𝖗𝖆𝖞

“I almost forgot that I gave you permission to this teapot,” you sigh, gently pushing him away with a palm on his chest. He concedes, pulling you upright and backing off.

You place your hands on your hips. “Well? How do you like it here?”

Lyney’s smile softens impossibly, letting his gaze wander around your teapot. Outside, it’s dim and wet from the rain, but here, his face is cast in a warm, gold glow—it’s taking all of you not to crash onto his chest and use him as a heated stuffed toy. “Your home is breathtaking. Even a legendary magician like myself can confidently say I've never seen or heard of anything like it!”

You huff, gesturing for him to follow you inside. “Impressed, are we?”

“It’s hard not to be impressed by anything when it comes to you,” Lyney says without missing a beat. You thank every archon listening that your back is facing him, not your bitten lips and wide eyes. “But were I to say I've already gotten completely used to it... Would you think I'm lying?”

Is he planning to make himself at home on the first day? “Sure doesn't seem like the truth.”

Lyney laughs, speeding up to walk beside you. “Aw, that really hurts my feelings… But, I was really being honest this time!”

“Ha, ha,” you say blankly, twisting the doorknob open. Lyney ooh’s and aah’s at the sight of your hall, twirling around as he takes each in, from souvenirs you received in Fontaine to furniture you bought all the way from Mondstadt.

He makes his way to a shelf filled with various items you’ve collected over time, region to region. The Adhigama Wood still looks as clean as it was first bought, after you’d been lectured about the special paint that’ll keep it grease-free, appearing untouched. Lyney looks hesitant to reach out, scanning a framed picture in the middle.

It’s a solo picture of you with flowers adorning your head, two bouquets wrapped in large leaves in your arms, and your face captured mid-laugh. The aranaras took it. Lyney looks at it for a moment too long, his finger hovering above the glass.

Starting to feel a little strange about it, you stand beside him, wondering if there’s anything wrong with the picture that he’s seeing. Yet there is nothing but a thin layer of dust on the image, which you swipe away. “Something caught your eye?”

He turns back to you with a mischievous grin. “Well, looks like I've got no choice but to stay here for a while longer! After all, it will take some time for me to win your trust again.”

Lyney looks up at you through his lashes, tilting his head. “...You won't kick me out, right?”

‘Staying here for a while longer’ meant that Lyney was checking every nook, cranny, and room, empty or unoccupied (“Some of your friends live here?” Lyney gapes). You give him a bit of a story for each one, and he soaks your words in like a sunflower to the sun, never appearing disinterested even when you speak about a round table like it’s your firstborn child.

He’s explored more than your friends whom you’ve offered to give rooms to, which is saying enough. And now, exhausted, you pair rest on the loveseat, gazing at the ceiling wordlessly.

“Say,” Lyney says, after moments of silence. He sits up, shuffling closer to you until he kneels on the seat cushion and displays his hat. “Why don't you take a look at this? Do you see anything different about it?”

You squint. “Don't think there's any difference.”

“Ah, but that just means you need to look at it more carefully! Just come a bit closer.” Lyney brightens when you play along, drawing nearer himself. “So, do you have the answer? Is it the pattern, or the color? You should have seen this hat many times before.”

“...Nope, still not seeing it.”

He sighs, resting the hat on your head. “What a pity... Although, your conclusion is actually correct.”

Unbelievably confused, you reach out to hold it, patting all around it. “Is it bigger or smaller than before?” You can’t see much from this angle, nor feel much.

“You look adorable,” Lyney grins, pinching your cheek. “And no, the whole thing was misdirection. I just played a little trick, and stole something of yours. And after that, I also slipped a card into your pockets.”

You blink, reaching down to your pockets and fishing out a card, just as he’s said. It feels as real as it can be between your fingers, still warm from its previous holder.

Lyney grins at your dumbstruck expression, pleased. “Now, can you guess what I stole from you?”

You take a moment to answer, watching him carefully. “My heart?”

He jolts just as his entire face bursts into flames. “Ah, um, a most unexpected answer! I have to say, even my heart has begun to race too.” He looks at you with a petulant glare, as if saying, why would you say that?

Lyney clears his throat, “What I actually stole, however, was your ‘attention.’ E-Even though it's not nearly as valuable as your heart, it's still very important to us magicians nonetheless!”

He trails off, face still pink. “...Okay, you can return my card to me now.”

After that, it had been pretty hard to get rid of Lyney.

He seems to always be there whenever you come around—either spread out on the couch and practicing cards with one hand until you call for him, or appearing in front of you the moment you warp in. You ask if he’s just here every day, waiting for you, but he seems embarrassed to give you an answer.

Today, he has his pets with him. Some of them fly and run around outside, with Lyney at ease when you assure him that there are no signs of monsters here, and you have an Adeptus continuing to keep this haven safe.

You have Lyney’s hat on your lap, playing with Rosseland. The cat is performing a little magic show for you, taking after its owner, especially with how it soaks in your applause with a smug smile.

Lyney is a deflated balloon on the other side of the room, most likely regretting his decision as now you’ve poured all your attention on his pet assistants instead of him. Even worse, his pets seem to love you much more.

Having enough, Lyney approaches from behind, frowning at Rosseland, who appears unbothered, loving the crowd as always.

Your head falls back to the couch, looking at Lyney with a dazzling smile. “You were asking if they could stay here, right? I think you can guess my answer.”

Lyney is torn between celebrating and groaning at the thought of possibly more days of you ignoring him to come. “That would be wonderful,” he says instead, though sincerely. “Thank you.”

You laugh quietly, pulling him close with your fingers on his nape. “Why do you look constipated? Don’t tell me you’re feeling jealous over your own cat?”

He doesn’t tell you, so he keeps quiet instead, the red on his cheeks spreading all the way to his neck.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Lyney says, feigning annoyance while you chuckle. He leans impossibly closer, until your noses are barely an inch away.

“Your cat is watching,” you warn upon seeing the look on his face.

Lyney groans, snatching the hat and wearing it on his head, where Rosseland settles inside by practice. Then, against your mouth, he whispers, “Haven’t I made it obvious I brought them here as an excuse for this?”

You raise an eyebrow. “So you are jea—”

You didn’t end up finishing your sentence at all, swallowed by the press of his lips.

By this point, you’re no longer surprised whenever you enter your teapot. 

“Morning, Lyney,” you say, leaving him stunned instead when you plant a kiss on his cheek before maneuvering around and entering your home.

It takes a while for him to snap out of it. Lyney grins, catching up to you. “Good morning. It would be great if I could see you every morning if you’re gonna kiss me like that.”

starting with scrutiny of rin’s empty fingers during a home game, alarm bells had already started blaring through the minds of fanatics itching to get the latest update on rin’s love life as well as reporters looking to get a juicy scoop for their next story.

he probably forgot to put it on this morning, some reasoned, while others jumped the gun to decide that yes, something had indeed occurred between rin and his long time partner.

it was a day of nonsensical talk, rin had told himself, that was all. he could stomach that much.

what rin could not stomach, though, was the snowballing of such nonsense day by day. a ringless day on the field, followed by a ringless press conference the next day alongside a ringless interview a few days afterward — the people were convinced.

“this is ridiculous.” rin rubs his forehead in irritation, glowering down at the headlines plastered across his screen. he shows you his phone, expression deadpanned and tired of the turbulence of public word. you read the titles presented to you.

Breakup Rumors Circulate Pro Athlete Itoshi Rin

Itoshi Rin DUMPED?

IS IT RINOVER?

you break into a laugh, shaking your head at the silly tabloid articles. “i think it’s kinda funny, actually.”

