M 🦐

Riddle ・・・・・・・・・・・・

With structure.

When Riddle first realized his feelings, he was a mess. For a while, he could not interact with the prefect in a normal way. He would either come off as too harsh, or cut the conversation unnaturally short. 

When he finally confessed, it sounded a bit like a legal statement. When they reciprocated, he almost crumbled from the relief.

He was honestly a bit shocked that the prefect felt the same way, but steeled himself to his newfound role and its challenges nonetheless. 

At first, he wasn’t sure how to approach the relationship. It certainly wasn't something he had experience with.

After a sleepless night thinking it over, he defaulted to what he knew best: rules. 

He drafted up a set of rules he would try to follow, drawing from his own knowledge of politeness and gentility. Things such as trying to escort the prefect to their next class whenever he could, offering them his hand, and giving them a polite kiss on the cheek when they left Heartslabyul. Dating Riddle also entitled the prefect to weekly tutoring and homework/studying sessions (of course less stricter than usual).

Despite his attempts, following his rules never really led to the desired effect. The prefect seemed to take it with the same casualness one may expect with a close friend. It irked him to no end that he was the only one blushing. 

He needed to revise his strategy, though he wasn’t exactly sure how. He decided to go back to basics and try his luck with studying romance novels.

–One weekend, Riddle invites the prefect to Heartsabyul for a picnic. He takes them to a secluded part of the rose garden, all of the roses painted a beautiful shade of red just for them. He had already set up the area, so now all it was missing was the prefect’s presence. 

He checks the time. They should be arriving soon. Checking the scene one last time, he smiles proudly at his work before going to meet and escort the prefect.

The walk is slow and sufficiently romantic (so he hopes) as he leads them through the roses hand in warm hand.

(Looking back, he was definitely walking a bit in front of the prefect, rather than in step with them. He couldn't decide if it was nervousness or anticipation, or a mix of both that caused that.)

They settled down, and he began serving a strawberry tart he had baked earlier. It wasn't as beautiful as Trey's, but he'd spent a lot of time trying to get it as best as possible.

“Thank you for the picnic. It’s really wonderful,” the prefect says before taking a bite from their slice of the tart. 

“No need for thanks. It’s only natural that you get a reward for your studying. A 92 on that test is no easy feat, especially for someone without magic. It easily puts your rank towards the top of your class.” As he spoke, he took a napkin and wiped some crumbs from the prefect's face, earning a quiet thanks from them. 

“But that’s all thanks to you helping me study. I’m still really impressed that you remember material from a class you already took. You’re so diligent. And you’re sweet too, making this tart by yourself just for me. It’s really tasty.” They smiled.

Riddle sighed in a way that almost seemed annoyed, as if to divert the attention from how hot his face was getting. This only seemed to egg the prefect on. 

“You’re really cute, Riddle.” The prefect said teasingly, though with the same sincerity as their previous praises. 

He stayed silent for a moment, debating how to respond when his eyes fell to their lips.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded. 

The prefect obliged. “Oh, is it another surprise?” they ask, their tone still slightly teasing. 

Really, he just didn’t want them to see how flushed he was from their praises, but he had gotten a better idea to go along with that. 

He recalled a scene in a novel he read, where one character says some cheesy line about rewarding the other character with a kiss, which he would have registered as cheesy had he not been so invested in imagining the characters as him and the prefect. 

“Maybe,” he simply said, trying to even out his breath as he leaned towards the prefect. His lips met theirs for a short second, before he quickly pulled away. For the split second he kissed them, he could vaguely taste the sweetness of the tart on their lips and sense their scent among the rose-perfumed garden. It was dizzying in a way that only left him more flustered. He didn’t dare meet their eyes for a moment after, choosing to instead look away into the hedges.

Yet when he looked back at them, their face seemed lit up with joy. 

Most importantly, however, was the rose tinted blush that colored their cheeks. He savored the color and the pride that he had painted it. Maybe he was doing something right.

This could work, he thought with a smug smile. 

Leona・・・・・・・・・・・・

Casually (...?)

Leona didn’t let this warm feeling, whatever it was, occupy his mind for too long at a time. That way, such an idiotic, hopeless thing wouldn’t spread throughout him like the plight it was. Nothing changed, and nothing would. Whether the prefect was here or there made no difference, and it was useless enough to even consider where they were. He was going to nap in his usual spot, and if they showed up, that was their problem. 

They were fun. That was it. They always had such varied reactions to his teasing, to his annoyance, to his presence. Sometimes they correctly declined to do whatever tall task he ordered, and other times they attempted it with a flush that seemed to signal they were eager to please. Worst of all was when they bugged him. They never gave him a choice. At the very least, he knew when he smelled that approaching magicless herbivore, he wasn’t going to be bored. 

--He was under one of his usual trees enjoying a midday nap when he sensed them take a seat by him. He didn’t stir. 

They stayed silently by him for a while. He could smell nervousness on them, which was strange for someone always so brazen with him. Finally a quiet voice spoke up.

“Leona… I know you’re awake. I just... need to tell you something.”

They paused, but he didn’t stir. They took a deep breath and it somehow felt tinged with a strange finality. 

“I like you.”

That woke him up. He caught their arm just as they were about to run off.

“What’d you say?” he questioned, voice low. He didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to try to run after saying something vague, toying with his emotions like that.

Their wide eyed expression seemed to solidify into something resolute. They stared straight back at him. 

“I love you.”

The words lingered a moment before their composure finally reached its limit, and they tried to wrangle out of his grasp and run off. He wouldn’t let them. They started this mess of emotions, they had to finish it. He pulled them back down, causing them to fall on top of him. He examined quietly as their expression became increasingly more panicked. 

“Then kiss me. Right now.” His voice didn’t have the warmth of a tease in it. 

“Huh…?”

“You said you loved me, right?” he smirked, as if remembering he didn’t (wasn’t supposed to?) care. He released their arm, putting both his hands in the air as if to gesture that he’s all theirs. 

“So go on. Go ahead.”

They stared at him blankly for a moment, herbivore eyes falling to his lips. A gulp. Suddenly the atmosphere felt heavy. They started to inch towards him with a serious expression, not like when they usually indulge him. Like prey that’s accepted its fate, prepared to be eaten. Like they meant it.

As they approached, he couldn’t tell who was playing a sick joke anymore.

Doesn't matter. It ends now.

He pushed their face away. 

“That’s enough,” he said, standing up and leaving a shocked prefect. 

--Leona couldn’t sleep that night. All that welled up in his mind was the events of that afternoon. It was really starting to annoy him, all of it.

That must have been what it was this whole time.

Really, he’d known all along. But now that a word’s been put to it, it became inescapable. 

“Screw this,” he said, getting up. Not like laying in bed will get him anywhere like this. A midnight stroll it is. What did all of it even matter?

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t recognize the scent that was as heavy in the air as midnight dew. But lie he did.

He trudged toward it, tail swishing behind him.

They sat on a grassy field, staring up into glimmering stars that reflected in their tears. It was only when he plopped down next to them that they startled and looked away.

“You crying?”

“...No.” sniff

“Tch. Liar.”

Uncomfortable silence settled between them. He sighed. He shouldn’t be a brat about this.

“My bad. About earlier.”

He couldn't bring himself to say a word more.

They hummed quietly in response, as if too much action would make him run again. But even without looking at them he could tell what they wanted. 

“...you didn’t believe me,” they finally spoke, voice barely audible even to him. 

He knew what he wanted, too. And when has he ever let anyone stop him from getting it?

He sat up, reaching a hand out to brush their bangs away. He held it there a moment, gentle enough to let them run. He’d be kind for today.

They stared up at him, same stupid questioning expression he’d somehow gotten so used to. Somewhere in those wide eyes were his own emerald ones staring back at him. He didn't hate it.

They had to have figured it out by the time he leaned towards them, lips meeting their forehead for a split second. A fine appetizer.

A moment passed before the shock on their face seemed to melt into pure joy. Tears welled up again, though this time their lips were curved into a smile.

His eyes lowered down to it. 

He’d take that for himself too.

Azul・・・・・・・・・・・・

With struggle.

The realization of Azul’s feelings was met with a mix of shame and denial. How could he, of all people, be beholden to such silly feelings when there was money to be made out there? 

(He was just trying to overcompensate for how pathetic it made him feel).

He just happened to give the prefect vouchers for 10% off a meal at the Mostro Lounge each time they went. Since they were such a loyal customer after all. Since the prefect also met the proper amount of monthly visits to be a top customer, they also got a loyalty discount, of course. What do you mean, favoritism? This was just customer retention, that's all.

For a while, that was fine. Until it started to cause Azul to operate at a loss.

Somehow, he was actually losing money each time the Prefect dined. Granted, it was just on the prefect's order, but with the amount of times they visit, it added up.

He'd just finished counting for the fourth time, and the papers spread on his desk pointed to the same result. He wasn’t sure how that could even be a possibility. 

All he knew was that he had to do something about it. 

The first step to that was by finally acknowledging that his actions were fueled by his emotions. He was frankly ashamed that such things had affected his business. Though, as they say, the first step to solving a problem is recognizing it. 

Now, what to do about it? Taking away the discounts is the straightforward answer, but that loses customer support. Maybe he could find a way to have them come in less? If they came in about 28% less, then he wouldn’t make a loss on their purchases. While he and the prefect were on good terms, he can’t just tell them to stop coming in, can he? Maybe if he had a better relationship with the prefect, he could leverage that to convince them to stop coming as often, or better yet, convince them to pick up a shift!

On second thought, confessing his feelings to the prefect was the perfect call here. If he succeeds, then he can take them to other restaurants instead, writing the cost off as an investment to the relationship and their happiness. Then they’d maybe stop coming as often and he could start profiting again. Though at the same time, something twinged in his heart at the thought of them not being in their usual booth while he worked, always in the corner of his eye. Right, he could write off anything they ordered as the cost for keeping a happy, healthy relationship as well, and then--

He sighed. He was getting ahead of himself. He’d have to consider the alternative option as well.

If he fails, at the very least it may keep the prefect from coming back for a while, though he cringes at the possibility of that. 

Now the issue remains of how he will actually attempt to confess. He leans back in his chair, pondering the right words that were both suave and would woo them. It was much harder than he imagined. 

The next day, the prefect asked if they could stay in the lounge until Azul finished his work, since they needed to talk to him.

When he was done, he brought over a set of drinks, on the house. The prefect seemed to suspect something from this. He bid them to start. It was better to gauge a partner’s state before attempting to bargain for something, after all. 

“Well,” they started, “You’ve been giving me a lot of discounts and stuff lately, and I know you do that sort of thing with a return in mind…” Their posture seemed to shift, almost imitating him when he’s about to propose a deal. “How about I beat you to it and take you out to dinner?” They had a playful smile on their lips.

“My, I dare say this sounds like a proposition for a date. You really must be careful how you word things.” He could feel his smile strain a bit.

“I guess it is a date.”

“Then I take it this means you have…” Azul paused for a moment, thinking of the right word. Finally, he decided. 

“...an interest in me?”

He hoped the prefect didn’t realize that he was sweating through his polite smile.

They nodded. 

“You could call it that.”

The facade broke. He stared in wide eyed disbelief at them. 

