#so hm

and assuming they went through everything in stormbringer so dazai knows chuuya better and he'd seen corruption and such and so forth...

I'm assuming one of the Heros is Hiro as in, the deltarune one and only now I've come to realize i got two ocs with essentially the same name and both of them came from weird dreams of mine so that's interesting.

They chose different arms not to see each other again after graduating from Spearhead. They met, student-officers, aspiring lieutenants, in the little club of the Vampires enrolled in that prestigious Grande École. That was dangerous. They started as friends. Every Vampire - they weren't that many - had to have their peers' back. They had to be friends. And she wasn't pretty. He let his guard down until he fell.

"May you be kind enough to fetch me my towel? I think I've forgotten it in the living room."

"...Sure." He reacts two seconds too late. The tick of the watch on the nightstand drives him crazy.

"You don't sound so sure", she says with a smile in her voice.

She is his type. She really is his type. She was his first for everything. First love, first date, first kiss, first girlfriend, first lover. He made sure to be honest.

The wedding, that is happening now in a month.

She knew about it for fourteen years, and chose the cavalry and he the infantry. So it would be fun while it lasted and they would never have to see each other again after graduation. What a tremendous failure. He retrieves the towel, a dark green one with golden embroidery that smells like sandalwood.

That woman isn't pretty, sure. He never found her pretty in the colloquial sense.

"Thanks", she smiles.

Her skin, a rich, tawny complexion covered in freckles, still damp as she presses the bath sheet against it, hypnotises him. Impossible to take his gaze out of her neck, her square shoulders, her muscular back and arms. Her face is sharp and hard. Her features were sculpted with a knife, without a doubt. Narrow, drooping red eyes, with stern brows, playfully glance at him in the enchanted mirror.

"What?"

Her strong, hooked nose, slightly moves as she flashes her white teeth in a grin.

"Speak your mind, come on!"

"It is the last time we see each other."

Her face dims. She grabs her comb and takes care of her short, black hair. "It is. The wedding is coming up, uh."

"Yes", he murmurs before kissing her nape. "The last weekend of August."

"I got the invitation."

"I've seen it on the table."

"It seems like it will be lovely", she comments. "I've seen your future wife, by the way. At the Opera. She is..." Her voices breaks. "Such a beautiful girl. Really. She seems easy to love. You are lucky. Some of our friends got matchmade with truly heinous people."

But I love you, he wants to say. He also knows that those words could not be unsaid once uttered. Those words would be written in blood on their heart. She lets a sigh of ease as he kisses her shoulder.

"I tried to hate her, you know", she continues. "I really tried. But I've observed her, on stage and after that. She looks so pure. So kind. She looks like she has a gentle soul. You cannot hate such a girl. She is perfect for you."

"Don't say that..."

"It's true." She turns to face him. "And you must have got betrothed to a very rich girl. Really. You are lucky. Your family chose well."

She puts her hands on his cheeks, and kisses him lightly on the lips. He seizes her waist to feel her body against his.

"I am not married yet, Najwa."

I see how it is.