbelief. The stagnant pause ends with a meek: “…Really?”

“Yes.” Jade doesn’t miss a beat. “Our activities require a certain… disposition.. that is to say, endurance and compatibility with the environment.”

“—Yes!” You blurt, softening the blow. “Yes, yes it is! It’s also a.. best-friends only thing, if you know what I mean.”

Deuce, having been quiet all this time, finally speaks. “..Are you sure?”  He gestures to the male beside you. “Even he seems shocked you’re best friends.”

♡ Ack! Jade can’t be any more obvious. Pupils dilated, lips slightly ajar, it takes you right back to your proclamation of being best friends. With a  surreptitious nudge to his elbow, you bring him right back into reality, and he quickly masks his shock with an air of contentment. 

”...Yes, you heard them correctly.”

Yuu, however, just blinks again, visibly deflating. “Oh… I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“It isn’t,” Ace mutters under his breath.

They all watch as Jade steps closer. His gloved hand lifts, and before you can even process it all, positions itself upon your shoulder. And before he can process it, you sling an arm around his and reel him right back in, cracking a very wobbly grin. Oh! From this proximity, you think you can feel the tempo of a heart beating oh-so viciously, but you clear your throat and play the part. This is not looking so good. 

“Oh?” he blinks, close to your face, slanting down to match your level. “..I wasn’t aware we’d reached such prestigious heights.”

You tighten your grip. “We have. We totally have.”

“Hm. Then I must apologize,” he says lightly, turning his attention back to the trio. “It seems I’ve been a rather inattentive friend.”

Ace squints. “You don’t even sound convincing.”

“I assure you, I am nothing if not sincere.”

“Cap.”

Deuce, still frowning, crosses his arms. “If you’re really best friends, then it shouldn’t be hard to answer a few questions.”

.... Oh, dear. 

♡ Turns out, you and Jade, two peas in a pod, know nothing about each other. In truth, he was never your favorite character in the Twisted Hearts series -- and so you’d never pay heed to his personal character tabs, but having to face this reality is humiliating, to say the least... and that is to say, this guy is clueless. 

“What’s their name?”

“...Ah.”

“What do you mean by ‘Ah’? Their name is Ah?”

“I was under the impression that such formalities were unnecessary between close companions.”

“Haha, yeah, we’re just, like, on a first-name basis.”

♡ Yuu has a lot of questions to ask. 

“What’s their favorite thing about you?”

“Oh..”

”Ah..”

”Er— after you.”

“No, no. I insist. After you.”

“I insist more.”

  Ace looks ready to walk into traffic.

“I REALLY like his personality.”

“Do you now?” Jade echoes, the glister in his eyes lifting up his dazed bid at a smile. 

“Mhm. You’re so.. eel-like. Heh.”

“…Eel-like.”

“Yeah, like—uh—adaptable? Slippery? Good in social situations?”

“How kind,” he says, once he recovers, eyes glinting. “Then I suppose I should return the sentiment.”

Oh no.

“You are,” he begins, looking directly at you now, “remarkably persistent.”

“…That’s not—”

“And quite entertaining,” he continues smoothly. The rest watch the spectacle in both shared puzzlement and horror. “In a way that is… difficult to replicate.”

Your face heats. “That’s also not—”

“And,” he adds, softer now, “surprisingly honest, when it matters.”

♡ Having enough, Ace tells the others to hurry off before you two actually start making out. Yuu, however, follows his remark only with a tentative stride, glancing back at the now intertwined hands of you and the eel. You really are close, huh? It baffled them, up until now, they’d never heard of you.

♡ You.. however. 

♡ You’re thinking just how.. profitable keeping Jade Leech around is.  

♡ Someone’s been stealing your stuff.

♡ The thought is inevitable just as you make a routine count-down of all your belongings. You’re three numbers down, and you’re beginning to dread everything. (Though, you can’t help but scowl at the thought. Seriously, what good would it do to them to steal a half-chewed pencil, of all things? That freak..)

♡ The suspect is pretty clear to you, but you have an inkling there’s more to this.

♡ In order to dissuade yourself from the very large problem at hand, you tend to your mounting list of customers. In Pomefiore, you’re supposed to drop off a package, no doubt related to cosmetics. In Savanaclaw, something related to workout equipment. In Heartslabyul, you’re supposed to walk someone’s pet.. mouse. You skip over Octavinelle and Jade’s very evident handwriting - (a scheme to catch your presence.) And Scarabia...

♡ Gulp.

“You’re here!!”

Though, you’ve only met Kalim a couple of times, (more so because his gifted pile of adornments was endless), he still has the gall to beam  at you like you’ve laid out the desert stars yourself. Hands folding upon yours and bringing you forward, conversely, he watches you shrink into your collar.  “You didn’t tell me you were coming today! Jamil—did you know they were coming today?”

“Um.. I live here.”

From somewhere behind him, air whistles through Jamil’s teeth.  “No.” His eyes flick to the package in your hands, then swiftly back to your awkward stance. 

“You’re here for a delivery,” Jamil says. 

“Yeah. I was just gonna—”

“Stay for lunch!”

♡ And thus, today marks the day you’ve sold your soul for food, of all things. Seated and gently trapped, a decade’s worth of food presents itself before you, and the aromas effused gnaw at your senses, tempting. Spices, drinks, whatnot.  Kalim keeps piling more onto your plate like he’s trying to win a competition you didn’t agree to join. Though, as much as you feel Jamil’s opposition to you, he isn’t afraid to litter your already dazed mind with a maelstrom of questions. You wonder what it may be, the cause of his vehemence. Maybe because of the injury incident? Maybe because your presence results in greater work for him? Whatever it is, you dabble.

“Try this one! Oh—and this—Jamil made it!”

“Kalim,” Jamil cuts in, voice smooth, “they can serve themselves.”

“They don’t take enough!”

“They won’t starve in the five seconds it takes to decide.” Jamil directs his gaze to you, trying to oh-so vigorously ignore the fact you’re stuffing things into your mouth like you’ve been starved since your birth. It’s quite strange. Here in Scarabia, food is never a scarcity. “You’ve been taking on more work lately.”

You try to play it off. “Just… saving up.”

“For what.”

Your lashes dip. “Just in case.”

Jamil tilts his head slightly. “In case of what.”

God, he doesn’t let anything go, does he?

“In case I need it,” you mutter, poking at your food.

“If you need money, you can just ask me.” Kalim butts in. 

They don’t miss the sliver of light - suited to an opportunist - glistering in your irises. You think to yourself for  a moment, mulling it over your tongue. Was it really that easy? Had you really been prolonging your misery for nothing? Whirling your head towards Kalim, you hope you don’t come off as too eager. This could be your chance! “...Really? You’d do that?”

Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kalim, please. You are not funding every person who steps into this dorm.”

“I’m not.. Just them!”

“—But I really, really need it, Ka— Housewarden.”  Correcting yourself, pulling a clump of lashes down towards your woebegone gaze and overstretched lips, you extend a faltering hand to the white-haired boy. “I’ve been working so hard lately..” Only for one day, but you twist around the hurdle. “And it’s just not enough.”

Needless to say, his expression melts. As it should, who are you if not committed?

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn't important. But now, I fear I soon may..” You clench your heart over your chest. “Perish.”

Silence stretches around your words, intercepted only by Jamil’s very blunt, accusatory finger.

“You’re eating.” He remarks. 

You shove another bite into your mouth. Taste bursts sharp and savoury. “Who’s to say? This could be my last meal.”

“What?” Kalim blinks, horror dawning upon sun-kissed features. “Huh—”

”Yes.”

“Yes. Yes, let’s all acknowledge the very real threat of starvation currently occurring at this table, of all places.”

Your hand stretches a little further toward Kalim, fingers trembling just enough to sell it. “…Please?”

The speed with which he latches onto your hand - warm, buoyant and unabashed - does not catch you off guard. You relish in it, if only for a moment. “Yes! Of course I will! Besides, it’s my duty as your housewarden to look after you!” White shines in his smile. “Right, Jamil?”

The latter counts down to a number that only exists in his mind. Exhaling, he comes to a standstill. “...Within reason.”

“Yes!” Kalim lights up instantly, squeezing your hand with verve. Your fingers twitch in his grasp when you reciprocate. “See? It’s settled!”

“I knew you’d understand,” you try a smile. “You’re really, really kind. I’m glad to have you as my Housewarden.”

Kalim beams like you’ve handed him the world. 

“Of course I am!” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in existence. “And you don’t have to work so hard, you know? You can just come to me!”

Jamil’s eye twitches.

“That’s what I’m concerned about.” You huff a quiet laugh, glancing down at your plate, now ludicrously full, courtesy of Kalim’s earlier enthusiasm. “…It’s not like I hate working.”

That much is true.

“It’s just…” You pause, poking lightly at the edge of your dish. Poisonous spumes of memories; heels, scales, a classroom - make you lodge your lip between your teeth as you forage for the right words. You didn’t hate working. Working had become a part of your routine, you’d worked endlessly to evade, elude and ignore. You just don’t like it when..

