Jealous Jude~~ I can't count how many times he was cursing and threatening 'that guy' the whole time. He's just sooo cute..~~~ I hope Elbie get his jealous story event with his POV of course.
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ᓚᘏᗢ When you cause them cuteness aggression.
ᓚᘏᗢ TAGS: Gender-neutral reader. Reader is stated as being shorter than the boys. Reader is regarded as cute by them too. Established relationship.
ᓚᘏᗢ A/N: while looking up for the guy's height i came across this. It took me by surprise and made me burst out laughing 😭😭 fcking leech twins are huge what were they giving them in the coral reef lmao | ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ . . . TWST MASTERLIST
ʚ⁺˖↪ FLOYD
Waking up entangled with Floyd’s limbs was a guarantee when you had a sleepover. That was the best scenario. Worst case, you'd wake up on the floor because Floyd had no sense of space and overestimated the size of the bed and ended up pushing you out of it while asleep.
This time, Floyd behaved better regarding that.
Floyd stirred awake, waking you up along with him, and you found yourself cuddled to him…if having one of his arms half draped around your waist and one of his legs on top of yours counted as such. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to wake up in, but you preferred this over finding yourself on the floor.
“Mornin’…” you muttered, still half-asleep as you stretched.
Floyd barely regarded your greeting—it was the least of his concerns. Instead, he fixated on the sliver of skin exposed when you extended your arms overhead, the way the hem of your shirt rode up, akin to curtains unveiling a stage.
Rather than a good morning, Floyd’s impish smile made a slow, playful appearance.
Your stretch was short-lived, the relief interrupted. Instead, sharpness bloomed on the side of your lower abdomen.
“You—!”
He had pushed your shirt higher up, exposing more of your abdomen, and bitten onto it. It was a quick chomp he gave you. Hard enough for it to leave a mark, but not enough to draw blood.
“Eh? What’s that look for? You’re the one being all soft and cute.” With a sleazy smile, he rubbed his face into your tummy. “Don’t act surprised if I try to gobble you up when you look that tasty.”
ʚ⁺˖↪ JADE
“You know, I could use some help over here.”
To end up drenched by sudden rain was not how you were expecting your concise camping trip with Jade to go. Woe is you. Moreover, your single climate-appropriate jacket proved unusable now. Since you were just going to stay a couple of days, you didn’t bother packing another one. Your backpack ran out of space, anyway. It was another jacket or your weighted blanket, and you weren’t about to endure a cold, sleepless night in frigidity.
Jade’s backpack capacity was bigger than yours, thus posing him the availability to pack an extra upper-body garment that suited the temperature.
As much as you were grateful for getting a second chance to accompany Jade on his quest for mushrooms, the truth was that you were struggling with putting the insulated hoodie on. How could someone’s arms in this godforsaken land be this long?
“Oh, do you? I’d say you seem to be managing quite adorably on your own.”
“Jade!”
“My, do not distress, darling. You’re quick to aggravate,” Jade didn’t even bother hiding the amused smile curving his lips, striding towards you with an expression you knew too well. You felt him grab the ends of the sleeves and push them so you’d find the holes faster. “Careful now, or you might disappear in there.”
That little shit.
ʚ⁺˖↪ IDIA
In a school with students from all backgrounds, ranging from supermodels to a literal prince, Idia considered himself not to be at the same level as them. Sure, he was a genius who could design complex algorithms in record speed and code in any programming language known to mankind, and no one in the entirety of the student body compared to his programming prowess…but let’s be honest, who actually finds that attractive? (His thoughts).
The thing was, Idia wanted to impress you. Thus, his solution to his headache ended up being…
Showing you how much of a good gamer he was. No—good didn’t even begin to describe it. He was the MVP.
“Wait, wait, wait! That’s not how you do it! Give me your controller, you’re using a cheat exploit, so that doesn’t count!”
Much to his chagrin, his little plan to awe you went awry. This was nowhere near the little fantasy he spent the night imagining. (It had gone something more like: “Wow, Idia. The way you’re ranked as one of the top 1% of players is so hot I don’t know what to do with myself. And the way you’ve spent over 500 hours on this one video game? Marry me already.” As you fluttered your eyelashes at him.)