“you’re insufferable,” rin rolls his eyes at you. “give me your hand.”

rin takes your hand in his, turning it over and cupping the front of your fingers with his. he brushes his thumb over the ring sitting on your finger — just as rin’s will on his own finger in a few day’s time — and brings it up to his mouth. he presses a tender kiss to it, just as he had done on the very first day.

“couldn’t wait one week,” he grabs his phone again, sliding open the camera app. taking a second to focus the lens on your hand in his, ring front and center, he snaps a quick picture before letting you go. “breakup rumors my ass.”

you hear your phone vibrate nearby, and you glance at the notification that had popped up on your screen.

itoshirin just posted.

“and what’s this?” you look towards rin, suspicion etched into the eyes and smile he sought to take care of.

he only shrugs at you. “took care of it.”

you tap the notification, opening up rin's post. though it had only been a few seconds, a couple thousand had already beat you to it.

alongside the photo he had just taken — poorly lit, illuminated mainly by the subtle sparkle of what could only be the matching piece to the notoriously absent ring — is a brief caption.

We’re fine. Just getting my ring cleaned.

Slumber is tempting. It lures you in, wrapping you in a blanket weaved of starlight and dreams. However, it’s all an illusion. In reality, you’re far from sleep. You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to pass the gateway into the oneiric realm. Not with the sensation of frostbite threatening to consume you whole.

Eventually, you decide to get up. You’re certain that you won’t be able to fall asleep, at least, not without more blankets, so you decide to make your way to Alhaitham’s room to ask if he has any spares.

Although you’d normally feel guilty for rousing someone from slumber, it’s not that late as of right now. Either way, you’re quite certain that your roommate is still wide awake, most likely losing himself amongst the yellowed pages of a verbose book. After all, he always seems to have his nose buried in a complex tome, filled with words that make your brain hurt.

Slowly, you drag yourself out from under the plush covers of your bed. The floorboards groan slightly as you stand, exhaling under the pressure of your footsteps. You make your way down a hallway drowned in shades of midnight, making your way towards the golden light seeping out into the corridor from under the cracks of a closed door.

The door to Alhaitham’s room.

You knock, the sound seemingly echoing down the walls of the hall, repeating in a chorus of onomatopoeia.

A few seconds pass before the door opens to reveal Alhaitham. Strands of silver hair messily frame his face, and yet as the aquamarine hues of his irises meet your gaze, you find that he’s just as dazzling as ever.

“Do you need something?” he asks, his voice as flat and monotonous as always. As usual, your roommate’s front doesn’t betray a single hint of emotion. Not even irritation.

You pause for a moment, still a little intimidated by Alhaitham. Although you’ve been living together for a while now, his apathetic demeanour can be slightly off-putting at times. Nonetheless, you eventually manage to steel your nerves.

“Yeah,” you say. The word comes tumbling out of your mouth like the iridescent droplets of a waterfall. “Do you happen to have any extra blankets?”

Alhaitham pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought.

You hold your breath, hoping that he’ll say yes, and you’ll be able to get this over with.

However, he shakes his head, and you feel your heart drop, shattering into a thousand shards of fragmented ruby.

“Oh,” you sigh, trying your best to hide the dejected expression overtaking your features. “That’s okay. Sorry for bothering you.” 

You turn away, ready to head back to your room, but Alhaitham’s voice stops you.

“I think it’s safe to presume you wanted a blanket because you were cold, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so you don’t bother to answer it. Instead, you freeze, becoming akin to a stunning statue carved of pale blue ice.

“Then allow me to propose an alternate solution.”

You turn around, meeting Alhaitham’s eyes once more. Lakes of turquoise, typically devoid of emotion, are now filled with a particular spark. You can’t quite determine what it is, but there’s a subtle glimmer — barely visible, but it’s there.

“Why don’t you stay in my room for the night?”

Your eyes widen, and you feel your jaw drop. For a moment, you just stand there, absolutely still and dumbfounded.

Perhaps you had heard Alhaitham wrong. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, making mirages materialize out of nothing. The blank expression painted over your roommate’s features certainly makes you think so.

“Excuse me?” you blink languidly, staring at Alhaitham as if he’ll disappear into thin air if you take your eyes off him.

“I said why don’t you stay in my room for the night?” he repeats nonchalantly, the evening chill seemingly intertwining itself into his tone. His gaze remains fixated on you.

Your mind blanks for a second, each intricate acrylic line of a composition painted over, leaving you with nothing but an empty canvas. As you stand still, a thousand scenarios seem to flash through your head, filling up the blank space with a myriad of thoughts — some pleasant and some unpleasant. However, you soon realize that you don’t have time to weigh all the pros and cons of your decision, as Alhaitham is staring at you intently, awaiting your answer.

“Sure,” you blurt out.

You’re not sure what compels you to accept his proposal. Perhaps it’s your longing for the comfort of shared warmth. Perhaps it’s a result of your inability to say no to others due to a fear of disappointing them. Or perhaps it’s because you’ve grown a lot closer to Alhaitham than you’d care to admit.

Although you’re still slightly intimidated by him, you’re certain that he’d never do anything to harm you. And there are even times where he shows he has your best interests in mind (despite the fact that you were initially under the impression that he cared little for others).

You’re snapped out of your trance of reminiscence as Alhaitham speaks once more.

“Alright,” he says, taking your hand and leading you over to his bed. His grip is firm — not suffocating, but at the same time, not so soft that the connection between the two of you would be easily severed.

Alhaitham’s touch sends butterflies, tinted a colour reminiscent of spring blossoms, dancing within the pit of your stomach. It’s enchanting, and at this rate, you’re not sure how you’ll be able to handle sleeping in the same bed as him.

He allows you to climb into bed first, tucking you in with an unexpected amount of care. You know Alhaitham’s not exactly the cold-hearted jerk many make him out to be, but you didn’t anticipate that he’d be this gentle, his touch akin to the caress of sunlight on a spring day.

After the man ensures that you’re cozy, he lies down beside you, embracing you. As he does so, you feel a wave of heat overwhelm you. To your relief, the frigidness that had once gnawed at your very soul is now gone, but unfortunately, you’re faced with a new problem.

Alhaitham’s actions have flustered you, and to your misfortune, it feels as though crimson embers of embarrassment are transforming into flames far too quickly for your liking.

You’ve solved one issue, but in turn, you’ve accidentally created another.

This is going to be a long night.

₊˚ପ KAVEH

It’s no secret that your roommate is a perfectionist.

Whenever his eyebrows knit up in a jumble of discontent and pools of liquid ruby tinged with sunsets glint with hints of frustration, it becomes obvious what’s going on. He’s spent too long trying to perfect yet another assignment. The bags that seem to perpetually line the undersides of his eyes are dark shadows — serving as an eternal reminder to the man’s exhaustion.

There are times where you find him hunched over his desk, teetering on a thin tightrope, walking a line between the waking world and a wonderland of dreams. Of course, he refuses to succumb to the temptations of a golden slumber time and time again, forcing himself to fixate on his projects until he’s finished and happy with the final product.

Today is one of those days. The cold light that leaks through the cracks beneath the door to Kaveh’s room seeps into the hallway, serving as a warning written in a display of molten opalescence.

Stark white. Cutting through the darkness of deep midnights with ease.

It’s jarring, and when you press your ear to the door and listen carefully, you manage to make out the sound of Kaveh muttering underneath his breath.

You know you have to do something. Now. Before your roommate decides to work himself half to death again.

You take a deep breath, inhaling night air reminiscent of the crystalline waters. It’s refreshing, and as you breathe out, a sense of tranquility washes over you.

Steeling yourself, you knock on Kaveh’s door, the sound seemingly reverberating through the corridor in a myriad of echoes.