“...Really,” he muttered under his breath.

The prefect smiled. Naturally, this time. They stopped mimicking his posture. For the first time he noticed they naturally lean slightly towards him.

“Yeah,” they said, and it was settled.

--It was not easy for Azul.

Being known so fully is an exercise in shame, and yet that's the very thing that had made him fall for the prefect. That unconditional acceptance, that awe that never seemed to dull even when he felt his worst. He had fought against it as much as he could, and yet their touch was too warm, their words too soft for him to persevere. Before he knew it, that very touch and those very words had bound to his heart, foolish as it was.

If he had to compare love to anything, he’d compare it to breathing on land. While it came quite naturally, he had still choked at first. For a while after, it felt strange and almost invasive, filling his body with odd feelings. Despite that, it was something he needed, craved, grew almost dependent on.

Of course, he wouldn’t be able to say such things to the prefect straight on. Rather, he said them in quiet breaths spoken into their ear in the comfort of his room and their warmth. He could hardly believe he let himself say such things, considering how often his business runs on blackmail. Though that's just what trusting someone entails, he concluded. Trust…

The prefect leans closer, kissing him on the mole right under his lips. There was the slightest brush of their lips. 

“What a tease,” Azul sighs. “That’s hardly fair.”

The prefect only smiles playfully. “Well then, feel free to take what you want.”

He grins, triumphant.

"I couldn't think of a better deal myself."

Kalim・・・・・・・・・・・・

Simply.

Kalim wasn’t sure exactly when he began to adore the prefect in such a way. He had always liked the prefect, and those feelings must have gotten stronger the more he hung out with them. He didn’t question it, just accepted it as a natural end point. Why wouldn’t he like the prefect, when he thought they were so wonderful?

He was seeing the prefect off from Scarabia when he blurted out “Come again soon, okay?! ‘Cause I like, really, really like you! So I wanna see you again!” with the biggest smile on his face. That would have been fine, just seen as his usual affectionate nature, until his expression dropped a second later and he added “wait… Jamil said if I was going to confess to you, I should take you somewhere romantic…” 

There seemed to be another second of processing before he added another “...wait…” with shock. 

Though his confession was simple, it wasn’t to be confused with empty words. Though they were blurted out, each word was his true feelings, and it would have been true had he said it on a lantern-lit night picnic by the oasis or in the hall of mirrors. The former of which he did after begging the prefect to let him re-try.

Kalim was as affectionate with the prefect as usual, though to a whole new extreme. He knew he was generally pretty nice to everyone, but he wanted to make sure the prefect knew they were special. That usually meant things like getting a seat of honor next to him at any banquets he hosted, or constant lavish gifts, each with a handwritten note detailing his thought process behind choosing it.

He wasn’t shy telling the prefect he loved them either. He didn’t see any reason why he should be. These overflowing feelings should be expressed, shouldn’t they?

One time, when the prefect was over at Scarabia, they ran out of fingers attempting to count how many times Kalim said it. When asked, he simply explains that whenever the prefect does something that makes his heart go weird he says it, because it's the first thing he thinks of. Which, according to the prefect’s calculations, happens to be a lot. 

On occasion, when something seems to really strike a chord with Kalim, he’ll squish the prefect’s face in his hands and scatter puppy kisses on their face, along with the usual words. 

Though the way he loved was simple, it wasn’t to be confused with shallowness. He felt what he did so deeply that his heart may as well have been one with the prefect’s. 

--One weekend morning, the prefect joined him in Scarabia to work on homework together. Afterwards, they decided to reward themselves with an afternoon nap in Kalim’s room. It was the most luxurious reward he could have asked for.

They laid in his bed, a tangle of limbs and blankets and pillows. It was hard to tell where anything began or ended. He laid with his head on the prefect’s chest. He couldn’t tell if the heartbeat he heard was the echo of his own or not. He spent a moment trying to figure it out, hand on his own chest to see if they beat in unison, finally giving up when he couldn’t distinguish the patterns. Not like that mattered as much as…

He shifted his head to look up at the prefect’s face. Sleep had already softened their features and evened their breath. Looking at them and feeling the softness and warmth of their body was starting to draw him in too.

But with the last of his energy, he reached up to kiss their jaw and mumble,

“I really, really love you.”

His head falls back down to their chest, nuzzling into the warmth one last time before the rhythm of their hearts beckons him to sleep.

Vil・・・・・・・・・・・・

Patiently.

Vil was a busy man. At any given moment he was juggling a multitude of titles: student, super model, housewarden, actor, influencer. If it wasn’t one thing, it was always another. And he was no novice at handling all this work, all while maintaining his prized beauty. 

Of course this balance did not falter even when he realized his feelings for the prefect. If anything, there was more work to be done, polishing himself further until they came around. Polishing them too, whether it be a tuck of an out of place hair or an adjustment of their uniform tie or beauty advice. Don’t spill a single drop of it, he teased. 

--He had a feeling he knew what was coming when the prefect asked to meet him in his room. Doubly so when they appeared with their makeup done, a regal posture, and not a single crease in their uniform. Even the sparkle of their eyes seemed honed by a seriousness that passed Vil’s beauty and straight to his heart. The only thing that gave anything away was their hands, unknowingly fidgeting with the fabric of their uniform. He dare say that detail was what brought it all together.

When they finally proclaimed their love, he laughed. It certainly wasn’t out of malice, but rather a mixture of the joy of receiving something long awaited and amusement at the spectacle he’d been gifted. He’d been confessed to countless times before, but it’s certainly never gone like this.

Any semblance of the prefect’s composure vanished as a blush painted their cheeks. As much as he appreciated the lengths they went to for beauty in his eyes, he couldn’t help but also adore what lay below it.

They open and closed their mouth, seemingly trying to find words. Vil spoke first.

“There’s no need to be so embarrassed,” he said, voice tinted soft with laughter. “Come here.”

As soon as they did as commanded, he embraced them. He felt them startle in his hands. Adorable.

“I feel the same way,” he whispered into their ear. 

This time, he heard the prefect laugh lightly and return his hug. 

A relationship with Vil was complicated, largely in part due to the public nature of his work. It was something better kept on the down low, at least for the time being. Love was shared privately in quiet corridors and the plausible deniability of fixing makeup.

Still, as good as an actor that Vil was, he still couldn't hide the loving smile that appeared whenever he saw them.

The only outsider ideas that anything at all had changed was a cryptic smile from Rook and a new consensus in the media that Vil looks more radiant than ever. 

Most of their time together were private affairs, with the occasional tryst to a secluded spot on the island every once in a while. Something more extravagant would have to wait. 

--It was one of those private little dates. They’d done their skin care together, and now it was time for Vil to film a review of a set of lipsticks he’d received. 

He had to admit, it was certainly a challenge to not look over at where the prefect was tucked away, absolutely entranced by him. Though he could appreciate a challenge, especially one as tempting as this. 

With a final click of the record button, he finished the last segment. Now it was the editor’s job to piece it all together. He had more important business waiting for him. 

“Come here, darling. I want to see something,” he called out.

With curious eyes, the prefect obeyed, taking a seat in their usual chair next to his at the vanity. As soon as they reached his side, he grabbed their chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up. He savored that slight blush that painted the apples of their cheeks. It was perhaps the thing he was most proud of polishing.

Silently, he vowed to keep honing his beauty and his love so that blush never fades. 

He takes a glance at the lipsticks lined up on his vanity. With a quick eye he picked out a suitable color. Holding their head still, he paints their lips. 

He tilts their face, admiring the color of both of their lips and ever increasing blush. He hums, satisfied.

“This color’s perfect on you. You can have it,” he says, watching their expression light up. “There’s just one thing…”

Before they can even react, he seals their lips for a split second. He really would have preferred longer, but judging from how starstruck the prefect looked, any more might’ve been the end of them. His hand snakes from their chin to cup their face and tilt it so that they’re both looking at their reflections in the vanity mirror.

“This brand transfers surprisingly easily,” he states, looking at the splotch of matching color now tinting his own lips. “Be careful how you use it,” he warned with a playful wink. 

The prefect turned back to look at him, and he followed their gaze back. The initial shock of the kiss seemed to have worn off as they smiled brightly up at him. 

“It looks great on you too, you know,” they said, adding a dramatic sigh. “That’s just how it is when you’re that beautiful,” they add.

Vil scoffed, amused. 

“Flattery won’t get you any farther than you already are, you know,” he teases.

“I know, I know,” they respond. He takes a moment to admire that painted smile. 

“I have a better idea now,” he starts. “Let’s share that lipstick.” 

The thought of having something so blatantly matching as lipstick was certainly a bold move. And as much as he wanted something that would undeniably connect them in the public eye—

“But…” the prefect started. He smirked.

“In private. It’ll be another one of our little secrets,” he said, planting a kiss on that prized blushing red apple and being amused by the barely visible tint of new color he had managed to paint it.

—it would have to wait. 

Idia・・・・・・・・・・・・

Awkwardly.

A part of Idia died when he realized he not only liked the prefect, but liked them romantically. Almost as soon as he realized, he gave up any hope of actually being together. He would never confess and risk ruining their friendship. It was rare enough for him to actually be friends with someone, let alone in real life. It wasn’t like the prefect would ever like him back either. 

Still, for how hopeless he was, he couldn’t help but feel this way. At any time, the prefect was always on his mind. Which was weird, since he hated being with other people, so why did he keep thinking how much cooler it would be if the prefect was with him right now? And why did he want that so bad that it hurt?

And then the prefect confessed. They had stopped by his room, more fidgety than normal, saying they needed to say something really quickly. After they confessed, they ran out of his room. In hindsight, Idia reckoned them running out was more for his sake than theirs. 

His reply came very late, in the form of a text. He felt kind of bad for leaving them waiting. Half of the time was spent freaking out, and the other half was spent drafting that reply.

If having a crush felt weird, actually being in a relationship was straight up overwhelming. He obviously liked spending time with the prefect, but it felt like he was going to explode… but in like… a good way…? He couldn’t quite describe the feeling, of wanting to share something, of wanting to sit an inch closer, and how it made his heart pound, but at the same time, he could still be so comfortable in the prefect’s presence. 

He tried his best to make the prefect happy, even if he believed he couldn’t really do it. They had once gushed about a super rare standee of their favorite character,  and how they couldn’t buy it at all since it was sold in limited quantities for a short time. Idia scoured online for it and ordered it. 

The prefect’s expression when they opened the box was perfect. Another win in the game of claiming the prefect’s heart. If he keeps this up, he might actually get the good end.

“It wasn’t even that hard to find, really. All I did was browse through some auction sites and there it was. I mean, I obviously know my way around these sorts of–”

His breath caught in his throat. The prefect was hugging him. 

His first instinct would have been to struggle his way out of their grip, but they started talking, their voice right by his ear, tinted with sincere joy. 

“Thank you, Idia. You have no idea how happy I am right now. Really, thank you.”

He froze, arms hovering precariously by the prefect's back. In front of his eyes was their shoulder, which invited him to rest his head on it. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. He wasn’t even breathing, as if moving might scare the prefect away like a stray cat, shattering this moment forever. 

So he just stayed stiff, taking the feeling as his hair grew increasingly pink. When they pulled away, he let out a shaky breath.