“Wha…? What do you mean I’m not playing it right? I’m literally beating your ass this round!” you dodged his attempts at grabbing the controller off your hands, struggling to empty the HP bar of his character.
“That doesn’t count if you’re button-smashing!”
After what felt like forever, he snatched the controller from you, holding it up above his head.
“You sore loser, give it back!”
You stood up from the chair and jumped, raising your arms the furthest you could reach. The odds weren’t working in your favor, as Idia was taller than you, and not only that, but the fact that he also held it up above his head decimated your chances of retrieving it.
At first, your misfortune made him burst out in laughter. You had no chance of taking it back, and your attempt was futile in every sense of the word. However, the longer he glanced at you from his point of view, the spark of endearment did appear. You were smaller than him by a considerable margin. Surely you couldn’t hope those short arms of yours to snatch the controller back, right? To make matters worse for yourself, that little frown and pout wasn’t intimidating him in the slightest.
At last, you huffed.
“Did you give up?” Idia taunted.
You glared at him and crawled onto his bed. Idia’s eyes followed you, confused. Then, you stood up on the mattress, further dumbfounding him.
From that vantage point, you lunged at him, both succeeding in tackling him to the floor and regaining possession of the controller.
ʚ⁺˖↪ MALLEUS
To understand humans and create meaningful connections, such an endeavor implied the necessity to watch—study, even—how these quirky creatures interacted with their environment. Despite the intricacies human relationships and peculiarities entail, he did crave to bridge that gap.
Therefore, he observed you.
His objective was devoid of ill intentions; he found himself gazing upon you more often than he did with the fellow student body, proving that you held a uniqueness that drew his eyes to the way you unfolded to the world around you. The sentiments that stirred when he did were one of a kind; nothing he had ever felt in his over one hundred years of life compared to what he experienced when his eyes or thoughts settled on you. Most humans don’t live that long. They don’t make it for over a century. That thought made him realize the gravity of the situation…
After a date, when your eyes fluttered close, and you leaned in for a kiss, somehow, his memories retraced to that one time you were trying to reach something on the cupboard. For a moment, you looked around as if checking if anyone was around. You hadn’t noticed Malleus was there.
You try to place a leg on the counter, to climb onto it and attempt to grasp what you looked for… To which Malleus was quick to use his magic to levitate the plate you were trying to reach towards your hold.
What else do you do when you can’t reach something?
Instead of lowering himself so you could kiss, as that’s the usual occurrence, he remained unmoving. The way your lips were slightly ajar, waiting for a kiss that has yet to be bestowed upon them, and how the moonlight cast its silver glow on your soft, warm skin…
A heartbeat passed, followed by a second one.
Malleus chuckled, and you opened your eyes to see what was so funny, but that question disappeared when Malleus tilted your chin up to press that long overdue kiss.
a timeline of your relationship through the school year :P
you can read the (optional) prologue, “anti acceptance”, here!
tags/warnings: jade leech x reader (romantic), gender-neutral insert, prefect!reader, swearing, sfw but written with college age (18-22) in mind, wish upon a star event (very mild spoilers), reader has hair/bedhead, mutual teasing, pure fluff with no serious conflict or stakes
a/n: ik i promised one three-year fic ending in a proposal (requested) but that would be WAY too long for something without a real plot structure ;-; i’ll at least fulfill this other request with this fic, but i’ll have to do the proposal in yet another installation lol
word count: 9.1k (six fics stacked on top of each other in a giant trench coat)
DO NOT FEED ANY PART OF THIS TO AI. thanks!
dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/cafekitsune!
You didn’t think you’d get this far.
Two and a half months ago, right before summer break, you’d confessed to Jade Leech. Not with the intention of pursuing him, dating him, or even flattering him; no, you’d confessed so that he would reject you. Because that’s the only way you’d be able to quash your crush on the worst possible person you could have a crush on.
Well, to prove you right in just the wrong way, Jade had accepted your confession. Or if you wanted to be technical about it, he’d rejected your request to be rejected.
