#nonbinary mc

'How pathetic.'

The arlecchino knew the song and tune of the pierrot as if it were his symphony played in his mind. A venom, an envious green that drove him mad. But the tone of envy for a voice he could not use had died down. Pierrot had walked in with a look Harlequin had only ever seen on a visitor's face here and there. A blissful smile. A longing sigh. A desperate gaze, searching for a specific pair to look back.

Lovesick, he'd call it. Pierrot would call it love at first sight. Harlequin would gag, so he refrained from asking. But he knew. Anyone with a brain and a sense of independence would. Pierrot was in love, and he made it obvious. As if he were asking Harlequin to waltz in and steal away the little treasure he seemed to have found. One man's treasure was often his trash, but he wanted to play. And he'd find this little doll and play with it. Use the voice he was given to win over. Dolls preferred songbirds over silent stares, after all.

He'd play a lovely little tune and become a thief for a night.

~~~ Y/n arrived at work the next day, fiddling with their keys and praying to the sun to burn their skin off already. The lock was never once kind, and they almost gave up and waited for their boss before a gloved black and green hand placed a flyer on the glass. "Hey, dude, please don't advertise your circus on our glass," Y/n muttered, and a sharp voice lifted their consciousness far beyond what they were mentally capable of.

"Ahh, apologies, dear! I hadn't noticed where I placed it because of the radiance of the sunlight on your skin." This man in green and black spoke in a way that seemed to boast beyond word and sight. "This is the skin of a killer, Bella." "Ah... who?" "Nothing. Who are you?"

The strange man bowed deeply, his short black hair bouncing a bit due to the curls. "I, my dear, am the Harlequin. I am one of the more exceptional performers at the Circus of Horrors! Far more experienced in ways to bring delight and... pleasure than that Pierrot." "How did you know I spoke with Pierrot?" (Name) asked, confused and slightly dazed. It had not been a well-rested night for them. "He... spoke with you?" Harlequin asked, and (name) cursed under their breath before making up a good excuse. "Ah, no. My apologies, I'm just... tired. He simply managed to convince me to enter the circus. But he did demonstrate that there were multiple fools and Harlequins."

"Ah... he would be the type to lump me in with fools. How... immature of him." Harlequin sneered before walking around them and pulling their read ticket out from their breast pocket. "Well, could I interest you in a batter ticket? Something that would better suit tastes as refined as yours, I'm sure."

They stared at him, eyes narrowed. "How would you know my tastes?" Harlequin came up behind them, grabbing their wrists and pulling them close. They tensed immediately, although he didn't seem to notice... or care. "I can find out what could please you with a single brush of my fingers, my dear. Anything at all, of course. Simply... listen to me. Follow my words and the pleasure you'll feel will be astronomical."

Instead of pleasure or excitement, (Name) felt a faint... sneeze coming up. This guy carried a scent of pencil shavings and yet something remotely like candy apples and a subtle smell of coffee beans. He was an odd mixture of scents, and they overpowered your senses. If anything, the only thing making you dizzy with need was the need to get away from the thick scent he carried.

"Aha... no thanks, dude." They muttered; brow furrowed a bit. "I'm like... not into doing it in public. Take me to dinner first, as least. Or buy me a drink."

"Let me fix your ticket, and I'll happily do all that and more." He said, voice sweeter than honey before the ticket was plucked from his claws with an intensity.

Pierrot glared down at Harlequin, who held up his hands in surrender, a wicked smile on his lips.

"Ah, Pierrot. Don't mind me. I was only being polite." He sneered, as if realizing something, and placed his hands on his lips, leaning forward a bit. "Such a shame you can't speak, it means you can't say every nasty, cruel word in your head. Not in front of your dear... what's your name again?" Harlequin dragged a finger under the dhampir's chin, making them look at him.

".... (Name). My name is (Name)." They said, somewhat hoping he'd let go of them.

He didn't.

They were going to be late. They got up so early for this too. Damn.

"Can I... go to work?" They asked, but the two ridiculously tall men were arguing. Or rather Harlequin was teasing and Pierrot was planning to jump him.

They literally just earn minimum wage they are not paid to deal with this at 7:42 a.m.

"Well, Pierrot, I doubt they're interested in your lack of words." Harlequin said with a thin smile, ignoring how the white-haired clown looked like he was about to jump his ass.

Some voice called for Pierrot, and he gave them a worried look before going back to handing out fliers.

Harlequin chuckled, before leaning in close. Holy fuck he was tall.

His clawed hands grabbed their collar, pinning a green heart on the lapel as his nail dragged along their collarbone. "Keep me in mind. See my show tonight. Cheer me on, and I'd be delighted to take you for a special show backstage."

"... kay. Can I like... work now?" They hummed, and he moved to the side, his hand outstretched with a flourish.

They finally entered their workplace, seeing their boss, Nathaniel, watching with a curious expression on his face.

"Do you know those clowns?"

"Not at all."

"... oh?"

They didn't elaborate, going to the locker room, squeezing and empty bottle of pig's blood.

Well, fuck them.

This was going to be a looong day.