“...I-it was w-whatever.”

It was some time later that the prefect found themselves in Idia’s room, as usual. They were sitting together, watching a romance anime. 

As the episode ended, absentmindedly, Idia thought to himself,

I kind of get it.

That was when the prefect spoke.

“This reminds me, I’ve never actually heard you say you like me, since your reply to my confession was through text and all, and–”

Idia panicked. “Wait! Stop! I know where this is going!”

The prefect smiled. He was weak to it, honestly. Like some sappy normie debuff. 

“Then, can I hear it?”

There's no way he can get out of this without either affection going down or shame going up. Well, he’s trying to get a good ending here, so he can’t really risk affection…

“...Fine.” He pauses a moment, to collect himself. He can’t meet the prefect’s eyes, so he just stares at the floor. And in the silence of that dark room lit only by monitors and the slight glow of his hair–

“...I like you.”

He can see the tips of his hair turning pink. He has to look pathetic right now. Risking a glance up at the prefect’s face, he finds himself astonished. He has to do a double take.

They seem… happier than he thought. Though the best part was the slight flush on their cheeks. He didn’t know what possessed his eyes to land on their lips for a split second as he turned his gaze back down. 

“I’m really glad I finally got to hear you say it.”

When he looked back up, the prefect was leaning ever so slightly towards him. 

“I really am…” Their voice was quieter, closer.

They locked eyes, and the prefect leaned further. It was slow, as if to give him a chance to run away. 

Idia had spent sleepless nights dreaming of this moment, but to have it in reality…

His brain was short-circuiting. He wasn’t sure where to focus. All he knew is that he was already breathless.

They were already so close, he could make out their scent. Somehow, it felt strong, dizzyingly so. Almost intoxicating. 

Just as the prefect's lips were about to meet his, they stop. Slowly, the prefect retreats back. 

–Wait, no… Argh– screw it!

With that final thought, he closes the distance. 

It’s sweet… no, bitter? …or something. 

All he can feel is the softness of the prefect's lips, his mind too muddled to try to comprehend anything more. All he knows for certain is that this was too divine a feeling for someone like him. 

The kiss is short, yet Idia feels lightheaded when he pulls back. His eyes focus unstably at the floor while his mind makes a feeble attempt to process. Unconsciously, his hand goes to his lips.

There's a silence afterwards, which Idia assumes to be awkward. 

But when he looks up, he finds the prefect’s expression a mix of shock and happiness, and somehow everything feels right after that. 

Malleus・・・・・・・・・・・・

Reverently.

The moment he realized his feelings was not a sudden shock, not like a flash of lighting so powerful it brightens a stormy sky. 

Rather, it was the quiet moment they shared in their part of the woods on their nightly walk. The Prefect had looked up at him with an expression radiating pure joy, inviting him to bask in their happiness with them. The warmth and intimacy of such a moment directed towards him. 

Ah, he thought, so this is it. 

Love.

It was a simple realization, and yet it still hit him with the same strength as a storm. They kept talking, unaware of the way that single expression had stirred his heart so. 

When he reported this to Lillia, the old fae merely gave a knowing, melancholy smile, and told him to cherish that feeling. 

And cherish it he did. He did not need to be told why. 

As much as he wanted to hurriedly act on his feelings, he decided to court the prefect slowly. They were still his dear friend, and he did not want to risk losing that. In the meantime, he savored the moments they shared, holding soft smiles and midnight conversations deep in his heart.

To his surprise, the prefect confessed first. Their flushed cheeks, their downturned gaze, their unnaturally straight posture, their hands fidgeting at their sides, all lit up by dull moonlight. It all brought a sense of wonder to him.

After the initial wide-eyed shock, his expression softened. 

“I accept your feelings.”

It was the prefect’s turn to stare up at him, wide eyed. Another delectable expression.

His expression shifted into something much more solemn, conveying the gravity of his emotions. 

“In turn, I vow to keep you in my heart forevermore, my dear child of man.” 

He would make sure the prefect is as immortal as he is, making sure not even history would be able to forget them. He promises to hold their whole life together in his memory, to hold every detail with the sacredness it deserves. 

Slowly, he brings his hand to their cheek, embracing it in a featherlight caress. Seeing as they don’t back away from the touch, he brings his other hand to their cheek. With his hands cupping their face, he tilted it up ever so slightly and ever so gently, taking in all the details the moonlight paints. He thought of the warmth radiating  from their flushed cheeks, a warmth that only seemed to grow hotter, of their beauty in the glowing veil of moonlight. Yet most of all he thought of how fragile they truly were. He prayed that they would not shatter. 

One of his hands slides down to their chin with deliberate slowness, as if the caress of his fingers mean to memorize the curve of their jaw and the softness of their skin. 

He tilts their chin up, and slowly leans closer to them, watching their expression. When he towered completely over them, swallowing them in his shadow, in a quiet voice he asked,

“May I?”

The prefect nodded in response with an eagerness that can only be described as ‘cute’. He smiles.

The kiss is quick and chaste, yet he lingers a moment before truly pulling away. 

The prefect looks back at him with starstruck eyes and a giant smile. They let out a little chuckle, breathless, as though the kiss had been much longer and more passionate than it really was. He stared down at the expression, memorizing it and the sound. For as important of a moment as their kiss had been, the small details in between were just as precious. 

He looks at them with a curious expression. “What is it, dear child of man?”

“I’m just… so happy. Thank you, Malleus.”

He returns their smile with his own graceful one. “There is no need for thanks. It’s all my pleasure.”

Riddle

Riddle is calm. Eerily so.

For a while, he pretends your absence doesn’t concern him. He convinces himself that the extent of his relationship with you was just ‘classmates’, and that he’d gotten close to you out of his duty as housewarden to guide his peers. Your title was ‘Prefect’, after all, so he had to be especially sure you were representing your role dutifully. 

If anyone asked him about you, he’d tell them, “The Prefect, yes. We… had history together, on occasion. Though they started out shakily, they grew to be quite competent in that class. I respected the effort they put into their studies and role,” as if he hadn’t spent hours tucked away in a quiet corner of the library with you guiding you through studying for your classes. 

Nothing much seemed to change about him. He studied harder than ever before, letting structured days fill whatever the void in his heart was. Nobody would have suspected anything had happened, chopping up his sudden increase in perfectionism for one of his strict streaks.

The whole facade collapsed the day of the next unbirthday party. He was overseeing preparations when Trey called out to him.

“Riddle, this tablecloth’s ripped. What should I do with it?”

“Throw it out,” Riddle quickly ordered. He sighed. “I’ll go get a spare.”

Trey shot him a worried glance as he left, but he ignored it.

He reckoned a short walk would help dissipate this distracted feeling that’s been bothering him the whole day. 

Once he reached the closet, he pulled out the stack of spare tablecloths, unfolding the one at the very top to ensure its quality. 

Suddenly, a red mark on it catches his eye. A splotchy red handprint on the very corner. Your handprint.

--It was the last unbirthday party. You’d been helping the others paint the roses, despite his insistence that you didn’t have to, being that you were a guest. You must not have realized you had paint on your hands when you touched the table. 

The card soldier around you seemed to freeze in fear, but you merely went and told him, apologizing. 

Riddle inhaled. The students around the two of you seemed to hold their breaths, watching from the corner of their eyes. 

He sighed.

“You need to pay more attention to your surroundings. Especially since you’re in charge of Grim, and doubly so due to all the precarious situations you end up in. One of these days you’ll get hurt because of it, so do better,” he lectured.

He was letting you off easy by his standards. In any case, he wouldn’t want you to hate him if he scolded you too harshly. 

You nodded. Strangely enough, he noticed a barely visible smile. He’d never been met with a smile after he scolded someone, but… it made him happy you understood.

“Now go wash your hands,” he ordered. 

After you ran off, he commanded another student to go wash the stained tablecloth. 

Whoever he put in charge must have forgotten to do it. While normally this would be cause for a beheading, none of the usual fury found him. Instead, he stared with wide eyes at the handprint.

His breath started to grow hoarse. He crumbled to the ground, tablecloth still held tightly.

One of his hands let go, tracing ripples in the cloth to hover just as the edge of the red mark. With slight hesitance, his hand covered the vague outline of yours, fingers slowly closing in over it tighter and tighter until it was but a ball of cloth in his fist. Tears patterned the fabric.

No matter how hard he tried to forget, you still found him. You had that silly little knack for it. For worming into his heart before he knew it. He must have been a fool for letting you get away with it.

This vague imitation of the hand he held had none of your warmth. None of the firmness of a hand squeezing back, reminding him that you were by his side. 

At that moment, he forgot about the unbirthday party, about preparations. All that was left around him was a dark closet and the ghost of someone he loved.

Silver

It was thanks to Silver's family and their quiet sympathy that he'd manage to clear his head a bit from the constant dreams of those past memories, now painted bittersweet. He was truly grateful for it. But it didn't change the fact underlying it all.

You were gone.

Still, Silver loved you. To him, that meant protecting your happiness. And though love was a feeling he was still inexperienced with, that definition had come naturally to him.

He knew that you had your fair share of happiness here, yet he also understood that this world was a burden that he could not protect you from. You weren’t a hero or a knight. While you tried your best to endure, the constant stress you faced must have gotten to you. He reasoned that’s why you so readily left when the opportunity became available.  

If loving you meant letting you slip from his fingers back to a different home, then he would have to accept that. He only wished he could have been a better knight for you.

Still, he wanted to see you. At least one last time. He just wanted to make sure you were happy, and then he could finally have his closure. He knew it was selfish, reminding you of the life you had left, but something urged him. He couldn't just do nothing. And though a dream wasn’t the most accurate signifier of happiness, he felt that he could at least get a glimpse.

So, he tried using his signature spell. He tried experimenting with time and technique. Yet it never worked. He had slowly accepted that he may not see you again.

It was about then that he found your old scarf, tucked away and forgotten in the back of his closet.

--You were out with him one day, strolling through the woods when he noticed an injured bird. You had given him your scarf so that he could wrap the bird and carry it to somewhere it could get help. He had meant to return it, but hadn’t had the chance. It seems he never would.

In a last ditch effort, he brought the scarf to his bed, bringing it close to his face as he laid down. He had washed it, but your scent penetrated past the smell of detergent. He'd memorized it from the countless times you'd lent him your shoulder. A warm, comforting smell.

As he fell asleep, his mind was filled with thoughts of you. 

--Silver found himself falling into unfamiliar scenery, painted yellow by a setting sun. Though it was hazy and unstable, he could see you and some people walking in the distance, towards him. Once you were closer, he could see that you were talking and laughing along with those people. He could imagine this scene being the aftermath of some fun outing.

He smiled.

As you drew closer, the surroundings slowly started to shatter into blank white. It was only when you were right by him that he could see you as vividly as he did in life. You were hunched over laughing as you walked, your eyes barely crescents from the smile on your face. 

You seem to notice him in the corner of your eye as you passed him. When you turn to look back at him, you still have the remnants of your laughter written on your face. The split second during which that expression faces him grips his heart. Everything goes white except for you and Silver. 

Your expression morphs into unreadable shock for a moment. He wonders for a moment if his expression is as tender as he feels. Maybe it is, considering how your eyes seem to soften and your lips curve into a small melancholy smile, filled with too many emotions to possibly read. 

