#khdr hermod

              Rounding a corner, my heart, just like my foot, skips when I nearly collide with the crowd I’ve let down.

              An outstretched arm intercepts me before I can crash. “Woah! Slow down!”

              Hermod, my boyfriend and the reason I have a great group of new friends, pulls me upright. Steadied by my grip on his haori, I heave so hard my lungs might just fall on the concrete.

              “And here we thought you’d forgotten,” teases the red-head. When I can’t stop gasping, Bragi tacks on, “Geeze, I thought Eraqus was Tardy Fleetfoot.”

              Said ‘Fleetfoot’ leans down. “Are you okay?”

              One more breath gives me my voice back. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I was reading a book and I lost track of time! When I looked at the clock, I freaked out and ran all the way here! I’m so sorry!”

              Soft chuckling brings my attention to the young man with an arm still around me. “It’s alright. We’ve still got some time,” he chuckles. A dip of his head connects his lips to my forehead, washing over that anxiety with a sweet serenity.

              “Cut it out, you two,” Urd insists, clearly not pleased by my tardiness. My boyfriend leans back, still happy but with a tad bit of sheepish mixed in. “That time we have is not enough for you to make out. If we don’t get going, we’ll miss the show.”

              “It might already be sold out!” little blond Vor exclaims.

              “Then let’s get a move on,” urges the boy in black.

              The group agrees and scampers through the streets towards the theater. When we get there, we see the mass of people shuffling into the stadium.

              “Okay, Vor and I will get the tickets,” insists the taller girl, holding her hand out expectantly.

              The boys rifle through pockets, but when I notice Hermod doing the same, I take his sleeve.

              “I’m paying this time,” I say.

              “Oh, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

              “I don’t care if you mind. You paid for the last date; it’s my turn.” His mouth opens to argue. “Don’t make me ask nicely.”

              As it so happens, my asking Hermod ‘nicely’ is actually giving him the best puppy eyes I can, letting my bottom lip slip forward just a little, and saying please. My poor teddy bear has yet to refine any resistance to this technique. Due to this unfair trump card, I reserve it for dire occasions but sometimes just its mention is enough to tilt things in my favor.

              Shoulders slouch. “Fine.”

              Victoriously smiling, I place a peck against his cheek and scurry after the girls. As we chat, a peculiar couple comes up behind us. The woman tears into the man about them not showing up on time—I kind of feel sorry for him. Even so, their conflict is so unbearably awkward that it completely silences the light-hearted conversation we’d been having. There’s only a single person in front of us, but they cannot move fast enough to get us away from this disaster. Thankfully, after Urd gets her batch of tickets, the man sends the woman away, leaving the queue in an uncomfortable silence.

              Vor grabs hers next and bustles away while I quickly purchase mine. About halfway between the ticket booth and my friends, a hand takes my shoulder: it’s the man.

              “Uh…can I help you?” I ask, disquiet quickly simmering in my gut.

              “Yeah, actually, you bought the last two tickets. Mind if I take them?” There’s not even a trace of politeness in his words—it’s more like a statement than a request.

              Eyes dart to the group gossiping not that far away. I point in their direction. “Actually, I’m here to see the show with my friends. Sorry.”

              Anger rivaling the woman’s snaps into place. “So what. They can tell you about it later. Give me those tickets!”

              Not exactly a fighter myself, I step back. As I do, he reaches for me.

              A flash of green swipes up, swatting the grasping hand away. My boyfriend has come to save me with suspicion written across his face.

              “Is there a problem here?”

              “It’s none of your business,” growls the man.

              Slate eyes turn on me and I tell him, “He wants our tickets.”

              “And you paid for them?” I nod. Ever polite, the young man says, “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t have our tickets. Please excuse us.” He turns back to me. “Come on. The show’s starting.”

              Relief takes over too soon when a fist appears around my wrist. So tight is the grasp that my hand quavers and I’m certain there will be bruising. This sudden spike of pain draws a yelp from my mouth that the heckler doesn’t acknowledge as he jerks me closer.

              In the next instant, I’m free. In the same manner, a hand crushes the thug’s wrist. An existential dread rolls over me and the man seems to realize he’s made a mistake.  

              I’ve always described my soft Hermod as a bear: he’s the biggest sweetheart, always looking out for me, and as cuddly as one might expect. However, another reason my brain thinks of a bear when concerning my boyfriend is his rage. He has a saintly patience; it takes something truly serious to push him to anger—something like assaulting his girlfriend—and when he reaches that point, he is terrifying. I’ve only ever seen this one other time when he was having a truly miserable day. He apologized afterwards but I will never forget the fury he exhumed, almost as if he were another person. He is the embodiment of a bear, anger and all.

              “Hermod!” Vor shouts.

              “Hold on there, Brother Bear!” Bragi appears and places a hand on the threatening arm.

              “How dare you,” Hermod snarls lowly, ignoring his friends. Barely veiled violence hides in his eyes. “She is under no obligation to give you anything and her refusal to do so gives you no right to put your hands on her.” I see his grip tighten, bringing the assailant to his knees. “Now apologize.”

              There’s resistance but a further constricting grip accompanied by bared teeth coerce a response. “S-Sorry!”

              Hermod’s hold releases, signaling that his uncertain classmates can relax.

              “You’d do well to learn some manners,” growls the irate boy. With that, an arm gently ushers me away from the scene. Every bit of that tense anger can be felt in his shielding arm. Anxiety bubbles in my chest but I follow without fuss.

              Only a few steps away and the man shows us he’s learned nothing. A boot to the back of my knee messes up my balance. My elbow scrapes across the ground though I’m far more concerned with the ensuing roar. Peering back reveals a frenzied Hermod swinging his keyblade. The weapon strikes the man hard enough to send him across the clearing into a brick wall where he crumples to the ground. Only three straining boys stop the young man from resuming his rampage.

