#osapost

1. Second Person Perspective

Alright guys, this is a big one, and the quickest way to make a big immediate change in your reader inserts. In my opinion, this should be the standard for all reader insert writing, and I’m surprised by how little I see it. I acknowledge that people may use first and/or third person for preferential or stylistic reasons, and that’s okay. But if that doesn’t matter as much to you, then I highly recommend switching to second person in all your works.

How to use:

Address the reader with you/yours pronouns when writing the narrative. It’s genderless, easy to stick to, and most importantly, it creates a genuine connection between the real-life reader and the person they’re acting out in the story! In my experience, all of the best reader inserts are written in second person.

Even if it’s an explicitly stated reader insert, hearing the word “I” used when referring to the reader can create this sense that you’re reading someone else’s experience. And that’s not the point! You want to enable your reader to immerse themselves fully into the story and without feeling awkward or like they’re intruding. I know it may be hard to get away from writing in first-person if that’s what you’re used to, but I can promise that even with a little bit of effort, it can be easily fixed. It’s also a helpful exercise for writing in different perspectives!

This also makes it unnecessary to use pronouns for the reader at all (except when they’re being referred to in dialogue—but you can easily work around it by avoiding pronouns altogether when referring to the reader, and when it’s necessary to make that distinction, call them by name). You’ll find this will be a lot easier to differentiate the reader’s actions versus the characters’ actions. And it also makes it unnecessary for you to use placeholders for names like (y/n), MC, Yuu, etc in every other paragraph, so the writing overall looks more cohesive and professional.

This is also done in mainstream visual novels such as Obey Me!, The Arcana (technically uses first person, but there are seldom gendered pronouns) and Twisted Wonderland. The player hardly ever gets referred to by specific pronouns in favor of the characters calling them by name, and even with specific pronouns, the default is they/them. Personally, I always use gender neutral terms in my writing, as sparse as it may be. Because the great thing about it is that it can apply to anyone and everyone, since it’s neutral!

Overall, this is the quickest and easiest way to make your writing more inclusive!

2. Forgo Descriptions of the Reader

I am a huge advocate for a person’s appearance, gender, and inherent personality traits not having any impact on whether or not it’s possible for them to be loved, especially in a reader insert fic. But descriptions are everywhere—how can you get away from the age-old sea-blue eyes, the ivory skin, the voracious curves that have become the cornerstone of all your reader insert stories? Well, I can promise that it is indeed possible.

How to use:

I get it, you’re used to describing the immediate features of a character you’re introducing, which is expected, and what you should be doing! But it can be off-putting to a potential reader to read that the person they’re supposed to be has traits that they don’t have. However, the use of second person perspective as described previously does a good job of getting rid of that need for you! The reader already knows what they look like, how they act, you don’t need to tell them. By all means, keep descriptions of other characters—they’re necessary for development and visualization. But by using second person, you implicitly establish that everyone already knows what you look like, act like, etc; and even if they don’t, it’s not told from their perspective!

But say you still want your reader to have certain features—an attractive face, a timid demeanor, a charismatic presence—as it has an impact on the plot. There are ways to do that without stating those exact things specifically. Show, don’t tell! I know you’ve probably heard this from English teachers, journalists, and writing advice articles, but in practice, it can make or break your story. Don’t say that they’re pretty, show people in the halls pausing to take a second glance at them as they pass. Don’t say they’re shy, show their reluctance to speak up in class. Don’t say they’re charismatic, show the way their friends’ faces light up when they enter a room, the way their peers stare in rapt attention when they speak. This not only makes it easier for the reader to better imagine themselves in the scenario, but it strengthens your writing overall.

3. Labels and Tags!

While I may be a huge advocate for gender neutral defaults and ambiguous descriptions, I’m also a huge advocate for writing whatever the fuck you want. You wanna write for a reader with specific characteristics? Do it! A certain scenario that only applies to a niche group of people? Have at it, my dude! And if a person doesn’t like it, it’s not your problem; they can keep scrolling. But guys, I genuinely cannot express the importance of telling your readers what they’re getting into before they start. This is the internet, and anyone can post anything—trigger warnings and SFW/NSFW tags exist for this very reason. Once something is read, it cannot be unread. But labels and tags aren’t just important for explicit scenes or abusive relationships in a story; the little things matter, too.

How to use:

Include gender of the reader, even if it’s just implied, in the title or description. This kind of goes without saying—if it’s a male reader, tell people it’s a male reader. If it’s a female reader, tell people it’s a female reader. If the reader is gender neutral or gender is not mentioned, tell people it’s gender neutral! And yet, all too often I see people posting fics centered around an explicitly stated female reader without tagging it as such. It really is a simple thing to add, and I promise, it won’t effect the views and popularity of your posts; if a person doesn’t like it to begin with, they’re going to keep scrolling. More than anything, this saves the reader from having to start a fic only to be put off by the wrong pronouns, and (if used with the previous two devices) it saves the writer from having to add in gender-based terms. You could also skip specific labels and just include the pronouns used when referring to the reader.

Include if there are explicitly stated features. If you’re writing specifically for a certain group of people with specific traits, tag it as such! And if the specific trait doesn’t have an impact on what happens on the story, I promise you, it does not need to be included at all.

I’m sure there are plenty of other things that people can do to promote inclusivity, but I’ve found these three principles to be the most effective while also being the easiest to remember. And even if you’re not used to writing in second person perspective or without explicit descriptions of the reader, there’s no harm in trying it out! If you decide you don’t like it or it’s too difficult, you can simply stop. In the long run, it will only make you a better writer.

I would apologize for this being such a long post, but I’m really not sorry; I could talk rhetorical analysis and literary devices all day. And if you scrolled this far, I can only assume you do, too. I’m afraid that Roy Peter Clark (a renowned journalist and the author of Reading Critically and Writing Well, which I highly recommend) has entered my bloodstream directly, and I simply cannot shut up about this kind of stuff. I may not be a professional, but writing has been a passion of mine for years, and these things are just my take on ways to improve your writing.

I’d love for this post to be reblogged as many times as possible, especially if your platform is heavy on fanfiction writers. Inclusivity will never not be important.

Epel paused and turned around to look at you, curious as to why you’d stopped walking. He immediately took note of the furrow in your brow and hurried over, peering over your shoulder to look at your phone and read what you’d been typing.

“...Vil? What’s up with him?” He asked. “He was fine this morning.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” You chewed your lip. “Something tells me magic was involved, and from what it sounds like, it’s less than ideal.”

The familiar clacking of high heels against the tile floor approaching made you both look up. Epel let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank the Seven it’s you, Vil,” he said. “We were getting worried.”

Vil stopped in front of you and cocked his head. “Worried? Why ever so?”

“We got this really weird text from Rook,” you explained, showing him the screen. “He didn’t give us any context, so we really didn’t know what was happening.”

To your surprise, he took a long stride forward until you were practically chest-to-chest, and you stumbled back. He leaned over you, smirking. “You were so worked up over me? How touching…”

With gentle fingers, he caressed your jaw, tilting your chin up gently and staring deep into your eyes. You shot a panicked side glance to Epel, who looked equally as freaked out as you were at Vil’s sudden touchiness.

“Uh, are you sure you’re okay, Vil?” You asked. “You’re not usually this… affectionate.”

Your words made him frown and he immediately reeled back, eyebrows pinching and looking positively wounded. “You don’t like it…?”

“No! No,” you rushed, wanting to see the pained expression gone from his face as soon as possible. “It just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

Like a switch was flipped, Vil stepped back up to you and snaked a hand around your waist with a small smile. “Oh, thank goodness, darling. You had me scared for a moment.”

‘Darling’? You looked at Epel who simply shrugged, wide-eyed as he watched the scene unfold.

Vil suddenly tugged you until you were pressed flush against him, as if you two weren’t close enough in proximity already. He put his lips next to your ear, voice unusually breathy and sensual. “May I walk you to class?”

You had to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine. “Uh, sure, I guess.”

He wasted no time in tugging you along, taking a glance at you as he walked every few moments or so. When you looked closer at his face, you saw that he was wearing a bit more makeup than usual, the most prominent being the deep pink lipstick.

“Is something important happening today?” You asked.

He looked at you, confused. “No, why?”

You shrugged and looked at the floor, wanting to avoid the sheer intensity of his gaze. “You just seem a lot more done-up than usual. I mean, not that you usually aren’t, but I guess today it really stuck out to me.”

Vil blushed, a shade of pink almost as deep as his lips. It was so unlike him; he looked downright bashful. “It’s always important if you’re involved. I want to look my best for you, after all.”

Holy shit, what is happening? You screamed internally as you tried your best to keep yourself calm and composed. “O-oh, thank you, Vil, but you didn’t have to. I always think you look amazing.”

He suddenly stopped, staring at you. “...Really?”

“Yes, of course, I-” you were cut off as Vil suddenly pushed you against the wall, being careful enough not to knock your head. Your voice caught and you looked up at him, wide-eyed. He was so close, you could feel his hot, sweet breath fan across your cheeks.

“God, the things you do to me,” Vil murmured. You gulped. He closed his eyes and leaned in to press a slow, sensual kiss onto your lips, and a small ‘eep!’ of surprise escaped your throat. His lips were warm, and they moved softly and purposefully as he moved to press kisses to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw…

“Vil! What are you doing?” You whisper-shouted, lightly pushing against him to no avail, self-conscious of any student that would possibly pass by and catch you two in this compromising situation.

He stopped, and you let out a sigh of relief. His eyes were-half lidded, and you could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of pink outline his irises.

“Forgive me,” he breathed, never breaking eye contact. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Um, forgiven?” You squeaked, still incredibly confused by the whole ordeal. Then, as if nothing had happened, Vil pulled back and continued to lead you down the hall to your next class. Before he departed, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, whispering in your ear about how he’d be there to pick you up when the bell rang. You watched him walk off, dazed and confused.

“MC? Oh, thank goodness,” Epel, who was slightly out of breath, ran up to you. “That was super weird. I wanted to make sure you got to class okay.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, still trying to piece together everything you’d just experienced.

Epel squinted at you. “...Um, I think you have something on your face.” He pointed to his cheek, and you wiped at your own face. When you looked at your hand, you saw a bright smudge of pink lipstick. You scrubbed furiously at your face.

“Did I get it all?”

Epel grimaced. “Not even a little bit.”

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The rest of the day was… eventful, to say the least. Vil spent every waking moment he could by your side, stealing cheek kisses every now and then and leaving your face cumulatively stained by the pink pigment. You suckered Crewel into letting you out of your last block early (sometimes, it really pays to be a teacher’s pet) so you could make your hasty escape before Vil could corner you after class and subject you to more of his unwarranted affection. Not that you necessarily disliked it; you couldn’t deny your growing interest in the Pomefiore housewarden, but in the back of your mind you’d always assumed he was far out of your league. Under different circumstances, you’d embrace his kisses and gentle touches. But this was so sudden, so excessive, you couldn’t help but feel you were taking advantage of whatever magical influence he was under.

Yeah, you weren’t stupid. You’d been around the bend enough times throughout your stay at NRC to put two and two together; from Rook’s cryptid message and Vil’s odd behavior, you assumed some sort of magical mishap had gone down. By the time the bell rang to dismiss class, you were tucked away in a far corner of the Botanical Garden, hidden beneath the foliage of the temperate zone and praying Vil wouldn’t wander over in his attempts to look for you.

“Why hello, mon cher. I thought I might find you here.”

The sudden voice made you jump, but you relaxed and let out a sigh of relief when you saw it was only Rook, peering over you from one of the perennials.

“Yeah. Thanks for the warning, by the way,” you caustered. “I’ve been trying to get Shoenheit off my trail all day. The man’s a bloodhound.”

“I appreciate the analogy,” he commented, stepping out from behind the greenery and going to sit next to you. “And really, c’est vrai, I apologize for his… behavior. You see, this morning we were working on individual projects for potions, and I had attempted to brew Verunudum.”

Your brows furrowed. “The truth serum? Isn’t that, like, super potent, not to mention super high-level?”

“Of course it is.” He threw his head back, hand on his forehead dramatically. “But at Pomefiore, we excel at potions. So imagine my surprise when I messed it up!” He reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial containing a bubbling, pink potion. He handed it to you, and you turned it over in your hand, inspecting it.

“It definitely looks like Verunudum,” you said. “Just the wrong color.”

You handed him back the vial, and he tucked it back into his coat. “Precisely, and it works similarly, too. But instead of targeting your thoughts and baring it for the world to see, it enhances and magnifies your emotions.”

You tapped your chin, mulling this information over. “So… Vil accidentally drank it?”

“Oh heavens no!” Rook cried. “If he did, it’d be at least a month before the effects wear off with how concentrated the dose was. No, he just happened to inhale the fumes.”

“And just that was enough to turn him into… Whatever he is right now?”

Rook nodded. “Fortunately, the effects should wear off by tomorrow morning, thank the Seven.”

Something clicked into place. “Wait, so he didn’t drink a love potion?”

“No,” Rook said. He tilted his head at you. “What gave you that idea?”

You could feel your face begin to heat up. “Wait, hold on, the potion just amplifies emotions, right? So that means… He actually has a thing for me?”

Rook looked at you like you were the stupidest person in the world. “Um, yes?”

“What?!” You screeched. “Since when?”

“Since forever.” Rook rolled his eyes. “Mon dieu, such un imbécile…."

“Stop speaking Baguette at me,” you growled. “Alright, okay, we need a game plan. You said the potion effects will only last until the end of the day.”

He nodded. “They’ll wear off completely when he goes to sleep.”

“Okay. Yes.” You took a deep breath, running through the calculations in your head. “I just need to avoid him for the rest of the day.”

Rook smirked. “And when will you confront him about his feelings, little lovebird?”

You glared at him. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

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You awoke groggily the next morning to the incessant pinging of your phone. You groaned, fumbling around enough to turn the ringer off, and collapsed back into bed.