I’m glad.

Each short second feels like an eternity, which he uses to trace your features with his eyes for the final time. The air is tense with words unsaid and memories bygone. 

You’re happy.

You begin to fade into the whiteness. He never takes his eyes off you until you’re gone.

That’s all I could ask for.

When the dream finally collapses, he lets himself fall into it.  

Idia

At first, Idia was a mess of emotions. Regret that he’d ever let anyone this close into his life, anger that you left and betrayed him, and finally settling on blaming himself. 

“I get it. They probably just felt bad and decided to kill time with me when all they really wanted to do was go home. I get it... I… really couldn’t do anything for them at all. It's pathetic.”

You had both seen each other at your weakest. While he wasn’t the best at soothing people, he still tried his best to hold you tightly, even with awkward hands, trying to imitate the confident, dependable characters he’d seen in anime. 

“You can… cry as much as you want to. I’ll stay with you as long as you need me…” he’d whisper.

After a while, you always said you felt better, thanking him. It was all a lie, wasn’t it?

“I don’t think that's true,” Ortho said. “When the prefect was with you, I recorded their heart rate as being faster than their resting rate. They also smiled approximately 58% more often in your company. That's to say, the Prefect really did like you. However… they did likely also wish to return to their home world.”

Idia was grateful for his brother’s comfort, but all he could do was let out a shaky sigh. 

“I think the most recent disaster at Night Raven College was the turning point for them, especially with how suddenly they decided to leave,” Ortho continued.

Idia fell back onto his bed. He really couldn’t do anything. 

After a while, the mess of emotions he felt dulled into something quieter, but ever present. He would lay in bed, staring at the wall thinking of you. 

One memory replayed in his mind.

--You had come over so that you could watch a new anime together. You hadn’t expected you’d get so into it, and you ended up staying late into the night binging it. Though as the it grew later, you were getting tired and asked Idia if you could nap for a bit on his bed.

The thought of you napping on his bed made him blush a bit, but he stuttered out a “y-yeah. Sure,” as if he wasn’t internally panicking. It's not like he could send you home this late… nor that he wanted to…

You told him to wake you up if your favorite character had some cool moment, and promptly took the spot near the wall of his bed. Damn it, that was HIS spot too!!

He kept watching the show, but he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering over to you, sleeping so peacefully on his bed. It was surreal seeing you so casually and comfortably in his own room. Surprisingly, he didn't hate it. It made his heart flutter, but in the back of his mind he thought he could get used to it.

He couldn’t actually bear to wake you up when your character had a cool scene, instead noting the timestamp. 

Eventually, Idia decided to call it a night. Now he was left with the issue of where to sleep. His mind first went to the floor or his desk, both of which would have probably been pretty uncomfortable. He needed to be in top shape tomorrow for the new dungeon, so…

Ever so slowly, with the tips of his hair flickering pink, he got into his bed. All that was going through his mind was a barrage of “this is so creepy of me” and “I’m so sorry”. 

You didn’t stir when he joined you under the covers. For a while, he laid perfectly still, holding his breath. His heart was beating so fast he could bear it. A wave of regret was washing over him, though it quickly dissipated when he was finally able to focus on you.

For a while, he stared at your sleeping face and listened to your quiet breath, praying you wouldn’t wake up. Your hair had fallen in your face and he was tempted to pull the ‘brush your hair out of your face’ move, but his hand stopped right before he made contact. Waking up to him doing that would probably be a total jumpscare, he reasoned, his hand falling back to the space between you. 

Instead, he took a piece of your hair sprawled out on the pillow between his fingers, absentmindedly rubbing. He stared as it twirled between his fingers, making an expression he assumed was probably ‘pathetic’.

He’d never had the warmth of someone else in his bed, and slowly, it lulled him to sleep. 

When he woke up, you were gone, leaving only a text that you had to return since you still had unfinished work, considering you weren't actually intending to stay the whole night. And also a text that his sleeping face was cute, which instantly blue screened his mind. 

Idia stared at the wall, at the space you once were, reliving the moment that early morning just before he had fallen asleep and you had woken up. In his mind, you’re still there sleeping, and both of you are laying comfortably together. He wouldn’t be nervous anymore because you were there for so long that it was normal to him. That was the important thing. That you were there. 

“...Why’d you have to go…?” He whispered to the wall.

Yet tonight, when he arrived at Ramshackle, he found the lights turned off and the house empty. Of course, he knew he would find it like this. You had told him the night before that you were going to be busy the following evening with your friends. Yet a small hope that your plans had been canceled lingered, and brought him to Ramshackle regardless. 

Ramshackle seemed much more like the ruin it once was without the usual light on in your bedroom and your silhouette in the window. Though he adored such ruins, something about a place so full of your life rotting back to nothing more than rubble troubled him greatly

(A part of him wondered if he will visit here again, centuries later, when it truly will become a ruin, and still be able to find traces of you littered everywhere, like secret messages left only for him)

The thought filled him with a mix of emotion. Longing that gnawed at him, cold loneliness that had a resounding sting yet also a dull ache, and something else, something that felt like bitter hands clenching at his heart. Something that could only be quelled with you pulled close to his side. 

He waited a moment longer, viewing the imposing silhouette of an empty Ramshackle a moment longer before turning back into the woods.

Really, your life was so very short but so very precious to him. It filled him with a greed he didn’t know he was capable of, a need to hoard every last second as if it were a radiant jewel. So that by the very end, he’d amass a hoard of precious memories that would sustain him for the rest of his centuries of life, or, at the very least, soften the dull the ache of having a piece of his heart missing. 

(In the back of his mind, the thought of making you completely and wholly his always lingered. To steal you away from your friends, from classmates with prying eyes. To elope, a promise of shared eternity)

When you had exchanged confessions, he warned you that his love was not light, but weighed heavy and grand. You said you’d accept anything, but he knew there was an unspoken line drawn somewhere which he could not cross. Such was the nature of connection, he supposed. Whatever the case may be, scaring you off was the last thing he wanted.

 So instead, he holds you tighter. Not necessarily strongly by his definition, but with undeniable firmness.

(In private, he lets himself arch over you when you hug him. In that moment, for a split second, you entirely his. Body and mind. His head nuzzles deep into the crevice of your shoulder, each breath full of you. Yes, in this moment he is yours too, he thinks. He acutely feels the hands on his back digging into his blazer, both a silent expression of love and an attempt for support from toppling over as he encroached further into you. A part of him wishes you'd do away with that instinctual fear of falling and let yourself weigh heavy in his arms)

For now, he promises to love you with gentle carefulness, a slow burning flame that yet still burns with grand passions. He’ll take whatever territory he can get in this silent war for you.

(If dreams and reality overlap, if you offer him it all--mind, body, soul--he’ll take without a second thought. You will become his finest treasure. Though he does not give up such things easily.)

Malleus had been walking generally without aim as he thought, yet somehow he had ended up at the site of certain ruins deep in the forest. 

The site had held a special place in his heart. At first, it was the surprisingly well preserved gargoyles that had caught his eye. While the stone building itself was crumbling and slowly being overtaken by moss and vines, it had a fair few working ones. Malleus had dedicated a lot of time trying to restore some of the more worn out ones. 

Next it was special because it was where so many of your nightly walks with him ended up. You seemed as charmed by the ruins as he was. Some days, you'd sit on a large chunk of dislodged stone, having quiet conversation as moonlight glistened through the crumbling walls. Other days, it was comfortable silence basking in the special kind of quiet a ruin provides. The ruins became something special, shared only between him and you. As such, he cherished them, and the quiet memories under moonlight and shattered stained glass. 

Finally it became special because of what was shared there. Both the quiet talks and the confession that happened within those mossy stone walls. That night, you had asked him to dance with you in those very ruins. He was surprised by how sudden and romantic the action seemed, though obliged. 

With practiced hands, he drew you close. One hand resting on the small of your back, the other awaiting your palm in his. Gingerly, you placed your hand in his. With almost deliberate slowness, he shifted his hand to entwine his fingers with yours.

Despite suggesting the idea, you seemed a bit lost (or at the very least, nervous) on where to put your hands, so he guided you. He took the lead, humming a song he recalled from his own time practicing. You waltzed under the moonlight, with the sound of wind rustled leaves and Malleus’ low hum as your accompaniment. He conjured some fireflies to provide a bit of lighting and atmosphere  as well. 

He was going to lightly chastise you for looking at your feet. He’d much rather see you looking up at him, as was proper. However, when your gaze did meet, your expression was apologetic. You apologized for continuously stepping on his feet, and asked if he could possibly hum something slower so that you could get the rhythm down better. 

Once again, he obliged, and began humming an old, slow waltz from Briar Valley. Once again, wading through fireflies and moonlight, you danced. He led you a bit slower, making his moves clearer and gently pulling you in the direction he wanted to lead you. 

You seemed to have gotten that hang of it enough to meet his eyes, which had been carefully watching you the whole time. He was glad he did, as he was able to catch your subtle smile, and the way you seemed to laugh lightly whenever he twirled you. 

As the waltz he hummed neared its end, he decided to add a little dramatic flair. Slowly, he began to dip you. You seemed surprised at first, though quickly understood, and let yourself lean down into his hands. You let your eyes close and your head lean back, staying like that until Malleus’ humming slowly died down. When it did, you opened your eyes, staring at him with eyes that sparkled with green fireflies and an expression so gentle it made him long for what could be of this little play waltz. A gentle call of his name, softer than he had ever heard it before. 

I love you

He had always thought he would be the one to say it first. He had already begun drafting ways to profess it, creating scenarios in which the moment would be perfect. And yet you had beat him in every way. He was starstruck. Anybody else would have dropped you from the shock. Instead, his grip on you tightened. Though slowly, he began to bring you back up, letting you go once you both stood. 

He stood more like a monarch than a student, with a rigid posture and serious expression. The full moon shone from an opening in the building behind him. Moonlight fell directly on your face, made it radiant and ethereal. 

Do you truly mean it?

Even if you didn’t, he would not take your words lightly. He would not accept it if you were merely toying with him.

You nodded, and repeated your earlier statement, to his joy. Yet his expression remained solemn, with the single exception of softly glowing green eyes that seemed to suggest something softer. 

I accept your feelings. But in turn, you must accept mine. 

You listened intently as he spoke of what his love meant, and how deeply it ran for you. So, he prompted you.

Do you accept?

When you replied, he smiled.

I do.

And finally, you were his. 

(Yet love has made him greedy, hasn’t it? To want more and more of you. To think he'd thought himself content with moonlight alone...)

Malleus stayed at the ruins a moment longer, taking a couple minutes to examine the conditions of the gargoyles there. He heads back to ramshackle with a faint hope that maybe he will catch you returning home, able to at least send you off to bed for the night. It was fairly late, so you’d probably be heading back now. 

Yet when he returned, the lights were still off, and there was no sign that you had returned. It seems likely you were staying over at your friend’s dorm. A ‘sleepover’ type event, perhaps. 

Putting aside those rising feelings from before, he decides to return to his own dorm with a plan to invite you to stay over at Diasomnia.  He shall treat this as light battle for your affections. And such an event will be a good way to demonstrate all that he can provide you with, as well as a way to spend extended time with his beloved. 