              “DON’T YOU FUCKING COME NEAR HER AGAIN!” My jaw drops—I’ve never heard Hermod utter a single curse word in all our time dating, even on his worst days.

              The girls dash for the downed man. Urd exclaims, “He’s out cold!”

              “I WILL DESTROY YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

              “He can’t hear anything!” Xehanort shouts.

              “You got ‘im!” adds Bragi. “He’s done!”

              Their words fall on deaf ears as the fight to get at his foe floods Hermod’s mind. It’s frightening, far worse than the last time I saw him like this. If the others let him go, who knows what he’d do to that man—I can’t even guarantee murder would be off the table.

              As I watch the struggle, his name barely escapes my mouth. “Hermod.”

              Nothing changes; he’s still fighting—fighting to defend me.

              This is for me…

              Shoving off the ground, I rush to help the boys. Fists snag handfuls of the haori and push against his chest.

              “Hermod, stop! Please!”

              It all freezes; only heavy pants from the four boys breaks the silence. Almost afraid of what I might find, I peek up at my boyfriend’s face—it’s blank, like a chalkboard wiped clean. I don’t know if this makes me relieved or worried.

              Vor breaks the silence with an announcement. “Guys, he might need a doctor.”

              The wary boys release their classmate and Xehanort leans towards Bragi. “We’ll take care of the moron; you get these two someplace they can calm down.”

              “Good plan.” A palm to the chest pushes the impassive boy back. “Alright Brother Bear, let’s get outta here. You too, chickadee, come on.”

              Bragi steers the two of us down the street away from the mess we left. Silence stirs the distress I’d been boiling throughout the ordeal; I’m unable to stop ruminating on images of that fury.

              At the student dorms where the keyblade wielders train, our chaperone branches off. He leaves us in the entrance hall, still stifled in quiet, but returns rather quickly.

              “Yo, Hermod.” He shoves a box into the taller boy’s arms. “You might wanna patch up your girlfriend.”

              A light finally sparks in his eyes and Hermod turns on me. “Are you okay?”

              This is my Hermod and it’s almost alarming how this gentle giant could turn into something so vicious.

              “Yeah,” I mumble.

              That pain adds to my uncertainty, but it all goes out the window when my feet leave the ground. Too stunned to do anything about it, I let Hermod carry me through the halls of the student dorms; I do, however, flinch when his door flies open and closes with another slam. Hermod’s back hits the wall and he slumps to the floor, still clinging to me.

              “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into my shoulder.

              It takes a moment to gather my words. “That…That was pretty scary,” I whisper back.

              “I know and you deserve to be mad at me. I was out of line and I wasn’t thinking, but when he…”

              I already know why it happened, not that it makes it any better. Still, Hermod’s actions were for my sake; I don’t condone what he did but that man made it clear he wasn’t giving up without a fight. My boyfriend was protecting me.

              “Thank you.” Those slate eyes give me a perturbed look. I let the corners of my mouth turn up. “For sticking up for me.”

              Gods, I wanted to make him feel better, not add to that misery. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

              “I know.” I brush the hair from his face. “You’re such a sweetheart. But maybe next time we don’t knock someone unconscious with our keyblade.”

              He let’s a guilty sigh escape him, dropping his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

              A finger leads his gaze back to me. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

              Again, his face hides against me. “It’s not your fault.” Pushing him back, I take his face in my hands and raise a brow; he gets the hint. “But I forgive you.”

              “I love you, Hermod,” I say, running circles across his cheeks with my thumbs.

              There’s the smile I’ve been looking for. “I love you too.”

              Content with the response, I kiss him. It’s short but oh so sweet—they always are with Hermod. I’d spend hours on end kissing him if there weren’t other matters to attend to.

              “Hermod?”

              “Hmm?” It’s a dreamy, peaceful sort of hum.

              “Who taught you the F word?” My accusations are mostly in jest but the results are perfectly entertaining. My gentle teddy bear bursts into a blush and begins stammering like a fool. “It was Bragi, wasn’t it?”

              “I—I—you—wh—”

              “I’m only teasing,” I sing, pinching at his cheeks. “Now fix my elbow please.”