~~~

"This is not what I ordered! You dunce, can't you get a single order right?" A customer spat, and (Name) stared back blankly, their cheeks slightly sunken in. The customer, a woman with a tall stature and exaggerated heels, glared down at them.

"Sorry... asshole."

"What did you call me?"

"Avery. You said your name was Avery."

"... no I didn't."

They looked back down to their pad of paper, before the bell rang.

"Welcome in, customer. I'll be right over to take your order. Please take any seat you please." They forced a tight smile, before noticing Pierrot, and it became a genuine grin.

"Ah, Pierrot. I'll be right over, in a minute, please-"

"I'm still here, idiot!" The woman spat, scowling. "I want my iced macchiato low fat no cream extra sugar high protein dairy fat free recycled plastic beige coffee this instant! And don't you dare forget my gluten free egg free air free bread free cream free hashbrown stuffed muffin!"

(Name) used to be a circus performer. And before that, an aristocrat. Their dad was still alive, well, and wealthy. They did not need to be going through minimum wage customer service.

"I'll have that out in a minute, ma'am. I apologize for the mix up." They yawned, and the woman's anger flared, but they were already back to the counter.

As they worked, a golden pair of eyes went dark, tracing the woman's every movement. Her scowl, her impatient tap tap tap, her incessant anger. She was sharp with her anger. Obvious. Unfair.

(Name) looked exhausted, their usual, bright demeanor of the angel they were dimmed by such a woman. They didn't deserve that. If anything, Pierrot wanted them to experience the complete opposite of such suffrage. If he could... he'd show them the heights of pleasure, having them seeing stars. Having them touching the brink of it, only to do it all again, as much as they wanted.

"I'm not getting any younger!" The woman spat, grabbing the items from (Name)'a hands. She took a sip and scoffed, shoving it into (Name)'s tired, stretched out hands. "Ugh, disgusting! I'm never coming back here!"

Say you swear. "Ah, I'm so very sorry ma'am." They bowed their head, silently imagining sinking their fangs into her neck. They would never lose control to do something so drastic, but they liked to imagine unleashing chaos. Customer service does that to a dhampir, I suppose.

They watched her leave and dragged themselves back to the counter, turning to where Pierrot was. He was staring at the exit door, before turning and tapping on the menu for a milkshake.

"Oh, a milkshake? Sounds good. I'll get right on that for you. Which flavor?" His clawed finger pointed to their chest, and they grinned. "Well, I prefer (flavor). I'll get started on that, if you're willing to try it." He nodded, and they went ahead and made him a milkshake.

He took it in his grateful hands, sipping and slightly kicking his legs. He seemed to like it, which made them smile.

When he was done, he paid and gave them a small treat. They felt a warm blush on their face, and waved him goodbye.