 “I’d rather not owe anyone anything.”

The words slip out before you can dress them up. Jamil stills at the variation in tone, but Kalim slants his head, thinking over it. 

“Oh,” he says softly, and just like that, the energy shifts. “Well,” Kalim continues, thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand without thinking, “then don’t think of it like that.”

You blink. “Like what?”

“Like you owe me,” he says, as if the idea itself is ridiculous. “Think of it like… I’m helping my friend. Yeah, that’s it! You have other friends, right? I’m sure they don’t do all that stuff just to put you in some sort of debt!”  At the growing sombre wave over your expression, he gawks. ”You do have other friends, right?” 

♡ Right. An heir. Your friend. The two don’t match.

“Yeah!” You blurt before he can offer himself. “Yeah, I have one.. Uh, it’s.. his name is Jade!”

“Jade? Jade Leech?” He stares, before laughing quite heartily. “I know him! Hey, bring him over next time. Oh, I’ll even invite Yuu!”

Imperceptibly - just a tincture of change - you latch onto the pleasant change of thought pooling over Jamil’s unfairly pretty face, like a starving man. He was going to atleast try to mitigate Kalim’s suggestions, but the mere mention of the prefect has him chewing down his words, and when he partially turns his face to the side, the fabric of his hood conceals  warmth and a shy-tipped smile.

 “..Hm.” His eyes sparkle. “I suppose we can-”

“So,” you shovel three bites into your mouth now. “Where’s my money?”

“...On the condition we exclude you from such occasions.”

♡ Scarabia’s Number One loser turns to the side and wilts, but not before catching the bare of a chuckle whispering through the snake’s teeth. 

♡ Ouch! You’ve never dealt with classes amiably, and since then it’s devolved into some sort of a love-hate relationship. You’re not in the wrong here, of course. In your defense, the only thing you know about Astronomy are the zodiac signs. (..Or were they related to astrology? Oh, well, whatever). Animal Languages, Humanities, whatnot, they all are just as unbearable to you as Potionology, and your backbencher self can only retain so much of magical knowledge. 

♡ Needless to say, it’s a surprise to hear Professor Crewel start the day with a hint relayed over upcoming exams. You don’t care much about them, you know just enough to pass and stay out of any leaderboard lest you garner unwarranted attention (a plan you're failing at, at the moment). With Vil as your tutor, you think you’ve secured a solid position in the future.. Though, a  bit too solid for your liking. You might have to deliberately get a few stuff wrong in order to not  be the centre of praise, but just enough to qualify as average and not earn yourself an office tongue-lashing. Haha..

♡ Ah, right. Speaking of Vil, you’ve been granted the luxury of not being his focal point for now. Not so much, atleast. He seems much too preoccupied with the Pomefiore students under his lead, and for once, you’ve some time to yourself.. Hm, actually, you haven't interacted much since he got ahold of you in the classroom. No matter. It’s all tightrope walk, really. Unfortunately, you’re starting to suspect someone’s shaking the rope.

“You’ve been getting better.”

♡ Huh? You pause, pen hovering awkwardly over parchment. The voice beside you is unfamiliar yet not entirely so. Turning slightly, you’re met with the face of—ah. Right. Scarabia Student B. A reliable constant in your classes, someone who exists in that peculiar space of always there, never noticed - much like you. 

“…I have?” you reply, qurking a brow. 

“Mhm. ” He  perks up. “Potionology, especially! You used to look like you were about to pass out.. Sorry, no offense, but did you take Ashengrotto up on one of his offers?”

“None taken.” Your pen dances in the open spaces of your fingers. “Ashengrotto? No.”

“Oh.” He seems confused, much to your dismay. It only invites more conversation. “I figured as much. You don’t seem like the type to.. jump on the bandwagon like everyone else. All my dorm-mates are egging me on to strike a contract with him.”

Our dorm-mates. 

♡ Hm. You recall Jade’s previous allusions to you doing the same. Rule Number One: never make a deal, never be in debt.

“Also,” He prods. “Are you okay?”

♡ Oops! In order to placate your rapidly growing heartbeat and the perspiration streaming beneath your clothes, you’ve resorted to chewing at your nails - not realizing how weird that may seem. You can’t blame yourself. You’re just trying to.. prepare yourself for what you’re about to do - it takes will, courage and audacity, for some reason you have all three of those no matter how mild.

♡  You hum noncommittally then gulp nervously,  turning back to your notes, though your handwriting grows just a tad bit more jagged... But since you’ve incited conversation, you see how this story goes. 

 “You’ve also been… around more,” he adds as an afterthought. A sideways glance is all it takes for you to see the glister in his eyes - rendering your pen motionless. You’ve been writing nothing but nonsensical sentences, atleast to his mind, again and again, for the pursuit of I’m busy, let me be. But in actuality, this is all a part of one of the most well-crafted plans you have up your sleeve (one that’s not torn up from the several wildlife you’ve encountered on your hikes).  What to do, how to, what-ifs.  

♡ What if Scarabia Student B thinks ill of you after seeing the stuff you’re writing? Oh, well. You know beggars can’t be choosers - in the sheer chaos of your life, this is one of the risks you’re going to choose, even if it foils the sole thing you’re living for. 

“…Around?” 

“Yeah. Scarabia, obviously. But I’ve seen you near Octavinelle too. And Pomefiore! Vil Schoenheit’s tutoring you right? Everyone’s talking about how lucky you are.”

Oh.

Oh, that’s.. That’s really  not good, you think. In the stead of a frown, you give a light, airy laugh. 

 “If you’re trying to get into a different dorm’s good graces,” Scarabia Student B continues, “you should be careful.”

♡  You sink slightly into your seat, exhaling through your nose. So much for subtlety. You’d thought your little job-hopping routine was clever, a way to slip between cracks and stay just out of reach. But cracks, it seems, still run deep. 

♡  At the front, Professor Crewel snaps his pointer against the board.

“Eyes forward, pups. Some of you seem far too comfortable drifting.”

♡ When you lean back, you forget one thing: your life is terribly, inevitably, and terminally out of your hands.

“Psst!”

“I’m not giving you the answers, Bucchi.”

♡ Or not. When you mask your words in vitriol, Ruggie Bucchi - your classmate, trying so hard just to cop a look at your notes, though you’re not even in a pop quiz, deflates.  Rule Number Two: never give anyone the answer to anything.

Finally! Class zooms by quite swiftly, and when the students stream like little, vexing ants in a disparate gaze, you’re quick to scramble for your belongings and exit. Jade, as always, waits for you at the edge, and upon seeing you near him - practiced hand upon his chest - 

♡ Allows his mind to draw a blank. 

♡ Huh?

♡ Are you really holding his hand?

The barrier of his gloves  may seperate the sensation of fingers entwining, but he’s sure, no, certain you’ve enjoined hands. His gaze dips - to see the spectacle, so thoughtfully, so carelessly, so eagerly slotted against his like it’s always been there. 

“I told you not to wait for me,” Your usual grumble sounds loud today. “Whatever. Thank you, though.”

Like it’s natural. 

“Jade.” You deadpan. Ah, you really were on a first name basis. “Did you short-circuit? Hellooo?”

”Not at all.” His reply is immediate, and so is the suave upturn of his lips as he regards you. Fully reciprocating your hold, he hums as if he hadn't just pondered over your dynamic in the span of a heartbeat. “I was merely considering something.”

“Yeah, well, consider walking.”

You tug him forward, and he complies, seamlessly weaving in the newfound hubbub of the halls. Students pass, chatter ebbs and flows, yet it all feels even more distant to him now, for the sole reason you still haven’t relinquished your hold. You get weird, inquisitive glances from passerbys, and when you still don’t let your grip slacken, he realizes, all the more entertained, that this is intentional. 

“So,” you eye him. “You don’t have anything to do, right?”

“For you?” He replies smoothly. “I always find myself remarkably available.”

“Good, then walk me to my dorm. Actually, no, my room.”

“My, my.. I certainly wasn’t aware we’d grown this close.”

“Don’t you dare.” Whirling around a corner, you narrowly dodge a group of unsuspecting, giggling freshies. They all disperse when they see the eel willingly trail after, hand in hand, Jackpot. You were on the mark with your little analogy. “I’m skipping my remaining classes, ‘is all.”

Jade has a strange, numb, faraway look in his eyes as he talks. If you were any smarter, you’d compare his mental state to a giggling schoolgirl, feet kicking high up in the air and all. “Oh? Even if Vargas will have your head for it?”

“What am I to do?” You grouch, he can never get tired of it,  surprisingly. “I have so many jobs I need to pick up. So many deliveries, packages, dorms. My next job..”

“Where might that be?”

“Nowhere near Octavinelle.” You make a face at him. “I’ll have you know your handwriting is very identifiable, you’re not slick.” 

A soft laugh escapes him, a lie so gentle it almost feels true. ”Very well, then. I shall behave.”