The entirety of the rest of your day yesterday was spent tactfully avoiding the Evil Queen himself. It was difficult, given how smart Vil was; he had been staked out at all of your regular spots, waiting. If it wasn’t for Rook, you would’ve for sure been caught and smothered with more cuddles and kisses than you could handle.

Your phone started vibrating. Someone was calling you. You groaned again and peered at the screen. It was Rook. You swiped to accept his call.

“Hello?”

“You need to get down here!” Rook exclaimed so loudly that you had to pull your phone away from your ear. “It’s an emergency!”

At the urgency of Rook’s voice, you sat up, now fully awake. “What happened?”

“It’s Vil.” You sucked in a breath as Rook continued his rambling. “He won’t come out of his room. I’ve been trying all morning. He hasn’t even come out to do his morning skincare routine!”

Okay, this is bad, you thought, pulling yourself from the bed and haphazardly pulling on your clothes and shoes. Vil would certainly scold you for a half-done tie, but today, he was just going to have to deal with it.

You rushed to the hall of mirrors with the speed of a Spelldrive star, all but hurling yourself through the Pomefiore dorm mirror. You stumbled onto the other side, and you had hardly regained your balance before Rook was pulling you down the hall.

“Rook, what’s going on?” You asked, tripping over your own feet in an effort to keep up with his frantic pace.

“I have no idea,” he replied. “But this is so unlike Vil. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

You screeched to a halt outside the grandiose doors of the Housewarden’s room. Rook knocked on the door. “Vil? Are you there?”

“Go away!” Vil shouted from behind the door. “I’ll come out when I want to!”

Rook gave you a look as if to say, ‘You see?’ You gulped, stepping up to the door. You gave a light knock.

“I told you to leave me alone, Rook!” Vil exclaimed. You shot a pleading glance in Rook’s direction, to which you received a shrug in response. You jiggled the handle. It was locked.

“One moment,” Rook said. He disappeared down the hall, only to reappear a few seconds later with a set of keys. He handed them to you, sticking out one large, golden key in particular. You raised a brow at him, and he simply shrugged again. “For emergencies.”

You decided not to question him, and slipped the key into the keyhole, turning until you heard it click. Slowly, you creaked open the door, stepping in fully, only to be immediately met with a pillow hitting your face with a whump.

You snatched the pillow from your face and held it to your side, closing the door behind you with your foot. Vil had his back to you and was curled up with his knees to his chest. His shoulders were shaking.

“Get out!” He wailed, not turning to look at you.

“Vil? It’s me,” you tried, making your voice as gentle as you could. He whipped his head around to look at you, and promptly let out a shriek and dove under his covers. In the glimpse that you’d caught of his face, you could see there were black streaks of mascara running down his cheeks. You took a hesitant step forward. “...Vil? Are you crying?”

“No!” He replied, followed by a hiccup.

Well, you thought, this is going to be a challenge to navigate. You walked over to sit at the foot of his bed. Vil—or, you supposed, the lump under the comforter that was Vil—flinched when you sat down.

“Vil…,” you said, making sure to choose your words carefully so as to not upset him further. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” He suddenly sprang up from underneath the covers, seething. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was red and puffy. He glared at you. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I am.”

You furrowed your brows. “I don’t follow.”

“The little stunt I pulled yesterday,” he sniffled, bringing the heel of his palm up to wipe at his cheeks. “I can’t believe you can still look at me. I-I let Rook’s potion get the better of me, I kissed you without your consent… It wasn’t supposed to go like this!” He buried his face in his hands. You dared to scoot closer, placing a feather-light hand on his trembling shoulder.

“It’s alright, Vil,” you cooed. “I know that it wasn’t your fault. And besides, I didn’t mind you kissing me.”

He hiccuped. “...You didn’t?”

“I didn’t,” you repeated. “Was I a little surprised? Sure. But I certainly didn’t mind it.”

He tentatively peeked up at you through his hands. “...My confession was supposed to be so much better than this…”

“Well,” you said, “either way, I accept.”

“Of course you do, I’m gorgeous,” he sniffled, and you had to stifle a snort. He looked at you fully, bottom lip trembling. “But I never wanted you to see me like this. I’m an ugly crier.”

His eyes were red and swollen, his skin was splotchy, mascara and eyeliner smeared in dark, wet smudges around his eyes and on his cheeks. A tear escaped the corner of his eye. You reached a hand out to swipe it away with your thumb.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, being truthful. “I always think you’re beautiful.”

Before you could pull your hand away, Vil leaned into it, nestling his cheek into your palm like it was made to go there. “You’re too nice to me. I’m kind of an acquired taste as it is.” He swallowed. “I’m not usually this… messy. I don’t think Rook’s potion has worn off completely yet.”

You distinctly remember Rook saying that the effects should last twelve hours maximum, but you decided to hold your tongue and spare him his pride.

“It’s alright,” you said, rubbing your thumb back and forth against the side of his face. “Do you want to start getting ready for class?”

Vil scoffed. “There’s no way I’m going to class. Not even the best sheet masks can fix me up at this point.”

“And that’s really an excuse to skip?”

“I’m the Pomefiore housewarden, I must appear in perfect condition at all times.” He shrugged. “I’ll just tell them I’m sick, besides, it’s not like my grades will go down by simply missing a day or two.”

Always finds a way to sneak in a brag, huh? You thought to yourself.

“Will you stay with me?” Vil asked, looking at you with ‘please’ written all over his face. “Just this once.”

You sighed, smiling at him softly. “I suppose. Just this once.”

The both of you knew there was no chance it would be ‘just this once,’ but neither of you said anything.

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“Attention.” He propped his chin on your arm, bottom lip jutted out and full-blown puppy eyes.

You huffed and pushed his face away with your free hand, trying your best to focus on the lesson.

“Ow!” You jolted in pain and pulled your hand back to see a red, dotted curved mark that stung horribly. “Floyd, did you just bite me?”

He grinned at you, sharp teeth gleaming. “Maybe.” Not unlike a cat, he shoved his face into your hand that still ached from his bite, pressing it to his cheek.

You sighed, and hoped that being in the back of the class would be enough to protect you from Trein’s watchful eyes and freely-given punishments. You swiped your thumb across his cheek, and he let out a happy chirrup. You played with his hair, twirling his bangs about in your fingers and raking your nails across his scalp. He was all but purring, eyes closed in contentment.

“Leech! MC!” You froze as the professor’s voice snapped at you. You pulled your hand away from your boyfriend’s hair and stuck both neatly in your lap, giving Trein a sheepish smile. He must have been feeling particularly benevolent that day, for all he did was shake his head and get back to his lesson.

You turned back to your notebook, picking up your pencil with your eyes trained on the board.

It had only been five minutes before you felt the eraser end of a pencil poke your cheek again.

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“GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!”

Ace flinched at the shout that echoed from the gym doors he led you to, the school halls all but abandoned in the after-class evening hours.

“I swear, he’s been like this since the start of practice,” Ace said. “And practice ended an hour ago.”

You followed Ace through the doors. The extensive gymnasium was empty, save for Floyd, who had his back to you. He was drenched in so much sweat you could see the shine on his skin from across the court, and he had rolled up the sleeves to his shirt. The only sound was the rhythmic bouncing of his basketball, accompanied by his panting. You watched as he dribbled up to the three-point line, shot—and missed completely, the ball sailing up and over the backboard.

A howl of frustration ripped from his throat, and he looked like he was one breath away from tearing his hair out.

“Yikes,” you said.

“I know,” Ace replied.

Floyd stomped over to where his ball had landed, shoes squeaking aggressively on the gym floor. When he turned around, he glanced at you for just a moment, before going back to the task at hand without giving you so much as a nod.

You left Ace at the doors as you strode up to the bleachers and sat yourself down a few rows up, so you had a view of the whole gym. You watched as Floyd gave a repeat performance of his previous shot, this one bouncing off the rim instead. He caught the ball and looked as though he was about to pop it.

“Floyd,” you called out.

He dribbled the ball in place, not looking at you and lining himself up for another shot. “What?”

“I got called in to help you calm down.”

“I don’t need to calm down,” he barked, throwing the ball and overshooting it once again. “I’m fine. Just fan-fucking-tastic. You can leave now.”

“Nice try, buddy.” You clambered down the bleachers and stood at half court with your hands on your hips, expectant. “C’mon, Floyd, let’s go for a walk.”

He retrieved his ball and glared at you. “I don’t need a walk. I’m not a fuckin’ dog.”

“You’re not, but we’re going anyway,” you said. He ignored you and took another shot, still missing. You sighed. It was time to pull out the big guns. “If you come with me on a walk, I’ll take you out to the Shrimp Shack in town tomorrow after school. My treat.”

He was just retrieving his ball from where it landed when he froze, and slowly turned to you. “...with the fried oysters?”

“Two trays, if you want.”

He thought for a moment, then chucked his basketball in the corner of the gym. He trudged over to you, muttering incoherent curses. You knew better than to touch him when he was angry like this, so you instead walked towards the doors, expecting him to follow you (which he begrudgingly did). Ace took one look at the tall, brooding shadow behind you and went white as a sheet. He gave you a worried glance and mouthed ‘good luck’ before you headed off.

The two of you were gone for fifteen minutes. Ace opted to stay in the gym and wait for you to get back, making himself comfortable in the top corner of the bleachers. He was on his phone, aimlessly scrolling through Magicam when he perked up at the sound of the gym doors squeaking open. His jaw dropped to the floor at what he saw.

Floyd was holding your hand and swinging it as he trotted along with you, smiling. You whispered something to him and he snorted.

“Go on,” you said, gesturing to the court. “Finish up, then we can head out.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Floyd crooned, before bounding over to pick up his discarded basketball. Effortlessly, he dribbled over to the three-point line and set himself up to shoot. He jumped as he shot and the ball arced through the air, falling directly into the basket with a swish, not even hitting the rim. He let out a hoot of victory as he ran to retrieve the ball, and you clapped for him.

“Alright, let’s reel it in,” you said. He made quick work of packing up, even bothering to put the ball back on the rack. He grabbed his duffel bag and skipped up to you. You inhaled and grimaced. “Jeez, you need a shower.”

He stuck his tongue out at you. “Nuh-uh.”

“You stink,” you insisted, making a show of taking a few steps away from him and craning your head back.

A devious smile creeped onto his face. “Aww, looks like someone wants a hug!”

“Nope.” You knew your boyfriend all too well and booked it without a second thought. He cackled and chased after you down the hall.

Ace picked his jaw up off the floor, blinking in astonishment at the scene he had just witnessed.

“Maybe I do believe in miracles,” he murmured.

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You glanced down at your phone, eyeing the little ‘delivered’ receipt on your daily ‘good morning’ text to Floyd in distaste. It irked you, sure, but you were heading over to see him now, so it hardly mattered.

When you walked into Floyd’s homeroom, you found him slumped on his desk, head in his arms. You strolled up and tapped his desk to get his attention.

“Mm?” He let out a barely-audible sound of acknowledgement, turning his head ever so slightly to peek up at you. His gaze was dull and irritated, the epitome of done-with-this-shit.

“You forgot to eat breakfast,” you said, and plopped a grease-stained paper bag next to his head. “I went ahead and picked you up a little something.”

He growled low in his chest and tucked his head back into his arms. You clicked your tongue.

“So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?” You chided. “Not even a thank you?”

“Hmph,” he simply grunted, the sound muffled by his arms.

You had half a mind to take the paper bag back if he was going to be such a brat about it, but you knew that all it would do is worsen his already sour mood. He tended to get in these kinds of attitudes when he was sleepy, hungry, or in this case, both. Not to mention that you would hardly see him at all today, since you had alternating classes and Floyd had a long basketball practice ahead of him. So you simply sighed, raised a gentle hand to smooth out his tousled hair, and closed it out with a quick kiss on his head.

“Make sure you eat that, ‘kay?” you hummed, to which he responded once more with a discontented grunt. You rolled your eyes and went on to your own homeroom.

After that class period ended and you were on your way to your next one, you couldn’t help but notice the torn-open and completely cleaned out grease-stained paper bag peeking from the top of the trash can.

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Your head was pounding. The loud halls of Night Raven certainly didn’t help your migraine, nor did the fact that you had an alchemy exam that you’d been breaking your back for all week. You’d gotten almost no sleep the night before, and the nerves of your exam were really starting to get to you. All you really wanted was to push all thoughts of school out of your head and curl up in your bed with a newly bought tub of ice cream and a spoon. You were really close to considering signing one of Azul’s contracts if it meant you could get out of this hellish funk you were in right now.

“Hey Shrimpy!” Floyd slung his arm around your shoulder, putting so much weight on you that you almost tumbled over sideways. But you caught yourself just in time, and glared at him and his little grin.

“Good morning, Floyd,” you responded curtly, hoping he’d get the memo and leave you alone. You loved your dearest, darling boyfriend to the moon and back, but you genuinely didn’t think you could be in his presence without bursting a blood vessel at the moment.

Your gruff attitude flew right over his head. “Wanna cut class with me? It’s one of my boring days when Jade and I are separated, so I wanted to make it fun.”

“No thank you.”

He took notice of your tone this time and frowned. “Eh? What’s wrong with you, Shrimpy? Didja’ wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

You took one deep breath in, and one deep breath out. You’d been burning yourself so short as of late that your fuse was practically a nub. Every other thing sent your irritation levels skyrocketing, including Floyd’s grating voice.

“Floyd,” you said, voice even and controlled. “I’m really not in the mood.”

With all your might, you willed yourself to hold back, to not snap at your boyfriend who had no idea of the tightrope he was treading. Your innocent, loving boyfriend who had no clue that he was playing chicken with a bloodthirsty tiger.

Floyd’s frown deepened at your words and he grimaced. “Yeesh, what’s got your panties in a twist? You look like Grumpy the Dwarf.”

Yeah. Fuck that.

“Floyd, I swear to god.” You whipped around, eyes alight with rage and teeth bared. His eyes widened. “I have been working my ass off every night for the past week, on top of dealing with your hormonal bullshit, and I’m so done with it. I have to be at your beck and call to reign you in or cheer you up or whatever mood swing you’re in twenty-four-fucking-seven, and you still have the nerve to say shit like this to me? I am tired. I have the worst headache. I have an exam today. And I really, really don’t want you bothering me right now.”

