#tarthearted

@tarthearted​ ( ft @ghostcamera​ ) :     When Ace walks into the cafeteria this time, it isn't to visit Leona (thank the seven) but instead to make a delivery to Ruggie. The various murmurs and comments and curious stares from other students pointedly go ignored as Ace grabs a nice-sized box, bigger than most of the other candygrams he's given. Whoever sent this really knew Ruggie's likes judging by the donuts inside.

"Ruggie-senpaiiii, you got a candygram delivery."

Six donuts of good-quality and even better taste. They're all dressed up in valentine's day colors, icing, and heart sprinkles—all reds, pinks, and whites. The only odd one out is one regular donut, rolled in white powered sugar. Ace sets the box on the table and tiredly sighs as he pulls out the message, only to be shocked at the name.

"Huh, so even they've got a soft spot for ya." he mumbles with grin before he readies himself to read. "'Roses are red, and I'm not good with rhymes, but I hope this fancy-box-of-donuts-I-got-in-town are sublime. From Yuudai.' Congrats. If I knew they were from the housewarden, I probably would've stolen one."

valentine’s day isn’t exactly his favorite holiday. in terms of holidays christmas, halloween & his birthday are a lot better when it comes to the food & the gifts offered his way. but valentine’s day ain’t so bad either. usually ruggie can make a madol or two selling candy or delivering corny love letters to their secret admirers. though business has been a bit slower this year, especially after somebody else volunteered to be the night raven delivery boy before he got the chance to. admittedly that took him by surprise. ruggie thought he was the only one here who had an interest in doing odd jobs ‘round here.

the hyena’s ears perk upward as his name is called, cloudy blue eyes fixing on one ace trappola long before the first year has made his way to ruggie’s side. a candygram, eh? well it’s not completely out of the ordinary. ruggie usually likes to sprinkle around small tokens to his fellow students every now & again in hope that he’ll get something twice as nice in return. but valentine’s day is usually a lovey dovey kinda day ain’t it? course ruggie isn’t gonna refuse anything free offered to him, but what are the intentions here?

his eyes dart from the redhead to the large box of doughnuts in his hands. a personal touch & definitely more pricey looking than the generic candy most people send this time of year. now who would take the thought, time, effort & possible money just to treat him? 

ruggie’s eyes narrow as he takes the box, only to widen momentarily as ace reads out the notecard. the prefect...well he’ll be damned. now that’s an interesting move. were it someone else ruggie would be more inclined to suspect underhanded intentions, for the sender to expect or demand he reciprocate with some favor. but yuudai wasn’t really like that. nah, they were the one usually doing all the favors for people. what a surprise...

❛    shishishi, what a sap.    ❜  the corners of his lips curl into a wide smile, letting out a wispy laugh as he looks over the doughnuts in his hands. ❛   didn’t think yuudai was into cheesy stuff like this.   ❜  on the surface ruggie appears relatively unaffected by the gesture, the second year looking his usual amused & teasing self. you wouldn’t think he cared at all for the gift let alone actually be sincerely touched by it. but looks can be deceiving. 

He's oddly quiet and pensive as he sets the small box of chocolates down, and his eyes don't even so much as glance at the paper the message is supposed to be on. Ace simply looks at Yuu with something so akin to honesty from the boy whose so good at tricks.

"Your smile's pretty great, you know that? Happy Valentine's Day. From anonymous."

He pauses but says nothing more, and he's off to the next delivery.

Yuu was pretty popular back home, you know.

Well, sort of.  Popular in a very specific way that didn’t translate to friends, exactly; a bad boy reputation (  or a bad girl reputation, blech, but even back then people were more likely to think of them as masculine than feminine  ) and a general willingness to go to bat against far worse bullies earned them more than a few love notes from girls in class stuffed into their locker, not that those same girls would be seen with Yuu out and about.  Yuu’s popularly is very different here — though, much like at home, they still get into too many fights — but they’re not...surprised, exactly, that Ace got roped into giving them something, too.

They smile, something curious and playful and almost teasing that their friend has gotten stuck in this situation, because the love letters back in the old world never meant anything and this won’t either.  But Ace isn’t smiling back; he seems quiet, hesitant, almost.  It’s...weird, from someone so prone to...well, being loud.  Their brow raises.

Yuu doesn’t expect people to love them, but they’re not stupid.