And then he charmed you into going on a date. And at the end of that date, he charmed you into going on another date. And so on and so forth, until you could confidently say that you and Jade were ‘dat-ing’.
So, correction: you didn’t think you’d get this far, because you’d been actively trying to not go in this direction.
You're also not going to flatter yourself and believe that Jade actually likes you, either. Like his brother, he’s more motivated by amusement and fascination than by ‘love’. And though that’s what you'd expected of him from the start, it’s not any less… difficult.
Translation: you are whipped for this stupid eel. And said stupid eel is blatantly stringing you along. Through the mud. For fun.
Welcome to hell.
Draped across your dorm couch like a swooned Victorian lady, Ace sighs, loud and dramatic. “Maaan, this year’s entrance ceremony was so boring.”
“That’s a good thing, Ace,” you deadpan from the floor. “Riddle would’ve had everyone’s heads if last year repeated itself.”
“Ehh, probably. But the Headmage could’ve at least made his speeches shorter, couldn’t he? It’s not like anyone's actually paying attention.”
Deuce throws a pillow at his head. “Just because you weren’t paying attention doesn’t mean nobody was!”
“Yeah, Ace!” Grim snickers.
You scoff lightheartedly. “You weren’t listening either, Grim. You literally slept through the entire thing.”
The accused whips his head around at you, betrayed. “W-Well!” he scrambles.
At the flash in Grim’s eyes, you realise: Oh no. You should not have drawn attention to yourself. Not when you’re equally culpable.
And here it comes: “At least I wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at Jade Leech the whole time!”
“Yeah,” the redhead snickers as your face heats up, “I guess you can’t get any worse than that!”
Deuce throws a second pillow at Ace—“Be nice!”—but he doesn’t disagree.
Nor do you have any dignity left to deny it, yourself.
“Hey, look on the bright side: he’ll probably break up with you soon,” Ace assures. “He’s gonna be too busy being a vice-housewarden and thinking about his internship!”
“Oh right,” Deuce and Grim collectively realise with their single shared brain cell, while your heart drops a couple storeys lower than you'd like.
Ace’s argument is a good one—a great one, even—but you've already thought of it before, many times, in fact. And it’s good news! You should feel relieved that you’ll finally be free from Jade’s emotional clutches, especially considering how your goal in the first place was just that.
The issue: you're in too deep. When you’d first gotten into this mess, you were only a few rungs up on the ‘whippedness’ ladder. You were ready to jump off of your own accord and just sprain an ankle or two, metaphorically.
Now, you're too high on the ladder, about to be shoved off before you're ready, and you’re gonna break both your legs and maybe your back. And it almost feels like it's not a metaphor anymore.
Instead of voicing any of your inner turmoil, you argue weakly, “We're not even together. There’s nothing to break up.”
The trio stares at you, in varying degrees of confusion, shock, and exasperation. Not even a peep.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you add.
“Aren't you dating?” Deuce asks, absolutely dumbfounded.
“Sure, but it’s just dates. I could go on a date with Ace, and it wouldn't make him my boyfriend.” You ignore the latter’s disgusted grimace.
“So it’s a good thing then!” Grim responds a bit too abrasively. “Jade can’t actually dump you, so he’ll just ignore you forever!”
Your heart dips even further.
“Ghost,” Ace adds very helpfully. “He’ll ghost you.”
Unable to sink into the floorboards at will, you settle for tugging your ceremonial hood over your face. “Yeah,” your voice breaks. “Yeah. Great. Thanks, guys.”
The very next day, Jade himself shows up to your door before class.
You know that trope in those TV shows, when a cop shows up to someone’s wife’s door, takes off his hat, and solemnly implies in ten words or less that she’s now a widow? Well, you sure feel like the wife here.
But as you scan his expression for any hint of impending emotional doom, Jade’s polite smile betrays nothing.
“Good morning, Prefect,” he greets.
“Morning, Jade,” you parrot without any heart.
His gaze lingers on your face for an unsettling amount of time, probably to watch the light leave your eyes as he dropkicks your heart into the sun.