“[Name]? Is that you?” he asks, his voice ringing out loudly, fragmenting and shattering the quiet ambience. 

You hear the sounds of drawers opening and closing, papers rustling, and footsteps falling.

“There’s no point in hiding anything,” you tell your roommate, picturing the distress swirling like nebulae in his vibrant crimson eyes. “I know you’ve been working late again.”

The noises come to a halt, and peace returns to the late night atmosphere once more. Soon, the sound of soft footsteps fill your senses, gradually growing louder in a crescendo until you’re sure that Kaveh is right in front of the door.

And then it swings open to reveal a sleep-looking Kaveh clad in pyjamas.

“Alright, I’ll admit it,” he sighs. “You caught me red-handed.”

Silence permeates your senses for a few seconds, but the illusion of stillness is quickly shattered as Kaveh breathes out a sigh.

“I just can’t seem to figure out this one last thing,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. “I seriously can’t take it anymore. It’s driving me insane.”

For a few seconds, his gaze remains averted, staring down at the wooden finish of his desk, tinted a subtle peach under the topaz shades of light spilling from Kaveh’s lamp. If you didn’t know any better, you would have sworn that he had fallen asleep. However, your eyes eventually meet hues of dulled rose, glittering with a faint spark concealed by exhaustion.

“You should rest,” you tell your roommate, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder. To your relief, he doesn’t flinch or pull away when you touch him. He simply slumps and begins to stand up.

“I suppose you’re right,” he speaks slowly, his voice laced with resignation. “Perhaps a short break will help me clear my mind.”

Kaveh walks over to his bed, brushing locks of sunshine that threaten to obscure his vision away from his eyes. The mattress sinks like quicksand as he lies down and tucks himself under the covers, enveloping him in layers upon layers of plush comfort.

You turn away, switching Kaveh’s lamp off before you head back to the door. However, just as you’re about to leave, Kaveh calls your name.

“[Name],” Kaveh starts, his voice seemingly amplified by the abyssal midnight overtaking your surroundings.

You spin around, only to be met with the sight of Kaveh’s silhouette outlined against backdrops of navy and black, enveloping the world in curtains of phantasmagoric silk.

“Can you stay with me?” he asks. His voice trembles slightly, and he sounds sheepish — almost shy. “It’s just that, if I don’t have you around, I might convince myself to start working again.”

You freeze.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

It takes three seconds for you to fully process Kaveh’s request, and when you do, you feel your heart skip a beat.

“I would be happy to.”

And with Kaveh’s permission, you climb under the covers of his bed with him. He wraps an arm around you. The position feels far too intimate for two roommates who harbour nothing more than platonic feelings for each other, but you decide that that’s a problem for future you to address.

For now, you decide to close your eyes and seek solace in a realm of breathtaking dreamscapes. Finding joy in each cotton candy cloud, each droplet of crystal rain, and each gilded leaf within a fantastical world found far away from reality.

And yet as you drift off to sleep, you find that there’s one thing in the waking world that has become far more tantalizing than anything your imagination could ever conjure: the warmth of Kaveh’s embrace.

₊˚ପ KAZUHA

Golden ribbons of warmth caress your face as you open your eyes to find yourself awake again. A wave of tranquility washes over you, weighing down your eyelids with a serene lullaby — an ode to quiet mornings spent in the solace of your home. You want nothing more than to stay in bed for a few more minutes, but you have classes.

Groggily, you stretch and then pick your phone up from where it’s sitting on your nightstand in order to check the time. The screen lights up with a cold radiance, a stark contrast to the gilded rays of the sun, as you turn it on.

And that’s when all hell breaks loose.

It’s 9:30 a.m., and you’ve already missed the start of your first class. You grimace internally, but you can’t dwell on your feelings for too long. After all, the longer you delay, the more you’ll miss.

You change in record time, pulling on a comfortable hoodie and jeans, grab a few of your belongings, and rush out the door.

The chilly autumn air brushes against your skin as you make your way to class, and the enticing fragrance of sap hits your nose, tantalizing you with a perfume that carries nostalgic memories. In the corners of your vision, you watch as leaves coloured shades of vivid crimson, marigold, and amber swirl in a waltz signaling the end of summer and the beginnings of harsher days. The scenery is beautiful, and if you weren’t in a panic, you would have stopped to admire it. However, you force yourself to ignore the scenes around you, continuing to focus on your primary objective.

When you arrive at the lecture hall, you’re panting. Simple oxygen feels like ambrosia to you, sweet and satisfying, refreshing in a way that it’s never been before. For a few moments, you stand outside the room and catch your breath. With each inhale and exhale, you get closer and closer to finding a rhythm until finally, you’re no longer gasping for air.

Quietly, you walk into class, trying your best to avoid disturbing anyone. Thankfully, nobody seems to notice as you take a seat near the back of the hall, settling down in your seat. Time passes slowly as class continues on, and it almost feels like universal laws operate differently within the small bubble of the room you’re currently sitting in. Everything seems to take an eternity, and you can’t do anything except watch the minutes tick by, each addition of one moving you closer and closer to the end of a mundane lecture.

It feels like the moment will never arrive, but eventually, you’re dismissed. Thankfully, there’s quite a while until you have to go to your next class, so you decide to wander around for a while.

For a while, you stroll aimlessly, eventually finding yourself back outdoors once more. Now, you can truly savour the beauty of your surroundings, relish in the splendor of each flaming leaf that drifts by and each rivulet of tepid light that pierces through the crystalline coolness of the autumn air.

You stand there for a while, simply enjoying a break after a hectic morning.

Until something else — or rather, someone else — catches your eye.

Under the shade of a maple tree stands your roommate, basking in the glory of a crimson waterfall composed entirely of maple leaves dancing gracefully until they hit the ground. His platinum hair is tied back in its usual ponytail, each strand of silken moonlight swaying as a gentle zephyr blows by, and his eyes are a shade of ruby that flawlessly mimics the autumnal landscape.

He’s as breathtaking as ever.

But before you can admire him for long, hues of starglitter and rose petals meet your gaze, and a small smile dances across his lips. Without a word, he walks over to you.

“Running into you here is certainly a pleasant surprise,” he says, his grin widening.

“You say that as if we don’t already live together,” you remark, laughing a little.

He chuckles, the sound as light and airy as autumn winds swirling leaves around in a waltz of farewells. The lighthearted atmosphere is truly euphoric, especially after such a stressful morning.

Of course, good things never last for long.

“Good morning, Kazuha. Good morning, [name]. How’s my favourite couple?” a cheery voice asks. In the edges of your vision, you see a figure donning twin braids of sapphire and turquoise approaching. It’s Venti — one of Kazuha’s friends.

Both you and Kazuha freeze, a frigidity crystallizing the ambience into icy fractals. And yet at the same time, you can feel your face beginning to heat up.

Couple?

Before you can clear up the misunderstanding, Kazuha speaks.

“Good morning to you too, Venti,” he says. “We’re doing well, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” Kazuha subtly averts his gaze, staring at the ground, but you swear you can see a blush dawning on his cheeks in shades of sunset. “[Name] and I aren’t a couple.”

“Oh really?” Venti asks teasingly, giggling in a manner that sounds almost maniacal, “then why are they wearing your hoodie?”

You look down, and sure enough, the top you chose to wear today was Kazuha’s. He had allowed you to borrow it a few days ago when you complained about the chilly autumn weather, and you had forgotten to return it. Apparently you were in such a rush this morning that you pulled it on without a second thought.

“It was an accident,” you blurt out, wanting to clear up the misconception as soon as possible. “I woke up late, and I was in a hurry.”

“Uh huh,” Venti nods, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Sure. I believe you.”