You turned around, not even pausing to glance at the shell-shocked Floyd, who watched with wide eyes and an open mouth as you stormed off. He blinked, still trying to process what just happened.

“How does a bit of your own medicine taste, Floyd?” Riddle sniffed, brushing past him with a pleased smirk. “Rather bitter, wouldn’t you say?”

“Can it, short stack.”

.

.

.

Floyd slouched at the lunchroom table with furrowed brows and a far-away look in his eyes, sipping his little juice box in deep contemplation.

Azul waved his chopsticks in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Floyd?”

“Mmn,” came his noncommittal reply, followed by another sip from his juice box.

Jade sighed, taking it upon himself to be Floyd’s translator. “Trouble in paradise, I’m afraid.”

Azul almost spat out his noodles. “Did they break up with you?”

“No!” Floyd was quick to respond, slamming his juice box on the table and causing some of it to spurt out of the straw. “They’re just mad at me. I think. Why would you even say that?!”

Azul shrugged. “In all honesty, I’m surprised they haven’t dumped you yet.”

Jade had to grab Floyd’s arm to keep him from socking Azul in the face.

“Whaddya’ mean by that, huh?!”

“Listen, Floyd,” Jade said. “Do you want us to tell you the truth or something that will make you feel better?”

Floyd pouted. “Something that’ll make me feel better.”

“The truth it is, then,” Jade said, before shooting a glance at Azul and nodding. Jade took a deep breath before saying, “Floyd, you’re kind of a terrible boyfriend.”

Floyd’s jaw dropped.

Azul hummed in agreement. “The worst, really.”

“Only sometimes, though,” Jade was quick to add on as his brother stared at him in shock.

“Wh… But….,” Floyd’s brow creased as he struggled to make sense of their words. “But I love them!”

“Which you show half the time, and very well at that,” Jade concurred. “However, the other half…”

“You treat them like shit,” Azul finished. “The epitome of hot-to-cold. Really, if I were in your place, I’d treat them with nothing but total adoration and respect.”

“You wanna get with MC?!” Floyd snarled. “I will fight you, right here and right now-”

“He didn’t mean it like that, Floyd.” Once again, Jade had to reel his brother back in. “I’m sure you know, but you’re a lot to deal with. You can be incredibly unruly sometimes. As your brother, I’ve grown accustomed to it. But MC is your significant other. It’s different. They’re not necessarily a permanent fixture in your life like a blood relative is.”

“Not to mention, romantic relationships require more maintenance,” Azul said. “And from what I’ve seen, you aren’t exactly holding up your end of the bargain.”

Floyd began to say something in protest but Jade held up his hand to stop him. “A relationship doesn’t always have to be 50/50, but it shouldn’t constantly be 80/20, and it shouldn’t ever be 0/100.”

Floyd paused, mulling over his words. He reclined back in his chair. “Huh. When did you two become relationship gurus?”

Azul pushed up his glasses. “I’ve done quite a bit of reading as of late.”

He turned to Jade, who shrugged. “I talk to Vil.”

.

.

.

You twirled your pencil in your hand, back and forth, back and forth, drowning out the mindless noise of classmates chatting quietly and the clicking of keyboards. You’d just finished your exam, and you were beyond exhausted, but relieved. You could finally have a chance to take a breath.

It had been well over half the day since you blew up at Floyd in the hallway; he’d been sending you texts every hour, all of which you ignored, not even bothering to open. But after the first hour of seething and simmering, your anger had cooled down, and you were left with this guilty, hollow feeling in your chest.

It was hard not to feel bad about what you’d said. You knew what he was like before you started dating him; you knew what you were getting yourself into, and you were okay with that. If you weren’t sure you could handle him, you would’ve broken up with him a long time ago.

This thought made you chew the inside of your cheek. Because, the more you thought about him, about what he’s like, this entire past week… Is it really worth it?

Your train of thought was interrupted by the bell ringing, and you hauled yourself up and out of your seat. Usually, you’d meet up with Floyd after class to give him a quick peck before he went to basketball practice, but this time you headed straight for your dorm.

And when you got there, the lights were already on.

You stared at it, quizzical. Grim normally stayed after to mess around with Ace or magic-spar with Deuce, so he was hardly ever home this early. You tiptoed up to the door, and slowly opened it with a creak, poking your head just far enough in to get a glimpse inside.

There were candles. That was the first thought in your head when you looked inside. Your second thought would have been to scold whoever lit them, since leaving them unattended was a major fire hazard, especially in a building that was already falling apart at the seams—but then you noticed the color. The flames flickering back and forth were an odd green-blue, and had a glow about them that clued you into the fact they were magic.

Then you noticed the white rose petals—or, at least you assumed they were rose petals—scattered all across the floor in a little trail leading to the dining room.

What the hell is going on?

“Ah, Shrimpy! You’re back so soon?” The familiar, grating voice of Floyd rang out through the hall. This was followed by a head poking out from the kitchen doorframe, grinning at you. You noticed he had flour on his nose.

“Floyd.” It was more a statement than a question. “What are you doing here?”

“Makin’ lunch,” he replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Goldfishie told me that you had to skip today because of your exams. So I’m makin’ lunch for you.”

You’d totally forgotten you’d skipped lunch. The smell of warm, slightly spicy soup wafted in your direction, and your stomach grumbled in insistence that you feed yourself. But, as tempting as it was, you couldn’t exactly throw yourself into the kitchen—you weren’t fuming at him, but he hadn’t exactly gotten back in your good graces just yet. Not to mention your gut told you to be on guard; since when does Floyd ever do something out of the kindness of his heart?

“Ow! Fuck, that’s hot.” Floyd was cursing under his breath as he brought out two sizable steaming bowls from the kitchen. He took it over to the dining room (which had been going horribly unused, as you and Grim were the dorm’s sole occupants), where he disappeared for a moment, only to reappear a moment later. He clapped his hands together. “Are ya hungry? Food’s done!”

This is getting weirder by the second, you thought to yourself, still strongly suspicious of where Floyd was going with this. You knew your boyfriend, and you knew that nothing comes for free. Alas, the inviting aroma of homemade soup cajoled you into wandering over to the dining room, treading on the path of white rose petals as you went.

When you walked in, Floyd put his hands on his hips, grinning as if he was proud of himself. And you had to admit; he did quite the setup. There were still rose petals scattered about, leading up to a huge bouquet of white roses in the center of the table. He’d put down a tablecloth, placemats, candles—all of which you could tell he borrowed from the Lounge, but it’s the thought that counts. He’d pre-set your bowls, napkins, cups and utensils across from each other. He beckoned you to come forward, and while you still didn’t quite know where he was going with this, you were never one to turn down a hot meal.

He waited until you took your first bite to take his. The soup was surprisingly well done—due to Jade’s coaching, no doubt. You made little conversation, between you slurping up your soup like you were starved (which, in all honesty, you kind of were) and Floyd staring at you so intently you were surprised he hadn’t burned holes through the back of your skull. You finished your soup and looked down to see that Floyd had barely touched his.

You set your spoon down with a clank. “Alright, what’s this all about?”

“Huh?” He shook his head as if being snapped out of a trance, blinking dumbly at you. “What do you mean?”

“This.” You gestured to the setup around you. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s really nice, but I’d rather you get straight to the point and tell me what you want from me without working so hard to butter me up.”

Floyd was quiet for a moment. He looked almost… hurt? No, no, that couldn’t possibly be right. He broke eye contact to look at his bowl, aimlessly swirling his spoon around.

“I just wanted to do something for you,” he said. “Y’know, you’re always doing so much for me, so I thought it would only be fair…”

You brows furrowed. “Is this about what I said this morning? Because I-”

“No!” he cut you off with wide eyes, then backtracked, stumbling over his sentences. “I mean, maybe? Kind of? Not really, but I had this talk with Jade and Azul, and it was kind of a… Wake-up call, I guess? And I really don’t want you to break up with me-”

“Wait, stop.” You held up your hand to silence him. “Who said anything about breaking up?”

He swallowed. “Well, Azul was saying how you were probably gonna dump me sooner or later unless I get my act together. And I really, really don’t want to break up, so I kinda-maybe-thought that if I showed you I could be a good boyfriend, you’d consider staying with me…?”

You sighed deeply, rubbing your temples. “Floyd, come here.”

For the first time in all that you’d known him, Floyd looked genuinely scared. He slunk up to you, slouching and hugging his arms to his chest. It was then you realized what he was wearing—the stupid, gag-gift T-shirt you’d gotten him as a prank, but he kept anyways.

You pulled him into a tight hug.

“Let’s get something straight, Leech,” you said, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when we started dating. And that’s alright, because I like you for you, Floyd. You don’t have to pretend to be someone else because you think I might leave you.” You gave him a teasing smirk. “Who are you, Azul?”

His eyes were wide, hopeful. “So… you’re not going to break up with me?”

“Oh my god.” You banged your head against his chest and groaned. “No, I am not going to break up with you, you stupid eel.”

As if a flip had been switched, Floyd drew himself up to full height and picked you up in his arms, holding you tight to his chest and spinning around. He laughed, loud and boisterous.

“Thank the Seven!” He finally set you down, a huge, dopey grin on his face. “You really scared me there for a second, Shrimpy.”

“Deserved.” You flicked his nose, and in retaliation, he snapped at you finger with those razor-sharp moray teeth of his. “Although, while I do love you for you, it’s nice being… appreciated, every once in a while. Y’know?”

He nodded emphatically, eyes alight like he had just discovered the meaning of the universe. “Oh yeah, totally! I’m definitely gonna do that more! If anyone deserves first-class treatment, it’s my Shrimpy.”

You chuckled. “You’re so stupid.”

He pouted at you dramatically. “I thought you said you loved me for who I am?”

“Maybe I’m having second thoughts.”

“Hey!”

.

.

.

Petition to let Floyd be an actual good boyfriend? Please?

You walked calmly, holding an air of confidence that Gyutaro could never have had himself. You were hypnotizing; he couldn’t bring himself to look away. You glanced over your shoulder, and briely, your eyes met. Gyutaro’s heart skipped a beat.

“Oi, brother, stop staring.” Daki snapped him out of his stupor with a smack to the back of his head. “You look like a perv.”

“Do not,” he grumbled. “They’re just... attractive, y’know? S’not weird.”

“Who are you even looking at?” She asked, and Gyutaro nodded his head in your direction. Her eyes widened for a split second upon taking in your appearance, before pulling her face into a scowl. “They’re okay, I guess. I’m still prettier.”

Gyutaro looked between you and Daki. “I dunno, they’re giving you a run for your money.”

She smacked him on his head again, and he snickered. “Who even is that kid, anyways?” he asked, glancing in your direction once more.

“I don’t know. Never seen ‘em before.” Daki shrugged. “By the looks of it, they’re probably in my year.”

Gyutaro’s interest notably piqued at this, and Daki glared at him. “Fucking perv.”

“Am not,” he argued, buckling back on his helmet and lipping of the kickstand ater Daki had dismounted. “Now go. Be good. You’d better not get into trouble before school even starts.”

He twisted the throttle and zoomed out of the parking lot. Over his shoulder, he could see the vague outline of Daki giving him the finger as he rode of.

As he rode back to his apartment, he couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering to you. You, with your pretty face and confident walk and... No, he was getting ahead of himself. You’re miles out of his league, and the quicker he can get that in his head, the happier everyone will end up being.

Still, a little voice in his head told him, a guy can dream, right?

.

.

“Turtles, turtles, turtles.... where’s the part about turtles...,” you muttered to yourself, lipping through the pages of the hety encyclopedia you’d pulled from the library shelf. You sat down at one of the lone tables in the public library, pulling your notebook and pencils from your bag. All for a biology presentation you totally hadn’t waited to do until the last minute.

Unbeknownst to you, Gyutaro was watching you from across the room. He was wide-eyed and staring, like a deer caught in the headlights and unable to blink or move away.

It was you. at stupidly pretty person he’d spotted from across the courtyard when he want to drop of Daki two weeks ago. The one he couldn’t stop thinking about (in a totally-not-weird-way), the one who he really didn’t expect to run into when he was going to return the books he’d borrowed the previous week. In the back of his mind, he’d hoped he might run into you again, and that next time he did, maybe he would be able to stop himself from staring at you like a creep

Yeah, that didn’t work out well.

Without thinking, his feet began to carry himself over to you. Not close enough to be weird, just.... to get a better view, that’s all. Yeah. Totally not creepy.

You gave a little “Aha!” sound as you lipped to a page of a large photograph of a green, stubby shelled animal. “Finally, I was starting to think this book didn’t even have turtles,”

“That’s not a turtle.” the words slipped out of Gyutaro’s mouth before he could stop them, and at once he slapped his hands over his mouth in horror.

You looked up at him, and he wanted to do nothing more than run away and hide in some dark, dank corner where he belongs. He hadn’t meant for you to see him—he was used to people cringing away at his monstrous appearance, and he knew it’d hurt even more if you did it.

Your eyes widened for a split second, and then... You cocked your head. No cringing, no grimace, you were almost looking at him like he was normal.

“What do you mean it’s not a turtle?” You asked.

God, he wanted to run away so bad. But he steeled himself in place and grit his teeth; he dug this hole for himself, and now he has to follow through. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.

“That’s Testudo kleinmanni,” he said, trying with all his might to keep his voice from cracking. “Or, more commonly called the Egyptian tortoise. I-it’s technically a turtle, since it’s in the order Testudines, but for sake of specificity, it’d be better described as a tortoise.” He couldn’t stop himself, now; the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. Awkwardly, he leaned down to point at the picture. “See how its shell is more concave and juts upwards? at’s a tortoise’s distinction, since turtle shells are more flat and smooth. Also, tortoises are exclusively terrestrial animals, while turtles are semi-aquatic.”