              This vexed sigh comes with an adoring smile as he reaches for the first aid kit.

~~~~~

              Halloween is fast approaching and the citizens of Scala Ad Caelum do what they always do: celebrate. Jack-o-lanterns line the streets, fake spiders and ghosts hang from all heights, and there’s a skeleton on every block. As for the more extreme, there’s a group of people who rent the town hall every year to put on a haunted house. Seeing as this is my favorite time of the year, this annual attraction is always a must-see for me. But this year, I’ve been invited by the keyblade warriors-in-training to tag along with them. There was one person who didn’t seem quite as thrilled though—he’s my boyfriend and he’s not exactly excited to be here.

               “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” I tell him, trying to reaffirm my words by drawing gentle circles against his hip. “We can go home if you want; I don’t mind.” I actually do but forcing him into something that makes him this anxious is borderline bullying.

              There’s a little more sincerity in this smile. “No, it’s alright. Besides, you’ve been looking forward to this for weeks.”

              The corner of my lips pulls back. Oh what this boy wouldn’t do for me.

              This is where Smarmy Fluffcoat makes his entrance. “What are you lovebirds talkin’ about?”

              “Just talking about how amazing that kettle corn smells,” I answer. It’s actually my friendship with the redhead that led me to meeting the rest of the key kids, so I know full well that he’ll never shut up about it if he learns about Hermod’s unease.

              “Uh, right,” Hermod agrees. A peck lands on my temple. “I’ll go get some.”

              “Thank you, sweetheart.” I watch him amble towards the stall with kettle corn, giving a wide berth to the walking dead doing their thing.

              My boy re-joins the line, treat in hand, and the group screws around waiting for our chance to experience the fright. My brain keeps careful track of his behavior while also diverting the attention of our friends away from said behavior. But then the time comes: we’re next to enter the haunted house. At the front waits a woman who greets the visitors and runs through her spiel.

              “And just remember, don’t touch the actors; they won’t touch you.

              “I’m sorry, what?” A trace of fear belies Hermod’s feelings. “There are people in there?”

              I tug on his arm. “It’s okay. They’re not allowed to touch us,” I murmur. “Last chance to back out,” I whisper.

              There’s a nervous gulp but no answer. Pulling back the curtain, the woman coos, “Have fun guys.”

              Without waiting for any of the guys, Urd and Vor charge ahead. Bragi follows with a shrug and I take one last look at Hermod before leading him in, leaving Xehanort and Eraqus to bring up the rear. Only a few steps into the darkness, we hear Urd stumble.

              “Watch your step guys,” she calls back.

              Bragi follows with, “What is this?”

              My foot suddenly sinks, causing me to teeter. Hermod immediately pulls me back, putting a steadying arm around my waist. “Are you okay?!”

              “Yeah,” I laugh. “It’s a mattress.” Hermod wobbles but follows me across.

              Just as he steps off the obstacle, a light flashes on beside us, revealing a rotting face. The zombie screams and my boyfriend leaps back, stumbling into Xehanort who trips back onto the mattress. Eraqus helps his buddy back onto his feet and I manage to pull Hermod away from the terror.

              As we go through halls of dim light, spooky props, and loud noises, actors continue to vex us. Shocks and surprises earn shouts from everyone but most of us laugh it off. Unfortunately, Hermod’s obvious anxiety earns him quite a bit of heckling and it takes stepping between him and the actor or dragging him into the next room to de-escalate the situation. Nevertheless, his stress levels are visibly climbing—each encounter becomes more and more dramatic and I’m not exactly sure what he’s going to do when he hits his breaking point.

              “What’s the hold up?” Bragi asks, addressing our pause.

              “There’s a wall here,” Urd answers.

              Vor adds, “It’s squishy.”

              “Squishy?” Eraqus wonders out loud.

              “Yeah, it—woah!” Suspenseful silence overtakes us while we wait for Vor to explain her exclamation. “Hey, there’s a hole in this wall.”

              “Oh, it’s probably one of those squishy walls you have to push through,” I explain.

              “Oh yeah,” hums Bragi.

              One by one, we squeeze our way through, but the other side isn’t very welcoming to nervous visitors. When I finally escape the squishing trap, I find a very dim light at the far end of the hall. As we go, I can’t help thinking that this hall is suspiciously dark and even more suspiciously empty.

              Hermod’s hand disappears from my grasp and I’m jerked back sharply. Blinding light fills the room along with half a dozen screams but I recognize the back facing me. Worried these fight-or-flight instincts will end badly, I dart around him, throwing my arms around his waist. The erratic movements in his chest cease but I can still feel the chaos in his heart.

              “Keep moving!” Xehanort urges.

              Both his clammy hands remain clasped in mine while we move forward.

              There are only a couple rooms after that yet Hermod keeps his tension under control. Finally, we make it out of the haunted house with little more than a slightly dusty Xehanort and an abashed Hermod.

              The group wanders out of the path of the attraction exit, but I sneak my sweetheart off to the side.

              “Hey, are you okay?”

              Again, with the forced smile. “Yeah. Thank gods it’s over though.” A hand starts in my hair, sliding down to my cheek. Remnant trembling mars his fingers. “Did you have fun?”

              “I did.” Wrapping him in another hug, I nuzzle against his chest. “Thank you.”

              Suddenly, Bragi bursts out in a fit of laughter.

              “What in the world?” I murmur.

              “Not good if Bragi’s laughing,” grumbles Hermod.

              A little stall is stationed, with strings webbed along the top, perfectly displaying newly developed photos. These are images of that suspicious hallway and it clicks: the bright flash was a camera. That’s when I notice the picture all my friends are laughing at. Yes, Urd and Vor are surprised and Bragi is nearly choking Vor while Eraqus and Xehanort at the back look like deer in headlights, but it’s Hermod front and center. He looks ready to fight while I’m barely visible behind his arm.

              “Dude, what the hell were you doing?!” Bragi cackles, pointing at battle-ready Hermod.

              “Looks like he was ready to kick some ass,” snickers Xehanort.

              Glancing to my boyfriend, I see him wear an uncomfortable shade of red across his cheeks.

              Vor turns on him. “You’re a keyblade wielder-in-training. Why are you freaking out?”

              His shame is getting the better of him. “Th-That’s different; these are ghosts and zombies and demons and I’m not allowed to do anything about it!”

              His friends pick and poke at him, only agitating his ego.

              Loudly cutting in, I announce, “Well I’m flattered.” Various eyes watch as I pull the picture from the line and give the vendor a handful of munny.

              Smarmy retorts, “I’m sorry, did you happen to notice your boyfriend is a scaredy cat?”

              “Did you happen to notice, so are you?” I say, pointing at his murder attempt on Vor. “Besides, he acted on instinct to protect me.” Meeting Hermod’s gaze, I can’t help but smile. “That makes me feel pretty special.” His surprise turns to a sheepish smile. The photo whaps Fluffcoat. “At any rate, I’d hate to be your date to a haunted house. I’m surprised Vor’s still breathing to be honest.”

              Urd takes the photo from me and suddenly, everyone is ganging up on the redhead. I take this opportunity to slip away, Hermod in tow. A beautiful autumn tree hides us from bystanders.

              “Did you really mean that?” the boy whispers.

              “Yeah. Did you see the death grip he had on her?”

              He frowns. “No, the part about me…”

              My touch proves much softer and smoother against his calloused fingers. “Of course I did. It’s nice to know that you’re looking out for me.”

              Now that is a real smile. “You’re too important for me to let something happen to you.” Foreheads bump together. “You’ll always be my top priority—even if the others tease me.”

              Around his neck slink my arms. “Even if I do?”

              It’s a sigh, but also a smile. “Even if you do.”

              “My hero.”

              His lips, like his hands, are a bit rougher than mine but Hermod’s kisses are always gentle and sweet. My stomach squirms, leaving me with a happy high.

              Before he kisses me a second time, I tack on, “And I’m not teasing.”