“No, seriously. We’re not a couple,” you reiterate, sighing as Venti laughs quietly.

“Whatever you say,” he says. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”

Without another word, Venti skips off, jubilantly humming to himself. And now, you’re alone with Kazuha, left to deal with the awkward aftermath of Venti’s assumptions.

“That was… interesting,” you remark.

Kazuha nods.

“I hope you didn’t feel too uncomfortable,” he says, smiling at you gently, a light blush still coating his cheeks. Although you’ll never admit it out loud, you find him quite cute when he’s flustered. Venti would have a field day if he knew you found your roommate so adorable.

“I’m fine,” you reassure Kazuha, “and I’ll return your hoodie to you as soon as possible,” you add.

However, to your surprise, Kazuha shakes his head.

“You can keep it if you want,” he tells you.

“Really?”

Kazuha chuckles.

“Really,” he assures you. “As long as you don’t mind being mistaken for a couple, that is. I know I certainly don’t.”

₊˚ପ LYNEY

“Lyney, if I remember correctly, you told me you perform magic as a sort of side hustle, right?” you ask your roommate.

The question is out of the blue, but you want nothing more than to learn about the man you’ve recently grown to be infatuated with. Besides, he’ll probably think nothing of it. After all, it’s only natural for someone to want to get to know their roommate anyway.

“Yeah, I guess you’d be right,” he responds, averting his gaze from his phone and glancing at you. “Although I’d say it’s more about putting on a good show than the money.”

Lilac hues make your mind go blank as you make eye contact, enchanting you with oceans full of stardust and sunshine alike. Lilac. It’s a colour you’ve come to adore. Before meeting Lyney, it was a shade known to you as the border between night and day, mixed into compositions of dawning sunrises and fading sunsets. But now, it’s synonymous with magic and mystery, and it’s all thanks to your charming roommate.

“Oh, I see,” you mutter.

You’re surprised that your voice doesn’t end up shaking. Simply looking into Lyney’s eyes is causing your heart to beat rapidly, igniting crimson sparks of giddiness and glee with each thump.

Perhaps this is what it feels like to be in love.

“Why do you ask?” Lyney inquires, tilting his head slightly. “Are you interested in seeing a trick?”

Lyney flashes a charming smile at you — a smile embodying the enigmatic charms of various twilight hues. He reaches his hand up to brush the few strands of dusky hair that had fallen in front of his eyes away, and somehow, the subtle action makes you find him all the more attractive.

“I would love to,” you say, “if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

You wait with bated breath, feeling the whole world still as you await Lyney’s response. The carefree atmosphere solidifies into something denser, heavier, as tension begins to build.

“Well, I usually don’t do private shows like this, especially not out of the blue,” he remarks.

For a second, you feel your smile fall.

“But since it’s you, I can try,” Lyney says.

A grins dances upon your lips once more, and the elation from before comes back in full force. Unbridled adoration swirls through your heart, taking down each and every glacial barrier in a roaring tempest of rose and vermillion. With every day that passes, you feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into the clutches of romantic fantasies.

“Thank you.”

With that, Lyney rushes to his room. A few seconds later, he returns with some props and a top hat, midnight black adorned with velvety scarlet and magenta detailing, perched upon his head.

He performs for you, and it’s absolutely enamouring. His prowess is incredible, and it’s clear he’s enjoying putting on a show for you. The entire performance is interesting, captivating. However, it’s Lyney’s last act that stands out to you most of all.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what my grand finale will be,” Lyney announces with a fiery sort of flamboyance. It’s amusing because you’re the only audience member, but at the same time, slightly endearing.

He takes his hat off, reaching his hand into the void within. Slowly, he pulls something out.

The verdant green of a stem lined with thorns appears first. Then you catch sight of luscious leaves. And lastly, the delicate petals of a rose enter your line of vision. They’re tinted a vibrant purple, reminiscent of sparkling amethysts.

“For you,” Lyney says, handing you the flower.

Upon closer examination, you note that the rose is unblemished. It’s perfect. You wonder if Lyney put any thought into picking out this particular flower, but you brush the thought off. Embers of newly-kindled feelings of romance brush against your skin.

You’re flustered.

Flustered beyond measure.

Awkwardly, you take the rose from Lyney, your heart fluttering as your fingers accidentally bump against his. His skin is soft, and his touch is tantalizing. You wouldn’t mind feeling his hand in yours.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, averting your gaze and looking anywhere but into the very lavender irises that will never fail to enchant you. “It’s stunning.”

“A stunning flower for a stunning person,” Lyney says. The sincerity lacing his tone doesn’t go unnoticed, and you have to stop yourself from melting on the spot. “Do you know what the purple rose represents?”

You shake your head as sudden curiosity and cupid’s final arrow strike simultaneously.

He leans in, moving so close that you can feel strands of silken platinum tickle your skin. A soft breath lightly brushes against your ear as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Love at first sight.”

₊˚ପ SCARAMOUCHE

Weak beams of winter light filter through the curtains of the window beside your bed, illuminating your room with a radiance tinted pale blue. With a foggy mind, you make your way over to the window, leaving the warmth and comfort of your covers to do so. The chill pokes at your skin like a thousand miniature needles of ice, and yet you continue on.

As soon as velvety veils of fabric fall away from glass panes, glacial sunshine spills through. The panoramic scenery that welcomes you is a glazed-over landscape, thick blankets of pure white sprinkled with glimmers of stardust. Even the branches of the tall evergreen trees surrounding your home are dusted with powdered opal. Nothing is free from the frigid caress of winter, and you’re suddenly reminded of this fact as you start coughing.

Oh. You’re sick.

You blink slowly, an unbearable headache making itself known by jumbling your thoughts into nothing more than incoherence. Begrudgingly, you decide to lie back down, pulling a few blankets over you in order to stay warm. However, the layer of plush protection isn’t enough to shield you, as shivers continue to wrack your body.

For a while, you just lie there, huddled and trying to cling onto any remaining heat, any remaining comfort. You close your eyes, feeling absolutely helpless against the coolness that threatens to permeate the very essence of your being. The world around you begins to become distant as grogginess and discomfort plague you, but soon enough, you’re snapped out of your haze.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The last thing you want to do is answer the door.

“[Name]? Are you in there?” your roommate, Scaramouche, calls. As usual, irritation laces his tone, but there’s something new this time. Maybe you’re delusional, but it almost sounds like concern.

“Yeah. Come in,” you manage to respond.

Your voice is unsurprisingly hoarse, and you have to strain in order to be heard. However, in the end, it seems that you were just loud enough because seconds later, the door opens with a click. In its wake, a man with hair reminiscent of desolate midnights walks in. Soon enough, you find your gaze meeting hues of deep twilight fading into a paler shade of periwinkle akin to the colour of forget-me-nots.

“Wow, you look awful,” Scaramouche remarks bluntly, examining you.

You feel yourself shrink under his gaze.

“Can you not?” you shoot back, mustering the strength to glare at him between coughs and sniffles. “I'm kind of dying here.”

Scaramouche scoffs.

“Fine. I’ll leave you alone,” he says, turning away and walking out the door.

Once again, silence envelops the atmosphere, ebbing and flowing throughout the greys and blues of an early winter morning in soundless waves. Although you’re thankful for the serene ambience, you also feel awfully lonely now that your roommate is gone. All you can do now is stare blankly at the wall in front of you and entertain yourself with your own thoughts.

Time becomes a blur, and yet it stretches on as well. It feels like you’re trapped in a sort of limbo — suspended in a mundane reality without any sort of respite or the slightest idea of when you’ll finally find your refuge.

That is, until you hear the hinges of the door creak once more.

Scaramouche is back.