Well, shit. Whatever sliver of a chance he thought he might’ve had with you just disappeared into thin air, all because he couldn’t keep his nerdy, know-it-all mouth shut. He fucked up, and he knew it—if it wasn’t for the fact that he wanted to maintain a shred of dignity, he definitely would have hightailed it out of the library in a second.

“Huh,” you said, looking at the picture. He was waiting for you to slap him, curse him out—any number of things that he probably deserved for not being able to keep his smartass thoughts to himself. “That’s really interesting, actually. I didn’t know that.”

...What.

“Do you think you could find the section on turtles?” You continued, offering him the encyclopedia. “The aquatic ones, I mean. I swear, I’ve been going through this for half an hour, but still, nothing.”

“Um.” You can’t be serious. Not only are you not upset, but you’re asking him to talk more? “Yeah. Sure.”

Against his better judgment, he took the seat next to you, scooting as close to the opposite edge as possible so as to not accidentally touch you. He couldn’t imagine what he’d do then.

“You checked the index, right?” He asked, taking the book from your hands and lipping to the back.

“...I did not.” You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. “Wow, and here I thought I couldn’t look any more stupid, huh?”

Gyutaro cracked a smile. What gods took favor in you and gited you good looks and a sense of humor? It felt unreal.

He got to the T section of the index and pointed. “Here. Testudine, order. at’s the order that all turtles are in. It looks like you were looking at family Testudinidae, so if we backtrack and look at family Cheloniidae instead...” He flipped back to the section you were in, then a little further before. He stopped at a picture of a green sea turtle. “Voila. Sea turtles. These were more on the lines of what you were looking for, yeah?”

You were staring at him, wide eyed, and he swallowed. Had he fucked up again?

“Wow. I didn’t understand half of what you were saying, but either way, thanks.” You smiled at him then, and he felt his face heat up like a copper pan on a gas stove. “This is exactly what I was trying to find.”

“N-no problem,” he replied, internally cursing himself for his awkwardness. Every bit of his instinct told him to run away before he could ruin whatever the hell this was.

You cocked your head at him. “I feel like I’ve seen you before... What was your name, again?”

This time his instincts won out. He shot up from his chair and bolted out of the library, not slowing down until he was a block away to where he’d parked his motorcycle. He held his head in his hands and groaned, cursing himself.

Hopefully, you’d forget him easily enough, and if all goes well, you’ll never see each other again.

That was what he wanted to hope for, anyways. There was still this ache in his gut that urged him to go back, apologize for being so weird and awkward, and introduce himself.

Yeah. Like hell he will.

.

.

.

When Daki came home ater school, she slammed the door so hard that the whole house shook from its force. Gyutaro jumped and looked over from where he was perched on the couch, watching anime. When he saw her, he realized she was nothing short of fuming.

“That bitch!” She shrieked, kicking of her shoes and stomping over to him. She braced her hands on the edge of the couch, looking down at him. “That boy-stealing, cock-sucking bitch!”

“Those are some, uh, interesting choice words you got there,” he said. “What happened?

She huffed, and hopped over the side of the couch to plop down next to him. “This bitch is trying to steal Douma!”

Gyutaro blinked. “Douma as in pretty-boy-Douma? And what do you mean, steal him?”

“From me!” She said, pointing to her chest. “is was finally gonna be my year to get with him, and that bitch fucking ruined it!”

He blinked. “Since when do you have a thing for Douma?” He asked, thoroughly confused.

“Since, like, forever,” she said. “Don’t you remember?”

Gyutaro definitely didn’t remember, but for the sake of pleasing his sister, he nodded along like he knew what she was talking about. Daki groaned, and yanked the pillow out from behind her so she could bury her face into it. Gyutaro sighed. Sure, his sister was always prone to the dramatics, but she was still upset, so it was his duty to help her out.

“Alright, who is it?” He asked. “Do you need me to beat ‘em up?”

She sniffed, looking up from behind the pillow. “Please?”

“Sure thing,” he smiled sotly. “Now, who is it?”

“The new kid,” she said. “The one you were staring at the other day, remember?”

Gyutaro freezed. “...You’re sure it’s them?”

She nodded frantically, eyes burning. “Positive. I saw them flirting with Douma with my own eyes!”

His gut clenched. He wasn’t sure what he hated more; the fact that his sister now apparently hated you, or the fact that you were most-likely taken. Either way, it made his chest hurt, and he didn’t like it.

“Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding,” Gyutaro reasoned, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice so as not to give himself away. “They looked, uh, nice, I thought.”

“Nice?” She scoffed. “Gyu, don’t give me that shit. They’re just a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and you know it.”

No. He didn’t know it. And he really, really didn’t want to believe her. You’d seemed so sweet when he met you at the library, this just doesn’t make any sense.

Gyutaro was at a crossroads. He had to choose between believing in the goodness of a person he’s met, or take his sister’s word that they’re nothing like they seem. They both seemed wrong and right at the same time.

In the end, like he always had, he chose his sister.

“That sounds horrible,” Gyu said.

Daki cocked her head. “Well, are you gonna beat them up or what?”

He hesitated. “I didn’t mean that literally, Ume. My delinquent days are behind me. I’ve had enough scrapes with the law as it is.”

She groaned, tossing her head back and getting up. “Fine. Be that way. Don’t help me,” she retorted as she stormed upstairs to her room.

Gyutaro massaged the bridge of his nose. He was bound to be in the wrong either way, huh?

.

.

.

For the next two weeks, all he heard from Daki was the sins of this ‘new kid’ that she’d grown to hate even more with every passing day. Did he like listening to it? Not really, but he had to be a supportive older brother.

When Daki came home that aternoon, she burst through the door, making Gyutaro glance up from the instant ramen he was eating. She had a wild grin on her face.

“Brother!” She exclaimed. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

He finished slurping up a bite of noodles and swallowed. “Did it have to do with the new kid?”

“Well, duh, it had to do with the new kid,” she said, tossing her book bag on the table and sitting down across from him. “But this time was different.”

Gyutaro leaned forward and set his chin on his hand, vaguely bored as Daki started her story.

“Okay, so it all started at lunch, right?” She said. “I was shit talking the new kid to all my friends-“

“As per usual.”

Daki shot him a glare. “Let me finish. I was shit talking the new kid and they overheard me, right as I was talking about how they were a boy-stealing, bitch-faced slut. And, like, if I was them, I totally would’ve squared up, right there. But they didn’t say shit! They just kinda looked at me with this hurt expression-“

“Well yeah, you were literally shit talking them.”

She huffed. “As I was saying, they looked all hurt and stuf, and walked away like some hurt puppy or some shit. But I totally didn’t feel bad. I mean, I’m the victim here!” Gyutaro wordlessly nodded his head and hummed, trying not to roll his eyes.

“But. But!” She leaned forward, grinning with her eyes alight. “Later, I was walking through the halls and overheard them talking with Douma. Not just talking, oh no—they were straight up rejecting him!”

This made Gyutaro’s ears perk up. “Oh?”

“Right?!” She exclaimed. “They said something about, like, him not being their type or whatever, so they should just stay friends. A stone-cold-bitch move, if you ask me.”

Gyutaro didn’t know if he should be relieved or disappointed by this information. On one hand, he was relieved that you didn’t have feelings for Douma, or anyone as far as he knew. But on the other hand, if a guy as good-looking as Douma wasn’t good enough for you, there was no way he had even a sliver of chance.

Daki noticed Gyutaro’s focus had started to wander, and she snapped her fingers to get his attention. “Hey! I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.”

Gyutaro reclined back in his chair, cocking his head with interest even though the pang in his heart was nearly unbearable. “Which would be...?”

“After they totally let him in the dust all sad and heartbroken,” the pang in Gyutaro’s heart twisted, “Guess who gave him a shoulder to cry on?”

“Hm... Let me think...” He tapped his chin. “Was it you?”

“It was me!” She all but shrieked, and proceeded to run and throw herself onto the couch, stufing a pillow in her face and screaming with her legs kicking back and forth in the air. “Oh my god, it was me! It was so romantic, too! Like, right out of a movie kind of romantic! And oh my god, Gyu, you will not believe how good he smells-“

Gyutaro tuned out his sister’s rambling about how perfect Douma was, setting out to finish his now-cold ramen and try his best to look apathetic.

When Daki’s screams had died down enough for her to talk, she poked her head up, and looked at her brother, still grinning. “Oh, also, the new kid? They’re coming over tomorrow.”

Gyutaro nearly choked on his noodles.

“They’re what?” He coughed, wiping at the noodle splatters on his mouth.

“Coming over tomorrow.” Daki got up and skipped over to where he sat. “Since it’s a Friday, they might stay the night, too.”

“Stay the night?!”

She nodded eagerly. “Yup! Ater that whole thing in the hallway, I went up to them to apologize for all the shit-talking I did. I mean, they totally did me a solid with that little stunt! And then we kept talking, and it turns out we have, like, a ton in common. So now we’re besties!”

Gyutaro’s heart was pounding as he tried to wrap his head around all of this. She’d hated your guts just the day before. Was she really able to change her tune this quickly? And you were okay with that, enough so to come over to their apartment after being friends for a day?

Oh, shit, he thought, dread washing over him at this realization. You were going to come to their apartment. His apartment, technically, as he paid the rent, but that only makes it worse. You’ll see how broken his family is, the shithole of a house they live in, just how useless of a parent figure he is. All of the things that he’d tried so hard to bury away since he got to high school. He looked around, and the dread only mounted more; this place was ugly, falling apart, filthy-

He stood up suddenly. Filthy. He couldn’t help how poorly-made the apartment was, but he could control how clean it was.

“Brother?” Daki asked as he began to walk away. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna clean,” he replied. “If your friend’s coming over, I at least don’t want our place to look like a shithole.”

Daki frowned. “But it is a shithole.”

“Not for long,” he answered, beginning to pull various cleaning supplies out of the closet. “Not if I can help it.”

.

.

.

Gyutaro bounced his leg. He twiddled with his fingers, anxiously glancing at the clock every few seconds. He was sweaty. His heart kept pounding like he was running a marathon, no matter how hard he tried to calm it down.

His manager had let him leave early (thank god she pitied his poor little life) so he’d be home before you got there. He wanted to make sure nothing was out of place—first impressions were everything

4:56 PM. Four minutes until you arrived.

Daki took a crunching bite out of her apple, looking at her brother quizzically from where she stood in the kitchen. “You good, brother? I know you’re not good around people, but it’s just one person. They’ll only see you for a second, anyway.”

“I’m fine,” he said, sounding harsher than he meant to. He took a deep breath, and tried again with a softer tone. “I’m fine. Really.”

She shrugged. “Whatever you say, bro.”

He checked the clock. 4:57. Three minutes until you arrived.

The doorbell rang.

Fuck, you were here early!

Daki took one last bite out of her apple, quickly chewing and swallowing before skipping over to the door and opening it with a cheery “Hi!”

He heard you greet her and come inside, closing the door behind you. He didn’t look up. He didn’t know if he could. Maybe if he sat still long enough, you wouldn’t notice him. Or at least not try to talk to him.

“Wow,” he heard you say. “Your place is... really clean. Like, super clean.” Gyutaro’s heart swelled a bit. His hours of work weren’t for nothing ater all.

“Yup!” Daki nodded. “That’s all my older brother’s doing. He was nervous about having a guest, so he power-washed this place from top to bottom.”

Dammit Ume! is This not the time! He thought furiously to himself, heart beating even faster. As much as he adored her having pride in him, he wanted nothing more than to disappear. As long as they don’t notice me, he thought, I should be fine-

“He’s right here!” Daki chirped, louncing over to the couch and tapping his shoulder. “Oi, brother, say hi!”

God fucking dammit, Ume.

Begrudgingly, he turned his head around, ofering a smile that he hoped didn’t look too much like a grimace. Maybe you don’t remember him...?

Upon seeing him, your eyes lit up with recognition. “Oh my god, Daki, you didn’t tell me your brother was Turtle Boy!”

Fuck.

Daki raised a brow. “Huh? Turtle Boy?”

You nodded, now excited. “Yeah! We ran into each other last week at the library, and he helped me research for a biology project, because apparently I know nothing about turtles.”

This is just getting worse by the minute, Gyutaro thought.

Daki barked out a laugh and covered her mouth. “Oh my god, do not get me started on this one and turtles. Throughout all of middle school the only thing he wanted was a pet turtle. Like, he was obsessed with them. He had posters, books, bedsheets...” she turned to him. “You probably still have all your Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle DVDs, right?”

At that moment, it occurred to Gyutaro that curling up in a hole and passing away sounded like a wonderful idea.

You giggled. It was music to Gyutaro’s ears. “Yeah, that definitely explains a lot,” you said. You turned to him. “Are you looking to study them in college? Turtles, I mean. I think you’d make a great biologist.”

Daki burst out laughing. “College?” She wheezed. “Dude, my brother’s a high school dropout. It’d be a miracle and a half if he went to college.”

Gyutaro’s ears burned and he felt himself shrinking in on himself. Daki just couldn’t keep her big mouth shut, could she? He fixed his eyes on the ground, not daring to look up and see what kind of horribly pitiful expression you were looking at him with.

Daki’s laughter died down, and she gestured for you to follow her. “C’mon, let me show you around.” For once, Gyutaro was grateful his sister couldn’t stay on one topic for the life of her. You nodded, and followed as Daki led you down the hall to her room.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Gyutaro let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and slumped into the couch.

So much for first impressions.

.

.

.

The evening went by quickly, and soon it was dark. After you and Daki had finished watching your movie, she pranced out to the kitchen with you in tow. Gyutaro hadn’t moved from where he sat on the couch, aimlessly scrolling through Netflix shows that looked interesting but he knew he was never going to watch.

“So,” Daki munched on a chip from the bag in her hand. “D’you wanna start getting ready for bed soon?”

You gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I can’t stay the night. I have to get up early for work tomorrow.” You checked the time on your phone. “My ride’s gonna come by soon, actually.”

Gyutaro couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed. Sure, if you stayed over he probably wouldn’t be able to get a wink of sleep, but in a way, he was kind of looking forward to it.