What a sweet guy! He seemed weird at first, but it wasn't hard to warm up to him, especially with how sweet he was to them! Suddenly, the idea of watching his show seemed much more pleasant. It was meant to be a horror performance, but with a guy like him, it was hard to imagine just what could be so scary about him.

~~~

Hunting.

Pierrot was a great hunter, or so he was told. He never got caught, not when he planned it all out. He was stealthy. Being clumsy in public was necessary, in order to stay perceived as an innocent performer. He always performed.

But when he hunted?

The stage belonged to him.

And he would always take the spotlight.

The woman walked quickly, heels clicking as she decided to take a shortcut in the alley. Hah, it seemed like she wanted him to catch up. Like she knew she had disturbed an angel. A being who deserved the upmost respect. She knew what terrible sin she had committed.

The woman turned when she heard his step. Her face paled and lips parted, but she never made a sound.

Pierrot... never got caught.

~~~

Closing up was a mild ordeal. Ushering customers out and trying not to claw out of their own skin was never easy on days where they didn't have any blood to sustain themselves.

And at the end, Harlequin walked in, and they considered maybe sticking their own hand in the blender.

"Hello, how can I help- whatthefuck." They raised a brow as Harlequin leaned in close, his face holding a large, sick grin.

"An iced latte. With chocolate, please. As sweet an... tender as you." He whispered, almost sneering.

"... what the fuck man." Minimum wage was not enough for dealing with him. Could this be filed as harassment? Could they quit? Did they have a right to jump him in the parking lot?

All valid questions as they made the latte almost robotically, the joy sucked right out of them.

Well, they didn't have any, but that's beside the point.

"Here you go. Enjoy your drink."

"I will. And... may I enjoy seeing your eyes wander all over me later tonight?"

"No."

"We'll see."

"... whore." Woah, calm down (Name).

They closed up shop, taking off their apron and locking the door. They went out of the cafe, stopping by the butcher.

The butcher was a tall, muscular man.

"The usual?"

"Yeah."

"You must really like making that... what was it? Black pudding."

"... yeah."

The butcher handed the bag over, a good enough quantity. "See you next week, (Name.)

They nodded, before going outside. A quick dip into the alleyway let them bite into the bag, drinking deeply. They felt so much better now, refreshed and probably ready for the circus.

They walked up, seeing the crowd. A lot of yellow tickets, and a pink one or two, much less common. But not a single red ticket anywhere... huh.

"May I see your ticket?" The man in blue asked, his face split color.

They handed their ticket over, and he seemed amused, but simply punched it and let them in. "Enjoy your stay, visitor."

They walked in the circus lights bright and vibrant. Rides of all kinds, the scent of food, and noises of chatter. It was swarmed with people, and a few of the fools were around, patrolling the area.

A face, white as snow, peered from between gaps of darkness, smile on a porcelain face.

"Welcome... my dearest."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guys I said treat cus I have a chocolate allergy be inclusive /j

This one is shorter cus I had to stop myself from jumping Harlequin guys sorry

The next chapter will include the circus probably and Mommy Jester

If you'd like to be tagged, go ahead and ask or comment that you'd like to be added :))

Okay I'm going to bed goodnight

as similar as you are, you felt that it — this body — was still grossly not yours.

a distant hum buzzes in your head, a faint echo of what once was. there would always be a trace of a habit that you haven’t exactly picked up. picking a hang nail, being overtly jumpier than usual, nearly kicking over a coworker behind you, a muscle jerk here and there (which you always traced up to nerves, except your arm jerked once while you were brushing your teeth and toothpaste smeared over your cheek).

and now this.

you were never afraid of thunderstorms. so you didn’t understand why your hands couldn’t stop shaking. why there were an overwhelming instinct screaming at you to find somewhere safe.

hide. hide. hide. find cover. somewhere safe. oh my GOD run, your body tells you, your muscles unnaturally tense.