~~~~~

               Smarmy Fluffcoat opens his stupid, smarmy mouth but I beat him to the punch.

               “Bragi, I swear to the Infernean god, Ifrit, if you so much as breathe at me, I will kick your ass,” I snarl, fully prepared to back up every burning syllable.  

               “Sheesh. Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.”

               Fury triggered, I charge towards his chair only for a handful of my classmates to bar the path. Fighting my way through them would’ve caused me no immediate remorse, but they’re lucky that the only one who can stop me is the first I come across. Hands outstretched to meet my shoulders, he’s stronger than I am; that and other current circumstances prevent me from brawling my way through.

               “Woah, woah. Take it easy.” Even just hearing the smooth and steady intonation of his voice begins to soothe the rage. “Look. Look at me.” A gentle finger taps at my chin to encourage breaking eye contact with my potential victim. Instead, I peer up into his cool, slate-colored eyes. “You should go get cleaned up.” My glare just can’t stand up against that gentle expression. “Go on. Go get cleaned up.”

               “No use takin’ a shower,” Bragi calls. “It looks like they already—” Every pair of eyes, including his savior’s, turns on Fluffcoat and he clams right up.

               The tall boy returns to me and nudges me towards the rooms. “Go.”

               Successfully quelled, I trudge on down the hall, distinctly hearing Hermod’s scolding of the antagonist.

               It’s a sheer miracle that I manage to make it to my room, change out of my doused clothing, and convince myself to amble back to the commons without any further mishaps. Hermod receives me with an embrace when I amble straight for him.  

               “Feel better?” My shoulders bounce in a shrug. The true answer is yes; with every beat of his heart against my ear, the coil of distress I’d wound over the day loosens just a little more. “Well, regardless, I think you need to apologize.”

               Trust has been betrayed! Leaning back, I scowl at him; nope, I still can’t argue with his smile. “Come on. You did threaten him.”

               With a defeated sigh, I face the boy who’s wearing the exact same chastised look—behind him, Vor stands with her arms folded.

               “Sorry,” we grumble.

               “For?” Vor prods.

               Bragi groans. “Sorry for teasing you when you were mad.”

               “Sorry for telling you I was gonna kick your ass,” I mumble.

               “They sound like grounded children,” Xehanort says, sitting between equally amused Urd and Eraqus.

               Urd points to the other girl. “Do you want to try to argue with Vor?”

               “…No.”

               My irritation at them is diverted when a soft kiss meets my temple. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

               With that, Hermod leads me away from the others and towards the fireplace. A crackling fire bathes my skin with a wave of warmth, soothing the sting in my freezing extremities. Dropping his haori over my shoulders, the boy sits beside me.

               “Do you wanna talk about why you came back soaking wet? Or why you were angry with Bragi?” Doing a better job than the fire, Hermod’s hands work to disperse the chill in my fingers.

               For a few moments, I resist; surely worse days are to come for a keyblade wielder. A bunch of silly, little mishaps really shouldn’t have resulted in the near massacre of a classmate—I should be better than that. The shame that I let such trivial things overwhelm me only adds to this disastrous day.

               “Hey.” My attention returns to the present, to him. “You can tell me.”

               Gods, I hate that my eyes water. “Today just…hasn’t been the best…”

               “What happened?”

               If I was going to tell anyone my dying secrets, it would be Hermod—not just because he’s my boyfriend. I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what it is, but he has this way of dissipating the weight of all my troubles. There’s yet been a moment of desolation that he hasn’t been able to dispel. Sure, he can’t just wipe away all my worries, but they’d certainly compound to something far worse without his intervention.

               So I tell Hermod about my rotten day, starting with the broken alarm. Lost assignments, failed tests, and punishments for being late add to the list, sprinkled in with missed meals in trying to make up for those mistakes. School aside, a forgotten wallet makes purchasing food in town impossible and someone’s mutt of a dog must’ve thought I insulted its mother. By the time the owner caught up, apparently it was my fault. And the cherry on top—on my way back to the castle, as I passed the fountain, a bunch of rowdy children started a fight. Their confrontation ended in a collision that sent me into the cold, running water—I had my school bag with me. Shortly after that was the threat on Smarmy.

               “And I know it’s stupid to get so worked up over things so petty but—” Fists curl in a terrible attempt to contain the frustrations that only build when my vision blurs.

               It takes him very little effort to slip his fingers into my grasp, replacing my clenched fists with a firm squeeze. “It’s not stupid. That really does sound like terrible day and you have every right to be upset.”            

               Getting even more worked up, I pull away, rubbing at my hazy sight. “I’m a keyblade warrior; I shouldn’t let these crappy, little things break me like this.”