Daki huffed, pufing her cheeks out and pouting. “Aw, man! That’s no fun.”

“I know, sorry,” you said sheepishly. “We could do this again sometime, though.”

At once her expression shited into one of excitement. “Yes! And we’ll actually have a sleepover this time.”

Daki’s phone rang. She set her chips on the counter and pulled the buzzing device out of her pocket, confused, but her eyes widened as she saw who was calling her.

“Eep! It’s Douma! I’ve gotta take it, I’ll be just a few minutes!”

You nodded in understanding, and she all but ran into the other room. Vaguely, you could hear her cheery ‘Hey, Douma! What’s up?’ from down the hall as she answered.

It was quiet. Almost uncomfortably so. With the way the room was laid out, the back of the couch faced the kitchen, so Gyutaro knew the most you could see of him was the back of his head. It put him a little bit at ease, and half of him hoped you’d ignore him until Daki got off the phone. He didn’t know how much more he could take of the intense heat of your gaze.

He jumped when you sat down on the couch next to him.

“Sorry,” you said, giving him another one of those apologetic smiles. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“S’fine,” he said, unable to meet your eye. He continued scrolling through Netflix, going up to his ‘recently watched.’

You pointed at the screen. “You watch the Blue Planet?” You chuckled to yourself. “Well, I suppose I’m not exactly surprised.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve, uh, finished it, actually...”

You giggled and Gyutaro internally kicked himself. Did he want you to see him as an even bigger loser than you already did?

You seemed to notice his lushed cheeks, and tilted your head. “Hey, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s a good show.”

“Yeah,” he said, and that was all he could say. He didn’t want to open his mouth and make a fool of himself again.

It was silent for a while. And then; “Why’d you drop out?”

The sudden question made Gyutaro freeze up, and he slowly turned to look at you. Upon seeing his expression, you offered a sheepish smile and looked down.

“Sorry, that was pretty intrusive,” you said, scratching the back of your head. “You can forget I asked.”

“It’s fine,” Gyutaro answered almost too quickly, desperate to stay in conversation with you to avoid the awkward silence from before. “It’s not a big deal. A part-time job just wasn’t making enough to take care of my sister and I. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh.” You were quiet for a moment, chewing the inside of your mouth. “...So you two have been on your own for a while now, huh?”

He shrugged. “More or less. I got emancipated as soon as I turned 16, and took Ume with me, so it’s been about... two years now?”

“That’s... a long time,” you said. Gyutaro grit his teeth; he could feel it, you were starting to pity him. “So for the past two years, you’ve done... all of this?” you gestured around you.

Gyutaro chuckled halfheartedly. “Yeah. Pretty sad, right?”

“No,” you replied immediately, which made him raise his brows. “I think it’s amazing.”

His heart leapt to his throat and for a moment, Gyutaro forgot how to breathe. He was about to say something when Daki came prancing back into the room.

“Sorry to keep you so long,” she said, pocketing her phone. She looked at you. “Is your ride here, yet?

You shook your head and pulled out your phone, opening your messages. “No, not yet. I haven’t... Oh, well shit.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, going up to you and peering over your shoulder.

“My ride home,” you grumbled, “can’t make it. Car trouble, or something like that.”

Daki’s brow furrowed. “Shit, what are you gonna do? Should we call you an Uber, or something?”

“Nah, too expensive,” you said. “I can probably just walk. It’s only a mile or so.”

“No way!” Daki exclaimed. “I am not letting you walk home alone in the dark.”

You waved her of. “I’ll be fine.”

“Absolutely not,” she stated. Her eyes then suddenly lit up with a new idea. “Wait, why don’t we just have Gyutaro take you home?”

Gyutaro tensed at the sound of his name, a jolt of sudden fear shooting up his spine. You continued to wave her of. “No, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine, really.”

She huffed, crossing her arms and turning to her brother. “C’mon, Gyu, you’ll take them home, right?”

“Sure,” he said, hoping his face wasn’t too obviously red. “You can, uh, borrow Ume’s helmet, I guess.”

“Brother only has a motorcycle,” Daki explained as you nodded along. “He’s a really good driver, though, so don’t be worried!”

You smiled sotly. “I’m not.”

Gyutaro’s heart swelled. Awkwardly, he stood up, and gestured to the door. “Are we gonna head out now, or...?”

You nodded, and the two siblings made quick work of getting you set up. Soon enough, you were strapping on Daki’s bright pink helmet and straddling the back seat of the rumbling motorcycle.

Gyutaro looked back at you, the visor to his full-face helmet lipped up and voice slightly muted. “You ready?”

You gave him a thumbs up, and he flipped his visor back down before launching the bike forward.

“Bye-bye!” Daki shouted from the porch as you sped of.

Your arms had been at your side, but after the sudden movement, you instinctively pressed forward to wrap your arms around Gyutaro’s waist and hold tight. His waist was incredibly small, you noted—even with your arms around him you could grab onto each of your elbows if you so desire. You could also clearly feel the back of his spine and ribs as they pressed into your chest.

Gyutaro, as self-conscious as he was, was hyper-aware of how close you were, how there was no hiding his scrawny little body beneath clothes from you anymore. His neck heated up with embarrassment, and he sped up a bit in an effort to distract himself.

Clueless to his distressed inner being, you decided to be bold and experiment a little, and pulled in closer. This had gone beyond simply holding onto him for support—you wanted to know what it felt like to really hold him.

And to your surprise, it felt good.

The drive must have only lasted a few minutes, but it felt even shorter than that to you with how quickly you found yourself having to pull yourself of of Gyutaro and hop of the motorcycle. He shut the bike of, and nodded his head towards the house.

“This you?” He asked, to which you nodded. He put up the kickstand and hopped of, holding out his hand. You took of your helmet and passed it to him, and he tucked it into the bike’s back compartment.

“Thanks,” you said. “I really appreciate it.” He shrugged. “It’s not a problem.”

“Well... goodnight,” you said, turning on your heel to head to your door. Ater a few steps, you stopped, whipping back around. “Wait, before I forget!”

He cocked his head. You rushed back up to him, holding out the glowing screen of your phone. He was still confused.

“Y’know, just to keep in contact,” you said, and then it clicked. You wanted his number.

Why the fuck would you want his number?

“Uh,” he wasn’t sure what to do; this had never happened before. “Sure.”

Hesitantly, as if you were about to yank it away any second, he took your phone and typed in his number. Gyutaro was incredibly glad that the visor to his full-face helmet was down—otherwise you’d surely see his sweaty, beet-red face.

“What should I put my contact as?” he asked.

“How about... Turtle Boy?” You grinned. The heat in Gyutaro’s face rose even further.

He handed you back your phone, and you bid each other goodnight. During his ride home, he couldn’t stop thinking about how you weren’t repulsed by his appearance, or judgemental of his financial situation, or pitying his home life. For Gyutaro, this very well might have been a first.

You just treated him normally. It was one of the best feelings he’s ever had.

.

.

.

Gyutaro was on break at work, scrolling through his phone, when it suddenly buzzed with a message alert. He tapped on it, and his heart sped up just the tiniest bit when he saw it was from you.

New Kid: hey hey gyu

New Kid: are you free tonight?

He was confused. at was the kind of question you ask someone if you want to spend time with them. Surely that couldn’t be what you’d meant. He switly texted back.

Turtle Boy: Yeah, why?

New Kid: well i was gonna see that new psychological horror movie with daki, but she ditched me for douma >:(

Gyutaro’s brow furrowed.

Turtle Boy: And what does this have to do with me?

New Kid: i’m asking if you wanna come see it with me instead, stupid

New Kid: i really wanna see it but i’ll look like a total loser if i go alone

Gyutaro’s heart pounded. You were asking him out. Well, no, not ‘asking him out’ in the allusion sense of the phrase, but you were asking if he wanted to go out somewhere. With you. It wasn’t a date. But, well, it wasn’t quite not a date, either.

He shook his head. He couldn’t get himself too caught up in overthinking it, so he went ahead and texted back.

Turtle Boy: Sure, that sounds fun

Shit, did that sound casual enough?

Turtle Boy: How much are the tickets?

New Kid: oh don’t worry about that, i’ll cover you!!

New Kid: you’re basically saving me soooo

His eyes widened. You were... paying for him? Why are you paying for him? That’s the kind of thing you’d do if you were, well... taking someone on a date.

He shook his head, remembering the last time you’d been at his apartment. You’d heard his financial situation loud and clear; you were just pitying him. You probably offered to pay because you didn’t think he could himself.

An ugly knot twisted in his stomach at the thought, and without thinking it through, typed out a reply.

Turtle Boy: Actually, I think I might stay in tonight. I want to make sure my sister’s home in time.

New Kid: oh okay!! we can always do it sometime else

Gyutaro felt like throwing his phone across the room. Had he seriously just lied to reject an invitation to the movies—something he had quite literally never received before—from you, the only person he’d actually ever want to see a movie with. He smacked his hand on his face. He felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

‘Sometime else...,’ you had said. So maybe Gyutaro didn’t totally sink the ship. Maybe there really would be another time when you’d want to go to the movies with him. Alone.

He stuffed his phone in his pocket, knowing damn well that if an opportunity like this ever did arise again, he’d just fuck it up, like he always seemed to do.

.

.

.

“I can’t fucking believe you!” Daki shouted, seething with rage. “It’s Friday night, why can’t I go to Enmu’s party?!”

“Because Enmu’s a perverted douchebag, that’s why,” Gyutaro spat. “You’re not going, end of discussion.”

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Gyutaro’s eyes narrowed. “Actually, I am. I’m your legal guardian, actually, so yeah, I am the boss of you.”

She groaned in exasperation, clutching her face. “You’re not being fair!”

“How is it unfair that I don’t want you out at night when a bunch of good-for-nothing teenagers are out on the streets, drowning themselves in cheap tequila?”

“‘Good-for-nothing?’ Hah! You’re one to talk,” She said. “Just because you’re jealous that you never get invited to anywhere because you’re such a weird fucking freak doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me!”

Gyutaro stood up. “Watch it, Ume.”

“My name is Daki!” She screeched. “Can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull?! It’s not my fault that you’re so socially inept you can hardly handle any kind of interaction. Hell, even watching you say hi to (Name) is painful!”

“Don’t bring them into this,” he growled.

“What? Upset that I found out about your little crush?” She taunted. “God, you’re so obvious it hurts. Like you’ll ever have a chance with them. And you know what?” She suddenly got this evil little glint in her eye that made Gyutaro’s gut fill with dread. “I’m gonna do you a favor and tell them right now.”

She shot up the stairs to her room, and Gyutaro stared, shellshocked, before tripping over himself to race after her.

“Ume, don’t you fucking dare!” He shouted up the stairs as he chased her. “Ume! I’m serious!”

“And I’m Daki!”

He was out of breath, ravaged from his sudden burst of energy by the time he stopped at her door, watching and gasping in horror as she dangled her phone in her hands, grinning mockingly.

“Ume,” Gyutaro said, voice low and even. “Put the phone down.”

“Hm... How about... no?” She chirped, before pressing a button on the screen, the action followed by the telltale sound of a text message being delivered.

“You bitch!” Gyutaro had all but lost it at this point, seeing nothing but red. He snatched the phone from her hands and sent it clattering down the hall, screen shattering instantly. Daki let out a little yelp in surprise. “Why would you do this? Why the fuck would you do this to me?! I gave you everything. I dropped out of school so I could take care of you. I work overtime every other week to pay for your meals and your stupid fancy fucking clothes that you’re so hellbent on getting. I don’t have friends. I don’t have a fucking life because of you. And you’re still set on ruining the one thing that I actually had a chance with? The one time I get to be a normal fucking teenager and not a surrogate parent?”

Daki’s face was pale and her eyes were wide with fear, and quickly welling with tears. “Brother, I-”

“Don’t you think I know?” He shouted. “Don’t you think I know I don’t have a chance with them? That I never did? I know I’m ugly. I know I’m a fucking loser. But they never-” his voice broke suddenly, and he fell to his knees with a heavy thud. “...they never made me feel that way.”

His throat hurt as he tried to speak, tears spilling over when he screwed his eyes shut. “I don’t care if they’d never even think about dating me. Being their friend was enough. They made me happy. And now it’s gone, there’s no way they’ll ever look at me the same. People like me aren’t meant to find love, but-” he bit back a sob, choking. “...But I think I got pretty damn close.”

He wiped at the tears and snot his face, not caring that he was crying like a newborn baby. Hesitantly, Daki crouched down, her own mascara-tinted tears dripping down her chin. At once, she threw herself onto him and squeezed, almost knocking him over in the process.

“Brother, I’m sorry!” She sobbed. “I-I didn’t know you felt that way. I didn’t mean anything I said, I was just upset. I didn’t think... I didn’t think telling them would actually matter...” She buried her face in his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I make your life so dificult. I’ll stop buying clothes! I can stay in at night! Please, brother... please don’t hate me...”

The white-hot anger in Gyutaro’s chest had long fizzled out, and now he just felt cold, hollow, and so, so vulnerable. He put his hand up to the back of her head with a sad smile. “I don’t hate you, U- Daki. I don’t hate you. I was upset, too. I didn’t mean any of it. You’re not a burden. You can keep buying your clothes and going to your parties. You’re my pride and joy, my little sister. And this doesn’t change that.”

He gently petted her hair as she wept, clutching his shirt in her fist so tightly like it was a lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, voice weak. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know, little one,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to her head. “I know.” .

.

.

Daki wasn’t at school today.

That was the first thing you’d realized that morning when you’d gotten to school. Usually, Gyutaro took extra care to drop her of early, so she’d never even be a second late for her first class. Most of the time, she’d end up being late of her own volition, though. Oh, well. There’s only so much her older brother could do, you suppose.

Her older brother... Last night, you’d received an especially strange text from Daki. ‘fun fact, Gyutaro has a huge crush on you,’ she’d said, words that made your heart clench with giddiness.