His voice is honest when he speaks, and he doesn’t even look at the paper with him.  He just looks at them, and Yuu feels their cheeks darkening, green - brown eyes wide and lips parted.  It doesn’t feel like Ace is passing on a message from someone else.  It doesn’t feel like someone else is praising their smile.  This feels like ——

He’s gone as quick as he came, and Yuu’s left holding a small box of chocolates in their hands and holding Ace’s words in their mind.  You’re smile’s pretty great.  From anonymous.  Idly, a hand raises, fingers pressing thoughtfully to their mouth.

It’s...hard to imagine, when Yuu is...the way they are.  And yet...

The thing is — nothing’s real to Dormy anymore.  Not since the Bad Thing they can’t remember / or won’t remember / or never was, the way nothing ever is, the way Chimere can’t remember the name Chimere on the bad days, or the name Dormy on the good ones, or the name of their best friend who ——— who ————

Was there ever a best friend?  Were they real?  (  yes.  )  Are they?  (  no.  )  Dormy can’t feel pain in an almost literal sense, but it aches at the edges, somedays, even if they don’t know it’s pain, even if they can’t call it that, even if they don’t remember how to be in pain.

It’s lonely.  Not being real, or nothing else being real, or both.  It’s lonely, being half of a whole that can’t even remember that there was a whole, really, just knows there’s a space that shouldn’t be.  Dormy can’t name pain or lonely, and can’t feel either, but this is close.

Ace finds Dormy with blot dripping out of their nose, and Dormy can’t even remember what caused it.  It must have been magic — even simple magic risks them getting all blotted up, since the Bad Thing they can’t remember.  Maybe Ace is afraid, after Riddle and — everything else.  But Dormy doesn’t notice until Ace is on his knees in front of where he sits, reaching, hands not sure where to settle.  Dormy’s eyes widen.

“Hello, friend,” Dormy says, instead of Ace’s name, because maybe Ace isn’t real, and it’s bad to name things that aren’t real.  (  they’re not sure why.  it just is.  )  Normally, Ace is very real, very interesting, this time they’re not sure.  “Have you come for the tea party?”

“Tea...party?” Maybe - Ace says, voice uncharacteristically unsure.

“Yes!  I was going to have one with my friends, but they’re not here!”  A beat.  Their blue eyes lower, sting, raise.  “I don’t think they’re real, which is why they couldn’t come!”  They don’t notice the way Ace’s eyes change.  They wouldn’t be able to name it if they did.  “Not to be rude, of course not, sweet as sugar, pass the — oh, but you’re not real, either, and you still made it.”

When Dormy inhales the exhale is shuddering, and it aches at the edges, sometimes, even if they don’t know it’s pain, and when they blink blot trails from their eyes.  Dormy’s friends aren’t gone to be rude, sweet as sugar, they’re not here because they’re not real anymore, because they d ———

Ace’s hands find Dormy’s hands, and they — Dormy, not their hands — suck in a surprised breath, eyes widening as they gaze down at their hands, at his hands, then at his eyes.  His faze strange and serious, even if he can’t hold theirs in return.

“I’m —”  His voice catches, like he’s not sure what he wants to say, “I’m real,” he settles on, and Dormy’s eyes widen.  He’s real?  He’s real?  “I’m here.”

Their eyes look down to Ace’s hands around theirs.  A perfect fit, they said once, they think.  Ace is real, he says, and if Ace is holding them, then Dormy must be real, too.  And Chimere, too.

“——— Ace,” they try, voice quiet, risking naming a thing that’s not real.  But Ace is real, and nothing happens, and Ace is still here.  Ace is still there.

Dormy can’t feel pain, or angry, or notice when people hate them.  But they can smile, feel so bright and joyful and they forget there’s blot on their face, they’re just happy that Ace is real, and here.  Not many people are both anymore.  Nobody’s both anymore, not since the Bad Thing.  Dormy’s head tilts, and they laugh, sweet and bright.

“Ace!” They say again.  “You’re real!  Let’s have a tea party, just the two of us!”

“And here I thought I was the reckless one.”  They don’t sound angry, or anything like that, though a not of disapproval — and concern — wind their way through the muttered words.  Yuu’s got no magic, but they’re good at tending to wounds, and they wrap Ace’s split knuckles with the familiarity of one who’s done this often.  They have.