♡ The journey to the Hall of Mirrors is easy and slow-paced, and in no time are you standing outside your room, bidding Jade adieu, or atleast the form of it you think would max out your stats. Scarabia’s numbers at this time are limited, considering they’re all very big on their grades and whatnot - so that buys you some time to do the unthinkable-

”I must admit-" He drawls on with his usual background yapping..

- the very core of your plan, the one you’ve mentally steeling yourself for, the one you’ve been rehearsing in the mirror for-

“Seeing you take such liberties to-”

♡ The next time Jade opens his eyes, he is sure of one thing. The ephemeral sensation of you coaxing yourself up and pecking his cheek happened, and this time there’s no barrier to try and think otherwise. 

Rule Number Three - keep your enemies far away, and Jade closer than ever.

♡ The next time you open your eyes, you’re very sure he just malfunctioned, gloved hand perched upon his cheek incredulously. Blinking, once, twice, doing nothing to remedy the touch -

”You..”

“Anyways,”  You shimmy inside before he can get a word in. “See you later.”

The door slams shut in his bleary-eyed, wobbling face. 

♡  For the next few days, you’re inclined into believing you just messed up whatever chance you had at salvation...because surprisingly, Jade’s stood. you. up.

♡ Surely, as a fellow second year, he must have as many responsibilities  as  you, and you surely don’t doubt that bit at all. Mostro Lounge must be another factor, and if Azul's really getting around to those contracts as per Student B’s words, then he must be more packed than ever. Still, you can’t imagine any other universe where you’d get withdrawal symptoms from the fact the eel no longer waits for you after class, nor does he come by to your ever-growing hike sessions. That foils the plan of no-attention, sure, but you sure as hell don’t want to go to Octavinelle just to bring him back, you’d be a fool to. Still, now, things have actually reverted back to the way you wanted them to - with you on your lonesome. 

♡ Not entirely on your lonesome, though. Vil is still a hindrance. Sometimes, he does manage to make some time for you, much to your dismay. And when you pivot and bolt away, one French-speaking hunter is always there to mitigate the problem. It’s always embarrassing watching people wonder why a grown student is thrashing around and screaming like a toddler whilst being dragged off by a Vice Housewarden… 

♡ Ouch. That sets it. You’ve no clue how to proceed now. 

♡ You can easily bypass Scarabia attention by sneaking awày and coming in late, past curfew. Pomefiore is inevitable, and so is Octavinelle, and ultimately, with Crewel’s insistence on you growing a backbone and learning how to actually fare well with academics, you’ve slowly and gradually reached one, final dead end. 

A Pomefiore dead end. All your encounters go somewhat like this.

“I take it you’ve learned better than to run from me, spud.” Silky blonde, pale purple wisps and perfume pool in your sight. Vil Schoenheit can see you preparing to run.

Surprisingly, and regretfully,  you  turn. Even outside of Pomefiore’s halls, he looks like he belongs on a stage rather than a school corridor.

“I  wasn’t  running.” 

“You  were  given  a  rare   opportunity,”  he  says, voice lowering. “Do  you  know  how  many  would  beg  for  the kind  of  guidance  I’ve  offered  you?”

He doesn’t like you groaning.“ Ughhh.. Fine. I’m lucky, I get it, okay? Now, if you’d just-”

“No, you don’t.”

Before you follow through with your plan and take to your heels, an icy hand grasps your chin, directing your gaze towards an even more vexed one. And despite yourself, a pesky chill dances up your spine — days have passed, and you’ve still yet to overcome the outlandish feeling of discomfort you get from him.  With pursed lips do you shrink, but with just a lone tap on them alone, you’re compelled into relaxing them and entertaining Vil’s caprices. 

Exhaling softly, he seems almost disappointed, brows sloping. “You’re inconsistent, spud. Your potential fluctuates wildly. One day you perform adequately, the next you sabotage yourself with careless mistakes. Deliberate mediocrity is still a choice, and a poor one.”

When you avert your gaze,  the sheer, bona fide pressure of long nails — albeit unintentional —  sinks deep enough to incite a hiss from you. 

“I’m aware you’re trying not to stand out.. but why,” A tap and your cheeks are practically smushed together.  “would that ever be something to strive for?

♡ Oh! Vil doesn’t even know the half of it.  How you’re just a background character, how you know wreckage and would do anything not to be part of it, how you’d do anything in your power to just stay away and never be perceived again, how every single line of the script has slowly been crumbling ever since you’d made a flimsy little mistake, how he doesn’t even exist.  You could go on and on, but truly,  what would he know? 

A downturn, a slope of your lips is what you give him instead of an answer, and in return you hear another soft sigh of exhaustion. 

 “Oh, sevens..”  he adds with his voice dipping just slightly, “instead of refining what you’ve been given, you choose to squander it.”

“I’m not squandering anything.”

“Then what would you call it?” he shoots back smoothly. “Intentionally answering incorrectly? Slouching through assignments you are clearly capable of completing? Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“...Oh.”

♡ Commences the never-ending loop of Pomefiore halls, stacked deadlines, and a huge bunch of books. It's quite laughable, to say the least, out of all your potential encounters, Vil is truly the only one who makes you uncomfortable enough to consider bolting away

♡  .. though you can never remember why. 

♡  “Psst...”

“No.. No.. I.. ” You slur and forget to thank him— whoever that was— for bringing you out of your reverie. Up front, class resumes, Professor Trein talking about something indecipherable. “I added the right ingredients, Vil, I did... ”

A giggle makes you sit up straight. Oh. It’s Ruggie. “Ugh, shut up. I’m not giving you the answer.”

♡ You’re not even sure why the hyena hasn’t gotten the hint yet.  Struggle’s part of the hustle?

“Dang,” you feel him slouch just as you underline three unimportant words three times, lips cinched tight into your perpetual grimce. Your eyes are still hazy, mind squirming, but you manage. “You didn’t even hesitate. How’dja know for sure I was gonna ask for the answers? Kind of rude, y’know?”

Head lolling over your shoulders, you don’t spare him a single glance. “That’s all you do.”

“Wow," Ruggie Bucchi, perhaps even more of an opportunist than you - leans back against his chair, clicking his tongue when you point him out for the millionth time today. He’s always had a knack for trying to cop a look at your notes, or at seemingly whatever your hands were occupied with at the moment. In return, he gets nothing, but as established, the struggle is part of the hustle. “That hurts a little, y’know? I thought we had something special.”

Good grief... “No, we don’t. Please NEVER entertain that thought ever again.”

♡ You’re already packing your things up lest he grows a little too curious and  deftly snatches  them away from you. When the bell rings, you’re already rushing out the door, seamlessly weaving in with the quintessential crowd and letting bodies obscure you from view. 

♡ But unfortunately, a grab at your sleeve halts you in your advance. Ack!

“Wait!”

♡ Not Ruggie. Not Jade. Not Kalim...  huh? Oh, yeah. You get it now. 

♡ Yuu stares at you with tenfold the adoration they once had, lips warming into a bright smile, white showing when you shoot them a questioning glance. Encapsulating your hand fully, they lean forward for you to hear them over the hubbub and you barely make the effort to crane your ears. It’s a fact they can’t read the room. Do you blame them, though? Debatable. It’s inevitable after all that attention and validation. Though.. the way it feels like they were standing right outside your class gives you momentary chills. ( that spot’s taken and you can only handle so much.)

“Sorry,” their grip loosens. “I just— we didn’t get to talk much earlier. You left so early, and Jade..” Teeth nearly mauling their lip, they shrug away the thought. “Nevermind. That isn’t what I came here for!”

“..What did you come here for?”

“You.”

♡ The entire world hears you groan.

♡ Vil,  much  like  your  other  peers,  does  not  request  your  name  or  endeavour  to  get  to  know  you  better. Of  course,  you  don’t  expect  any  less  out  of  him.  Your  entire  purpose  is  to  remain  forgettable  in  his  pale  purple-rimmed,  gorgeous  viewpoint,  even  if  he’s  passing  you  long-winded  criticism  on  the  way  you  sag  beneath  the  table  like  the  dumbest  of  all  potatoes.  Far  too  common  in  appearance,  sprouting  from  the  lowest  of  ground,  dirty. Fitting,  you  think. Most  of  time  you’re  drowning  in  notes  a  foot  taller  than  you,  the  other  you’re  subject  to  protracted  speeches  about  adjusting  your  posture  lest  you  become  an  ‘even  worse  of   a  hunchback’.  A  cultivating  ground  for  your  self-esteem,  of  course.

♡  You  get  some  spare  time  to  pay  Mountain  Lovers  a visit  here  and  there,  and  Jade’s  sly,  scheming  woebegone  pout  makes  you  believe  he  deems  himself  a  widow  in  your  absence.  Flattering,  but  usually  it  ends  in  you  having  to  wrestle  a  polaroid  out  of  his  surprisingly  rigid  grip,  hearing  him  encourage  your  attempt  all  the  while  with a   small  trill.  Annoying  as  hell,  sure,  but  you’ve  hit  the  jackpot  by  keeping  only  a  small  circle  close  to  you.. Well, yeah,  all  of  them  are  love  interests,  but  they’re  still  heed-deep  in  their  own  little  love  story,  aren’t  they?