Sure, you had an inkling that her brother harbored feelings for you; he was hardly subtle. Though his awkward demeanor and lack of subtlety only added to his charm, in your opinion. But still, it was nice to have confirmation before you made any real moves on him.

But when you’d replied to her, she didn’t respond. You’d assumed that she was busy snapchatting Douma, so you waited and checked again ater a half an hour. Still, nothing. So then you’d decided that you’d just confront her at school tomorrow morning and get the whole thing straightened out—and then she wasn’t there.

After your second period had ended and Daki still didn’t show up, you were getting a little worried, and decided to text her brother. Sure, there was a lot to be talked about between you and him, but right now, Daki was both of your priorities.

‘Hey, is Daki sick or smth?? She’s not at school and she hasn’t responded to me,’ you finished typing out the message and hit send.

Only to be greeted with a red exclamation mark and the words ‘not delivered.’

...Okay, weird. You didn’t have the best service in the classroom, but usually your texts still go through. You tried to send it again, and still, not delivered.

He wouldn’t block me, right? You thought nervously to yourself. Of course he wouldn’t; something as petty and cowardly as that was much too beneath him.

To test this theory, you sent a quick ‘hello’ text to Douma. You hadn’t texted in a while, but he and Daki were pretty much official now, so there’s really no harm.

You hit send, and the text immediately went through.

That motherfucker actually blocked me.

At this point, you were more than a little pissed. Daki wasn’t responding, Gyutaro fucking blocked you, all the while you were itching to profess your love once and for all. You really couldn’t catch a break, huh?

Ater school ended, you got in your car and made a beeline for the Shabanas’ apartment. is was getting settled one way or another, and if you had to break down their door to do it, then so be it.

You rang the doorbell and stepped back, crossing your arms as you stared intently at the door, waiting for it to open. It didn’t matter which of the siblings ended up answering—they were both gonna end up getting a piece of your mind either way.

It was Daki who answered. She cracked open the door, and her eyes widened when she saw you.

“H-hey-”

“Daki, what the hell?” You forced open the door to let yourself inside, and she stepped back, not trying to stop you. “Why aren’t you answering my texts? And what the actual fuck is up with Gyutaro?”

“My phone broke,” she answered, opting to leave out the part where it was Gyutaro who broke it. “My brother’s out getting me a new one.”

...Okay, that was valid. Your temper simmered down a little bit, but that still didn’t explain the other half of the problem.

“And what about Gyutaro? I haven’t heard a word from you guys all day, and-”

She cut you of mid-sentence with a cry of “Please don’t hurt my brother!”

You paused, your words dying on your tongue. “Daki, what-”

“He’s hurt enough already, and it’s all my fault,” she said, beginning to cry. “I don’t want him to hurt more.”

“Daki, what are you-”

“We had a fight, and I sent that text to get back at him, but I didn’t know how upset it’d make him!” She was rambling now, hiccuping on her explanation.

“Daki, please-”

“I don’t know if he could take it if you rejected him, he might actually kill himself, and I can’t live on my own,” she continued her mindless babbling. “So please, can we just pretend like none of this ever happened-”

“Daki, I’m in love with your brother.”

“-and go back to normal and my brother will be fine and,” she stopped suddenly, finally registering your words. She looked up at you, almost unbelieving. “You... You’re what?”

As heated as the moment was, you couldn’t suppress the giddy smile that split across your face at the confession. “I’m in love with your brother, Daki. I like him, too.”

She was silent for a moment, as if processing your words. en all at once, she pulled you into a tight, excited embrace, tears gone and replaced by pure elation.

“Why didn’t you say so?” She squealed. “Oh my god, brother’s gonna be so happy! He’s never dated anyone, did you know that? He hasn’t even had his first kiss yet. Oh my god, I can’t believe you actually like him.” She suddenly pulled away, hands still on your shoulders, staring at you intensely. “You’re not joking, right? No take-backsies?”

“I’m not joking,” you assured her, still grinning. “And I won’t be taking anything back.”

She squealed once more, clapping her hands together in delight. “Yay, you guys are gonna be so cute! When are you going to tell him?”

“Now, if I can help it,” you said. “Where is he?”

“At that electronics store downtown,” she replied, almost tripping over her words with how fast she was trying to get them out. “He left not too long ago, so if you hurry, you might be able to catch him.”

That was all the encouragement you needed to go running out the door and back to your car, Daki cheering you on as you sped out of her driveway, leaving skid marks in the asphalt.

The drive went by in a flash. All of a sudden, you found yourself outside of the electronics store. You pulled into the parking lot, and just then, you spotted Gyutaro walking out of the doors.

You put your car in park right there and jumped out. You didn’t care that you were halfway pulled in and taking up two parking spots; this was more important.

“Turtle boy!” You shouted from across the lot. He whipped his head around to look at you, stunned. You grinned, and bolted in his direction.

“Oh... Uh... it’s you...,” he mumbled as you skidded to a stop in front of him, out of breath and probably looking more than a little crazy.

“Why the fuck did you block me?” Okay, those definitely weren’t the words you’d meant to come out of your mouth, but it was a conversation starter nonetheless!

He stepped back a little, wide-eyed like some terrified cornered animal. “Uh, I-I-”

“More to the point, why didn’t you tell me?” You pushed forward, getting in his face as he tried to stumble away from you. At this point, you practically had him pinned against the wall. “I mean, I was gonna bring it up myself sooner or later, but did I really have to find out through Daki of all people?”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. He looked like he was about to burst into tears.

“...I’m sorry,” he croaked, voice raspy and just above a whisper. “I-it’s okay, though—I’ll leave you alone from now on. You’ll never have to see me again. I’m sorry.”

You blinked at him. Did he seriously think you were there to reject him? Had he not noticed the painfully obvious signs that you had a thing for him that you’d been giving since day one?

Ater you didn’t move or speak at his words, he shrunk and turned his face away, screwing his eyes shut. “...Please... I know already, just... You can leave now...”

“Gyutaro.” He visibly flinched at his name, and in that moment, you snapped.

You grabbed his jaw and wrenched his face forward, not waiting another moment before crashing your lips onto his. It was ugly, it was messy, and it kinda hurt a little bit, but still you pressed into the kiss, determined. You heard a sound of surprise escape from his throat.

When you pulled away with a quiet smack, he was looking at you as if you’d sprouted another head. Ater that burst of bravado, you ended up feeling a bit embarrassed.

“...Sorry,” you said, awkwardly patting his cheek. “I, uh, definitely should’ve asked first.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “I didn’t... I didn’t mind it.”

“Oh. Good.”

It was silent. Uncomfortably so. You were both on the verge of saying something, but neither of you wanted to make the first move.

It ended up being Gyutaro who broke the silence. “Why did you...” He trailed of, couldn’t finish his words, but you knew what he was asking.

“I’m in love with you.” Welp, there it was. No coming back from this now. You’ve come this far making a fool out of yourself—parking like a drunkard, cornering him like some predator, giving him what you were sure was the worst possible first kiss he could’ve had—you might as well see it to the end.

You sucked in a breath. “I’m in love with you. And I wish I could say I’m embarrassed by putting it so bluntly, but I’m not. Honestly, I’ve run out of fucks to give.”

He cracked a smile at your last few words, albeit a hesitant one, but it disappeared just as quick. He still sort of looked like he was ready to cry.

“You’re lying” He whispered, eyes glassy and on the verge of actually crying. “You’ve gotta be.”

“Oh my god, Gyu, I’m not fucking lying!” You slumped your head forward in frustration, and he jumped. “I like you! I want to kiss your stupid little face and talk about turtles and- and do whatever else it is that makes you happy because I’m in love with you.”

Silence. And then, “...You’re being serious?”

“Yes, oh my god, I’m being serious,” you said, exasperated. “Why else would I do all this? I don’t go running across parking lots for just anyone.”

Silence again. He sniffed. You looked up, and saw that his tears had finally spilled over. But this time, he looked... happy. Genuinely happy.

He realized you were seeing him cry like a loser, and he turned away rubbing his eyes. “S-sorry, I just... this... this has never happened to me before. I didn’t think...”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to brush away some of his tears. It only made more spill out.

He gulped, and chewed on his bottom lip. “Can I...?”

You assumed he was asking if he could kiss you again, so you nodded, closing your eyes and tilting your head for his access. You were surprised to feel the solid weight of his head plop onto your shoulder, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling shakily. When he breathed out, he tried hard to suppress his shudder.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer in and clutching his head. You could feel him smile against your shoulder.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured. “I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Well, you thought wrong.” He gave a weak chuckle at your words.

“I guess I did,” he said. He pulled away. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

He looked down, suddenly shy. “Why... why me? I’m so ugly and weird a-and gross...”

“Hey,” you cut him of with a stern look. “None of that while I’m here. I like you for you. You’re smart and funny and so awkward in this cute way and... I could list things forever, really.”

“But,” he pressed, “I’m so ugly and you’re so—so not.”

“I mean, I won’t lie to you and tell you you’re conventionally attractive.”

Okay, ouch. at stung a little bit. But he supposed that your harsh bluntness was better than sugarcoating it or beating around the bush. You’ve been nothing if not honest all this time, and he truly appreciated it.

“But,” you continued, once again bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “While that may be true, for some reason I can’t help thinking you might be the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Heat rushed up his neck and for a second, he felt as if he might faint. Were you trying to kill him? You were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

“So...,” he started, painfully awkward yet again. “Are we dating now or...?”

You snorted. “I’d fucking hope so.”

“Just checking...” he leaned down to nestle his head against your shoulder once more, taking a deep inhale.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Standing in silence, holding each other like it was the last thing you’ll ever do. After a good while, though, you spoke up.

“You should probably get Daki her phone,” you said softly. “Knowing her, she’s probably having withdrawal symptoms by now.”

He snorted, but reluctantly pulled his head from the crook of your neck. “Probably. I should get going.” The look on his face told you that he wanted to do anything but.

“I can meet you there,” you said quickly. “At your apartment. You can take your bike and take my car. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” he answered just as quickly, then paused. “...You’re gonna be there?”

He sounded as if he didn’t believe you, like maybe this was some elaborate prank you were playing on him and you were going to stand him up just like he thought you should.

“I’ll be there. Promise. In fact,” you reached down to take the plastic bag that held Daki’s new phone from his hand. “I’ll take this. at way you know I’ll be there, at least to give it to Daki.”

“Okay.” He still looked doubtful, but your words made his face soten, just a little. “Okay.”

.

.

.

so i binged the new season of kny and was possessed to write this for gyutaro because he is the only boy ever

might make a lil epilogue if it’s well received enough

Jamil never really believed in love at first sight. Throughout their middle school years, Jamil had had the privilege of being privy to any and all of Kalim’s emotional affairs. It was a taxing business; every other week, Kalim would stumble up to him, blathering on about his newfound crush that he was “sure this is the one! I swear, it’s different this time! I can feel it!”

Of course, it never was different. Kalim’s romantic whims were about as frequent, predictable and undulating as the sea tides. And somehow, much to Jamil’s chagrin, Kalim never seemed to grow tired of this back-and-forth. And every time, he seemed just as involved, just as passionate. It was a little frightening, if he was being honest.

Jamil never believed in love at first sight, nor did he have any time for it. The concept of high school romance was trivial and inefficient, in Jamil’s opinion. His time was put to much better use by doing anything else.

Yeah, on the first day of his second year at Night Raven College, all of that was thrown out of the window.

His breath caught in his throat and he froze in place when he saw you, casually strolling across campus with an odd-looking cat-like monster attached to your hip. You looked new, he noted. Probably one of the new freshmen.

You weren’t anything special. Another average student wearing an average school uniform he normally wouldn’t look twice at. But for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your small smile and the spark in your eyes was captivating. The rhythm of your gait as you walked was hypnotizing. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. Was he having a heart attack? Was he about to die?!

“Yoo-hoo, earth to Jamil,” Kalim whistled, nudging his shoulder. Just as quickly as it began, Jamil snapped out of it, blood still pumping from whatever it was he’d just experienced. “You good, dude?”

“Yeah,” Jamil said, his voice dry and hoarse as the Scarabian desert. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Kalim shot him a look, but he didn’t say anything more as they went to start their first day of school. Jamil went the rest of the day functioning normally enough, if not a bit stiff. Unfortunately for him, it was just three days before Kalim (as emotionally perceptive as he was) confronted him about his odd behavior.

He’d stormed into Jamil’s room, slamming the door behind him and making Jamil jump. He glared when he saw it was Kalim.

“Yes, Kalim?” He said, voice holding a tinge of venom.

“We need to talk,” Kalim replied. He marched up to his bed and plopped himself onto the mattress, directly across from where Jamil sat at his desk in the corner of the room. Jamil sighed and turned back to his work, much too tired to deal with whatever it was Kalim wanted to bring up.

“About what?” He asked, uninterested.

“I’m not stupid, Jamil,” he said, and Jamil had to repress a snort. “Something’s up with you. And I think I know what it is.”

“Please, do enlighten me,” Jamil caustered, rolling his eyes.

“You’re in love,” he replied with no hesitation.

Jamil froze. His pencil clattered on his desk, tearing off mid-sentence. He slowly turned to face Kalim, who was grinning cheekily.

“What. Did you say?” his words were low and even, and if Kalim picked up on the challenging tone, he took no note of it.

“You’re in love,” Kalim repeated. He moved closer to Jamil until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling and happily swinging back and forth. “I dunno who it is, yet, but I’m sure of it. And I wanted to let you know that I am in full support of you!”

Jamil scoffed. “I’m not in love. I have no clue what gave you that idea.”

“Mm-hmm.” Kalim smirked. “As if you haven’t been staring off into space all googly-eyed every other class period.”

“...I have?”

Kalim hopped down from the bed and strode to where Jamil sat, bracing himself with one hand on his desk and leaning over. “I’m not gonna force you to tell me—although I really would like to know who it is—but I’ll respect your privacy. I know you’re not good with this kind of stuff, so I won’t press.”

Jamil blinked. “Thanks…? I think?”