You look up. To your surprise, the glints of starlight that dance within his indigo eyes show a rare sort of softness, and he’s carrying a bowl of soup.

Without a word, he sets the bowl on your bedside table, staring at you expectantly.

“Is that for me?” you ask.

Scaramouche groans, rolling his eyes.

“Who did you think it was for?” he says, averting his gaze.

A small smile dances across your lips. Although your roommate doesn’t want to show that he cares for you, you’re beginning to realize that he’s looking out for you in his own way.

“Thank you,” you respond. However, just as you’re about to reach for the soup, you’re attacked by another fit of coughs.

Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on you once more, and he sighs.

“Do you need me to spoon feed you or something?” Although it sounds like he’s mocking you, you can tell he’s serious to some extent.

“Do you want to feed me?” you say, trying to muster a playful tone. Even though you’re sick, teasing Scaramouche is as fun as ever.

“I will if it means you’ll shut up,” he mutters, taking the bowl carefully and scooping up a spoon of the soup.

With caution and a shocking amount of attentiveness, he lifts the spoon to your lips, and you open your mouth. To your surprise, the soup is actually quite tasty. You didn't expect your roommate to be such a good cook.

“How was it?” Scaramouche asks after you swallow. Not a hint of emotion shows through the veils of apathy he’s crafted as he awaits your response.

“It was amazing,” you remark genuinely. “I’d love to try some more of your cooking, and… thanks for taking care of me.”

Scaramouche looks away, but as he does, you notice a colour reminiscent of delicate rose petals rising to his cheeks, tinting porcelain akin to the snow outside a vivid shade.

“Don’t mention it.”

₊˚ପ XIAO

Procrastination is every student’s worst enemy, and you’re no different.

You had spent the past few days putting off your latest assignments and neglecting your studies more than you’d care to admit. It’s not that you didn’t want to work and study, but every time you tried to start on something, you’d feel put off by the copious amounts of labour you’d have to put in. And unfortunately, now you’re reaping the consequences of the seeds you had previously sowed.

It’s currently 1 a.m., and all you can see outside the window is ebony fragmented by the occasional streetlight or polychromatic star. Your eyelids are beginning to droop of their own volition, but you force yourself to stay awake. You have something important due later today, and unfortunately, you’ve barely even started on it.

So you have no choice but to continue on, allowing yourself to fall into the treacherous grasp of sleep-deprivation all because of your poor decision-making skills.

The minutes seem to count down all too quickly as you toil, yet at the same time, the mundane assignment makes every second feel like an eon. It’s a paradoxical distortion of the universe’s concepts, but it’s something you’ve grown far too accustomed to in your time as a student. Panic and hopelessness set in more and more with every tick of the clock, and eventually, you lose all sense of time, burying yourself in a pile of work.

The next time you look up, you notice that it’s well past your first scheduled break time, and you’re absolutely exhausted.

You stand up, stretching and relishing the sensation of being able to move your aching limbs after hours of sitting in the same position, mulling over boring assignments. However, your momentary respite is ruined, as it isn’t long before the creaking of a door pulls you out from the temporary euphoria that had taken over your mind.

“Hey,” a calm voice utters. It’s melodic like a beautiful song you wouldn’t mind hearing on repeat. “Are you alright?”

You turn around, and as expected you’re met with the sight of your roommate. Honeyed eyes filled with a dandelion warmth shimmer when met with the dim incandescent glow of your desk lamp, and locks of seafoam frame his pale face. Even though his hair is messy, and there are visible bags under his eyes, Xiao looks as stunning as ever.

“I’m fine,” you say, miraculously stringing together a couple of words despite your exhaustion.

“You’ve been up all night,” Xiao observes, glancing at your messy desk — a testament to the few hours you had been chipping away at your work. Somehow in that time, you’ve managed to make it look as though some sort of wild tempest had ravaged your room.

“You’re saying that as if you don’t stay up all the time,” you shoot back.

You flinch. Your tone is harsh and dripping with venom, but you hadn’t meant your words in that way. They were from a place of concern, but it seems that Xiao understands.

“That’s true,” he remarks, “but I’m not as keen on working myself to death as you are.”

A second passes.

Then you realized that you may have gotten a little bit carried away due to your momentary burst of energy — a rush of exhilaration prompted by a sense of urgency.

“Oh.”

Xiao sighs.

“You need a break,” he says, hesitantly walking over to you and intertwining your fingers with his.

His actions surprise you. Most of the time, Xiao avoids touch, but now, he’s holding your hand. The tepidness of Xiao’s skin on yours causes lucidity to wash over you. Suddenly, you feel more aware of your surroundings.

Your roommate pulls you out the door, exiting your dorm swiftly before you can refuse. Truthfully, you wouldn’t have denied him his demand anyway. Although Xiao seems like a tough person on the outside, his heart is forged of silvery moonbeams — glittering lights that illuminate the world with a subtle phosphorescence, not quite as glaring as rays of sunlight, but equally as bright, nonetheless. As a result, you’ve grown to develop a soft spot for him.

When you exit the building, the first thing you notice is the crisp, fresh air. After staying cooped up in your room for so long, it’s relieving to breathe in the liquified stardrops dissolved within the night atmosphere. Your head clears up nearly instantaneously, and finally, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Feeling better?” Xiao asks, noticing the change in your expression immediately.

He’s usually not the brightest when it comes to interpreting emotions, so your prior distress must have been extremely obvious. Nonetheless, you brush off your embarrassment and swallow your pride, nodding to reassure Xiao that yes, this is helping, and yes, you’d like to stay here with him for a while longer.

Xiao seems to get what you’re trying to convey, so he continues walking, leading you under the gold-lacquered light of the lamps lining the path before you. Right now, it feels as though your hearts are connected, and for once, you’re under the impression that Xiao’s let down his walls.

You know that once your midnight escapades cease, you’ll have to face a world of pain, but perhaps it’s worth it.

After all, exhaustion is temporary, but maybe, just maybe, this lavender haze will endure forevermore.

he’s displeased, you figured by his tone, and by the irritated scrunch of his eyebrows. his eyes zone in on yours, still rapidly blinking away the sleep that clouds his eyes. he looks arguably endearing in the moment. you reach to brush the few strands of hair away from his face.

“just to the market for some ingredients.” you tug his kimono back to its proper place. “i'll be back soon, so you can rest some more.” his body doesn't budge when you attempt to push him away from the front door, and instead moves towards his own pair of shoes.

“what are you doing?”

“i'm coming with you.”

“i just said you should-”

“i'm coming with you.” his words are absolute. you sigh, not willing to try and argue this out; he's equally stubborn as he is strong. there's no way you could force him back onto the sofa unless you were physically there as well. the door swings open and your hand reaches behind you.

“fine, let's go together.” you know your words satiate the confining feeling in his chest, affirmed by the way he takes your hand despite the huff that leaves his mouth.

-

“thank you for coming,” the goddess of wisdom greets you at the sanctuary of surasthana. you politely introduce yourself, dutifully ignoring the hostile gaze you feel stinging at the right side of your face.

“the acting grand sage has spoken highly of you!” nahida beams, “i hope you can assist me with something.” you sincerely doubt alhaitham truly had bestowed you the honor of such high praise out of the goodness of his heart, judging by the presence of a glare that is still targeted towards you. he must be the one that had caused the whole havoc in sumeru, not someone you would willingly be around. still, the archon of your homeland has something to request of you, so you reluctantly agree to hear her out.

the task was simple - lead the man, wanderer is what he called himself, around sumeru and show him the sights to see, and accompany him during the day to ease him into his new life. in other words, become his companion for a while. you could hear his internal thoughts of distaste towards the idea while the archon explained your job (not that you didn't have your reserves as well). however, it certainly sounded better than working with the insufferable scholars of the akademiya, so you agreed.