“Must  you  always  sag?  It’s   unbecoming.”  The  smooth  tone  hurls  you  upward  from  your  notes,  a  few  pages  feathering  in  the  space  like  small,  terror-stricken  birds.  Warmth  shrouds  your  nape  when  you  look  at  his  disapproval-laden  features.   “Ah. So  you  weren’t  sagging  after  all.  Do  you  not  get  ample  sleep  at  Savanaclaw?”

“I’m  from  Scarabia..”

“... I  see.”  He  revises  a note  in  his  head  and  drums  his  fingers  against  the  table.  You  can  tell  he  wants  to  be  anywhere  but  here.  “I’d  assumed  this  was  the  result  of physical  exertion,  but  if  you  reside  in  Scarabia, then  it must  be   lifestyle.”

“I  didn’t  understand  a  single  thing you said,   but  that  feels  like  an  insult.”

“Hm.  It  simply  is.”

With  an  expulsion  of  fatigued  air,  flanked  by  the  scars  of  restless  nights  on  your  eyes  (that  your  executioner  oh-so  vehemently  traces  with  the  curve  of  his  own lids), you surrender  to  the  papers  once  more.  Until,  of  course,  a  chair  lists  to  the  side  and  a  shadow  falls  on  your  paper. 

You  squint  up  at  him. “...  Can  I  help  you?”

“Don’t  flatter  yourself, spud.  I  never  put  myself  in  a  position  where  I  require  anyone’s  help,  least  of  all  yours.”  Brows  slope  to  the  almost  smug,  content  tilt  of  gloss-full  lips.  He  folds  his  arms,  then  gently  slants  his  head  to  your  handiwork....  if  you  can  even  call  it  that. “What  are  you  doing.”

“Reading.”  Not  liking  where  this  is  going,  you’re  quick  to  defend  yourself.  “I  can  read  it  just  fine,  by  the  way.”

“Then  do  enlighten  me,  what  does  that  say?”

“...  It  starts  with  a   word.”

“Give  it  here.”  

♡ That’s  how  it  usually  goes.  You  listen  to  the  song  of  fabric  and  paper  intertwining  and  rustling,  a  pen’s  nib  gliding  with  ink,  and  prop  your  face  on  your  hand.  Not  even  a  second  later,  fingers  tap  the  underside of  your   chin  and  direct  your  attention-

“Up.”

You  blink,  and  the  paper  meets  your  eyes.  His  handwriting  flows  and  curves  and  impinges  upon  your  mind’s  ability  to  comprehend  text. It’s  worse. 

“Thank—”

“Don’t  thank  me  yet,”  Lightly,  he  closes  his  eyes.  In  his  hand  he  carries  his  phone, and  you  immediately  get  the  hint  to  back  out  of  his  selfie.  Gloved  fingers  sifiting  through  his  blonde  strands,  he  speaks  to  you  straight-backed.   

 “Now you’re  expected  to  maintain  the  standard  I’ve  left  for  you.”  Twin  gems  peer  at  you  from  the  corners,  a  glance  ever  so  fleeting.  “It’s  all  I  ask  of  you.”

Well, you can atleast manage that much.

“The  elusive  silhouette  behind  Schoenheit..”  Jade’s  eyes  crimp  at  the  horror  dawning  upon  your  face.  “Fufufu..  Might  I  request  your  autograoh?”

“No!”

“Hmm.” There’s  a  soft  tap  against  the  screen. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I’m  think  I’m  gonna  die..”

“After  all,” he  skims  over  your  remark  and  continues  lightly, “it  would  be  such  a shame  if  I  were  forced  to  keep  this  to  myself.”

♡  Ack!  Looks  like  your  ‘backing  away  from  a  selfie’  technique’s  gotten  old  and  rusty,  because  right  in  front  of  you  Jade  holds   up  his  phone  screen  to  let  a   familiar  picture  unspool  in  your  mind:  the  stunning  mien  of  your  tutor,  and  the...  very  dead-looking  you  hunching  in  the  corner.  You  almost  smack  Jade, but  the weightlessness  in  your  knees  shows  no  sign  of  ebbing  away, ultimately  coercing  him  into  assisting  you  onto a chair  as  you  fan  away  your  dread....  

♡  Very  tentaively  and  graciously  does  he  show  you  the  onslaught  of  comments  and  likes  on  the  single  post.  Some  of  them  are  big,  red  circles  outlining  your  slouched  self,  others  are  complete  jargon  along  the  lines  is  this  a  hard  launch  or  they  definitely  make  him  laugh .  Nevertheless,  it  daubs  your  face  in  a  layer  of  impermeable  heat.  You’d  think  Vil  would  have  the  gentility  to  remove  the  post,  or  at  the  very  least,  crop  you  out  —  but  no.  Somehow,  you  think  it’s  all   a  big  part  of  his  elaborate  plan. That  jerk!  Was  he  always  this  petty  in  the  game?  

“Careful,” he  hums, far  too  pleased  for  someone witnessing  your  social  demise. “You  wouldn’t  want  to faint  before  signing, would  you?”

“I’m  not  signing  anything,” you  mutter  weakly. “Delete  it.”

“Delete it?” he  echoes, as  if  you’ve  suggested  something  quaint.  “But  this  is  already  quite  public.”

Your  palm  clenches  into  a  fist,  and  before  you  know  it  you’ve  wringed  the  suave  eel  with  the  livid  round  of  your  fist  and  streeled  him  towards  you. 

His  eyes  widen,  a  reaction  you  seldom  elicit,  but  as  you’re  standing  so  close  to  one  another  —  a  breath  away  —  you  take  your  chance  and  jab  your  finger  right  through  his  chest.  Much  like a  knife. 

“Jade.  Delete.  It.  Now.”

♡  Ugh!  You  know  Jade’s  already  made  a  million  screenshots  and  saves  of  this  garbage  of  a  photo,  but—

Huh? 

“Jade?”  You  inquire,  blinking  up  at  him. 

The  male  does  not  respond,  and  funnily,  his  eyes  stay  enlarged,  air  forsaken  in  the  galleries  of  his  throat,  hitched. 

The  long  streak  of  black  descending  from  his  teal  tresses  feather  against  your  cheek, a  soft, absent-minded  brush  that  shouldn’t  feel  like  anything,  but  does.  He’s  looking  at  you,  a  stare  unlike  Vil’s  —  everlasting  and  deep  —  your  finger  still  pressed  to his chest,  feeling  the  faint  rise  and  fall  beneath  your  touch.

When  his  breath  steadies,  the  world  returns  to  normal,  and  so  does  his  close-eyed  visage.  You  rip  your  hand  away,  and  a  soft  chuckle’s  effused  into  the  space. 

“…My,” Jade  exhales,  his  tone  a  bit  too  soft. “How forward.”

“.. Sorry?”  You  avoid  meeting  his  stare,  a  twinge  of  anxiety  rippling  through  your  nerves  at  the  crescendo  of  his  stare.  “I  shouldn’t   have  gotten  so  close.”

“Oh,  don’t  look  so  dejected. You  rarely  come  this  close of  your  own  accord,” Clad  in  that  ususal  manner,  with  his  finger  tapping  against  his  chin,  he  croons  that  last   part  with  something  much,  much  lower  threaded  beneath.  “I  should  thank  Schoenheit.  Don’t  you  think  so?”

You  blink,  in  a  daze,  before  dipping  your  head  in  refusal.  “You—”

“Though,” Oh?  In  your  stupor,  you  realize  he‘s  taken  hold  of  your  hands once more, made  to  entwine  and  be  ensared  in  one  place.  Very  subtly  does  his  thumb  run  along  the  edges  of  your  pulse.  You sputter. “if  this  is  what  it  takes  to  draw your  attention…”

A  muscle  ticks  in  your  jaw.

“I  might  be   inclined  to  keep  it.”

An  empty  space  greets  Jade  when  he  opens  his  lids, the  outline  of  your  shadow  speed-walking  to  the  nearest  exit. 

♡ Yikes! That gave you second-hand embarrassment, but no worries.. you’ll manage, just like you’ve always done. Except.. Jade doesn’t seem too big on letting you scurry away from his reaches, or perhaps he has a knack for freaking you out. One day, after a sun-bleached and stifling lecture on Magic history, paired with the unmistakeable traces of Lucius’ fur on you, you tumble out of the doors and catch your fitful little breath. The hallway becomes lined with students, and soon you’re just one small ant in a horde of them. Nothing can tell you apart from others, nothing but the all-encompassing mismatched eyes of your tormentor, of course.

“Fufufu,” An arm extends towards you. “You look quite fatigued. Dare I assume you dislike Professor Trein?”