               Keyblade training can be rough and there’s no doubt all of us have our fair share of calluses; despite this, the feel of Hermod’s palms against my face is a calming gesture. While that hint of pity would normally instigate me swatting him away, the mix of understanding and adoration has me pacified in his hold.

               “Being a warrior doesn’t make you heartless. You’re still human; things will bother you just as much as they bother anyone else.” Rough thumbs brush away the water that managed to escape me. “It’s okay to be upset on a bad day.” There’s a gentle chuckle. “After all that, I’d be pretty concerned if you weren’t.” One of those hands slides back through my hair. “That being said, it’s gonna be alright. Tomorrow is a new day and I know my darling isn’t going to let one bad day keep them down.” He leans in to nuzzle noses together. “Right?” Instinctively, I recoil but he’s succeeded in bringing up a smile. His task isn’t done though, not at all. Peppering my face with kisses, he repeats, “Right? Right?” I’m still a mess, but I’m a giggling mess by the time he finally lets up. “There’s my sweetheart.”

               “This is so sweet, I think I just got diabetes.”

               Fire surges beneath my skin as I realize my entire class is still present and has no doubt heard everything. Fluffcoat sits in his chair, grinning at us; what he doesn’t see is that fist Vor is raising behind him.

               “Ow!” She may be little, but I’m sure his shoulder is in some considerate pain.

               “Bragi!”

               “What?! I was just—”

               “Shh!”

               Offended yet not wanting to be struck again, Smarmy pulls his hood up and sinks in his seat. Meanwhile, as innocent as ever, Vor waves at us to continue as if we’re putting on a show. Currently no longer in need of the fire, I can only gawk in embarrassment. Hermod, on the other hand, isn’t fazed. Strong arms pull me into his lap to enjoy the fire and hold me there. Waves of fluffy hair brush against my face as his head dips to press a kiss into my shoulder.

               “Feel better now?”

               Fingers tangle into that mop of hair in an awkward hug. “Much. But I’m still starving.”