“i'll be in your care, wanderer. i hope we get along.”

all things considered, he wasn’t completely terrible all the time. you took him around the whole city of sumeru, pulling him to interact with countless adults and children alike, and assisting many who were in need of help. you took him to the akademiya, letting him read the endless amounts of books that reside in the building. you took him to the forests, where you learn that he wasn't entirely an asshole, having been saved from slipping off a high branch and potentially falling into a circle of fungi (you do smack him lightly for not telling you that he was able to fly around, saying that this trip would've been much quicker). you take him to the deserts, where you finally start to learn of glimpses of his past.

“kunikuzushi? certainly sounds much better than wanderer.”

“your tastes are truly abhorrent.”

those moments would slowly came to an end, when nahida informed you that there were others that were also to guide him around, just as you had done. you figured it would be good for him to hang around various different people, so you didn’t mind the change, and returned to work in the akademiya.

though, your peaceful life didn’t last long as a certain man decided that he would be uncooperative at your disappearance.

a knock on your door was unexpected, and being dragged by the arms by the traveler was even more so. “should i be worried where you are taking me?” aether does pray to whoever is willing to listen that you would forgive him for (quite literally) throwing you to the wolves (wanderer). paimon sputter’s words of reassurance, which lead you to conclude it had to do with a certain dark haired man that you had accompanied before.

nahida is outside the sanctuary when you arrive. she doesn’t seem too disheveled, to your relief; he didn’t get physically violent at the least.

“is he angry?”

“mm… not at you, at least.” she tilts her head. “i think?” you’ll take those chances, you suppose. an irritated man trudges out of the doors, clearly exhausted to the core. apologies spill out of his lips towards the archon of wisdom before he scuffles away. four pairs of eyes watch as his figure disappears.

“that’s the sixteenth one? or was it the seventeenth?” paimon questions out loud, eyeing your expression as subtly as she can (how the hell did you manage to subdue the ex-fatui harbinger, is the biggest question that was on her mind, and most definitely showed on her face).

you grin. "i’ve truly been honored to be chosen by such a demanding man, right?” you don’t stay much longer to see their expressions of disagreement (and concern by a certain two).

the moment you stepped through the doors, his gaze snapped onto your figure in an instant. he was by your side within a blink of an eye, his hands reaching to pull your wrists toward him.

“where the hell were you.”

“i thought buer told you everything. it’s good to interact with different people aside from myself.”

“i don’t need to be surrounded by unsightly insects.” you hold back a teasing smile at the implications of his words. there's one thing that you come to understand about the wanderer after being beside him for a while - his words betray his thoughts if you just look a little deeper into them. you know the reasons why he reacted the way that he did; come to understand the reasons why he was so infuriated at your disappearance.

“right, i’m your one and only companion hmm?”

–

from that moment on, you have never been rid of wanderer. you're not sure when your job as his part time companion turned to spending 24 hours with him by your side. his presence slowly seeped into your daily life, your cottage where you reside, there was not a time where you two would be seen alone. after all, being beside you was where he decided he belongs in this new life.

extra:

“where are you going?”

“to the akademiya.”

“where are you going?”

“to the kitchen.”

“where are you going?”

“the bathroom."

...

"do not follow me.”

lyney opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a quiet, hoarse groan.

“sorry,” you laugh gently, cupping his face.

“mm… no, don’t be,” lyney says, his eyes threatening to flutter shut from their sluggish weight. the consonants don’t form perfectly in his state. “it seems as… as if even in sleep my body reacts to your kisses eagerly.”

“you sure? it seems like your body seemed rather alarmed, actually.”

lyney smiles tiredly, that alone expressing more than his words could ever try. “if i were alarmed, i would’ve pushed you away. couldn’t you tell that i’m…” his eyes wander down. he makes an indecipherable noise.

“are you going to wake me up like that every morning?” he asks with a slow smirk.

“you told me to wake you up around this time to prepare,” you say, covering your mouth, much to his displeasure. “focus on the clock, not my lips.”

lyney almost whines, like the drama queen he is.

“up, lyney. and let go of my head.”

“no.” he pushes you closer, but his mouth only collides with the back of your fingers. “the cruelty. you’re heartless. kicking a man when he’s down—does this make you happy? do you derive pleasure from making a pleading fool out of this great, renowned magician?”

you successfully slip out of his grasp. he ends up clawing at air. “if you have the energy to complain needlessly, you have the energy to get up.”

lyney sighs heavily. he pulls himself up and pouts at you, like you’ve kicked a stray puppy in front of his eyes. he might be the stray puppy in question.

“if you can kiss me awake, you can also kiss me to stand up.” he yawns halfway through the sentence.

“we won’t get much done if you get your hands near me.”

instead of grinning smugly like you expect him to, lyney’s eyes crinkle alone with his soft smile. he pulls you in by your hips, pressing his forehead against yours and breathing deeply.

“hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, brushing a cheek as his eyes fall shut once again. it doesn’t take even a second before he melts back into the sheets. “you’re still tired, huh? good job performing yesterday. must’ve been exhausting. you can sleep for five more minutes.”

“mmh,” is what he replies with, pawing your waist to ask for something.

you kiss his nose, and his smile widens just a fraction—just enough of what his lax body can do. he later reveals that it was all a trick to make you kiss him awake all over again, but you know him a little better than that.

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.” 

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space? 

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of. 

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up. 

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

"hey"

scaramouche turned to the voice seeing aether with a frown. "what." scaramouche replied.

"i didn't think i was ever gonna ask you this but im gonna overlook all the shit that you did for now because this is important. have you seen (name)?" aether grimaced

"no, i haven't seen her. also, how the fuck should i know? we're not close." he crossed his arms, as if he just heard the most absurd question in his entire existence.

"fuck" aether cursed under his breath. "well, thanks i guess." aether waved and walked away. when he turned into a corner, scaramouche's facade fell. the hell? not even aether knows what happened to you? feeling guilt, scaramouche fished his phone out of his pocket and opened his contact list oh yeah he also doesn't have your number, you're not even friends on any social medias. he cursed under his breath. now he feels really bad, blaming himself for your disappearance, guilt eating him inside out.

the days go by, scaramouche ignored the prickling feeling inside his chest. you'll come back, right? he knows you would, you wouldn't abandon your education, right?? he just had to be patient. but he cant really ignore you, everything he sees reminds him of you. everytime he enters the classroom, he gets reminded by the chair he sits in, expecting you to come in a minute later to play tug of war with the chair. in lectures, he's always ready to spit out a comeback whenever you add something to the lesson but this time he kept waiting until the lecture ends until he realizes that no you weren't there at all to debate with him. when the teacher hands out test results, he always looks at the back (where you sit) to compare scores but everytime, he sees nothing but an empty chair.

you have perfectly blended yourself in scaramouche's routine. and everytime it happens, the guilt plaguing his mind feeds from it. he went home that day accepting the fact that it is entirely his fault and he should fix everything. that's the least he could do after everything that he's done.

"im home," scaramouche exclaimed as he entered his house, putting away his shoes on the side. "welcome home kuni- you okay?" his sister, which is a splitting image of their mother, said as she paused the tv. "yeah, anyways. im probably gonna regret this but can you both cook for yourselves today? i have to go somewhere. please don't burn the pan handle again, thanks." he said as he immediately ran to his room to change.

"where are you going?!" his sister shouted from downstairs. "uhh to my friend's house!" he shouted back.

"you have friends?!"

"what is that supposed to mean?!!"

"im gonna tell mom you're going somewhere!"

"ok!"

when he was out of the house, he took at his phone and looked at the picture of your address in you notebook when he sneakily stole your notes.