You nearly jump out your skin and scream at the waxy mien, a hand flying to your chest as you try to swat him away — much to your dismay, he seems entirely disaffected at your light barrage. Only smiling in shame’s stead. “Dude, warn me next time before you— just appear!”

“On the contrary,” Jade tilts his head. “I’ve been here for quite some time.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Then, in the light of your doubt, allow me to escort you,” As if this had always been the natural conclusion, he closes his eyes merrily.. “You’re in no condition to be wandering alone. After all, I’ve word Vil’s searching for you, something about your rescheduled sessions...” With the shrewd smile you detest, he coaxes you forward. “We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“I am alone.” you argue weakly- but at the thought of said blonde male’s imposing stare, are ultimately forced to loop your arm through his and weave through the hubbub. The ends justify the means or whatever it is they say, you chant to yourself.

♡ What you get, however, isn’t salvation, rather half-phrases referring to your untimely appearance in the post. At this point, you’re trying to shield yourself by hiding behind the eel- but even that proves futile. Jade would sell you for a box of mushrooms, you close your eyes and affirm, but when you push your sight open again, you catch him musing over your antics even as the prefect’s voice floods Main Street. In the area he used to lurk and prowl in their presence, he now stands by you. This is bad. This is very, very bad. This is so bad you can’t even think of the repercussions. You just want to knock some sense into the man.

‘Schoenheit seemed a bit off-kitler today.’ The prefect, voice swept with the breeze yet as captivating as ever, sags in worry. You can’t see them, you refuse to, but you hear the light tempo of their footfalls. ‘He wanted to do my makeup again, but something kept coming up.’

“That guy again?” Ace, you assume, slumps over their shoulder, frown tearing his words apart. “..He’s got the hots for you. Of course he’d act weird, man.”

♡ Something feels wrong.

♡ You can feel it too. As the crowd shrinks and twists and fluctuates around you, you absent-mindedly huddle closer to the eel, heedless to the frazzled downturn of his eyes. The prefect laughs, the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard, someone bumps your shoulder, and suddenly your ears become hypersensitive to everything. Bodies move slowly, slowly, slowly and slowly- until—

“Le voilà.”

♡ Rook, ever the all-knowing, stands a few ways away and as witness to the confusion mottling your face. Oh.. no. Eyes crimping at your realization into half-moons of intrigue, he strides closer.

♡ Right. You’d forgotten. You’re no stranger to ditching Vil’s study sessions, but when it comes to a staggering amount of absences, he has this very strange way of acquiring you back. It’s never worked, partly beacuse you’re privy to his tactics and his esteemed hunter, but he’s caught you at a bad time, and is surely here just to drag you back. Ugh...

“Now, now,” Rook tilts his head, green eyes flicking briefly to where you cling. “Must you borrow another’s shadow to escape mine?”

“I’m not—”

“Non?” he smiles like he’s coaxing something something mulish into the open. “Then come.”

Unfortunately, you step back and bump right into Jade.

“My, my,” Hums the eel. “You’ve become quite popular.”

Rook’s smile widens, if that’s even possible. Good grief... He narrows his gaze down to another half-moon, constricting the space only around the forms of you two — you can see the gears coiling and turning in his head as he analyzes you, and the feeling is downright pervasive... Luckily, it seems he’s rather content with his deduction.

“Why, of course! A natural occurrence,” he trills. “Beauty, once glimpsed, cannot be ignored.”

“Is that so?” Jade hums. “Well then, you’ll have to forgive me for intruding. You see, my club member and I are already quite occupied, and..”

Gloved fingers perch themselves upon your face and pull. Your lips are dragged into the most lachrymose, tragic downturned frown known to man. You freeze, but all the while, Jade angles your face ever so slightly towards Rook, as though adjusting a display.

“..I’m sure you can guess.” He finishes — smoothly — with the everlasting, even more all-knowing glint in his eyes.

You swat his hand away. “Stop doing that!”

Much to your chagrin, Rook leans in, and you have an inkling of what he’s thinking. “On the contrary,” he breathes, delighted, “you are most captivating when you protest. There is a most certain candor to it.”

“I want to LEAVE.”

“Non. If the moutain does not change, then the hunter shall simply hone his approach.”

(Somewhere far away, Vil sighs. He’s become rather tired of your antics, hasn’t he? A spud should never be this elusive).

“That look on your face tells me you’re thinking of running away, pup.”

♡ The potion bursts in your face when he says that, and you book a first class flight to another one of his ceaseless reprimands. Truth be told, you’ve completely gone off to the deep end, or as you would put it, the deep end of complete isolation. For the past few weeks, you’ve attracted unsolicited attention, and you like to think you’ve gone radio silent on all your ‘acquaintances’ and their accidental run-ins henceforth. But, as your misfortune would have it, this solitude also implies you’ve made a habit of never turning up to your study sessions with Vil... and well, we all can see where that’s going, since you’re standing in the brutish aftermath of that decision right now.

“This,” Crewel tuts, circling you with his protracted gaze and lined, dark eyes. “ is precisely the reason why I entrusted Schoenheit with the... gruelling task of tutoring you.”

“I—”

“Save it.” His voice slices clean through the air, his heel clicks once against the floor as he stops in front of you. “If you’re about to offer excuses, I suggest you swallow them. I’ve no patience for poorly brewed lies.”

♡ Everyone has a knack for interrupting you, it seems. Explaining that you’d been avoiding people like the plague, and that every interaction lately feels like walking into a spotlight you never asked for, that even thinking about sitting through another one of Vil’s faultless study sessions drives you mad — feels like too much effort. So, you make do with what you have and try to make the most of it. Crewel does not pry for more, he presents in front of you a nimiety of vials and examines you wordlessly getting to work. There is something different in your eyes now, something unusual, but he need not prod for fruitless things.

♡ Along the way, Crewel talks a few times about Yuu. You try to cancel their names out from memory, but such praises are born to seep into your ears and stay etched in your bones.

♡ Lately, everything’s about Yuu now, isn’t it? Every single one of the student body is so intent on gushing over them, it almost makes you feel resentful.. Granted, you’ve stayed in the shadows for far too long to even have the right of such an intense emotion, but it gets to a point when such a constant in your life is a person you’ve never met before. Vil, Jade, Kalim, Jamil... you’re just so, so tired.

♡ So, you just.. focus on the task at hand. The orange substance goes into the green.. whatever that is. Shoot! You can vaguely recall Vil telling you something about this particular formula... maybe if you’d just listened..

“—Perhaps, you wouldn’t have stooped to such an unsightly level.” The voice arrives as quickly as it ebbs away, prompting a deep, frigid chill to rove over your spine. “I recall instructing you to follow the example I set for you.”

♡ Ack! Speak of the devil, and he shall come with a visage as gorgeous as his tone. Only.. you’ve been trying to evade the clutches of said devil from the start, and instead instantly spiral into a plethora of hows and whys.. after all, you’d avoided him to the utmost of your abilities, did you not? You find yourself thinking that, yes, Crewel must’ve had a part in this, judging from the now vacant classroom. Only.. you also find yourself thinking of Rook’s words: If the mountain does not change, then the hunter shall simply hone his approach.

“You’ve no clue of the trouble you caused me. ” Vil pivots on his heels, and looks down at you through his nose. You are almost inclined to believe he takes joy in the way your head lolls dejectedly across your shoulders (at your inevitable defeat, of course), before your posture straights as per usual and you pertain to his demands. For with an expulsion of air that could be deemed a self-satisfied chuckle, he leans forward, and makes you regret every single decision you’ve ever made in your life.

“Don’t give me that look, spud. After all, you’re the one causing me such inconvenience. Had my hunter not set his eyes on you, I’d still be quite lost..”

You clench your eyes shut, a headache blooming.

“I can never satify you, can I?” Your teeth press. “Go ahead. Do what you want or whatever.”

..

Silence ensues, prompting your head upward.

From the way he looks at you, you’re almost mortified he’s mulling the suggestion over his tongue, lashes feathering against it. His lips recede before bursting forth with the words you’ve grown to dread, finger propped against the sides of his face, and this time — he looks at you with pleasure.

“Oh, spud. You needn’t concern yourself with such things. Rest assured,” He eliminates any space between you with a flick, eyes crimped. “I will be doing exactly what I want.”

“Huh-?”

♡ For the first time in his life he willingly grabs you, or rather the sides of your arm. Bringing you forward, you feel a thump-thump-thump against your palm.. until realizing it’s only the feeling of your hand pressed against your erratic, feverish heartbeat — anchoring you to your seat, the other latching onto the sides of the table.

“You’ve made a habit of running, haven’t you?” He closes his eyes in peaceful contemplation. “Let’s correct that. You’ll leave when your work is presentable.”

“Vil-”

“Fairest one of all.”

The next moments that transpire are a blur.

You can’t remember exactly what happens, only your hands gliding across the table and growing lax and sore with each movement; of you grabbing a vial, mixing something, lost within the drunken, heavy daze of your mind. Your lips feel vacant, your body feels numb, but you hear him speak up behind you, the words barely registering on your ears as he orders another potion.