He shall make it perfect.

a/n Malleus is gonna put on the best sleepover this islands ever seen

You were pretty used to seeing Silver’s sleeping face. 

Though never this close. And in your bed. As soon as you woke up. 

You vaguely recalled the events of last night and found yourself most astonished that it wasn’t all some self-indulgent dream.

Your waking roused him from sleep. Half lidded aurora eyes met yours. It only seemed to take him a moment to piece together his surroundings, a soft smile forming on his lips. With a voice still heavy with sleep, he said your name so gently and softly that you would think it to be loving. 

“Good morning.” He yawned. “Did you sleep well?” He asked. He looked angelic, with the morning sun seeming to put a sparkle in his eyes and make his hair shimmer.

This was too much for your heart to handle first thing in the morning. 

“Yeah.” You hastily respond. “I’ll go make breakfast. You can sleep a bit more.” You quickly get up, hoping he didn’t notice the light flush on your cheeks. 

“No, I’ll help,” He says, following you in getting up. 

…

Seeing Silver helping you make breakfast in your kitchen was kind of a surreal sight, but something about it felt right. 

You worked in relative silence, other than the occasional request for Silver to get you something. Your mind was still too heavy with sleep to think of any good conversation topics. Silver didn’t seem to mind, working in comfortable silence with whatever task you assigned him.

Something about the intimacy of making breakfast together struck you. You stared at Silver, taking in the sight.

“Oh,” you suddenly notice. You walk up to him, reaching up to pat down some of his hair that was sticking up, as well as fixing his bangs a bit. He watches you with silent curiosity.

Realizing you had just randomly went up to him and started basically patting his head, you quickly explained.

“Some of your hair was sticking up. I fixed it.”

“I see. Some of your hair is also a bit messed up.” He raised his hand in a silent request. You nodded, lowering your head a little. His fingers felt nice in your hair. 

You thanked him, and went back to making breakfast, now with a slight blush. 

—-------------------------------------------

Breakfast was had with quiet conversations. Silver enjoyed the prefect’s cooking. Though they didn’t have much available to them, Silver thought they were able to use what they did quite resourcefully to make a good tasting dish. It was something he could definitely appreciate. 

After breakfast was cleaned up (with a portion set aside for Grim, who was still sleeping), Silver and the prefect went to lounge in the living room. 

Silver didn’t need to be back at his dorm until a bit later, and it was still quite early in the morning, so he decided to indulge in some leisure with the prefect. 

They wanted to finish watching the show from the previous night, since they had gotten to the last episode, but fell asleep in the middle of it. Silver decided to join them. 

As they set up their laptop, they explained the plot developments Silver had missed. 

The show itself was not something Silver would usually indulge in. It seemed more akin to Idia’s style of content than anything else. However, even if it was foreign to him, it was something the prefect seemed to hold dear. That was enough to make it valuable.

He felt he also understood why the prefect had made a connection to these tropes earlier. The situations lined up eerily similar. 

The prefect seemed incredibly immersed in the episode, likely since they were anticipating the confession scene within it. 

…

The prefect talked excitedly about the episode as the credits rolled. Silver listened, taking in how excited they seemed. 

Silver had always found the prefect’s presence calming. Yet something about the time he spent with them during this sleepover felt different. Like a glimpse into a kind future. 

To see their face before every sleep, to wake up to them, to make a quiet breakfast in a quiet house, to rest with them and smile with them…

He took in the sight currently in front of him: The prefect, with a soft smile, watching as the end animation plays. The morning light pouring from the large window, painting their hair, their eyelashes, their cheeks, their lips…

Silver had read his fair share of fairytales growing up. Love was such a large, dramatic thing in them. Love at first sight, dramatic confessions, a decadent palace…

He’d never really put much consideration into how it would be for him. Perhaps in the back of his mind he’d overlaid himself on one of those knightly characters, imagining he’d be down on one knee proclaiming a solemn and beautiful confession, and that the world around him would sparkle like gems when he spoke. 

“I love you.”

Yet when he spoke, somehow, in the silence of Ramshackle's lounge it felt the same. 

He stared at the prefect with the same intensity and seriousness as in training. Despite the softness of the words, they weren’t just a whim to him.

The prefect stared back with wide eyes. The ending song eventually ended, and the two were left in silence.

Though Silver’s expression remained unchanging, something in him grew worried. He surmised they were processing what to say.

He told himself he would take the prefect’s rejection with dignity and grace, but yet he felt himself clutch his palm. 

He decided to break the silence yet again.

“I don’t know how else to say it. But I mean it.”

His eyes fluttered down to the prefect’s lips when he saw them twitch, as if about to speak. Though they didn’t. He let his eyes linger a moment longer in anticipation, before returning his gaze to their eyes. 

Finally, they spoke. 

“I… accept your feelings.”

A pause.

Their expression shifts, seemingly realizing how vague their words could be.

“I love you too,” they said.

Finally, a smile. Subconsciously, Silver’s eyes travel back down to it. 

—-------------------------------------------

When Silver had spoken those words, your mind had completely stopped. There was not a single thought occurring. Hearing that was the first thing you wished for but the last thing you expected. 

Having gotten over the shock, you were overjoyed. You watched his eyes find themselves to your lips, his expression the softest you’ve ever seen it. He didn’t seem to realize the silent plea he was making, or that he was leaning towards you.

He only seemed to realize when he was mere inches away. It gave you a good view of the light blush dusting his cheeks. 

“...May I?”

Always the gentleman, you thought.

“You may.”

With that, his lips met yours.

The kiss was chaste with inexperienced young love, but the feelings within it were ever present. You couldn’t tell if the warmth you felt was from the morning sunlight streaming in or the joy overflowing from your heart.

Either way, it felt like home. 

a/n thank you for reading my silly little fic ;P

Silver was packing his things in preparation for his plans when Sebek came into his room.

“What are you packing for?” 

“I’m sleeping over at Ramshackle.”

Sebek sputtered.

“RAMSHACKLE??”

Silver chose to ignore whatever that reaction was.

“Yeah. I have permission to go.”

“BUT–! SLEEPING OVER AT RAMSHACKLE IS… IS… SCANDALOUS!”

Silver deadpanned at Sebek. “Nothing like that will happen. The prefect just said they wanted to watch something with me. Father encouraged me to go, as well. He said it would be a ‘great opportunity’.” 

Sebek somehow looked even more horrified. 

Silver finished his packing and walked past Sebek, who seemed to be processing something. 

“Anyway, the prefect wanted me to pick up snacks from the store on my way there. See you tomorrow.”

—-------------------------------------------

You waited outside Ramshackle waiting for Silver. It was already pretty late, and it had gotten pretty chilly. Still, you were really excited. When he notices you, something about his expression turns serious, and suddenly you feel some sort of new tension in the air.

He stops in front of you, saying your name oddly solemnly.

“I have something to tell you.”

You feel your heart beat become strangely rapid. 

“I–” 

Suddenly fireworks in the distance cut him off. You both turned to see the colorful bursts light up the sky. 

“...That must be from the festival held on the island today,” Silver explains. “It's a shame we couldn’t visit it.”

Something about this setup felt vaguely familiar, but you had more important things to sort out!

“Wait, what were you saying before??” you asked with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I couldn’t find the candy you wanted. Sorry.”

“WHAT.”

That was not the reaction you intended for this scenario or the scenario you thought this was going to be. 

Silver’s expression went from shocked to apologetic. 

“I didn't know you were looking forward to it so much. I would have tried some other stores.”

“No, wait, it’s fine, really. That… wasn’t what I meant to say. All that matters to me is that we get to spend time together.”

His expression shifts back to his usual one, with a slight smile on his lips. 

“I agree.” He offers his hand. “Let's go?”

You take his offer.

…

You both get comfortable, and make a little pile of blankets and pillows on the lounge floor, in front of the sofa to sit on.  You had a laptop that Idia had generously given you so that you could game together. It was apparently a ‘kinda shoddy old model’ he didn’t use anymore, though it was easily the most expensive thing you currently owned (granted that wasn’t a very difficult title to earn). He even gifted you a gaming mouse, but that’s beside the point. You silently thanked Idia for making this moment possible. 

You and Silver settle into your little pile, leaning against the sofa with the laptop positioned on the coffee table in front of you. You pull up the first episode. At this point Grim joins you, though you don’t really mind. His presence helps ease some of your nerves.

The anime itself is a pretty standard high school romance. The female lead is the kind, studious type, while the male lead is the cool, bad-boy type. The only thing that’s different is that there's magic involved. It makes sense for a world where magic is so normalized, but it’s still kind of odd to you. 

Grim seems to really be getting into the anime, though he keeps yelling at the male lead to do better. Silver, on the other hand, has been pretty quietly engrossed, asking the occasional question or making the occasional comment. You’ve been telling him about any tropes that you saw, since that was the original idea (and your excuse to get Silver to watch anime with you, for some reason). You kind of fear he’s being too serious about this, though that’s Silver for you. 

“That’s what a ‘beach episode’ is," you explain. "Though that one didn’t happen to us.” turning your attention from the credits to Silver. 

“I see.” He met your eyes with a dead serious expression. Like you were explaining battle strategy instead of the concept of fanservice to him. “The bathing suits increase romantic tension,” he summarizes.

“Right,” you say as you turn back to play the next episode. 

The next few episodes pass without much of note. Though as the credits of another episode begin, you hear Silver say your name, calling your attention to him. He seems ever so slightly reluctant to speak, seeming to take a moment to think over his words before he continues.

“...Is this the type of guy you like?” He asked, seeming genuinely curious. 

Grim responded before you could.

“OBVIOUSLY NOT! NO WAY MY HENCH-HUMAN WOULD FALL FOR A DOUCHE LIKE THAT! I WOULDN’T ALLOW IT!”

“Realistically, yeah, I probably wouldn’t go for someone like that,” you answer after Grim. “But it can still be pretty fun to watch… even if that guy would be kind of a creep in real life.”

Silver lets out a little hum in response, seeming to think over what he heard. You play the next episode. It was getting pretty late at this point. 

Grim was the first to fall asleep. You carried him upstairs to bed when he did. 

Silver was the next to go. You knew it when you felt a pressure on your shoulder and saw silver hair in the corner of your eye. If it was anyone else, you would have thought this to be another one of those trope moments, but this wasn’t really out of the ordinary for you two. You often lent each other your shoulders to rest on. 

You didn’t want to wake him, so you continued watching the anime alone. You could catch him up later. Plus, you were getting pretty into it at this point. There were hints that a big confession was coming up, and you wanted to see how that would play out.

You found the moment quietly comfortable. Sitting on the floor, watching a nostalgic shoujo while Silver slept on your shoulder. Seeing him sleep always brought you a comfortable feeling, but something about it now felt even more calming and intimate. 

You smile at the thought, and let yourself succumb to the drowsiness it brings. 

—-------------------------------------------

The first thing Silver saw when he woke up was the laptop’s screen, which had long since gone black. 

The next thing he noticed was that he was leaning on the prefect’s shoulder. He was about to get up and apologize to them for falling asleep, and on their shoulder at that, when he realized the third thing: the weight of their head on his. 

He took a silent moment to listen to their breath, finding it rhythmic and quiet. The prefect had fallen asleep. 