               With a small laugh, he nuzzles me again. “Dinner will be soon. Until then—” A kiss meets my cheek. Alongside that, his voice drops. “—I have other ways—” Another kiss to the nose and another drop. “—to occupy those pretty lips,” he ends in a whisper, effectively ending my miserable day.

~~~~~

               “Woah!” If the voice hadn’t given it away, the blur of gray and green absolutely does. “Hold on.” Fire shoots across my skin when the glasses slide back into place, clearing everything right up—including that smile. “Need some help?”

               At least my voice holds together. “Um thanks.” Lightening the load, the young man accompanies me back to class.

               Hermod: model student, well-mannered, kind, and the object of my infatuation. We started our training together with the rest of our classmates, when my bashfulness was leagues worse than it is now. Connecting to the people I’d be spending the next several years of my life with was way over my head, but Hermod made an effort to include me. The wall I protected myself with started to crumble and my classmates became family; I could never get over the kindness shown me though. That grateful seed bloomed into a crush that is spiraling out of my control. It drives me to seek his company in my free time or to instantly zero in on him when enters into mine. It’s a distraction and a hobby and detrimental to my sanity.

               Shortly after the books are delivered, class starts. Everything goes by as normal until combat training rolls around. Having gone up against Eraqus in a friendly spar, I’m sweating and plop down beside Bragi. Hermod and Urd are up next and I can’t look away from him.

               “Ah, to be a young woman in love.”

               Fire erupts beneath my skin. Eyes turn on Smarmy Fluffcoat who wears the smirk of a fox over a cornered mouse—he’s got his claws around my heart. The rattled brain’s feeble attempt at a warning shove only serves to amuse him.

               “Be nice, Bragi,” our shortest classmate breaks in. “You can’t pick on her for something everyone knows.” That flame is doused by icy blood.

               “Everyone except Hermod,” inputs a passing Xehanort, confirming that everyone does know.

               Fluffcoat’s eyes light up. “Oh, you guys know what would be fun?” Uncomfortable is that look he’s giving me. “We should help our little lovebird here.”

               “I dunno,” Vor hums before I can object.

               The boy in black folds his arms. “Surely Hermod must be close to noticing. Maybe we should just leave them be.”

               “Please. Natural selection will take them out before either of them realizes it,” Smarmy scoffs. “All I’m sayin’ is we give this thing a little push.” The two are seriously considering his plan. “It’ll be easy. We just drop her in front of a monster and watch Brother Bear tear it apart.”

               My jaw drops open but the other two seem less fazed. “That would work except she could just defend herself.” Vor’s answer confirms they’re actually on board with this nonsense.

               Xehanort adds, “She’s right. What if we-”

               I have to interject. “Excuse me! I-”

               Bragi pats my head. “Not now, honey, the grownups are talking. Go play with Era.” The sheer stupidity of the statement shuts me right up, allowing their conversation to continue. Dumbstruck, I wander to the boy in white on the other bench.

               “What happened to you?”

               “The grownups are talking…”

               His response is a look of ‘what?!’ but I know just as much about what they’re planning as he does.

               The knowledge that specifically those three are trying to intervene in something that I was completely fine keeping to myself has me jittery. Just as I start getting back into routine—the second my eyes wander to the model student—I feel predatory gazes and, sure enough, all three are staring at me like a pack of hyenas.

               The final bell tolls and I keep my head down while I collect my things. However, my attempt to remain inconspicuous is thwarted when the reason for my heckling approaches.

               “Hey, are you okay?”

               My heart shudders. “Uh yeah. Why?” You idiot! You know why! Don’t ask him!

               “You just seem kind of tense. Is something bothering you?” If it weren’t for the monsters stalking me, I’d probably swoon over those steel-color eyes.

               Yes! “N-No. I’m fine. Thank you though.”

               His worry dissolves into that little smile I love when we talk. “Do you want to work on the magic assignment together?”

               “I’d re-”

               “Oh no you don’t!” Undignified is all I can use to describe the yelp that escapes when Vor snatches my arm and begins hauling me away. “You’ll have to find another study buddy today!” My pleading look goes unnoticed by the stunned young man.  

               The dragging doesn’t stop outside the classroom; instead, Vor and the mischief boys drag me back to my dorm.

               “Guys, I think this is going too far,” I complain.

               Xehanort is the first to display his neglect of my concerns. “Do you really need these glasses?” All detail drop from the world.

               “Yes, I really do.”

               “Got any contacts?”

               “Yeah, but they’re a hassle.”

               “Go put them in.”

               “But-”

               “Go on.”

               Grumbling, I waddle to my bathroom and find said contacts. When I return, Vor pipes up, “Can you see us now?”

               “Yeah…?”

               “Good! Now your clothes!”

               Leaping out the window almost becomes a viable option while my so-called friends critique my entire wardrobe and put me in dozens of combinations before they find one they’re satisfied with. I admit this is an outfit I wouldn’t have considered nor is it bad.

               “Alright, she looks great, but she’s not gonna get anywhere if she turns to mush every time she sees him,” Xe points out, ignoring my sigh of complaint.

               Bragi aims a finger at him. “What she needs to do is be assertive.”

               These three are going to be the death of me.

               Next comes “confidence training.” It turns out to be extra entertaining—Bragi’s impression of my crush is way off the mark but hilarious to watch while the others attempt to demonstrate what I should be doing; Xehanort is a much more convincing Hermod when it’s Fluffcoat’s turn. In the end, Smarmy’s examples are a little too smarmy and Vor is actually frightening, so it’s Xehanort that becomes my template for confidence, though his level of brazen is still beyond me. Their insistence that I try out a few lines on them has me beet-red but it gets surprisingly easier each time.

               “Alright, I think she’s ready!” announces the other girl.

               Bragi smirks. “What are the rules?”

               Hesitation. “Uh…Be confident, tell him what I want, and…don’t kiss…him?”

               “Bingo!”

               “What’s the reason behind that last one again?”

               “It’s that psychology of leaving someone wanting more,” Xe explains.

               My shoulders droop. “Why is this so hard?!”

               Vor pinches at my cheek. “Because you’re so in love!” She’s going to destroy what little backbone I’ve managed to grow if she keeps that up. “Now let’s go find Hermy!”

               “Now?!”

               The boys shove me out the door, chanting, “Yes, now!”

               Anxiety cools the longer we search for the studious boy though I don’t know if that’s from me getting comfortable with the idea or my hopes that we won’t find him. It’s when we wander outside that both of those options are destroyed.

               “There he is,” Xehanort announces, pointing down the front steps. Indeed he is, sitting just off the brick path with a book in hand.

               “Here’s your chance, girly.” The red-head pushes me closer to the steps.

               Molten butterflies swarm in my stomach. “Guys, I don’t think this is gonna work,” I squeak.

               Vor slaps my hands from fidgeting with my clothes. “It’ll work. Remember, be confident and you’ll have Hermod melting in your hands.”

               One, they’re not going to let me off the hook and two, her promise quickly douses my nerves. With a deep breath, I clear my head. Shoulders drawn, chin up, and steady in my walk, I stride down the steps. My prey, as the trio has drilled into my brain, doesn’t notice my approach which works in my favor. Positive that those fire-butterflies are nesting in my chest, I slide a hand beneath his chin and guide his gaze up while I lean in.

               “Hey there, sweetheart,” I coo. Taking over his face is a red shade that shows off the blue-slate of his wide eyes. It takes everything I have to keep my own flustering under wraps as I tilt even closer, feeling his hot breath brush across my face. “You’re going to take me to go get ice cream.” Lips just barely graze his. A huge sense of pride swells in me when I feel his anticipation. I’d happily give it to him if not for my specific instructions not to. Instead, I follow the plan. “Sound good?”

               His answer ghosts into my mouth. “Yes.”

               Delight showing in my smile, I retreat. His face—cherry red and full of both disappointment and shock—will forever be burned into my memory. Perhaps my friends were right about a little courage.

               “You coming?” I call back. Hermod scrambles after me and one last look reveals my team of coaches grinning.

               It takes significant brain power to maintain my confidence while keeping engaged with the boy. The bravado certainly gets dialed down but we enjoy an impromptu date of ice cream, despite the terrible spies stalking us.

               “Then I found that lazy bum asleep under a tree missing a shoe,” I laugh. “So I might’ve dumped my water on him.”

               His chuckle stirs the flutters in my chest. “Oh! I remember that! Eraqus came in soaking wet and confused! How did he not catch you?!”

               “I have no idea! I biffed it trying to get behind the tree before he found me!”

               Sharing in a bit of schadenfreude—enjoyment at the expense of others—we amble along the docks. However, Hermod’s smile slips. “Are you…feeling alright?”

               My head tilts to see him. “Yeah. Why?”

               “Well, I just…you…you’re acting different.” Hands wave frantically. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I-I was just-”

               Is that how I usually act? A giggle escapes me. “You like the confidence, huh?”

               He sheepishly replies, “Yeah. It’s nice to know what you’re thinking.”

               “You care what I think?”

               Ooo, that blush is so adorable. “Probably more than I should.”

               “What do you mean?”

               Eyes divert. “Um, well…I’ve kind of been trying to work up the courage to ask you out for a while now.”

               It clicks in my head suddenly that those bullies knew; the entire damn time they knew they were setting me up with someone who had a crush on me too. “They’re going to pay.”

               “What was that?”

               “Kiss me.” WHAT?!

               “What?!”

               My demand surprises me too, and it creates a paradox in the rules: in order to get what I want, there has to be a kiss. There’s also the fact that those brats are using us for their own entertainment tonight. So screw it, I’ll disobey orders. “I want you to kiss me.”

               “Uh, hold on! Do you really mean that?!”

               Spite can be one hell of a motivator, and while that may have kick-started my ambition, I can’t help remembering that moment I had him under my thumb. A spasm runs through my chest at the thought of our lips brushing while I made my demands. It takes very little effort to push the boy onto the convenient bench behind him. My mouth quirks as I recreate our earlier encounter. “Would you prefer it if I kissed you?”

               So I’m not the only victim of overheating but I question whether or not the trembling in my fingers is from me or him.

               “Please…” he confides.

               That’s all the permission I need and, gods, I was not expecting the pure gratification of kissing him. He patiently cooperates while I collect my bearings but once the avarice kicks in, every move is met with absolute compliance. Surely he has no idea the knots he’s tying in my gut with each little plea for more—little whines, nudges, twitching in his fingers around my arms. He’s lucky my greed is happy to supply. I’m pretty sure there’s a mix of cheers and protests in the distance, but I’m too preoccupied with the boy melting in my hands, just as Vor promised. If only oxygen wasn’t required.

               Leaving us both breathless, I break it up. The faintest trace of his ice cream lingers on my lips and I don’t miss his eyes follow my tasting of it. No doubt I’m just as flushed as he is but the attention I’m getting is more inspiring than anything those three could’ve taught me.

               Taking his face in my hands once again, I already have Hermod silently begging for another go. Considering his wish, I purr, “Now that’s a confidence boost.”