What’s going on? Your vision’s a mixture itself, of amorphous shapes, of your own limbs, your own fingers wrapped around the small jar and its contents squirming, fighting for dominance. Everything is moving sluggishly. Your head hurts so much. What happened to your voice? Were you speaking before?

It doesn’t matter, all you can see is him. As stunning as ever, like a queen perched upon her throne, face awash in perpetual contentment. Blonde tresses descend upon his shoulders, silken locks brushing against the back of his neck. His posture is straight, tall, and elegant; arms crossed and face serene. So unlike you.

Huh..

You think this is the first time you’ve ever seen him so clearly.

“Now,” An upturn dances at his lips. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“Yo,  Deuce,  who’s  that  weirdo hiding  behind  the  couch?”

“Be  quiet  for   a  second,  dude.  We  just  lost  Yuu.  Where  did  they  even  go?”

♡   To  hell  with  your  life!  How  desperate  do  you  have  to  be  that  you  need  to  use  Kalim’s  parties  as  a last  resort  and  for  your  own  selfish  perusal?  You’ve  gone  insane  these  past  few  days,  having  Jade  Leech  flank  you  whenever  he  desires,  having  Vil  hot  on  your  tail.. (huh, strangely enough, you can’t recall ever interacting with him in potionology as he claims)  and  receiving  a  bundle  of  invites  from  the  red-eyed  devil himself. Scarabia’s  warm  and  arid  air’s  just  shy  of  crushing  your  deserted esophagus,  so  you  take  to  your  heels  and  conceal  yourself  in  a  gold-accentuated  cranny  of  the  room.  Granted,  Scarabia  is  your  dorm.  You’re  free  to  wander,  but  with  this  many  people...  attention  is  unavoidable,  isn’t  it? 

♡  The  notion  of  seeing  Vil  again  has  messed  with  your  head.  It’s  safe  to  say  you  detest  him  to  no  end.  Ugh,  you  loathe  his  polished  heels  and  his  exceptionally  well-applied  eyeliner,  oh, and  you  also  resent  his  luscious,  blonde,  blinding-  whatever.  The  point  is,  you’ve  bitten  off  more  than  you  can  chew.  So  you’ve  been  left  to  your  own  devices  for  now,  as  you  try  to  vehemently  recall  every  single  detail  left  vague  in  the  game.   Twisted  hearts,  twisted  hearts,  twisted  hearts.  It  seemed  ordinary  at  first  glance,  ordinary  love  interests  with  a  tad  bit  too  much  verve  in  their  devotion —  but  mentally  well,  nonetheless!

“Huh— hey!  Isn’t  that  the  magicam  hunchback?!”

“Ace, they’re our senior! Have some respect..”

“Dude, chillax! They’re only a second year!”

Which episode  do  you  die  in  again?

♡  Ace  and  Deuce,  ever  the  cautious  duo,  eye  you  from  far  off,  probably  noticing  you  rocking  back  and  forth  in  a  kneel.  Oh,  and  you’re  probably  chewing  on  your  nails  as  well,  so  that’s  double  the  humiliation  points. But can you bring it in yourself to care? No, never. You’re just so, so tired. Even as, inexplicably, Deuce opens his palm to you, and inquires of your state in such a belittingly sincere manner, you offer him no response but the deliberate, messy shake of your head. Oh, no.

Taking to your heels, you pace around in circles. You let the music swell. Just barely, just enough to drown out the buzz and-

“Hey! Watch out!”

And fall right into someone’s lap.

Hm. What were they even doing? Sitting alone in a corner? They..

Oh.

Yuu stares down at your wide-eyed face, tracing the way your hair’s splayed upon their clothes like tiny veins snaking around their legs. Your lips are parted just slightly, expelling a momentary breath of shock, feeling their weight buttress your nape, and it’s not soon before you find yourself scrambling for purchase..

Except..

Yuu doesn’t move. They don’t utter a single thing; in fact, their breath hitches, and the tips of warmth as pretty as the zenith of the sunset floods their face. For a moment, you almost find the likeness of your face casted back within the overwhelming pool of their irises; bleak and bleary-eyed and scrambling time and time again. When you maneuver and get up, your legs wobble, you blink, and yet all you can see is Yuu.

Yuu.

Yuu, the person you’ve swore never to associate yourself with.

How’s your life come to this?

“Huh..” They blink, fog dissipating. “Um... are you real?”

You scratch your head as a response. No, no you’re not.

♡ In the game, from what you remember, Kalim was the clingy sort of love interest and seldom left Yuu’s side. Strangely so, he’s never brought up the prefect during his sojourns, even though you expected such ramblings most out of him. You don’t pry further, for it eventually becomes clear he too is not unaffected by the sound of Yuu’s voice drifting from the halls, brightening his face tenfold. You lament on your circumstances, but you’d be a fool to reject free food, so you let him hang around for the sake of it.

♡ Eventually, free food turns into free trinkets, and free trinkets turn into free jewellery alltogether. By the time the nurse twists around the corner, you’re already swimming on a gold heap, and if said nurse tries to tell the pair to leave, the white-haired male overextends his eyes and sags so much to the point he’s compelled into letting them stay. You don’t mind company, but you’re certain you somehow blathered about your loneliness when tea-drunk, and now this boy’s determined to keep you away from such thoughts.

“I brought you tea!”

You eye the swirl of warm brown before letting your head dip in craven refusal. “No.”

“Huh?” Red, befuddled irises peer at the sides of your face, and the snow-white puffs effused from the drink seperate your expression from his. You’ve been in the same position since your arrival and it’s starting to keep him on pins and needles.

“I was told, very clearly, that ten cups of tea was the problem.” You supply helpfully.

“Oh!” His eyes peak up to his brows. This guy... “Then this is perfect, it’s only one!”

“That’s not— that’s not how that works.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“…Oh.”

♡ That’s how your day goes. If not for Jamil dragging the boy out, you’re certain he would’ve tried to take up residence beside you. Of course, that goes to say your endeavours of trying to be unnoticeable and ordinary are rewarded by said boy with an almost judgmental mien, and though that often sends your self esteem to rack and ruin you almost feel a twinge of relief. Relief means things are still working, and that Kalim’s pursuit is nothing but a product of flimsy luck.

♡ You think his suspicion’s aroused by the fact Kalim’s activity has spiked and for such a small reason at that. Or perhaps the boy’s just frazzled since he’s compelled into dropping by as well and listening to a very one-sided conversation, with your only replies being ‘Hm’ and ‘Nice’. Still, you know he’s already decided on something when he looks at you with those lined eyes.. speaking like he’s setting out early lies and early traps. Unbeknownst to him, you’ve played his route ten times.

“You’re very quiet.”

Suddenly, you find the ceiling very interesting. “.. And so I’ve been told.”

“I imagine it must do you well,” Seeing a character on a screen is one thing, seeing them ponder and stare at you in real time is entirely another. Jamil sighs through his nose in Kalim’s absence, letting his brows pinch towards you. “Less attention.. less worries. Kalim’s not too keen on moderation, that habit of his always tends to escalate. I’m surprised you’re not bothered by it... Why?”

You flick your nails, and a bracelet rattles against skin. “You talk about him a lot.”

“I don’t think it’d end well if I left him unattended.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

After an almost devastating pause, he answers, veneer ruffled and already having accepted everything all at once. “... It is.” Long tresses sway to the side when he shakes his head. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?”

“Why’re you not bothered?”

Lame. With an expulsion of irritated air, you flop back down on the sheets and get all comfy. “I hit my head. Must’ve messed up my brain.”

Air whistles through his teeth, and you don’t stay awake long enough to gauge if it’s a chuckle.

♡  Phew!  You survive the infirmary and are allowed to attend your classes once more, believing firmly that all the trouble of socializing has been lifted off of you (just like old times). Unfortunately, your grades have completely dropped, because of.... welll, you give Professor Crewel the excuse of hitting your head and forgetting all the basics of potionology. He tuts, but surprisingly lets you go, only after ascertaining you’ll be informed over what you missed by someone with higher command over the subject. You don’t mull over it, hoping it’ll only be a  random guy from Pomefiore and not another lovesick scrub.

♡ Feeling like a husband returning from war, you pass by a route leading from somewhere to nowhere and ultimately end up in the room of the mountain lovers.  Let’s just say, Jade seems to be rather confused when you walk in donning more accessories (which’s really just glitter and gold) than you left with — but there comes that glint in his eye and he assures you just how reminiscent he was rendered in your absence.

♡ Only a formality, of course, because the new onslaught of wilderness flooding the room has you thinking otherwise. He seemed to be enjoying himself.  (Hmm... still, the space is filled with photographs you and him took on your excursions. And hey, the bastard even kept the one of you mid-slip over a patch of mushrooms!)

“Oh, I was  inconsolable,” As he’s mid-speech over your disappearance, he places a gloved hand on his woebegone heart and lets a crocodile tear cascade. “You simply have no idea how frazzled you left me.”

“You know, you should definitely try out acting after this college thing.”