He slowly raised his hand and cradled their head with it, so that they wouldn’t fall when he moved away. He guided them to lay down on the blankets. He stared down at them, noting how they seemed to be pretty deeply asleep, while deciding what to do.

He checks the time. 2:08 AM. He lets himself stare at them a moment longer before deciding to carry them to their bedroom. 

He hooks a hand under their knees and behind their back, gently lifting them up. With light steps he carries them up the stairs, to their room. He carefully laid them down on their bed, letting himself brush some of their hair out of their face before stepping back. 

For a moment longer he watched the prefect sleep. It was a rare sight for him, considering it was usually the prefect who was awake. He felt his expression soften, filled with that quiet emotion that rang ever so loud in his chest. 

“Sleep well,” he whispered, before turning around to go to the lounge. Before he could take a step, he felt something tugging on his sleeve. 

“You can…stay… if you want.”

A drowsy voice spoke from behind him. Part of him wondered if it was his still hazy mind playing tricks on him. Though turning around, he saw the prefect reaching out and tugging at his sleeve. 

“But…there’s only one bed?”

The prefect’s expression, illuminated by moonlight seeping through the drapes, was something between confusion and surprise. 

“Wait… no… that's a fanfiction trope…” They started, before mumbling something incoherent. 

“Nevermind,” they concluded. The hand tugging at Silver’s sleeve dropped, and the prefect made room on the bed. They patted the newly created emptiness sleepily. “We can share.” 

Silver stared at the space for a moment, then at the prefect, who seemed to be fighting to stay conscious. Finally, he spoke.

“...If I may.”

Slowly, he climbed in next to the prefect. 

The bed was small. There was no way two people could sleep in it without some sort of contact. The prefect gave him a sleepy smile and mumbled a single “goodnight” before it seemed like sleep caught back up with them. 

Silver found himself entranced by the prefect, their proximity, the way pale moonlight shone on them and gave them a truly dreamlike glow. He wanted to stay awake just to be able to indulge in this experience, to look at the prefect for a little bit longer, but he found himself unable to fight off the quickly approaching sleep. Instead, he chose to slowly brush back the strand of hair that had yet again come untucked, letting fingertips weighed down by sleep just barely trace their cheek as they made their way back down. Before he closed his eyes, he took one last good look at them before shutting his eyes.

As his mind sank deeper into hazy sleep, one thought seemed clear, as if reverberating with the beating of his heart:

I love you.

You weren’t surprised. Personalities like his were… hard to come by at Night Raven College. Plus, he had the perfect looks to go along with it. He’d look right in place as a cool and mysterious male lead of some manga, whose secret soft and affectionate side would be revealed by him caring for a box of kittens in the rain. It really was not hard to imagine that scenario, actually. 

You first became acquainted with him on a visit to Diasomnia. You were on pretty good terms with the guys there, and you came over from time to time to hang out or have tea or ‘bother’ Sebek. Getting to know Silver was kind of a natural effect of getting to know the other members of the dorm. Before long, you found yourself drawn to him. You found reasons to hang out with him and tried your best to get closer to him. Yet a part of you wondered:

Would your love remain unrequited?

You shook the thought away. It wasn’t the time to be pondering your love life. You were supposed to be celebrating getting through a particularly awful week of exams with your freshman friends. 

To celebrate, you guys had all gone to the store after school and bought some snacks to share outside for an impromptu picnic. Everyone other than Sebek was there, chatting. You thought it was really nice, having a picnic on a nice day like this with all your friends. A part of you was sort of shocked you had managed to make this many friends already. You weren’t always the most social person back home. Being involved in basically every major event since your enrollment is apparently a great way at getting connections. 

You start to dig into the pastry you bought yourself when you hear Grim’s voice beside you. 

“Hey, Hench human! Gimme some of that!”

“No,” you reply. “We made a deal that this is mine and yours is yours when I bought them.” It was your favorite pastry after all, and it's not like you got to splurge on it often. 

“But I changed my mind! Yours is looking real good right now!”

“That's just because you already ate yours!” 

“Come onnn,” Grim whined. “At least one bite? If you don’t give me at least one bite I’ll…” He paused for a moment, thinking of a suitable threat. 

“...tell everyone about your crush on Silver!”

…In hindsight, telling him that was a mistake. 

You look around the courtyard, relieved to see no one else there. The relief is short-lived. 

“WHAT??” you heard Ace and Deuce in unison across from you. You sighed wearily. 

“You? Have a crush? On Silver????” Ace started. “I mean, come on, perfect. You gotta think about the future. There's so many other, richer students here and–”

“That's your problem??” you interject.

“--You have a crush on Silver??” Ace continues. You really wish he would stop repeating that so loud or else someone might–

“HUMAN! YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SILVER?” 

You could just about cry when you see Sebek appear, looking particularly aghast. You see him take a breath in, and that's around when you start tuning him out. For your own sake. 

Deuce, Epel, and Jack look incredibly apologetic. 

“I mean… I don’t think Silver’s a bad choice” Deuce says, almost consolingly. 

Epel agrees. “He’s got good looks, he’s cool, he’s strong…” Somehow Epel looks vaguely downcast. “I can see why you’d like him. He’s like the perfect guy. Almost too perfect, honestly…”

You turn to Jack, to keep yourself distracted from whatever Sebek is spouting. “What do you think, Jack?”

He shrugs. “Its not really any of my business. But Silver’s a good guy. I think you guys’ll be good together.” 

“Jack…” You smiled at your friend's encouragement. 

“---AND NOT TO MENTION–!”

Ughh. You’re going to have to do something about that. 

—-------------------------------------------

Silver didn’t really know much about romance. 

He had only ever read about it, as described by the flowing prose of a sonnet or novel. 

Silver also didn’t really know what it was he felt towards the prefect. But he knew it was something important. 

His interest in the prefect started out as something like curiosity. After all, they were a magicless student enrolled in a magic college and had somehow managed to work through multiple overblots and charm half the school along with it. And somewhere along the line, he had found himself under that very charm. 

When he got to know them, he got to see more of their personality and struggles. How they desperately looked for meaning and belonging in a world foreign to them. How despite every disadvantage, they still tried to do what they could in any given situation, even if they really didn’t want to. He could tell at least that much from all the times he helped the prefect study to try to make up for Grim’s subpar academic performance. 

Yet what struck him most of all was how comfortable he felt with them. They had shared many peaceful moments together, yet somehow, Silver rarely found himself drowsy during them. 

The prefect had a knack for finding him wherever he fell asleep, and waking him up so that he wouldn’t be late, or rained on by an incoming storm. They would walk him to wherever he had to go, having a nice discussion about whatever topic comes to mind on the way there. Sometimes he would just let the Prefect talk to listen to how passionate their voice can get when they talk about something they like. Sometimes he didn't really understand what they spoke of, but he listened with interest nonetheless, as to settle some kind of instinct to learn all he can of the prefect. 

And at some point, whenever he’d be on the thin verge of waking up, he’d hazily think it’d be nice if it was the Prefect he’d wake to. Strangely enough, his heart felt full when he would open his eyes and see the prefect crouched next to him, gently shaking his shoulder and calling his name. He wasn’t exactly sure what to make of all of this.

So, he went and asked his father about it. 

—-------------------------------------------

Some time has passed, as circumstance would have it, you're spending even more time with Silver than usual. However, something odd always occurs when you two are together. 

Odd as in it feels like the genre of your life has switched to shoujo. Every time you’re with him, some sort of shoujo trope occurs. You feel like you're going insane. 

You didn’t notice it at first, thinking it was just fate letting you have some romantic tension, but by the third or fourth time? It becomes a pattern. And no one else seems to notice.

…

You were talking with Silver off on the side of the street when someone running bumps into him. Before you can even see who it was, you find yourself falling backwards from Silver being pushed towards you. 

You closed your eyes to brace for impact. However, it was not as hard as you anticipated. Instead, when you opened your eyes, you found your vision filled with Silver. His hair, glistening in the sun behind him, hanging down close enough that the tips of it tickled your cheek. He looked down at you with concern. Though what your mind was most preoccupied was how close his face was to yours. A little movement closer and you’d probably kiss. 

You registered that he was balanced on one hand over you, his other hand holding the back of your head to keep you from smashing your skull on the pavement. To your dismay (delight?) he didn’t move away when he spoke.

“I’m sorry. I should have been more vigilant. Are you hurt?” It didn’t make it any better that he maintained eye contact. 

You turned your head to the side. You were keenly aware he was still holding it and quickly try to move to support yourself. “I’m uhm. Good, I think.” He nodded, getting up. He was quick to lend you a hand and help you up, to which you muttered a quiet ‘thanks’. He seemed to notice something then. 

“Your elbow’s bleeding,” He pointed out.

You checked it. Sure enough, your sleeve was dyed red. “I guess it must have gotten scraped pretty badly,” you added.

“I’ll take you to the nurse’s office. Let's go.” 

When you found yourselves at the nurses office, the nurse was conspicuously gone, so Silver tended to your wound himself.  You rolled up your sleeve, and took in the feeling of his calloused fingers touching your skin ever so gently. 

“This might sting a bit,” he warned as he disinfected your wound.

You just kind of watched him work, still in a daze as to what just happened. 

…

You were having lunch with Ace, Deuce, and Grim. Seeing as the other Diasomnia students were busy today, you decided to invite Silver to join your table.

It seems like your friends had some sort of secret agreement to act as your wingmen, which would be nice if it was anything other than whatever was going on now. 

“The prefect is… uh… really good at cleaning windows,” Deuce started.

Ace nodded a little too vigorously for someone talking about cleaning windows. “Yeah! I mean, have you seen how big the windows at Ramshackle are? And how… clear they are!?”

The worst part was probably that Silver was responding with full earnestness. 

“I have. It must be difficult to clean such large windows without magic. If you need help with it, I’d be willing.”

“Yeah…That would be nice…” You stared down at your plate, unwilling to look anyone here in the eye. 

Grim also spoke up. Internally, you sighed. 

“My hench human can also cook a mean…” Grim seemed to think back to the barren pantry at Ramshackle. “Pasta!”

You sighed. You really did appreciate your friends trying to sell you to your crush, but at the same time, you were kind of insulted that the only good qualities they could think of were your ability to clean windows and boil pasta. 

As the conversation continued around you, you reached for your drink to take a sip. 

However, when the taste hit you, you realized this was not your drink. It was Silver’s.

You could have sworn your drink was right there. You were absolutely positive. 

You felt yourself blush at your mistake, and the–

“INDIRECT KI–” Grim started, only to be cut off by Ace slapping a hand over his mouth. 

You facepalmed with an audible grumble. Silver, beside you, seemed very concerned.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah… Sorry, I just accidentally drank out of your drink. I’m really not sure how that happened. I must be really out of it.”

“Oh. I’m not sick, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He had a concerned smile, probably at how oddly you were acting. “You can have it, if you like the taste. I can just get another one.”

“No, it's fine, really. If you still want it back, you can have it. I’m not sick either.”

“I see.” He still seemed slightly concerned, but took his drink back, taking a sip. 

“DOUBLE INDIRE–”

 This time Deuce was the one to slap his hand over Grim’s mouth. 