'damn they live far... good thing i have a motorcycle.' he took his keys, wore his helmet, and got the engine started.

after 20 minutes of trafic and searching for your apartment, he took off his helmet got off his bike. he can feel people staring at him (i mean, who wouldn't). he went to the elevator and pressed your floor number. he got out when he heard the ding and immediately went to find your door number.

'143... 143.... 143... 143... 143...' he chanted the number in his head. when he found your door, he took a really deep breath and knocked. after a few seconds, he heard shuffling from the other side, then the door opened. he expected to see you but to his surprise, he saw a dark haired boy fading to bright torquoise with two braids framing the side of his face.

...did he get the wrong place?

he stood there like an idiot for a few seconds until he heard the boy talk.

"so, need anything?" he sounds cheery, definitely the extroverted type. "uhm, do you know anyone here by the name (name)?" he held his helmet a bit tighter. "oh (name)? wait I'll call them." the braided boy then shouted inside his apartment. "(name)!! someone's looking for you!! again!!"

scaramouche winced at the noise-- you're inside??? then what the fuck is this boy doing in your house? is he your boyfriend? (is he too late?) then, as if the heavens opened up for him, he heard curses with an awfully familiar voice far inside the apartment.

"tell my brother to fuck off!!"

"it's not your brother!!"

"well then tell my teacher im fine!!"

"..well-! it's not a teacher either!!"

"...."

"what does he look like?!!"

"can you both stop yelling like mountain dwellers-"

"HE LOOKS EMO!!" scaramouche was offended.

after a moment of silence, the boy spoke to him, less volume this time. "sorry about that, im venti by the way! she hasn't been doing well for the past few weeks because something happened at her school or something, i hope you understand.." a sweat rolled down scaramouche's back. "it's ok, im--"

"venti who the hell-" a new participant has entered the conversation, you. and when scaramouche saw you, he felt relief and overbearing guilt at the same time. relieved that you look fine and healthy, guilty because of the things he has done. when you saw him on the other hand, rage has once again boiled in your heart.

"get out." you tried slamming the door close but his feet was faster, slipping in to the gap of the door and the frame. he winced a bit from the impact but that's the least of his concerns right now.

"wait, shit, can we talk-"

"what more do you want from me?! im finally gone from your life and now you got here to torment me more?!" if you were any stronger, you could've turned his feet into mush. "no, im here to apologize-!"

"i dont care! fuck off!" oh he is not giving up. fortunately for him (not for you) he is stronger and managed to keep the door from closing. "can you please just listen to me!!"

"go away!"

"no!"

this went on for like an eternity until someone inside your apartment held the back of your shirt and pulled you away from the door, making it swing open from scaramouche's force. "xiao, what the fuck let go!!" turns out venti called his boyfriend from their room while you and scaramouche were fighting. while xiao was holding you back from basically doing second degree murder, scaramouche carefully set his helmet down on the floor, avoiding your attempt at swings. (your previous hit hasn't even fully recovered yet.)

"(name) calm down, be rational. nothing will be solved when you're acting like a maniac and wont communicate." xiao said sternly. "how can i when he's the exact reason as to why im here right now!" at this statement, venti's expression became dark.

"what."

you got out of xiao's hold and stormed back inside your room, slamming the door close. xiao followed you in. scaramouche clicked his tougue, about to follow you when someone stoped him, "(name), wait-!"

"hold the fuck up." venti grabbed his shoulder. "you're the bitch that got them here?"

"yeah, so?"

"get out."

"let go of me." scaramouche shrugged venti off. "besides, that's what im here for." he looked at the room you went into with an unreadable look.

"do i have to repeat what i said? fuck, not only are you stupid but deaf too? get out." venti mocked him. 'what the fuck he was giggly just a minute ago.'

"ok listen, i just want to apologize to them. i know i fucked up and im basically ruining her life right now that's why i want to take responsibility. can you at least tell her that?" it is clear how scaramouche regrets what he did. venti's look sharpened. "how do i know you're being sincere?"

.

.

.

.

.

.

"(name)?? can you please open the door?" venti knocked on your door. after a few seconds, the door opened to xiao. "where's (name)?" xiao pointed at the bed in the corner of the room. there he sees you lying down, face buried in your pillow. "they won't talk. like at all, ive tried everything." xiao sighed.

venti has been your roommate ever since you got kicked out from your house. xiao is his boyfriend of 3 years and they're both two yeas older than you (xiao moved in a year ago). thanks to the both of them, they are basically your older siblings now. they did what your brother never could. they took care of you the past few days, even if they're both busy with their degrees. they would leave food in the fridge, remind you to take your medicine (they both have alarms of when you need to take your medicines), they bring you food in your room when you insist that you dont want to eat, saying, 'even if you don't want to eat, you need to. ' and proceeds to spoon feed you (even if it's embarrasing), and is just genuinely worried for you, especially when you came home that day with aether carrying you on his back.

"do you think they're asleep? how do they even breathe..." venti walked closer and sat down on the side of your bed. "hey (name), I know you can hear me so listen up, ok?? sca... or whatever his name is, wants to talk to you and to apologize for what he did and he wants to take responsibility. he said he's gonna get you back to school no matter what it takes and he is also sorry for being insensitive."

no answer.

"he's gonna pick you up at 6:45 tomorrow. i wasn't gonna tell you any of this because he doesn't seem sincere until he proved it to me earlier. just talk to him ok?? i know life is shit but you have to keep going to prove yourself to your parents." he pats your head. he looks around the room and lands his gaze on your desk which if filled with books and notes. it seems like you haven't given up yet which made venti smile.

"sleep well (name), goodnight."

as they both got out of your room, xiao spoke up. "what did he do to prove himself?"

venti winked. "it's a secret."

and that's how venti got a huge bite mark on his cheek.

.

.

.

.

.

.

oh you heard everything. what does he mean he's picking you up tomorrow?! prove himself? how?! what responsibility?! he's making it sound like he got you pregnant!!

and he actually DID come the next morning. venti informed that you didnt get ready like at all and you know what bro did? he waited. in the living room. the whole time. he went 'hurry up we'll be late for first period' as if there's nothing wrong with anything.

so fast forward, he managed to convince you to go with him (reluctantly). what you didn't expect though was to be met with his (motorcycle brand), infront of your apartment.

"i am not riding that."

"we are riding that, here put this on." he said as he hands you a helmet. you gave it back to him as you turned around, about to go back inside the apartment but he pulled you back by your collar. "fucking- PUT IT ON WERE LATE." he exclaimed as he gave you a frustrated look.

"you're lucky that I actually felt guilty and went all the way here for your stupid ass. now get on I don't have all day." scaramouche said as he slotted the helmet on your head and got the engine started. you reluctantly sat behind him, sitting funny. "have you ever rode a motorcycle your whole life?"

"I have but, not like this one!" there is an inch gap between you and him causing you to sit funny. then he jerked the motorcycle forward by suddenly revving the engine causing you to lose balance and slip, so now you're the closest to him than you ever were.

"hold on tight, I like driving fast."

"what. wait--WAIT I'M NOT REA- wAIT-! YOU ABSOLUTE AS-!"

----

this went on for weeks. he would appear on your doorstep, get you both to school and when classes end, he'd drive you back home. and, yes, you did talk but it was more like recounting the old days, sometimes laughing at the stupid stuff you both fought over before. and he apologized, of course. and it was a well said apology, it's as if he's been practicing (he was). you forgave him with the promise of him watching his mouth the next time because if he won't, then you wont be the only victim of his sharp words.

when you arrived at school that day, your friends immediately tackled you into a hug. they were saying about how they were so worried about you and that they miss the daily bickering you and scaramouche does. they also mentioned how scaramouche has been out of it these past few weeks (which is weird because why would he do that ahhahaha...). Aether literally went into tears when he saw you walking down the hallway saying he missed you and shit and that he has to eat lunch with his sister which was torture (his words not mine).

what irks you though is the funny look they give you everytime you and scaramouche walks through the classroom doors at the same time. so you were like;

"can you walk up first, they're looking at us funny everytime."