“...How  unkind,”  he  murmurs,  tone  lilting  with  something  amused.  “To  dismiss  my  sincerity  so  readily.”

“You  don’t  have  any.”

“Mm.  A  tragic  flaw,  I’m  sure.”

“…Did you take all of these?” you change the subject, a photograph slipping between your fingers. Jade doesn’t  look at it. 

“Of course.”

“I don’t remember half of them.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“I look like I’m about to die.”

“Yes,” Jade agrees lightly. “But believe me, that’s part of the charm.”

Whatever that means. 

♡  You  both eventually get to exploring the mountains once more, and everyday there’s a new hellhole waiting for you. And by hellhole, you’re referring to the fact Jade’s ‘candid photo’ collection of you keeps on flourishing. When you threaten to quit over it, he simply bestows that signature soft chuckle on you and muses over your tone. Other times you lament over how awful you look in them, and most times, he offers you cryptic praises. You, crouched by a stream, looking over your shoulder. Laughing at something that isn’t there anymore. The lighting’s wrong for the time you think it should’ve been taken.

“…Jade.”

“Yes?”

“…When was this?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly recall every little detail,” he says lightly, stepping closer, eyes landing on the tapestry of dull colours before him. “They all blend together eventually, don’t they? Moments are such fragile things.”

You give him a side-eye, and his smile grows.

“But,” he cuts in gently before you blow a gasket, plucking the photograph straight from your hands, “I do remember how pleasant it was.”

This guy still doesn’t know your name.

♡ When you wobble your way back to Scarabia, you’re met with a rather pleasant sight. And unfortunately, pleasant only in the visual sense and not by comportment. Vil, perhaps one fo the love interests you’ve dreaded meeting ever since your arrival here, eyes you the moment you materialize in smears of encrusted topsoil and leafy aromas (a result of yet another fall you took. Jade, now, probably has a million shots of that). Turns out that tutor Crewel was referring to is the pretty boy poised in front of you, the fairness of his skin pinched by disgust. You’re ready to make a beeline towards the nearest exit — because surely he’d let you leave —

♡ But he’s just as agile as he’s stubborn. Mimicking your prowess for vanishing, he appears in front of you and proceeds to stare at you for what feels like an eternity.

“…How,” Vil says slowly with a voice twice as sharp as him, “have you managed to reduce yourself to this state in broad daylight?”

While you’re thinking of where to start, Vil seems preoccupied with taking apart your appearance. “... Don’t answer that. You’re scratched and filthy.”

When he tilts your chin up, you stay taut like a deer caught in headlights. Or, for the lack of a better word, straight into the fire.

Uh-oh!  Your  plans  go  awry  right  in  the  midst  of  your  semester  when  the  headmage  insists  you  all  opt  for  joining  a   club.  You  want  to  lay  low,  but  your  grade  depends  on  your  extracurricular  activities,  so  poor  little  you  has  to  drag  yourself  out  of  your  spot  by  a  random,  murky  tree  and  comply. In  the  distance,  you  hear  Yuu  pick  the  basketball  club,  ever  so  happy  with  their  ragtag  bunch  of  companions. 

As  the  twisted  breeze  whistles  past  your  face,  you  find  yourself  at  a  stalemate:  wavering  between  the  clubs  labeled film studies  and  mountain  lovers;  the  only  clubs having  a  single  member.  You  vacillate  between  Vil  and  Jade;  and  from  what  you  can  remember,  neither  of  them  are  much  fun.  Though  it’s  clear  you  don’t  have  to  exert  yourself  over  it  much  longer,  because  when  a random  boy  bumps  by  you,  ink  blots  and  smudges  out  the  ways  of  the  mountains, already deciding your fate for you.

The meeting spot is somewhere behind somewhere, you keep your head down all the while, even as the silence flourishes into thickness, even as the man of your nightmares sits silently at the far end and grins that cathedral of sharp teeth, just shy of crushing your spirit.

“A member?” Suave as he is, you don’t miss the glister of disappointment in his eyes (expecting someone else, someone named Yuu). Jade is far prettier in person, but you don’t dwell on it for long. “How unexpected.”

He does not deign to ask your name, a reason for gratitude, and so your woebegone, mundane routine continues. You find his composed and charming exterior belies his passion for mushrooms beneath, and it becomes a habit of yours to put an end to him prating before he’s left unchecked forevermore. He rewards you with a cool chuckle, streaks of noctilucent teal slanting along with the tilt of his head. It’s all rehearsed, isn’t it? Jade, even when he acknowledges you, couldn’t be any more robotic.

“During my usual trek,” Jade explains, lashes dipping towards a pale cluster of such umbrella-shaped bodies. “I happened to come across these earlier. You’ll find they grow in peculiar places.”

“Everything here grows in peculiar places,” The forest scent floods your nose as you breathe in. “That’s kind of the brand.”

Jade’s smile does not falter. “How delightfully pragmatic.”

You reach out and poke one of the mushrooms. It yields under your finger, the texture oh-so real, even as it springs back. Vaguely recalling a bad ending recalling spores, you add: “Don’t eat that.”

“I hadn’t intended to,” he replies, and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise coursing through his mismatched gaze. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the reaction was authentic. “Though I appreciate your concern.”

“It’s not concern,” You turn away, and Jade’s stare scorches the fabric of your clothes. Moisture-laden grass squelches beneath the accidentally aggressive tempo of your boots, and you hope he doesn’t store the sound away as emotion. “If you die, I have to find a new club.”

When your ears crane for the sound of his approaching footsteps, you get a soft chuckle in its stead.

“How reassuring. I shall endeavor to remain alive, then.”

And to think he still doesn’t know your name.

That’s how your days go, and that’s all they’ll be limited to. On Tuesday, you take a tour of Main Street again, and find the eel inexorably staring at the visage of the prefect, so vehemently absorbed in his thoughts as they chatter off to someone faceless. You move, and Jade does not, staying true to the script. You almost feel bad, until the bell rings and you’re forced to take another lesson of flight, listening to Vargas yammer and run his mouth. Strangely so, even the teacher is not privy to your name. How delightfully pragmatic. In turn, you find yourself foraking your duties to Jade’s mushroom lineage.

“Evading your club activities?” You flinch awake from your near nap, head lolling to the side. The familiar voice somehow chimes in even as you sink into the shadows. Jade must be passing by, you think, there’s no other reason he’d willingly approach you. “Dare I ask, are you perhaps displeased with me?”

“Nah.” You quirk a brow at him. Displeased? Of what? “Just needed a break.”

“Ah.” The corners of his lips unravel to reveal that pointy smile you hate. “That certainly eases my worries.”

Standing up, you shrug off your drowsiness. But just as you move — snip — your foot catches on the edge of the bench, and you’re sent headfirst into the ground.

“Careful,”

A firm hold seizes your arm. Bleary-eyed, you blink up at Jade in a daze, the sunlight pooling over the panes of his complexion. “I would hate for my only club member to injure themselves.”

“Your only club member would hate that too.”

A small incline of his head.

“How fortunate we are in our alignment.”

He releases you, the pressure ebbs away as his tall stature’s reduced to a tiny little speck in your vision.

On Wednesday, you willingly skip out on the club meeting and decide to hone your flight skills once more. You catch sight of the prefect sauntering off elsewhere, and trailing after them is one more anomaly. Surprisingly so, Jade does not approach you again, a confirmation that he had not indeed sought after you yesterday. It was more so a twist of fate, and you wonder if he’s already occupied in seeking the prefect out.

Nevertheless, you digress. You abide by your flight class regulations. Until, well... something bonks you over the head and you get a concussion.

“Ah—! Wait, wait, are you okay?!”

There’s a face above you now, bright and frantic and entirely too close. Sunlight halos his warm visage, and the red pools cast your own likeness back at you.

“I didn’t see you! You just kind of— appeared— no, that sounds like I’m blaming you, I’m not blaming you— are you hurt?!”

You blink once, wondering if you should offer formalities to your housewarden.

“…You hit me with a broom.”

“Yes! No— I mean— I did, but not on purpose!”

“…That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know!! I’m sorry!”

You soothe his worries, and he seems ever so desperate to call for Jamil and seek the aid of someone more well-versed in... well, whatever this is. He doesn’t know what to do, you tell yourself, and somehow, that’s how you find yourself back at Scarabia as Kalim accompanies you to the building, fussing over you and the growing bruise on your temple.

Kalim hands you tea, atypical of him even in the absence of his other companion. The padded seats have you all warm and comfortable, and soon enough, you find yourself lost in a one-sided conversation entirely (deprived of something as normal as this for a long, long time).

“You look kind of familiar,” He smiles and your shoulders loosen. “Have we met before?”

“You’re my housewarden.”

“Ohh! That’s why!” The touch of happiness is not scrubbed off his face, even at the tip of your bluntness. It’s a pretty smile, you think.

“Yup..”

“Yes!” He mimics. “I’m Kalim Al-Asim! Oh— wait, I should’ve started with that, sorry— what’s your name?”