like any good ole’ fashioned college student, you decided to lock yourself in your restroom.

this apartment bathroom was no bigger than a shoebox, but it was in way better condition than the old ones you’ve encountered. the mirrors were polished, toilet was clean, counters wiped white to strip mold, and the bathroom curtains hadn’t broke. hell, even the shower floors were extremely clean.

you tried to look at your—her reflection.

you ran a hand through your tousled hair. you had a similar cut compared to hers. medium, almost to both of your shoulders. dark brown, sleek, and somewhat thin. then came your body type — unsurprisingly muscular and toned underneath the uniform due to her job.

you stared, startled by what stares back at you in turn. what once was smooth coffee brown, now held specks of molten fire bleeding around oak.

you gingerly touch the skin underneath your eyes. great. another reminder about how much your body wasn’t yours.

sighing deeply, you rub your eyes with your palm and lean over the sink. fuck. were there a pair of gloves and some bleach you could use to clean the bathroom up? you might as well since this wasnt exactly your home.

you lean down to open the cabinet.

“you don’t sleep in the mornings, and you don’t sleep at nights either. you have more energy than i do, sweetie.”

you whirl around, about ready to throw a punch until a pair of red eyes stare down at you.

sylus?

“what the hell are you doing here?” you blurt out, eyes wide.

sylus gives you a dry look over his reading glasses, effortlessly spinning a ball pen around his fingers while leaning against the door frame. “you forgot that you gave me the keys, kitten?”

you roll your eyes, sighing. “you came in here without even telling me.”

“it’s more fun when you’re encountered with surprises. but cleaning? on such a lovely night?” sylus clicks his tongue, tilting his head.

the counter feels cool against your fingertips when you lean over, moving the items on the counter down towards the floor. you don’t even look at his reflection, even if you feel like your cheeks were burning. “yeah, yeah. not everyone pays someone to do it like you do.”

“on the contrary, there are things i prefer to do myself, sweetie.” drawls sylus, picking out dirt from his nails with a small, hearty chuckle. “like visiting you for example.”

you turn your face away, very deliberately hiding the heat threatening to build up to your cheeks.

it was very hard to shake his gaze off you at that moment. his eyes bore into your form like a laser pointed at your head, a target.

you shifted, rolling your shoulder blades back. “whatever. why are you here?”

sylus averts his gaze and pauses for a moment. “well, it seems like a certain kitten forgot to answer my texts. seems like she’s gone to places even i can’t come to. i was wondering if she had to hide to lick her wounds.”

your mouth goes dry, lips twisting from the implications of it.

“sylus, i—”

“come.” sylus gestures, crooking his hand as he straightens up.

silence fills the cold night sky, only your breaths creating condensation into the air. you took your place at the rooftop, watching fog cloak the N109 zone in its embrace. it never left the N109’s zones side, not even once. even if tall sky scrapers below you occasionally peeked out, the fog would smooth it over.

your hands twitch on the rails you were holding, thumb running over the cold metal.

maybe you should’ve known better than to accept his request immediately. a frown threatens to grow on your lips as you squinted. the city lights were no better than fireflies from where you and sylus were at, but they were still so bright at such a close proximity despite the N109 zone being so foggy.

you grimaced at the sudden change of light, holding up a hand in attempt to ease your sight.

sylus took you here — more or less as a distraction. both of you had climbed an abandoned sky scraper just to watch the city uptop from here, streaks of painted graffiti and some rust coming off from your calloused hands.