"stop being dramatic." and proceeds to tug you at your sleeve.

he's not gonna lie, he likes the look your friends are making. he also likes the red on your face everytime. ever since you've returned to school, he's making the effort to minimize your fights (except for the fun ones) and to actually get to know you better.

through this, you've also got to know him better. and this made you realize he actually isn't that bad (if you really think about it). you now know he prefers bitter food over sweet ones, he cooks really good, he has a sister that almost looks identical to his mother, he has a really short auntie, he has a list of future victims (you don't want to know what that means), and he's genuinely just a chill guy. you just got on his bad (playful) side the first time you met him.

though there are times where he gets a bit... unwell... but we all have that in us, right? the thoughts? well, i mean, i can hear it everyday so I hope you do too<3

"venti i am fucked."

"alright let's get you to the abortion center."

you looked at him perplexed, "what?"

"you said you got fucked, let's go."

"NOT LIKE THAT." you facepalmed. sometimes you wonder if he really is two years older than you.

"hehe im just kidding, what is it?" he giggles as he continues to stir the pot as he was making dinner. "i do not feel safe around him anymore." you muttered while nibbling at a piece of vegetable.

"who."

you shrieked after hearing a new voice. venti turned around to see what's going on. there stood behind you is xiao, who just got back from class, he got his piercings and everything looking like he will beat you up if you breathe. "you scared the fuck out of me, can you make some noise when you get home next time?" you calmed your beating heart as xiao apologized. "but yeah im talking about scaramouche. he's acting... different."

at this, venti perks up, "oh? what kind of different?"

"i do not like that look on your face."

"c'mon tell me!" venti now has his full attention to you as he passed his apron to xiao so that he can take over dinner.

"well, he's weird. i mean, he keeps doing weird stuff and im not saying im uncomfortable with it's just... unusual? did he really feel that guilty to the point where he drives me to and from school everyday?" you slumped on your chair, fiddling with a fork. venti let's out a hum, tapping his cheeks as if he's thinking. "have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, he likes you?" he adds.

"what?"

venti goes around the counter and sits beside you, "like, romantically. let's enumerate! he drives you to and from school, walks you to your class, buys you coffee when you lack sleep and he KNOWS you lack sleep, wakes you up in class, picks out your favorite flovors in a pack of gummies, shares lunch with you, lends you his notes, uhhh what else...-"

"WAIT WAIT THAT'S ENOUGH!" you flung your hands, embarrassed. "how can you even be sure! aether also do some those sometimes, and we're really great friends!"

venti stared at you, "ok first of all, aether is gay he literally has a boyfriend. second of all, i know this because xiao also did all these 'cringey' stuff before and hey, look at us!" he hugs xiao and they almost fell on the floor.

"aether has a boyfrie-?"

venti squished you cheeks, "that's besides the point! listen to me (name), i am a love expert, i know what im doing. i can even tell you what xiao did that will match with what scaramouche is doing-"

"dinner's ready." a pot filled with delicious food is placed at the counter by a blushy xiao. "venti, i love you, but please shut up." he says, embarrassed.

the next day, you payed better attention to scaramouche, hoping to prove venti wrong.

and boy were you the wrong one.

the way he holds your hand when he speeds up while driving his bike, when he stays after he's dropped you off in your apartment to ensure tour safety, the way he puts more effort in his hand writing so that you can understand better, the timing he has when you are in an uncomfortable situation, the little shapes of fruit in his lunch that he shares with you, when he brings hair clips when your hair gets in the way of work,

it goes on forever.

so then you decided to confront him one day.

"scara, do you like me?"

you both are currently outside, studying for an upcoming test. scaramouche answered without a second thought.

"yeah."

"no, like, ugh... this is embarrassing, i meant, do... do you like me, romantically?" you rephrased your question. this made scaramouche ponder. should he answer honestly? lie to your face to keep whatever is going on between you two? give tou the silent treatment, perhaps?

"actually y'know what, dont answer that i-" you were cut off by the contact you feel in your hands. he clasps your hand gently across the table. he looks at your locked hands, unease creeping into his system.

then, he finally opens his mouth, "if... if i tell you the truth, would you.. still stay by my side..?" you can feel his grip slowly tightening. "i like what's going on right now, it's basically routine to me now. i... i like going to your apartment every morning, i like making you bentos, i like sharing notes with you, i like...i like competing with you every test, i like being the first one to get to your chair but i also like the light in your eyes when you get there first...!" he's shaking now. he goes quiet for a bit then goes for a deep breath.

"...i like you, okay? its not even funny anymore, i can't get you off my mind... i know i despised you before, to the point where i would steal your notes back then-"

"so that's how you found out about my address..!"

he got red,

"that's-! that's not the point! and- LET ME TALK DAMNIT IT'S ALREADY HARD WHEN ITS EMBARRASSING!!-ahem- when you didn't come back i felt really guilty and i keep looking at the damn door whenever anyone comes in expecting it to be you and i felt really stupid that time. i hate how you make me feel stupid, i hate how stupid you are, , making me do stupid stuff... but i like you and i can't help it..." you can feel his hands getting cold and shaky.

"...and if you dont feel the same, then i will just kill mysel-"

"NO WAIT HOLD ON-!" you stood up bringing his hand with you. when he finally looks up, he's in the brink of tears. you held his hand "i just asked a question and you're out here announcing suicide..! i just wanted to clarify... so that i wouldn't look stupid confessing to... you and then getting... rejected..." you trailed off. you can already feel your whole face heating up, blood boiling in your stomach.

now there's two idiots outside in the park, blushing like no one's business, staring into each other's soul. one is in the brink of tears while the other is standing straight like a statue, unmoving.

after a good minute or two, after the thoughts processed, one of them couldn't hold it in apparently. tears streamed out of indigo eyes and he hurriedly tried to wipe it away, to hide the evidence of how fragile he actually is. you scammered into your bag to find something to wipe his tears away. when you got near him, you found yourself covered in him, he is grasping whatever he can hold of you, clammering on your clothes as if you are his life line. he is all over you, babbling nonsense. you can only make out some of his words like;

"fuck i thought i would have to fight my thoughts again-"

"you have no idea of what you're doing to me-"

"tell this to anyone and i will chase you down to childe's ass crack-"

"fuck i love you so much do not leave me please-" and

"I'll still take your seat, i don't care-"

literal nonsense and yet you can feel the love radiating off him at that moment. he is sobbing and furiously wiping his tears.

cofessing your feeling to someone that radiates as much personality as scaramouche is a win lose situation for you. but to him? it's either he dies or he lives, there is no in between.

extra;

when scaramouche got home, he is met with his mother at the door, a spatula in her hand.

"mom put that down, please-"

"you're late."

"it's 6pm."

"yeah and you're late. also, why are you wearing sunglasses? are you doing drugs?" ei kept throwing questions at scaramouche while he is desperately trying to remove the spatula out of his mother's grip. "mom, please i was just out with my lov- friend-- and please let go of the-"

"FRIEND?? who is this friend? you have a friend?! why didn't you tell me?!--"

"mom-"

"kuni, this makes me so happy! you have a friend! invite them over right now, i made dinner!" ei smiled at her proudest achievement.

scaramouche paled.

"YOU MADE WHAT?!"

*scara wearing sunglasses bc is eyes are puffy*