You freeze.

A simple, harmless, entirely normal question, yet you find yourself prodding for its reason all the more.

“…Why?”

He blinks.

“Why…? Because I just hit you with a broom.”

“That’s not usually when people ask.”

“Well, I feel like I should know who I’m apologizing to! That’s just polite!”

Of course, as the favored son of heaven, the Male Lead would always see through her manipulations and confront her. Each and every time this happened, the distance between the two grew further and further apart. In retaliation, she would turn her malice towards her other playmate, the Male Lead’s cousin – the Second Male Lead. In the plot, it was this storyline that pushed both men towards the Female Lead, finding her a breath of fresh air compared to the suffocating cannon fodder.

As a task taker, that is exactly what you did. For years, you’d feign fainting when your and their mothers suggested tea parties with other children. After the Male Lead calls you out for faking it, you’d later take out your ‘anger’ on his poor cousin by treating him like a servant. It didn’t change even when the three of you turned into teens – the method was just modified. At school, you’d act hurt whenever the Male Lead said biting words, playing the perfect part of a frail young lady. Sometimes, when no one was looking, you’d catch the Second Male Lead glaring intensely at both you and the Male Lead. When this happens, you’d look back with a faint smirk, taunting: I dare you to say something.

Adulthood is when everything changed, marking the beginning of the plot. Finally, the heroine has entered the story. As always, you dutifully played your part as the vicious cannon fodder. At first, you acted alone – which earned you the ire of the Male Lead and the ever-increasing frown of the Second Male lead (obviously). Everything was already going smoothly, but it only got better when you learned that the villainess is also a task-taker. Teaming up, you both communicated through the system chat to ensure plot progression continued exactly as it should.

At last, the plot point for your exit finally arrived. Abducted by people who held deep grudges against the Male Lead, you were brought into a remote place. Apparently, as his childhood playmate, they believed you to be ‘dear’ to him (something you sneered at before promptly getting silenced from a slap to the face). When the abductors contacted him, as expected, he merely scoffed and hung up. That didn’t surprise you. In the past, you’d even stage kidnappings just to prevent them from leaving. You’d utilize their parents’ fear for their children and sympathies for you to extend their stay. Of course, it was only natural that he’d assume this was the same. And so, after days of countless calls and threats with no progress in sight, you were killed in a fit of anger by the ringleader. 

“Useless wench! All of our hard work was for nothing because of you!”

Thankfully you had the system’s Pain Suppression Module activated. Taking your very last breath, you heard the familiar chime of the system congratulating yet another successful task.

CONGRATULATIONS! Task completed. All rewards, points, and miscellaneous items have been added to your inventory. Leave now? 

Your job is done. It’s up to the villainess to fulfill hers.

You: Good luck, senior! You can do this. Cheering from the sidelines!

And so, you returned to the system lounge. For the next week or so, you pestered your senior for updates on how everything was going. When she finally texted with a smile and thumbs-up emoji, you immediately knew she was done with hers. Happy, you rested for another day before continuing work. Time to play the next role!

“System, I’m ready for the next world.”

–At least, that’s what was supposed to happen.

ERROR! ERROR! ANOMALY DETECTED! FORCEFULLY RETURNED TO PREVIOUS WORLD.

System, what’s going on?!

ERROR! ERROR! ERROR–!

Before you could even hear the system’s response, everything went black and white as your soul was sucked to a tiny point. You wake up with a gasp, heart in gnawing pain from the forceful reconnection. What’s happening? This has never occurred in your career before! Oh god, did you mess up your mission? Wait, what about your senior–

“You’re awake…?”

Startled by the sudden sound, you turn your eyes towards the entryway. There, in all his glory, was the Second Male Lead. Haggard, he looked nothing like the aloof man in your memories.

What happened?

“You’re awake.”

He took one step. Then another. His eyes were wide open with relief and unspeakable joy, gazing at you with soft eyes like one would towards someone delicate. But beneath that gaze, you saw a flash of madness and felt an instinctual urge to just move. 

“You’re awake!”

For the first time in your life, you experienced the bone-crushing embrace of a desperate man. His arms were wrapped tight around your own, leaving not even a hair’s length of gap between your bodies. He clung to you, holding you down when you squirmed and followed when you backed off. On the edge of the bed, you almost fell but was thankfully caught. When the sound of metal rattling echoed in the air, that’s when you finally noticed that something was wrong. 

Looking down at your body, you finally knew why. 

You finally understood where that feeling of apprehension came from.

There, wrapped around an ankle, is a chain. Your eyes trailed its length, heart beating faster and faster as your gaze stopped by the bedpost. No sound came from your mouth, but inside your mind was a whole different story.

System! System! What’s going on?! I request an emergency exit. System? System?!

“What are you thinking of?”

The man squeezed your waist. When has he ever spoken to you like this? So soft, like coaxing a puppy. He doesn’t do this. He never does this.

Who is this man?

It took all your strength to lift your gaze and stare back at those dark, swirling eyes. In those eyes, you see the faint image of yourself reflected back. The sheer intensity of it unconsciously made you gulp in nervousness.

Oh god, you’re fucked.

You’re truly, irrevocably fucked.

“Hah!? What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Katsuki stares. “How do I feel about you ordering things?”

You shrug sheepishly, feigning, to your credit, a very convincingly nervous look. “I just didn’t want to upset you.”

The look on Masaru’s face twists immediately to heartbreak—like he can’t believe his son would turn out this way. Meanwhile, Mitsuki’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits. Katsuki waves a hand gesturing at you in shock as if to ask, are you seeing this? as he stares at his parents helplessly.

“She’s messin’ around, I swear, she always does this—”

“Katsuki.”

“Don’t Katsuki me—I haven’t done anything!”

“You know,” Masaru says carefully, eyeing his son in disappointment, “sometimes people don’t realize they’re behaving a certain way until there are signs. But we have to look at the signs for what they are, son.”

“Dad—”

“No, let me finish.” Masaru holds up a hand. “You’re supposed to be equals in a relationship. If she’s worried about upsetting you over something as simple as ordering a drink, maybe you should ask yourself why she feels that way.”

“Because she’s insane!”

“Katsuki!” Mitsuki hisses, pointing a finger at him as she says, “don’t call her that! The only reason for that is because you’re driving her crazy—look at her! The poor thing! She’s shaking over there, and it’s because of you!”

“She’s not shakin’ for shit! Look—look at her! She’s fighting back a fuckin’ smug little look on her face because she’s—”

Mitsuki suddenly reaches across the table and catches him by the ear. “What have I told you about making girls feel respected, huh? This is why they’ve never liked you! And now one finally does and you’re scaring her off?”

“Ow—you fucking hag!”

She gives his ear a sharp tug. “Language.”

“Ow! Let go, you old—”

You look up innocently, “Please don’t scold him, he’ll be in a bad mood when we get home.”

Mitsuki yanks his ear harder at that, steam practically pouring from her own ears, and Masaru holds a hand to his chin in deep, concerned thought.

“Just what happens at home when it’s just the two of you, huh? Why is she scared about what’ll happen when you’re home?!”

“Nothing! Literally fuckin’ nothing, she terrorizes me at home, if anything! Look with your eyes, you old hag!”

Finally taking mercy on him, you chuckle, reaching over to ruffle Katsuki’s hair. He gives you a nasty side glare, but it softens just a smidge when you lean into his side and kiss his cheek.

“I was only kidding,” you beam at Mitsuki, “I just wanted to make him sweat a bit.”

She looks at you with a cautious gaze, her fingers still tightly wrapped around Katsuki’s poor (and red) earlobe as she asks, “Are you sure you’re not just protecting him?”

“Oh don’t worry,” you hum, patting your boyfriend’s chest as he shakes his head in irritation, “you’d be the first to know if he acts even the slightest bit out of line.”

“I never get a chance to be out of line, cause you’re the bossiest—”

Just then, the waitress arrives with your drinks. She sets yours down first. “Here you go, honey.” Then she places Katsuki’s down. The sour look she gives him could practically curdle milk. “Sir.”

Katsuki stares after her as she walks off, and you giggle as you pinch his cheek affectionately. “We should come back here next week, huh baby?”

“Yeah, if my face isn’t on a wanted poster at the door,” he grumbles under his breath.

You reach over with a cheeky grin, grabbing his drink and taking a sip before taking another from your own glass. After a moment of contemplating, you hum, “I like your drink better. I’m taking it. Here—” you slide him yours as you pull his own glass to your side of the table. “You take that one.”

He turns to his mother and waves a hand. “See?! She terrorizes me!”

“I’m not seeing a problem,” she says, giving him a less than impressed look. “All I’m seeing is a poor girl finally realizing her worth after dealing with your nonsense.”

He slumps into his seat, giving up, and you lean your head onto his shoulder, beaming up at him victoriously as he gives you a tired look. (And, much to your pride, you know are getting very, exceedingly good at getting under Katsuki’s skin—it’s a hobby you’re quite talented at.)