…

You led Silver to a spot you thought would be a good place for today’s study session. It was a semi-abandoned classroom on one of the higher levels that you’d found one day when randomly wandering the halls. You thought the environment would be perfect for some studying. 

Yet almost as soon as you close the door behind you, you hear the distinct noise of a spell whizzing by through the open window. Silver reacts immediately.

“Watch out!” 

He jumps to cover you. 

The spell hits a bit away from the both of you. It doesn’t seem to be too dangerous, merely knocking back some chairs and sending some papers fluttering. 

Though that wasn’t the most pressing matter to you right now. 

“Not again…” You mutter under your breath. 

You found yourself boxed in against the door, with Silver leaning against it on his elbows, leaving... not a lot of distance between you. Actually, there really wasn’t any distance between you. You were kind of sandwiched between the door and his chest, which, all things considered, wasn’t all that bad of a position. 

At this point, you started to recognize the pattern here.

“This is totally a kabedon.” You mutter, not meeting his questioning gaze. You knew you were definitely blushing.

“Are you okay?” He asks, apparently choosing to prioritize your safety over your odd mumbling. 

“Yeah…”

He nods, though stays like that a moment longer looking at you, as if trying to puzzle out your expression, before he hurriedly moves away with a hasty apology. 

“Stay there for a moment,” he orders as he goes to check the window. You could swear you saw the slighted blush on his cheeks. It brought you some comfort that you're not alone, at least not on that front. 

He seemed confused as he checked around. 

“That’s odd. That spell was definitely cast at a relatively short distance, yet there's no evidence of anyone or anything here…” He turned back to face you. “Either way, we should probably study at the library for today.” 

…

Something odd is definitely going to occur.

That was the overwhelming feeling as you walked to Ramshackle. You had PE last period today. There was never a normal day in that locker room, so to save yourself the hassle you decided you would just change back at home. Lucky for you, class was inside today, since the weather looked bad, so it as intense as usual.

You saw Silver some distance away, crouched down by a box.

This is going to be the kittens, isn’t it, you thought. 

Sure enough, Silver picks up a little black blob. 

Well, at least it's not in the rain.

As if on cue, it starts pouring. 

Silver, obviously more prepared than you, opens up an umbrella. He seems to notice you, and calls you over. 

By the time you make it to him, you're completely drenched. He quickly invites you under the umbrella.

“What's with the kittens?” you ask. How does a box of kittens even appear on campus??

“Their mother doesn’t seem to be around, and I’m afraid they’re too young to be out on their own. Especially in this weather.” 

Suddenly the odd feeling came back. He’s going to offer you his blazer, isn't he? While it was kind of cold being drenched, you weren’t going to catch a cold from something as minor as–

“--Achoo.” What a plot-convenient sneeze on your part.

“Ah.” Silver began taking off his blazer, handing it to you. “Take it, it would be bad if you caught a cold.” Semi begrudgingly, you took him up on his offer. It was a bit big on you, but felt comfortably warm against your cold, damp skin. It smelled like him, too.

“Thanks.” You smiled. He returned the gesture, which somehow felt much softer coming from him. 

“I’ll walk you to Ramshackle, if that's fine with you.”

“I’d appreciate that. It's not too far from here. Here, I’ll take the kittens” You pick up the box of squirming and mewing balls of fluff. “You can wait out the rain with them at Ramshackle, if you’d like.”

“That’d be nice. Let's go?” You nod, and you both start walking. 

“So, what are you going to do with them?” you ask, motioning to the kittens.

“Ill probably give them to the faculty to give to a shelter on the island. There's nothing we can really do for them on campus.”

“That's a shame. They're so cute.” You smile down at the kittens. Silver hums in agreement.

A short time later, you both make it onto Ramshackle’s porch. You find yourself almost completely dry (or at the very least not wetter than you already were), while half of Silver was drenched. 

“...You didn’t have to, y’know.” You say, after noticing.

“I don’t mind as long as you’re dry.”

He really is too sweet to you, you thought as you fiddled with your keys and the lock. 

“I’ll go get you a towel. You can take the kittens to the lounge.” He’s been at ramshackle a few times before, so you figured he knew where to go while you grabbed a towel and a change of clothes for yourself. 

You caught sight of yourself in a mirror and were reminded you were still in Silver's blazer. You stopped a moment, feeling some mystifying pull in your heart. His blazer...

Right. You mentally make a note that you should probably dry it somewhere since it's gotten damp from your clothes.

After you changed, you entered the lounge holding a set of hot drinks for the two of you. 

“I started the fire, if that’s alright with you.” He was sitting on the couch, box of kittens at his side.

“Thanks,” you say, setting the drinks on the coffee table before sitting down yourself. You decide to start the conversation. 

“Y’know…I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you lately, but I think things have been… strange lately.”

“...Strange?” his expression didn’t change, but something in his voice felt reluctant.

You quickly backtracked. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

“I mean the things that have been happening lately have been strange.”

“I suppose there have been some strange occurrences. Are you worried about them?”

“Not really, it's just… hard to explain. It's kind of like… someone's going down a list of shoujo anime tropes…”

He… probably doesn’t know what that is.

“I mean like, romance tropes. It's like you’re about to say something about ‘all men being wolves’ or something.”

Yeah, you really talked yourself into a hole there. 

Silver seemed to process for a second before speaking.

“...There are some wolf beastmen in Savanaclaw.” 

It was a good attempt, you thought. 

You really liked talking with Silver because no matter what you’d talk about, he’d always listen and try to understand it, which was something you really valued as a magicless human who was often overlooked and talked over. 

“Nevermind. Are you free tomorrow night? You could come sleep over. I could show you what I’m talking about.”

And so you now had plans for a sleepover with Silver. You were really excited. As soon as the rain cleared and Silver left with the kittens, you began your preparations. 

First things first, you need material. And you only knew one person who could provide.

Hey do you have any shoujo anime recs? Idk whats good in this world

You sent a text to Idia. Out of all of your friends, he is probably the most unexpected. You'd been able to bond over a mutual enjoyment of games and anime, enough to get to this point. That's honestly probably one of your your most impressive accomplishments here.

I have a bunch lol

Theres one about a girl who becomes a god with this super cool fox beastman familiar Or theres one inspired by the tale of the fairest queen Also this one about this girl who moves in with a bunch of guys who can turn into animals cause of some curse I can keep going

He keeps listing titles. You decide to pick a pretty classic high school one. It’ll hopefully include a bunch of the classic tropes (at least if the tropes of this world match yours…)

Ill go with that one. I need something old and tropey 

You text him your decision.

Oh that ones gonna be perfect then. Its a certified classic y the sudden request for recs tho

You figured your answer is probably going to be a shocker.

Gonna watch anime with Silver

????!!!!!????what??

i.

Malleus had never felt this way before.

This overflowing, saccharine feeling, that made his insides feel as though they were both fuzzy and melting. That confounded him with just how strongly it pulled in his chest. He had never thought such an emotion would hold such power over him—

-–No, he had never thought a person would hold such power over him.

It pulled his vision into searching every hallway, expectant at every turn. Even when he did not find you, you were there. 

Ah, the Child of Man has spoken with great length of their enjoyment of this item or the Child of Man once mentioned a flower similar to this one held great significance to them in their world. 

He would buy what it was that had caught his interest, imagining with a satisfied smile your reaction when he presented it to you. 

Some days he wondered why he was trying so hard to please a single human. Magicless at that. Never before had he bent to the whims of another as he did for you. 

Yet your smile, directed purely at him, during your midnight walks would come to mind, and somehow, it felt like the right answer. 

ii.

Malleus and his attendants sat at their usual table in the cafeteria. Of course, aside from them, it was empty. Malleus didn’t mind. He had better things to worry about. 

Across the cafeteria you sat with your companion, as well as your friends from Heartsbyul. There seemed to be some sort of argument going on, though you seemed more like an amused audience to it, laughing along to the chaos. 

Malleus watched with his head in his hand. He let out a sigh, something with a mix of pleasant emotions and vague exasperation. 

He assumed anyone who saw him thought he was just thinking something over while mindlessly staring across the room. Though his expression must have been more telling than he thought, when Lillia, with a knowing grin, came into view from above. 

“Something caught your eye?”

His reply came naturally.

“Indeed. Ensnared it, even.”

Lillia chuckled, floating down to the spot across from him to begin a discussion.

iii.

Love.

That is what Lillia had insinuated. Malleus agreed that such a charming word felt right for his feelings. 

His only experience of romance was seeing it in books and fairytales. Yet even from there, he had never thought the feeling would be so overpowering, so much that it invaded his thoughts with sweet dreams of the both of you, together. His own personal fairytale. 

As a prince, his mind often wandered to marriage. It was something that was undoubtedly expected of him. At first it had merely occupied his mind on occasion as one of his political duties. Yet now, he saw with that the significance of the ceremony, the connotations of lifetimes spent together filled him with anticipation. To rule on a single throne was a lonely thing, after all. 

Of course, he dreamed of smaller moments that could be shared sooner, too. The quiet moments late at night that had started all this, painted more intimately with a feeling of love; the mundane tribulations of a school life, a burden shared with you. 

He would walk through the hallways, a small smile on his lips, thinking of such joyous and hopeful futures.  Surrounding students cowered, seemingly sensing some sadistic scheme radiating off of him. 

When he realizes this feeling is love, his stare somehow manages to become more intense. Everyone seems to be in awe at how you don’t notice it. From what was a few seconds glance every now and then became a straight on stare. He was told his 'expression didn’t get any less obvious either', though he didn’t really understand what that meant. 

Though he was usually much more diligent, he let himself be consumed by such lovely dreams. It seems not even a future king could resist such sweet temptations.

iv.

Malleus had made it a custom to linger a bit longer than usual when his nightly walks brought him to Ramshackle. He would spend a moment, staring through your bedroom window, wondering if today you will spot him and join him for the evening. 

It seems tonight he had been successful in capturing you. The two of you walked side by side, destination vague though atmosphere calm as usual. 

You stared too.

He wondered if you were conscious of it. He didn’t turn to meet your gaze next to him, sensing you may look away if he did. Instead, he settles for watching you from his peripheral. 

Your stare held a mix of something akin to awe and another emotion that Malleus couldn’t exactly place. Though he knew in his dreams it was the same as his. 

And so the walk carried on as normal, with quiet conversation about the usual topics. Yet these days, it seemed the moonlight shined even brighter and the whistle of wind in the trees sounded even more melodic. 

v.

Malleus knew that the love he held was not something light or easy to take. It felt raw, all encompassing, weighed heavy. It demanded everything, body and mind. Complete devotion. But in return, you would have all of him too. And he would not take what you offered lightly. No, it would be accepted with reverence. 

There was a possessive side he had to grapple with that came with instinct. Dragons were hoarders and would something as valuable as you not be counted as part of that hoard? He knew it was impossible for you to be his in the complete and utter way this feeling wanted you to. He could not ask you to abandon everything, your friends, your dreams and be completely at his loving mercy. But he wanted to. 

Though sometimes such feelings escaped him anyway, and a moment of jealousy would stab him in the stomach when he saw you with your friends. He would pout for a moment, then in the next let out a small laugh at the absurdity of him being controlled by such folly. The silent wish for a monopoly over your ever valuable time would dissipate with the storm clouds that had so suddenly formed. 