~~~~~

               “That’s not true!” The defender protests a bit too much.

               On the other hand, the instigator seems to realize a line has been crossed. “Woah, calm down there, Brother Bear. No one’s looking for a fight.” There’s a pause. “But it’s real sweet of you to cover them up with your haori.”

               The scuffle rattles me back to the waking world, bringing me to watch the strangest display of Bragi fending off Hermod with a chair. “Back! Back you angry fiend!”

               “Bragi!”

               Shedding the remnant weight of dreamland, I sit up, bringing the blanket with me. “What are you guys doing?”

               The taller boy whirls around, panic mixed into his flush. “Oh no! Did we wake you?” Plight to discipline Smarmy Fluffcoat abandoned, Hermod rushes over.

               The clock says our afternoon break is almost over. “Aw, already?”

               My classmate offers apologies in the form of a smile. “Sorry. How was your nap?”

               Bright rays of light wash over me as the cause of my inappropriate snooze. “It was nice—the sun is so warm.”

               “You never could resist basking in the sunlight.” His slate-shaded eyes sparkle, highlighting the adoration on his face.

               Then Smarmy reminds us he’s still here. “Yeah, well Big Brother here never could resist-”

               Hermod uptakes his earlier task of chasing down the red-head.

               Despite Hermod’s best efforts, he’s overlooked the real culprit of his downfall walking in the door right now—Tardy Fleetfoot and his big mouth. I’ve known about our model student’s crush for several weeks now. My lack of action isn’t based on any dislike for him; rather he seems so beside himself whenever hints at his interest begin floating around. Usually, he’s the most mild-mannered of us all, but as of late, the instant he suspects anyone aiming a jab at his feelings, he gets agitated. No matter what Eraqus and Bragi may think, Hermod is not one to mess with when agitated—that’s like poking a bear. This intense reaction leads me to think he’s conflicted about his emotions; so I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the young man to make up his mind. Nothing will change between us until he does.

               Bragi manages to get away scot-free before class starts. Keeping focus on school work is particularly difficult today and I catch myself often glancing across the table. Before Eraqus’s reveal of hidden feelings, I never thought about those kinds of things, simply enjoying the company of my friends. I admit I enjoyed my time a bit more when Hermod was involved but the unmistakable doting went over my head. Then—once Mr. Fleetfoot pointed it out—it became so painfully obvious I think I beat myself up over it for ten days straight. My mind’s been made up however, brightening my day with warm fuzzies every time, so now it’s just up to Hermod.

               Another tally is added to the days of waiting and the sun sets. There’s an inkling of disappointment but I’ll keep waiting. Meanwhile, turns out taking a nap was a mistake. I should be preparing for bed or at least winding down but I’m not tired in the slightest. Taking advantage of this rare peace, I take to the roof top to settle on a bench overlooking Scala Ad Caelum.

               My world’s bright daylight can be breathtaking—raining light and beauty on the pristine world. The same can be said for Scala at night. The moonlight bathes the ivory buildings, giving them a heavenly glow. Ocean water remains calm enough to reflect the sky and hold the city on an endless canvas of stars. There are downsides to sightseeing at night though; chilled air ambles by, prickling at my skin to cause an involuntary shiver.

               “You’ll catch a cold if you’re not careful.” I look back just in time to find Hermod draping a blanket across my shoulders.

               “Guess I misjudged how cold it was tonight.” I pull the fabric close. “Thank you, Hermod.”

               “You’re welcome.” The moment he sits beside me, his eyes divert to the city below and I assume his brain is heckling him.

               “How did you know I was out here?”

               There’s a glance. “Your door was open but when I checked, you weren’t there. And you do tend to come up here to pass time.”

               “You know me so well,” I hum. That small chuckle of his holds plenty of awkwardness. I did convince myself to wait it out and see what he does, but I’m becoming worried and impatient. “Are you okay?”

               “Yeah. Why?”

               “You’ve been kind of antsy lately. It’s funny watching you chase Bragi, but you don’t normally get worked up so easily.”