“However,” Kalim chirped, “I would like to offer you a bit of advice.”

Jamil sighed. “Alright, tell me.”

“You should get a journal!”

Jamil raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“To write your feelings.” Kalim shrugged. “It’s not good to keep ‘em all locked up like that. I know I’ve always found that writing things down helps to take load off, even just a bit.”

“Thank you, Kalim. I’ll be sure to look into it,” Jamil said curtly, turning back to his work and definitely not planning on looking into it. But Kalim seemed satisfied, and flounced out of Jamil’s room to do who-knows-what.

‘In love’? Bullshit, Jamil thought to himself. But if there was one thing to be sure about Jamil, it was that he hated admitting Kalim was right.

.

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.

“Jamil!” The boy in question froze, turning slowly to see you waving at him. You grinned. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Jamil gulped, trying his best to keep his face cool and collected. “Good afternoon to you as well, Prefect. I was just picking up ingredients for Kalim’s dinner tonight. Were you here for anything in particular?”

“You sound like a retail worker,” you laughed. “But yeah, I was, actually. Trey sent me out to pick up some ingredients for the torrone he’s experimenting with, and I’m almost done. I just can’t seem to find the almond extract.”

Jamil peered down into his shopping bag at the little vial of almond extract he’d picked up; the last in stock. It was an ingredient in the sweet soup he was cooking for tonight, one of Kalim’s favorites. Without thinking, he reached into his bag and pulled the little vial out, offering it to you. He mentally decided that Kalim was just going to have to suck it up and deal.

Your eyes sparkled as you took it. “Wow, thanks, Jamil! Where’d you even find it?”

“They’re in a little alcove in the back corner. I still have some shopping to do, so I can grab another one,” he lied. He was certain that if you knew that one was the last in stock, you’d force it back into his hands and insist he be the one to have it. “I figured it would be easier for you to just take mine, so you can get back as quickly as you can.”

You grinned at him, and Jamil swore he almost went into cardiac arrest. “Thanks, Jamil. I’ll see if I can sneak a few pieces of torrone to you later, as thanks.”

You bid each other farewell, and just like that, you were one from the shop, the only remnants of you being the fading jingling of the shop’s bell and the empty spot in his bag where the almond extract had been. These details were so small, but to Jamil, the emptiness weighed on him like a wet wool coat.

“Will that be all for you today?” Sam asked him as he began ringing all his items up at the counter.

“Ye-” Jamil bit his tongue, thinking. “...Actually, could you give me just one moment? I forgot something.”

After a few moments, he came back with a little spiral-bound notebook, and set it with the rest of his items.

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.

I never cared much for the old stories of Aladdin and his Genie, Jamil wrote, sitting at a table in the far corner of the library. I’ve heard them so many times, I practically have them memorized. But recently, I can’t help but let my mind wander… What would it be like to have three wishes? What would I wish for?

He glanced up briefly to where you were standing, quietly chatting with Deuce as you pulled your magical history books from the shelves to check out. He turned back to his journal.

I think I know what my first wish would be.

“Jamil?” At the sound of his name, Jamil closed his notebook at the speed of light and looked up to see your curious eyes.

He cleared his throat. “Hello.”

“We seem to run into each other a lot,” you chuckled. Jamil could feel heat creeping up his neck. You leaned forward. “What're you working on? Is that book written in.... what is it written in?”

“It’s a book of folktales and legends from the Scalding Sands,” he explained. “Written in Arabic. This was the only copy they had, and I figured it’s about time to brush up on my reading.”

You slid into the seat next to him, looking at the book. He tried to inconspicuously stash his journal in his bag while you were occupied with deciphering the letters on the cover. Your fingers brushed across the words that were printed.

“This lettering is gorgeous,” you murmured. “We have the same kind of language back in my world, but I haven’t seen it here yet.”

Jamil chuckled. “It’s rather decorative, yes. I’m not surprised you haven’t been exposed to it; it’s not exactly a common language in this part of the world. Even the royal families in the Scalding Sands primarily speaks English.” He shrugged. “It’s mostly the commoners that keep it around.”

“Do you ever have trouble switching between the two?” You asked. “I mean, this is written backwards, and it has a completely different alphabet.”

“Not particularly,” he answered. “I grew up speaking both fairly fluently, so I’ve never had much difficulty. Out loud, at least. I think in a consistent mix of English and Arabic, so if anyone were to read my mind, they’d be fairly confused.”

You giggled. Jamil’s heart fluttered. He began paging through the book.

“Ooh, what’s that?” You pointed at an illustration on one of the pages. Jamil smiled.

“That’s the Genie in the lamp,” he said. “An ancient being that the Sorcerer of the Sands spent years seeking out.”

You pointed to a paragraph next to the drawing. “What does that say?”

Jamil squinted at the page, translating the Arabic in his head before reading it to you. “‘Upon rubbing the lamp, the genie would emerge, granting you three wishes. You couldn’t wish for more wishes, someone to come back from the dead, or-” Jamil paused, stuttering. “Or someone to fall in love with you.’”

You whistled, leaning back in your chair. “Geez, that defeats a lot of options, doesn’t it?” You peered at him from the corner of your eye. “What would you wish for, Jamil?”

He tilted his head down and let his hair curtain around his face, praying you couldn’t see the growing warmth in his cheeks. “I don’t know if I’d wish for anything. For myself, at least. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” you hummed. “A way back home, probably. But not just that; a way to go back and forth between the two worlds, too.”

“A good choice.” Jamil dared to steal a glance at you. “Perhaps that would be my wish, as well.”

“You’d spend a wish on me?”

Jamil gulped. “Of course. Besides, anything I’d want couldn’t be granted by a wish.”

“You mean, for love?” Shit, shit, shit, Jamil cursed himself internally for letting that last bit slip out.

“Not necessarily,” he quickly pinned on. “I just think that, well… Anything I want to get, anything that’s really important to me, I’d want to work for myself.”

You hummed in contemplation. “That’s very wise, I’ve gotta say.” You perked up as someone suddenly called your name from across the library. You smiled at him apologetically. “Sorry, looks like I’ve got to run. I’m already late for our study group.”

“Of course. Please, go ahead. I’m sorry for keeping you.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said as you hefted your bookbag over one shoulder. “I like talking with you.”

Once again, Jamil watched as you left, leaving a huge, gaping hole where your presence used to be. He decided it’d be best for him to leave, too; he didn’t want to linger more than was necessary. Right before he began packing up, he pulled his journal from his bag to jot one last thought down.

On second thought, he scribbled. Perhaps I wouldn’t wish at all. Wishes are for people who don’t know how to make things happen themselves.

And I do not plan on being one of them.

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I am so proud of those first two paragraphs

want to submit an event request? check here, they’re open!

“He expedited my contract!” He said. “It’s totally dissolved, and I don’t have to work for him anymore.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s-”

“Weird, I know,” Ace said, eyes sparkling. “I was super freaked out, too. It’s Azul Ashengrotto, for Queen’s sake. I really thought someone was playing an elaborate prank on me.”

“But he was serious?”

Ace hooted in victory. “He was! Oh, Friday nights, how I’ve missed you…”

As Ace blabbered on about all of the plans he was going to make and friends he’d catch up with, you furrowed your brow, replaying Ace’s words over in your head. It was so out of character, so odd for Azul to do this—it was selfless.

Huh.

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.

You whistled a quiet tune to yourself as you strode down the halls, going to pick up Jack and Deuce after their track practice. The halls were relatively quiet, save for the few students you passed here and there.

“No, you’re doing it wrong,” a harsh, familiar voice chided from one of the classrooms. Its door was cracked open just a bit. You peered in the classroom silently, and had to repress a sound of distaste when you saw Azul perched on a desk in the empty classroom, observing a small, nervous-looking boy at the front of the class.

You’d seen the boy before, but only in passing. He was a first year in Octavinelle named Kaavyan, with dark skin and round glasses so thick you could hardly see his eyes. He was skinny and shaky; he could probably be blown away by a strong gust of wind. Currently, he stood on wobbly knees at the front of the classroom holding a stack of notecards, sweating bullets as Azul tore him apart with his cool, calculating eyes.

I knew Azul was a jerk, but this is a bit excessive, you thought to yourself. I never took him for the bully type.

Just as you were about to step in and intervene, Kaavyan suddenly threw the note cards on the ground with a frustrated huff. “This is useless. I just can’t do it.” As he spoke, you realized he had what sounded to be a Lancashire accent, as well as a noticeable lisp.

“That’s not true,” Azul said, his voice surprisingly soft. He stood up and approached the boy. “The key is to have confidence.”

“But I don’t.” The boy was practically on the verge of tears. “No one’s going to take me seriously when I talk, anyways.”

“Then make them.” Azul picked up the notecards from the ground and handed them back to him. “Even if you’re not confident, as long as you act like it, they’ll believe it. Make your presence so potent that they won’t have a choice but to listen to you, regardless of any speech impediment.”

“But I’m not like you,” Kaavyan protested.

“Not yet, at least,” Azul retorted soundly, which made Kaavyan shut his mouth. Azul pushed up his glasses and went to sit back down at the desk. “Now, once more, from the top.

Kaavyan was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Thank you for doing this,” he said. “I know I’ll have to pay the price later, but-”

Azul held up a hand to stop him. “No. No price. I’m the Housewarden, it’s my responsibility to make sure every student in Octavinelle succeeds. All I’m expecting in return is for you to nail this presentation.”

Kaavyan beamed at him before starting his speech over again, and you took it as your cue to leave. You knew that Deuce and Jack were probably wondering where you were, so you picked up your pace a bit, but you couldn’t help but replay the scene you just saw unfold in your head.

Huh.

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.

The week following, you’d been trodding along the campus with Ace and Deuce in tow, giggling at some half-assed joke Ace had cracked when a piece of paper was suddenly shoved under your nose.

You snatched the flier away and out of your face with annoyance, only to see the beaming face of Kalim.

“Uh, hey, Kalim,” you began, hesitant. “What’s up?”

“You’re coming to the party, right?” He was practically vibrating in excitement.

You were confused. What party? You un-crumpled the flier that had been thrust in your face.

“‘All are invited,” you began reading off of the paper, “to an exclusive, black-tie dance at Monstro Lounge to celebrate the school basketball team’s recent win against Royal Sword Academy. There are no charges to enter, only that you bring a positive attitude and good school spirit. Signed and approved by… Azul Ashengrotto’.” You blinked, making sure you were reading it right.

Ace grabbed the paper from your hands, and Deuce peered over his shoulder. Both of their jaws were slack with shock.

“Since when was this a thing?” Ace exclaimed. “The team didn’t get told any of this stuff…”

Kalim waved him off. “It was kind of a last-minute decision by Azul himself, from what I’ve heard. But hey, it’s a party, I’m not complaining!”

You chewed your lip. “Azul doesn’t give a shit about basketball, unless he’s working concessions. And it’s not like this is Magift. It…. it doesn’t make sense.”

“If not making sense gets me stuff like this, then call me Chenya,” Ace said, grinning at Kalim and throwing an arm around your shoulder. “We’ll be there, for sure!”

Kalim cheered and skipped away merrily, ready to harass the next passing students about the party at Monstro Lounge. As Ace chatted happily about what he was going to wear to the party and Deuce listened with apt interest, you were quiet, wondering if Hell had frozen over. Or, perhaps you’d been a bit too quick to assume things about Azul.

The thought made a small knot twist in your stomach.

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.

.

Ace wolf whistled when you stepped out of the Heartslabyul bathroom, dressed to the nines and ready to party.

You playfully swatted at his shoulder. “Can it, Romeo.”

“Can’t help it, you just look so pretty,” Ace crooned, puckering his lips and making exaggerated kissing noises. You shoved him away, laughing.

“You don’t look half bad, yourself,” you said. “Where’s Deuce and Grim? We were supposed to leave five minutes ago.”

Ace shrugged. “Last time I checked they were still getting ready. Who knows what’s going on in there.”

The two of you suddenly heard a crash from the room over, followed by loud and heavy cursing.

“....I’m going to go check on them.”

“Good plan.”

When you opened the door to the room, you were greeted with the sight of Deuce, still only half-dressed with his pants belt-less and dress shirt only partially buttoned, tangled up in what looked to be…. a black rope?

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Grim sighed, rubbing his furry head. “He’s hopeless.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a terrible teacher,” Deuce barked, glaring at the feline.

“It’s a bow tie! It’s not like it’s rocket science.”

You sighed, shaking your head and going up to Deuce to begin untangling him from his mess of knots. “You could’ve just asked me, y’know.”

Deuce huffed, looking away with pink cheeks. “It was embarrassing.”

“Not as embarrassing as showing up to a fancy party with whatever it is you’re trying to do with this bow tie.”

Deuce grumbled incoherently as you straightened out the piece of fabric and popped his collar up so you could fasten it properly.

“There, done,” you said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. “Now hurry up! We’re already late.”

The party was in full swing by the time the four of you arrived. The room was full of students in suits—and some in dresses, you noted—who chatted and laughed over some amber, fizzy drink in martini glasses. The warm, dim lighting made you feel comfortable, the lights casting soft yet deep shadows on students’ faces. It smelled like salt and a thick, floral fragrance that you couldn’t quite put your hand on.

There was a live jazz band playing a sweet, soulful rhythm, loud enough to provide a cushion over the many voices, but not disruptive. The saxophonist and trumpet seemed to be having a particularly good time, as they chased each other over the swinging chords, each coming up with a more elaborate blow than the last. Upon closer inspection, you could see that it was Lilia on the trumpet. He made eye contact and shot you a wink and a smile before returning to his improvisation.

“You made it!” Kalim bounded up to you with Jamil in tow, fully decked out in colorful beads and shimmering gold. Jamil, while not as extravagant as Kalim, was done up neatly, a streak of red on his eyelids making his gaze seem especially deep.

“Couldn’t pass it up,” you said, smiling. “Now, pray tell, where are the drinks?”