He knew such heavy emotions may intimidate you, so for now, he decided to bade his time, waiting for a sign that you may accept him. 

Though he was blessed with patience (for you, at the very least), he was no saint. He would not wait forever. He didn’t want someone stealing you away, after all. He wasn't really sure what he’d do if that happened. Your life was so short, and not being able to spend so much of it with you scared him in a way he didn’t know existed. He understood the notion was selfish of him, but found himself helpless to the thought. Maybe his love was more twisted than he thought. 

When the time was right, he would court you, nice and slow, as was tradition. (Though according to Lilia, he had apparently already started the process by giving so many gifts. He disagreed. Those gifts were cheap things found by chance at random stores, nothing like the jewels he would bestow upon you when he officially began the process). He wanted to be a gentleman, and show that he respected you as person and partner.

Yet another part of him, the more instinct driven and emotional part, yearned to skip through the long process and just have you already. To tell you his feelings without dressing it up in poetry.

Whichever you wanted, princely romance or the rawness of his feelings, he would give. If you wanted chaste exchanges and fairytale moments, or whirlwind passion, or even a mix of both, he would do as you wished. Really, he would do almost anything. It was a strange desperation that clawed at the back of his heart.

The one thing he could not do was love you casually. His feelings had long since gone beyond that of what might be considered of two students who had decided to start going out with each other. He would take loving you with the utmost seriousness, offering you nothing less.

Though for now, any talk of romance was hypothetical. He would have to wait. 

vi.

Tonight, you and Malleus found yourselves on a grassy field, looking up at the stars. You hadn’t expected to come here, though Malleus had suddenly suggested you both pay a visit to a spot he quite enjoyed. You obliged, and found the spot quite stunning indeed.

It was quiet, which was no surprise coming from a spot Malleus liked. Though something about the atmosphere felt romantic in a fairytale sense. The two of you, alone on a warm, quiet night, laying in a field, having conversations under the cosmos. Somewhere far off you could hear the faint chirp of cicadas. The fireflies were also present, which added a definite magical touch to the moment. 

You enjoyed it, quickly finding yourself getting comfortable in the grass. The conversation had taken a turn towards you, and you were having fun rambling off about a topic you were keenly interested in, watching the stars twinkle above you as you talked half to them and half to Malleus. You were getting really into it. He listened patiently, occasionally humming in response.

“---right?” You had turned to face him, prompting him to agree with the point you had made.

Yet as he came into view, you found yourself silently stunned. He laid on his side, head resting in his hand, facing you. Emerald irises gazed with both such heavy emotion and such fond softness upon you that for a moment, you found yourself trapped in them. You couldn’t remember the last time someone's gaze made you feel this trapped and helpless, or the last time it caused your heart to stop and hurt and race all at the same time.  You only broke away from the spell of his eyes when he spoke, your gaze shifting to his mouth, as if staying locked in eye contact would crush you. His smile was slight, but clearly present, seeming to grace his face naturally.

“Indeed.” 

Somehow the casual response was not what you’d been expecting with that expression. Your mind had long since short circuited. You just kind of stared blankly at him.

He tilted his head slightly, as if confused why you stopped. Though the expression remained the same. “Is something the matter, dearest Child of Man? You may continue with what you were saying.”

Absentmindedly, you wondered if he even realized the expression he was making, or how softly his voice flowed. Though you quickly broke out of your stupor, giving him a lame excuse. 

“Oh… Sorry. I forgot what I was going to say next…”

He simply let out a hum. “I see. If you recall, do feel free to continue.” With that, he turned to lay on his back and face the stars. You went back to viewing them as well. You tried to process your feelings as you stared up into the heavens.

Snow fluttered around you and Malleus as you sat on the roof of Ramshackle, perched between two gargoyles. Around you, snow blanketed the landscape, leaving nothing but serene white. Only the ground surrounding you laid untouched by snow and ice, courtesy of Malleus. You gaze off into the imposing silhouette of the Night Raven College building, still visible through the gray haze and falling snowflakes. 

You seemed filled with child-like giddy when you spotted the first few flakes falling outside. You had urged him to come to the window and look. He didn’t really understand your excitement, though obliged your requests with vague curiosity. 

It really was just normal snowfall. The only real significance it held to him was a sign that he should start the fireplace, lest the temperatures in the already poorly insulated building drop any lower. 

You two lounged by the fire as snow continued falling. Suddenly, however, you excitedly prompted the idea of watching the snow on the roof. And thus, you both found yourselves here. 

Malleus found himself enjoying this impromptu outing. It was peaceful, if not a bit desolate. Though feeling your presence next to him made the quietness feel like something personal shared between you. The gargoyles were always a nice bonus.

The landscape itself was beautiful, though nothing special to him. He had seen such winter scenes many times already, and he would see them many times more. Though the same could not truly be said for you. Humans were creatures defined by their short lifespans. Something that only occurs for a short while each year must indeed have greater significance to them, especially when it is as delicate and ephemeral as a winter’s snow. 

He turned his gaze to you, watching as you stared off into the distance with sparkling eyes. It felt like he suddenly understood your infatuation with the snow more clearly. Though the feeling was accompanied with a twinge of melancholy.

Somehow, it reminded him of a recent conversation comparing marital tradition. A simple cultural exchange, though one that Malleus seemed especially interested in. (This was, after all, incredibly important information for the future). He was pleasantly surprised to find many core traditions were the same, such as the giving of valuables to signify union, and large ceremonies being commonplace. Though some other traditions confused him. (“The groom, in some cases, removes the bride’s garter in front of all the other guests? How scandalous.”)

One tradition he fixated on was the bride’s attire. An extravagant white dress, which trailed along the aisle. A veil painting the bride's features hazy white, to be lifted and reveal with it one's love. Beautiful, he imagined.

By this point, you had been sitting in the snow for a good while. Your hair had been powdered with soft, sparkling snow, clinging to strands that were softly carried by the wind. Even your eyelashes had traces of glistening white. It evoked that image of a white veil to him, with the clumps of white like flowers embroidered on. Beautiful indeed, he thought. 

With gentle hands, he lifted this ephemeral veil, wiping the small pile of snow from your head, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on a newly fallen snowflake on your cheeks, tinted rose from the cold. 

“Mal?” You turned to him with slight surprise. He usually didn’t initiate contact, though there were times where he couldn’t help himself. 

His eyes fell to your neck, which was slightly exposed due to your scarf becoming untied. 

“...Your scarf is undone, Dearest,” he replied to your questioning stare, before tying it snugly around your neck. When he finished, he let his eyes linger on you a second longer before turning back to the scenery.  

He preoccupied himself with thoughts of wedding ceremonies, thinking of how he could incorporate elements of both traditions in it. Though what he did know for sure was that he would dress you with the finest silks and jewels, so that you sparkled like fresh snow; so that you sparkled in the eyes of everyone else like you already did to him. Dragons valued their treasure, after all, and you would be his most precious one. 

He did not tell you such thoughts of being wed, knowing that it was an imposing thing. But he hoped you would allow him the indulgence. 

Suddenly, a flash next to him took him out of his thoughts. He quickly faced it to find a phone camera. 

“Oh. Crap. I didn’t mean for the flash to go off…” You tapped on your phone, checking the photo. Your eyes light up. “But it still came out good.”

Malleus quirked an eyebrow. “Why the sudden photo?” He knew you had an affinity for taking photos, and he had seen you taking photos of the scenery earlier. Though he wasn’t expecting you to take one of him.

There was a moment of shy hesitation before you replied.

“I thought you looked beautiful. With the snow and all.” You let out a shy laugh. “You looked so peaceful. You had this small, natural smile. Did you even realize you were smiling?”

“I did not.”

“Well, I did.” Your smile was playful, though it quickly shifted to a softer, more serious one. “I thought it was all beautiful. So I took a photo. I want to be able to remember it as clearly as I see it now.” 

He lets out a hum, expression shifting to a smirk. “I see. May I?” He reaches out a hand, gesturing to your phone. 

With a slight mix of confusion, you hand the phone over. 

Almost as quickly as it is in his hands, the camera is pointed at you. You only have a split second to try to hit a pose before the tap of long nails on the screen signifies your photo has been taken. 

He takes a moment to review the photo, humming pleasantly when he finds it to his liking. 

“Lovely,” he nods, “Send me a copy of that photo later.” He hands you back your phone. You take the chance to look over the photo yourself. 

You found your expression ever so slightly off due to the lack of preparation. It bothered you. “Are you sure?” you said, tone half joking. “My face looks kind of weird in this one.”

“Nonsense. You undervalue your charm. Have you forgotten that you’ve gotten a prince to fall for you?” He could go on, and most definitely would, had you not stopped him. Whenever he starts speaking about you, it’s like you shut down from a mix of embarrassment and astonishment, your cheeks only growing redder the more flowery his prose becomes, knowing that each word carries his true and serious feelings. 

Truly, love has painted you better than any portrait could. Everything else---the dress, the jewels, the soft snow---is just set dressing for what peeks through. Though perhaps his favorite ornament was the increasingly flustered blush on your cheeks. 

You both return to looking out at the scenery. A silent moment passes, interrupted only by the low howl of a wind picking up and the barely audible tinkling of loose snow gliding along it. 

Malleus notices you packing snow together in your hands in his peripheral. He was just about to recommend you put on gloves to do that when he was hit in the leg by the snow you had just been packing.

Once again, he cocked his head and looked at you curiously. Had he upset you earlier, and that is why you threw snow at him? 

“Wow,” you said with a mix of shock and embarrassment. “That was abysmal.”

You explained you had meant to hit a tree below where you were sitting, situated slightly on Malleus’ side. You hadn’t considered your throw could be just that…pitiful. 

“Things really aren’t going my way today, huh?” You laughed, letting yourself fall back into the snow-covered rooftop behind you. The snow framed you in soft whiteness that bled into your hair. Your expression seemed as soft as the snow that landed on you, sparkled on your cheeks and eyelashes. Though for right now, he had something more pressing to consider than all the merits of this composition you’ve handed to him. 

“Why did you throw snow?”

You seemed surprised by his confusion for a moment before replying. 

“It's a snow ball. They’re fun to have fights with by throwing them at each other, or even just hitting things with them and watching them break apart. They don't really hurt. Unless you throw them too hard. Or put ice in them.” Your eyes gloss over a moment, as if remembering something, and you murmured a quiet declaration about how you’ll “get back at him for that” before continuing on normally. 

“Last time it snowed, I had some snowball fights with Ace, Deuce and Grim. It was fun, though whoever ended up on Grim’s team always lost.” You recalled the memory of your friends with a kind smile. 

“Interesting.” He said, wondering if he should attempt something similar with you. Your darkened expression came to mind for a split second, and he quickly decided that on second thought, he did not want to be the cause of something similar. 

You sat up and complained about how cold your hands were, having held cold snow in them. 

For a moment Malleus wonders if these actions were just you trying to get attention from him. The thought makes his heart bubble with a warm feeling. He decides internally that he will of course humor your wishes. 

“Shall we return inside, then?” He says with a princely smile, extending a hand which you quickly take. Your hand is indeed cold, but there is no worry. He’ll be sure to warm you up nicely.