               A blush rises and I have to hide my amusement. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

               To push or not to push—perhaps he’s not ready to address this just yet. Maybe I should’ve made a move when I found out; it might’ve saved us both a lot of trouble, but surely the most sensible kid in the class wouldn’t hold back like this without a reason. It could just be nerves and I’ve misjudged his ability to handle his own emotions. There are so many possibilities behind Hermod withholding his secret that it almost makes me anxious. Luckily, I don’t need to decide on the next move.

               Groaning, Hermod drops his face into his hands. “No. I’m not fine,” his muffled voice comes through.

               I scoot closer. My heart is fluttering in my chest and I’m trying desperately not to get my hopes up. “Do you want to talk about it?”

               A hand drops while the other shoves through his hair. “Not really, but I think if I keep trying to ignore it it’s just going to blow up in my face—especially if Bragi keeps hassling me.”

               “Yeah, he’s definitely been on your case lately.”

               My statement goes without acknowledgement. I can’t see his face behind that mop of hair but the clenching of his fist is concerning.

               “I…I really like you.”

               There it is—the thing I’ve been dying to hear and the elation is more than I was expecting. It’s a miracle I didn’t explode right there.

               “I like you too.”

               Hermod gives me a frown as if I’d just spoken gibberish. “No, I mean…I kind of…sort of…” He’s backsliding into his nervousness.

               “I know what you meant,” I say through a smile.

               “Really?” It’s actually kind of cute that he doesn’t believe me.

               In taking his hand, there’s a good chance I’m wearing the same blush he is. “Really.”

               I expected excitement or even relief but not concern. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

               In my moment of happiness, I’d forgotten about his reasons to hesitate; I guess we’re going to get into that now. “Why would it scare me?”

               “What if it doesn’t work out? What if this is a huge mistake? What if…” Clearly he’s been hashing out the future in his head this whole time and has found too many things to worry about. Desperation comes forth in his hand clinging to mine. “What if we’re not meant to be together? I like you so much, but if this goes south and ruins our friendship…I don’t know what I’ll do. I want us to work but what if we don’t? Maybe being just friends is the best option. I’d rather that than lose you somewhere down the line.”

               I sit in silence, processing Hermod’s fears carefully. There’s no guarantee that this thing between us will work out; the future is fickle and never shows her hand. We could last years, a couple months, even a week, and who knows how it will end—there’s a very real chance his worry is valid. Then again, there’s a real chance it’s not.

               “Do you want to hear my opinion?”

               Brows furrow and Hermod turns to me. “Well yeah. You get a choice in this too.”

               “Maybe you’re right.” The tension working through him is visible. “But maybe you’re wrong. There’s no way to tell whether this relationship will end badly or not…except to try.” Hoping to ease some of the rigidity I’d drawn from him, I let my free hand draw circles across the back of his. “There’s bound to be things that try to pull us apart but, for all you know, we’re stronger than all of them. There’s just as much a chance of us not working out as there is of us living happily ever after. Do you really want give up that possibility to be just friends?”

               “But what if we don’t?”

               “What if we do?” Hermod sighs, still conflicted. “If we don’t work out, we don’t and we do our best to mitigate the damage. You will never be able to eliminate that possibility, but you can’t just disregard the fact that we might make it. And personally, I think it’s worth a shot.”

               He’s still not entirely convinced. The fact that this chance I’m fighting for may not come to fruition is surprisingly frightening; I’m beginning to understand why he waited as long s he did. Still, I want this so badly—enough to make a move I probably shouldn’t have.

               By fistfuls of fabric, I jerk the boy down to my level. The collision isn’t pretty but quickly comes under control. His soft lips are unresponsive at first but soon give in to me. Without a word, I beg him to trust me; we’re worth a chance.

               Nervous my endeavors have done nothing, I let the kiss break softly. Hermod’s eyes scan my face, unreadable from where I sit.

               Hushed words spill from his mouth. “Definitely a mistake worth making.”

               Before I can question him, the young man takes me in his arms to close the gap between us. He may not be a great lead kisser—yet—but he’s a wonderful instigator. Should my lips falter at all, his are there to encourage another round, eagerly asking for more and who am I to deny him that. Butterflies hover in my chest and I weave fingers into his hair. I don’t know whose heart it is pounding between us, but it doesn’t matter: I plan to make the best of this mistake.

~~~~~

               “Hey Hermod, do you have the homework due tomorrow? I wanna check my answers,” I ask, looking over my paper.

               “Yeah. Hold on.” He hoists himself from our window seat and ambles to the table.

               Smarmy sees an opportunity. “Sure, when you ask for answers, Brother Bear hands ‘em over, but when I ask, he tries to lecture me.”

               “That’s because I already have answers, Fluffcoat,” I retort, showing him my paper. “I’m trying to double check my work.”

               “Pfft. Even if you didn’t, I bet he’d do your homework for you in a heartbeat.” The returning subject narrows his eyes at the red-head. With a sly simper, Bragi goes on. “He’d probably do just about anything if it was for you.”

               “I know; isn’t he such a sweetheart?” I love that dust of pink on Hermod’s cheeks.

               Our classmate’s shoulders slouch in disappointment. “You know?”

               “I’ve known for almost two months.”

               Hermod interjects, “Wait, you knew?!” A glower turns on the shorter male who takes a large step back.

               “Don’t look at me!”

               The two look to me when I laugh. “It wasn’t Bragi.” I point to the young man walking into the room and our model student storms towards him. Once Eraqus realizes he’s in trouble, he races around the table with Hermod on his tail.

               “Eraqus!”

               “WHAT DID I DO?!”

~~~~~