This is it. He’s about to tell you he never wants to see you again.
You square your shoulders and steel yourself for his next words…
“Are you ready to go?”
…which were not what you were expecting.
You nearly collapse in relief. “Oh, uh, yeah,” you exhale, bracing your spine up against the doorframe. “Grim?” you turn and call, “it’s time to go!”
A blur of grey shoots past your legs and out the door upon noticing your company. “Stay safe, Henchhuman! I’m outta here!”
The eel simply laughs at your furry ward’s blatant fear of him.
Before this, Jade has never come straight to your door to pick you up, so Grim absolutely thinks he’s about to kidnap you or something. Maybe you should be concerned that your so-called ‘boss’ is so quick to abandon you, but as you spot him in the distance periodically glancing back, you’ll choose to be grateful for the privacy instead.
As if magnetic, your fingers interlock with Jade’s, and oh Seven—
Why does this feel so right?
His hands not clammy or uncomfortably warm, his skin smooth like silk satin but still seemingly unbreakable… If you really focus, you can feel the dim pulse in his fingertips humming into the back of your hand.
Wouldn’t it be nice to do this every day?
You blow up the tracks of that train of thought and drive it full-steam off a cliff.
It’s not until you arrive at your classroom that you finally begin to slip your hand from Jade’s grasp.
But when you step past the threshold, you fail to suppress a squeak as you’re abruptly tugged back by the same damn hand (which apparently did not fully slip out of Jade’s), straight into his chest.
“Just a moment,” the bastard croons into your ear. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Your legs buckle, but Jade holds you firmly against him. “No?” you sputter.
He simply hums. And then he tips your chin and fucking kisses the top of your head.
“Have a good class, Prefect.”
You distantly hear Deuce, and Ace screaming (“PREFECT, NO!!!” and “WHAT THE FUCK?!!” respectively) down the hall from where they witnessed it.
Jade finally lets you go, and you do, in fact, collapse. Ace and Deuce scream even harder, and oh hey, Grim’s here too. “Stay with me, Henchhuman! I’ll reverse the curse, don’t worry!”
As your friends all panic over the curse that Jade must’ve cast on you, the latter crouches down to your level, amused as ever. “Are you alright, Prefect?”
“Yup,” you croak, too dazed to notice the hand (the same. fucking. one.) that he’s offering you. “Bye, have a good class~”
“You’re positive you don’t need me to bring you to the infirmary?”
“Uh huh. See ya…”
On your knees, as the world spins around you, you make a new realisation:
Jade’s not dropping you cold turkey.
He’s gonna build you up, and drop you only when it’s most interesting for him. Which, by definition, means when it’s most inconvenient for you.
You’re so not ready for this.
For three months, through homework and prefect duties, through midterms and finals, you walk the line between indulging your yearning for Jade and holding him at arm’s length. It is exhausting.
Every morning, Jade walks you to class. Every afternoon, he walks you back to your dorm. You still go on little dates every few weekends. And every time you two part, he kisses the top of your head. Which is also fairly mortifying when you’re surrounded by your schoolmates, but that’s beside the point.
The pesky eel has whittled your certainty down to a sliver, so much so that you eventually ask your friends, “Do you think Jade… actually likes me back?”
Their response: a homogeneous blend of grimaces, “Nope”s, and “Don’t go there”s.
“Cool, cool, that’s what I thought too.”
You need to get yourself out of this predicament before your emotional fate is actually officially, irreversibly, terminally out of your hands. That means breaking off this… thing with Jade before winter break.
So, drunk on desperation and sleep deprivation, you devise a gameplan:
Step 1: Hold yourself accountable. Tell your friends that you’re breaking things off with Jade and do not let them down.
Step 2: Meet with Jade. Schedule a time and place.
Step 3: Finish the job. Say: “This has been fun, but I’m breaking off whatever this is between us. Stay away from me until the end of time, please and thank you!”
Emotional freedom in three simple steps. It’s a foolproof plan! (And if it feels like you’ve been through this song and dance before, no, you have not.)