Kalim led your group over to the refreshment table, where Grim wasted no time in piling heaps of smoked salmon and spicy olive salad onto his plate. Deuce hardly had a moment to pour himself a drink before Ace was dragging him off to dance and mingle, and hopefully not get into too much mischief. You and Kalim chatted for a bit as you sipped from your glasses, Jamil putting his two cents in every now and then. Soon enough, Kalim got called over by some second years from Savanaclaw.

You were left alone, contentedly nursing your drink when you looked up to see Jade Leech approaching you.

“Enjoying the party?” He inquired, voice as smooth and suave as ever.

“I am, actually,” you replied, taking another sip. “You’ve cleaned up the place nicely.”

“You’ve got Azul to thank for that.” He nodded his head in the direction across the room, where you saw the man in question smiling broadly as he entertained a few guests by showing off the vast aquarium. “It was all his idea.”

“Really?” You continued to watch him, seemingly very invested in explaining the various sea life he hosted to some first-years.

Jade leaned in closer to you. “He’s too nervous approach you himself, but he’d really like to talk to you.”

You snorted, and you couldn’t help the fond smile that spread across your face.

You set your empty glass down. “Thanks for the tip, Leech.”

You strode over to where Azul was, quietly joining behind the group, waiting for him to notice you.

“And see here, the clownfish use the anemones to-“ his voice caught as he met your eyes, fumbling in surprise. “To, uh, protect them… Could you excuse me for a moment?”

He gently ushered the students away and went over to where you stood. You were looking up and had your back to him, admiring the aquarium yourself with mild interest as you watched Azul approach you from your peripheral vision.

“You have an interest in sea life?” Azul asked, trying to force his voice to be smooth, but you could still detect a nervous waver in his tone.

“I do,” you hummed. “You have a wonderful collection of Cnidarians. And I must say, I’ve always found cuttlefish to be particularly fascinating.” You turned to him, the corners of you mouth quirking up in a teasing smirk. “But, then again, I might just have a soft spot for all cephalopods.”

Azul coughed into his hand and turned towards the tank in an effort to conceal his reddening face. “Really, now? The Cnidarians have always been a main attraction, particularly the moon jellies.” He took a glance at you and saw that you were staring at him, and just as quickly he averted his eyes, cheeks warming even more. “I’ll have to look into the possible addition of cuttlefish.”

“You should.” It was quiet between the two of you for a moment before you spoke up again. “I’ve gotta say, when I heard you were throwing this big party, I was a little surprised.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged. “You didn’t strike me as the type to throw parties for no reason, much less for our basketball team.”

“Well, everyone deserves a celebration of their achievements, do they not?” He said. “Besides, Floyd’s been putting in more effort as of late, and I wanted to show him it didn’t go unnoticed.”

“That’s really selfless of you.”

He tensed, turning to look at you and half expecting a sneer, but there you were, smiling softly.

He hoped you couldn’t hear the frantic beating of his heart.

He pulled at the collar of his shirt. “It’s a little warm in here, would you like to step outside for a moment?”

“Of course.” You followed him as he led you into the back room where he began ascending the staircase with wobbly legs. He opened the door at the top—the roof, where the jazz music and voices chattering was nothing but a faint hum in the back of your mind. He followed you, and as the door clicked shut, it was silent.

“This feels familiar, doesn’t it,” Azul chuckled. It was a dark but not unpleasant night, the gentle, cool breeze flicking up the ends of your hair and whistling softly in your ears.

“Yeah, it does,” you said.

Azul paused for a moment before clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. About before. I’d known full well you wanted nothing to do with me, yet I still approached you with some silly job.”

You blinked at him, taken aback by his sudden forwardness. “You don’t need to apologize for that,” you said, and you meant it. “You weren’t violating the contract. I can’t hold it against you for having, y’know, free will.”

“That’s not what I’m apologizing for.” His voice somehow got more serious, his eyes boring into you with an intensity you’d never seen. But when you looked closely behind his steeliness, you could see fear.

He took a deep breath. “The truth is, I didn’t actually want you to work for me. I-I mean, I wouldn’t say no to such a thing, of course, you’re rather brilliant, but that’s beside the point. The only reason I offered was because I…” His eyes grew warm and his expression softened. “I wanted to spend time with you.”

Your lips parted slightly, and you blinked at him, wide-eyed. He shifted under the scrutiny of your gaze as a blush creeped up his neck.

“You… just wanted to spend time with me?” You repeated, still not sure you really heard him right.

His fidgeting became even worse as he adjusted his tie and desperately looked anywhere but your face. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I, uh… How do I say this… I… I seem to have taken an interest in you.”

You stifled the urge to snicker at how badly he was tripping over his tongue, but you’d rather spare him the embarrassment. You knew exactly where this was going—he wasn’t exactly difficult to read—and yet you couldn’t help but want to play with him a bit more. “An interest in me? How so?”

“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?” He sighed. “I-”

“Azuuuul!” Floyd burst in, all but kicking down the door to the roof. You couldn’t tell if his stupid grin and woozy frame was because of some illicit drink he’d smuggled in from Sam’s, or if it was just Floyd being, well, Floyd. “How’s it goin’? Did it work?”

If Azul was pink before, he was fire-engine red now. His eyes blazed. “Floyd! Go away!”

“Pshh,” Floyd waved the rather distressed Azul off. “Jade n’ I spent sooo much time helping you with this little charade you’re putin’ on, we’ve gotta see it through.”

Your mind prickled at his words, and you turned to Azul. “What does he mean?”

“D-Don’t listen to him! It’s just, I, um-” Azul was beyond aiding at this point, blushing so much and tripping over his own words as if his tongue’s shoelaces were tied together.

“C’mon, Shrimpy, you think he pulled all this off by himself?” Floyd cackled. “He wanted to hook up with you so bad, he went through all this trouble to act nice to the first years and throw this big-ass party—which is hella fun, by the way, you guys should come back down—just to impress you.”

“That’s enough!” Azul grabbed Floyd by the shoulders and shoved him back through the door, slamming it shut and pressing his back against it so it couldn’t be opened again. You could hear Floyd’s faint giggling fade off as he went back down to the party. Azul looked at you, glasses askew on his stricken face.

“...Are you serious?” Your voice was small, yet your anger was anything but. Your heart raced and blood pounded in your ears as you waited for his reply.

He blanched. “D-Don’t listen to him, it’s not like that-”

“Not like what, Ashengrotto?” You shouted, and he flinched. “This entire time… You letting Ace go, being nice to people, making me think that you might not be a complete douchebag—was just some elaborate plan to get in my pants?” You laughed, a sound that was dry and forced. “God, I knew you were low, but this is a whole other level.”

“Please,” he whimpered. “Please just listen to me.”

You were still seething, but you shut your mouth, grinding your teeth together as you let him speak.

“I like you, yes. You’ve probably figured that one out by now,” he said, making you scoff. “But it’s not for some shallow, depraved reason. You’re… You’re incredible, and my feelings go deeper than just… Y’know…”

“Wanting to fuck?”

“No!” Azul’s eyes were wide, and his hands were waving desperately. “Those were not my intentions at all! I would never think of that, and I haven’t even considered it. W-well, I’m not saying I wouldn’t but-”

You glared. “You need a shovel to help dig the hole you’re in even deeper?”

“Message received.” He swallowed. “My point is, I value you. As a person. Frankly, you’re incredible to me. I’ve….. never met someone who made me feel this way, this much.” Azul chewed his bottom lip as his hands gripped the fabric of his blazer. “What you said that day on the roof… Yeah, it hurt a bit, but you were right. And I guess I…. I wanted to show you that I wasn’t really this heartless monster you thought I was. That, maybe, I could do better than what I have been.”

You searched his face for any flick of uncertainty, anything that would give him away of his deceit, but you saw nothing. His words were nothing but genuine.

“Throughout my life, I was never given anything,” Azul said softly, not meeting your eyes. “I’ve never been a natural winner. I’ve never been the first pick, or one of the people that just lucked out in life. I was never all that impressive. My wishes were never granted. Everything I have, I had to work for. I didn’t get anything for free.”

He looked up, and you saw his eyes were glassy with tears. You took a step towards him.

“So then you felt that no one else should have to get anything for free, either,” you said, more a statement than a question. Azul let out a dry chuckle.

“Now that I’ve heard it said aloud, I really do sound heartless, don’t I?” He smiled sadly. “Although, I really do like giving. Believe it or not, my benevolence isn’t all an act. But somewhere along the lines, I figured out I was giving more so much than I was getting. So I thought, if people can take advantage of me without a second thought, why shouldn’t I do the same?”

His tears were threatening to fall, and he coughed into his hand to mask the ache in his throat.

“I guess, from there, I kind of lost sight of what it meant to be a good person. The truth is, I’m really not all that great. I never have been,” he said. “But I wanted you to think I was.”

You looked at him. And this time, you really looked at him. He looked so small, so frail, so vulnerable. He was baring himself to you with no second thoughts. You didn’t see the Housewarden of Octavinelle, the manipulative, ruthless, bloodsucking parasite that was Azul Ashengrotto.

You just saw a sad little boy, trying so hard to be seen.

You felt his breath catch when you wrapped your arms around him suddenly, holding him tight. He was stiff, arms hanging loosely by his side, unsure of what to do as you buried your face into his shirt. Hesitantly, he returned the embrace, arms snaking up slow and unsure.

“I’m sorry,” you said, the sound muffled in his shoulder. Your fiery anger was gone, replaced by this aching need to hold him and make him feel better.

Azul scoffed, a sound that was almost a hiccup. “Why are you the one apologizing? I’m the one at fault.”

You pulled away to look at him, but kept your arms snug around his waist. “I was wrong about you, Azul. And I’m sorry. I said some pretty mean stuff, and I never really thought to actually…. Talk to you.”

“To be fair, I’m not that easy to talk to.”

You chuckled. “What you lack in emotional intelligence, you make up for in self-awareness.”

He blinked and he rubbed at his eye before the tears could fall. “Lacking emotional intelligence? Floyd said I was doing rather well.”

“And you’re taking dating advice from Floyd?” You asked.

“...Fair enough.” He cleared his throat and pulled away from your embrace, wiping the remnants of tears off his face and heading towards the door. “Er, now that that’s been all cleared up, I suppose I’ll be on my way. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait,” you said, making him stop and turn to look at you. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Azul looked around himself, clueless as to what you meant.

You sighed at his obliviousness. “Weren’t you gonna ask me out?”

He jolted. “W-well, yes, that was the plan, but after this whole, uh, ordeal, I’d assumed that was off of the table.”

“Not anymore.” You sauntered up to him, and he let out a small ‘eep’ at your proximity. “Just because I didn’t like you then, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give you a chance now.”

“You’re giving me a chance?!”

You gently grabbed his chin and pulled him closer to you as his eyes widened. “Tomorrow night, seven o’clock, the Atrium. Don’t be late.”

Without another word, you waltzed off with a smirk, not looking back as Azul sputtered and tried to regain his composure.

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Epilogue

You pranced down the hall towards Monstro Lounge with an extra skip in your step, humming a happy tune as Ace and Deuce struggled to match your pace.

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Ace remarked, slightly out of breath.

You cocked your head. “Really? How so?”

“You’re real subtle, you know that?” Ace said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s because of your date tonight, right?” Deuce asked innocently, to which you smiled and nodded.

Ace screeched to a halt, staring at you, accusatory. “What do you mean ‘date’?!”

“Uh, a ‘date’ as in a date?” You stated, sniggering.

“Like, like a date date?!”

It was your turn to be sarcastic. “No, I’m going to pick up my calendar.”

“I’m serious!” Ace protested. “Who even is this guy? It’s a guy, right? And why did you tell Deuce before me?!”

You pointed at him and drew a circle with your finger. “This is exactly why.”

“It’s with Azul Ashengrotto,” Deuce blurted out before you could stop him. You groaned and Ace all but had an aneurysm.

“Azul?! Since when are you sweet on that shady-ass octo-punk?”

You shot a pointed glare at him. “Since I started dating that shady-ass octo-punk.”

“WHAT?”

You sighed and left Deuce to deal with the flabbergasted Ace, trying to explain to the boy that yes, you and Azul had been dating for a few weeks now, but you just wanted to keep it under wraps. And as of now, you were much more focused on your destination in mind.

You found Azul perched at one of the booth tables in the lounge, sorting through and skimming over various paperwork. You snuck up behind him and he jolted when he felt your hands on his shoulders.

He huffed and relaxed when he saw that it was just you. “You shouldn’t scare me like that. I’m going to go gray early enough as it is.”

You twirled your finger around a strand of his hair. “I thought you were already?”

“You know what I mean.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his head, making his face heat up. You took the opportunity to peer over his shoulder at the papers he was filling out.

“These don’t look like your normal contracts,” you remarked. “What are they for?”

“A formal order for a cuttlefish, actually.” He shuffled the papers until they were straightened out. “It’s been absolute hell trying to find one bred in captivity rather than caught, but I finally managed to-“

You cut him off with a tight squeeze, which he eagerly accepted. He chuckled, brushing his fingers across your arms.

“I take it that it’s to your liking?

“God, ‘Zulee, you’re so romantic, it disgusts me,” you said, clearly not being disgusted. “I can’t believe you actually went through with it.”

He simply hummed as he pulled you down to sit next to him, nestled right into his side. “What do you think about the name ‘Titania’?”

“For what? Our future children?”

Azul went beet red and stumbled for a response. “N-no! God, the cuttlefish, dammit.”

“Titania… Sounds Shakespearean,” you mused. “If I had to take a guess…. Midsummer Night?”

“Right on the money,” he replied, pressing his hands to his cheeks in an effort to cool them down. “I see someone’s been doing their homework, for once.”

“Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I outrank you in the next exam.”

He snorted. “You don’t even study for those.”

“True,” you said, “but maybe I’ll switch it up just this once for the sole purpose of beating you.”

“Now that’s just petty.”

He prodded at your cheek with the end of his pen, a playful glint in his eyes. You flashed one back and pretended to try and bite it. He chuckled, muttering a quiet, “You’re ridiculous.” before returning to his paperwork.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

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