“you’ve never been so sensitive to light before.”

you slowly turn your head to see sylus flipping a coin nonchalantly. he stands right next to you, his demeanor an open sort of playful nonchalance. he lazily traces the coin’s patterns in his fingers, red irises flicking to your expression.

he wore such a casual outfit; a graffiti’d leather jacket with a dark low cut v-neck underneath, exposing his cleavage, ripped jeans, and chains strapped in a half-loops to accessorize his look. on top of this, he wore a choker with a small buckle to accessorize his look.

you’ve never seen him wear anything akin to streetwear before. it almost throws you offtrack until you remember how oddly on-brand it was for him despite his practiced elegance.

you open your mouth, then close it. you side-eye him. “and what about it?”

sylus shrugs. “it’s interesting,” he drawls, his gaze lingering. “i wonder if the N109 zone has truly changed you all that much.”

you keep your face composed, instead looking at him as if he said something so incredulous and on point. “i’m going to need you to legally shut up for five minutes.”

sylus smiles. “you know the law has never applied to me, sweetie.”

fuck this guy.

you launch up in your attempt to strangle him, staggering up to reach his height. sylus allows himself to bend back quite a bit, going along with your attempts with a hearty laugh rumbling through his chest.

“you've got to try harder to catch your prey."

"shut up!" you, with a stroke of luck, deliver a solid smack square on his chest.

unfazed (much to your frustration), sylus leans back and raises both brows. he gives you this look — him tilting his head back, red eyes glinting with undeniable mischief. “make me.”

so you do.

you leap up to smother his mouth with your palm, which, unbeknownst to you, was bait because he hoists you up by your waist effortlessly, keeping you levelled with his head. your bodies press against each other for the first time in a long while.

sylus reaches up with his other hand to gently pry your hand away from his mouth. he captures it, intertwining his fingers over yours with an amused glint in his eyes. “oh? you’ve gotten bold. after depriving me, here i thought you were avoiding me.”

ah.

“i’m… not avoiding you.” you pause, trying to scramble for the words to articulate your loss of reaction. “it’s just— when we had that conversation before, i just didn’t know how to… process everything. i’m—i thought you didn’t want me around because of…”

you gesture uselessly to your body, then your brain. “this body still isn’t… ”

sylus levels with you eye-to-eye. his voice, usually so sure and filled with confidence, softens. “silly thing. i told you, i would get to know you again. didn’t i?”

“it’s.. it's not me though.”

“then we’ll make it yours again.”

sylus was not unfamiliar with change— of feeling out of place in one's own body.

a millennia of different lifetimes. centuries of different births in different circumstances. each time, viewed as an other. an outcast. a monster.

he's long since met peace with it.

the thing about him —ever since you became a shadow of the young woman who owned this body, until you were born into consciousness— was that he was perceived as cruel and dangerous.

perhaps, in many ways, he is. perhaps he was tired too.

he never attempted to hide that, and had unapologetically put it all out in the open. he had even done so much to emphasize this. to warn you to what you were getting into.

“my “business“ isn't what normal people imagine it to be. so taking someone who's not used to my way of life is like carrying a firearm that doesn't fit in your hand. It can be a liability,” he had said once. sylus did not even look at miss hunter when he said this, polishing his firearm with the finesse of experience.

you had just glared at him, as stubborn as you'll ever be.

he wasn't worried. you would catch up soon to him.

“allow me to jog your memory. from your past to your future... to even all the crimes you'll inevitably commit. after all, you and I... we're the same. true kindred spirits."

perhaps that was why it was so easy for him to help you with this matter. and perhaps that was why you opened up to him about feeling so out of place — a little more quickly than he's used to.

your body could change. your mind could change. your soul, however...

always so consistent, he thinks as he watches you turn around to asses the outfit he picked for you -- a fur coat reaching down to your thigh with leopard patterns inside, a black lace-shirt inside, fur-lined shorts with fishnets to hug your bare skin.

you've long since styled your hair differently too — if only to fit your face better.

after a while, your eyes previously flashing with surprise with his choice, had gleamed in approval.

he sighs through his nose, arms uncrossing when he props his chin over your head smugly. you grunt, attempting to look at him once he slings an arm over your shoulders.

to no avail, his chin stays propped on you.

"you're free to express yourself however you like, sweetie. if i'm able to correct how i'm perceived by others, including you, then you have no excuse." he murmurs into your ear, tightening his hold around you.

MC stares at themselves in the mirror fixing their hair nervously. In twenty minutes, they’re meeting Rafayel at a cafe, one of their favourites. They’d made the plans several days ago, and have been nervously thinking through every possibility ever since. After all, coming out, no matter who it’s to, is nerve wracking.

“I need to talk to you,” they’d sent him, late in the evening when both of them really should have been asleep. Despite the late hour, typing bubbles immediately popped up from Rafayel’s end. He sends a sticker of a distressed yellow bird, then a message.

Rafayel, 11:48 PM are u breaking up with me :(

A bit frantic, MC typed back a quick response. Of course Rafayel, ever dramatic, would assume the worst.

MC, 11:48 PM No omg?

Rafayel, 11:48 PM DUN SCARE ME LIKE THAT THEN???? Those are FIGHTING WORDS. fighting words i tell u!!

MC sighed, but couldn't help but laugh a bit. It was never a dull moment with him around, one of the things they have always loved about him. They explained that no, they're not breaking up with him, but they did have something a little more serious they needed to talk with him about.

Rafayel, 12:03 AM okayyyy spill the beans cutie wait no serious I Am Prepared To Listen To Your Words. Please Begin.

MC, 12:04 AM Actually, i wanted to talk in person Can we meet @ our usual cafe on saturday

They waited nervously for Rafayel's response, picking at a stray thread in their blanket. But as usual, they had nothing to worry about

Rafayel, 12:05 AM ofc ofc ill buy u a tea and a cake and we can talk <3

They couldn't help but smile at their phone. He was always so sweet, so ready to adjust and accommodate. They just hope he’ll be the same way about this new revelation.

Now, MC has been going by their chosen name for a long while, so long that most people don’t even know the name they were given at birth. They’ve always presented a little more [femme/masc] than their peers, and Rafayel didn’t seem to mind any of that. If anything, he encouraged it, saying that the way they expressed themselves was art in it of itself. But would this, their coming out, be a piece of the puzzle that he wasn’t okay with?

MC sighs, smoothing their clothes one last time and telling themselves that they really do need to get going. Sitting here and stewing in their anxieties isn’t going to make anything better. They grab their bike helmet and make their way down to the street, setting off.

An uneventful drive later, they arrive at the cafe and park, fixing their hair in their phone camera after they take their helmet off. It seems Rafayel hasn’t arrived yet, which means they can go in and order for themselves. Usually, they’re fine with Rafayel paying for their treats, but what if he’s upset this time? What if he realizes he’s spent money on someone he can’t accept.

Just as they’re pulling their card from their wallet to pay for their drink and pastry, an arm wraps around their waist and lips press against their cheek, startling them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafayel says, tone light and joking as he slips their wallet from their hands, tucking it back into their pocket. Ignoring their protests, he turns to the person at the register. “Add a vanilla iced coffee to that please, with… hm, six sugars.” MC can only watch as his drink is added to the total and he slots his card into the reader, looking pleased with himself.

Rafayel takes their hand and walks them over to a table by the window, pulling out their chair for them with a dramatic flourish. Normally, MC would laugh at his antics, but they’re too nervous right now to manage anything more than a tight smile. Rafayel, of course, notices right away.

“What’s wrong, cutie?” he asks, taking their hands as he kneels in front of their chair. MC takes a shaky breath, trying to school their expression into something at least neutral.

“I’m okay,” they say. “I promise.” For a moment, Rafayel tilts his head and searches their face. Then, with a sigh, he stands, pressing a kiss to their knuckles as he does.

“Okay,” he smiles. “We’ll talk once you’ve got something tasty to keep you company, okay?” This prompts a smile, a little more real this time, from MC.

“Okay,” they whisper.

Ever the gentleman, Rafayel goes to retrieve their order, tasting his own drink before adding two more pumps of sugary syrup to it and sprinkling cinnamon across the top. He comes back to their table, setting MC’s portion in front of them. They taste their own drink and nod in satisfaction, cutting a piece of their pastry to place into their mouth.

“Do you want some?” they ask, offering a forkful to Rafayel. With an easy smile, he waves away their question.

“Nah,” he says. “This here is sweet enough.” He shakes his drink, the ice in it rattling as specks of cinnamon swirl around. MC nods, taking the bite for themselves.

They let themselves savor the moment for a bit before speaking. After all, they don’t know if this is something they’ll ever have again. They make their way about halfway through the pastry before they take another long sip of their drink and fold their hands in their lap.

“I have something I need to tell you,” they say, before they can lose their resolve. “...Please don’t be upset with me.” Rafayel smiles, reaching across the table with his palm up, gesturing for their hand. MC obliges, tangling their fingers together, and Rafayel squeezes reassuringly.

“I won’t be,” he promises. “You can tell me anything. I swear.”

MC takes a deep breath. They appreciate that he’s putting his usual jokes and quips aside, sensing the nervous gravity of the moment, but it almost makes them even more anxious. Biting their lip, MC decides it’s better to rip the metaphorical band-aid off in one go.

“I’m nonbinary,” they say simply. “And I’m sorry I’ve been keeping this from you.”

Rafayel blinks for a moment, silent. MC feels their eyes sting.

“What?”

“Uh.” Out of all the scenarios they’d mentally prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. “You know,” they begin, “like, I’m not a guy, but I’m also not a girl. It’s-”

“No, I know what nonbinary means, silly,” Rafayel grins. “Why would you ever think I’d be upset at you over this?” MC feels the sting in their eyes become welling moisture, and Rafayel scrambles to drag his chair around to their side of the table and pull them into a tight embrace.

“I thought you were gonna tell me that you were moving away, or that you lost your job or something!” he says, rocking them back and forth, gently, slowly. With a shaky breath, MC tucks their face into Rafayel’s shoulder, smiling to themselves. But he’s not done, continuing as he pulls them tighter.

“And if you come to me tomorrow and say you feel some other way, or that you want to change your name or buy new clothes or change your hair, that’s okay! MC, I love you no matter what. I promise, something like this is never ever going to come between me and you.” They’re full on sobbing now, the relief that comes with acceptance and the lovely promises spilling from Rafayel’s lips making all sorts of emotions surge in their chest.

Rafayel pulls back, cupping their face with one hand and wiping their tears away with the other. He smiles, a radiant and loving thing, and MC can’t help but give a breathy, relieved laugh as he leans in to place light little kisses along their cheeks.

“I don’t know why I was so nervous,” MC admits. “You never did anything to make me worried about this.” Rafayel shrugs.

“It’s a big thing to tell someone,” he says. “I’m proud of you. I know this took a lot.”

“It really did,” MC acknowledges. Rafayel ruffles their hair affectionately before scooting his chair back over to his side, keeping one of MC’s hands in his own.

“Okay, okay,” he says, buzzing with energy now that the serious moment is waning. “Finish your pastry and then we can go shopping.” MC blinks, surprised.

“We weren’t planning on going-”

“Uh-uh!” Rafayel cuts in, waving a hand in their face and startling a laugh from them. “Shhhh, we’re going shopping. You wanna go buy pretty things with me soooo bad. You would never think of saying no to this lovely face of mine.”

“Oh, my god,” MC laughs, nearly dropping their fork. “You’re so dramatic.” In response, Rafayel gives a pleased smile and makes a motion as if flicking hair behind his shoulder. MC shakes their head good naturedly, taking another bite of their pastry.

They do, in fact, end up out in the shops, and Rayafel buys them a jacket they’ve been eyeing for a long while. The two of them swing their intertwined hands between them as they walk, enjoying each others’ presence. It’s late in the evening by the time they decide to part ways, and even then, Rafayel convinces MC to sleep over at his house.