At 2 am the day before winter break, you start with Step 1. Opening your now-second-year group chat, you cursorily text a declaration:
You: i’m gonna break things off with jade today. wish me luck guys
then immediately turn your phone on silent before anyone can respond—if anyone’s even awake (Someone probably is. Your money’s on Ace)—and conk out instantly.
You jolt awake to the sound of knocking on your bedroom door.
“Hello?!” you bark. It’s light outside, and Grim still lies beside you, fast asleep.
“Good morning, Prefect,” the most enchanting voice seeps through the seams of your door. “You must've overslept your alarm. Are you decent? May I come in?”
“Uh, yeah!” you bark out reflexively, scrambling out of bed. “Wait, no—wait—hold on! I'm in my pyjamas!”
The door cracks open, and in pops the eel plaguing your mind 24/7.
You both stand there like two cowboys in a standoff. Jade looks you up and down with his usual smile. You glare at him.
“Jade. Out,” you command, closing the gap in an attempt to shoo him out. He doesn't budge, even when you start shoving against him.
“Fufufu, so this is what you look like when you wake up,” he comments, immovable. “How cute.”
“Out.”
“Alright,” he chuckles, taking a step back. But then he places a hand on your head, smoothing your hair down. “You have bedhead, Prefect.”
You almost lean into his touch. You nearly forget that you have a plan to follow. You just barely remember that you're breaking things off with Jade today.
Do not let him change your mind.
Channelling your inner black belt, you seize the wrist of the hand petting your head. “Are you going to Kalim’s party tonight?”
Eyes wide in surprise, Jade slowly retracts his hand. “Y-Yes,” he stutters out. “The Lounge will be closed today, so I expect I will be.”
“Good. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
He tenses. “…Should I be concerned?”
“No,” you sigh. “It’s nothing to you.”
“I see.”
“I’m gonna make you late, so you don’t need to walk me to class today,” you continue when Jade makes no move to leave your room. “And you don’t need to worry about walking me back, either.”
“…Are you alright?” he enquires after a moment.
You almost laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you later, okay?”
To your chagrin, Jade stares right into your eyes, probably in search of answers you refuse to verbalise. To shake off the intensity, you dart your eyes in every direction but him: eye contact with Jade is a terrible idea no matter which way you look at it, especially now.
“Have a good day,” you add awkwardly, crossing your fingers that he’ll actually leave soon.
After far too long, he backs away. “You too, Prefect. I’ll see you later, then.”
Step 2, done.
As you watch Jade walk alone down the path to the main school building, you’re hit with the nagging feeling that you’re missing something.
Did you forget to do your homework? No, you weren’t assigned anything for the last day of classes.
The dishes, maybe? Did you neglect to do those last night? That’s not it.
Is it someone’s birthday? No, that’s not it, either.
After 20 minutes of hard thinking, you realise: it’s the kiss. Jade didn’t kiss you goodbye this time, and it feels horrible.
You’re experiencing fucking Jade Leech kiss withdrawal.
You scream into your pillow.
You show up to Kalim’s party in the evening, fully ready to land the final blow.
The only issue: Jade isn’t here.
You haven’t seen him, none of your friends have seen him, none of the other students you’ve asked have seen him. He hasn’t texted you, either.
Jade fucking stood you up and it’s totally psyching you out.
You text him
hey
where are you
only to get left on read. He knows.
You call him, even though you don’t expect him to answer. And sure enough, the phone rings once, twice, three times…
He actually picks up. To your utter surprise.
“Where are you?” you hiss.
For a silent moment, you think that he might just refuse to humour you, might just hang up now. But the eel sure has a thing for subverting your expectations. “…I’d rather not show up for something so… unpleasant.”
“What are you talking about? Who said anything about ‘unpleasant’?”
“Perhaps you should be more selective in what you tell Grim,” the bane of your existence answers, “seeing as his favour can be bought with just a few cans of premium tuna.”
“Ugh, I'm gonna strangle him. Why do you have to be so difficult? Can’t you spare me just this once?”
“I…” He pauses. “That… wouldn’t be in my best interest.”
“Jade, you’re actually starting to piss me off. I’m not gonna let you keep stringing me along for your own fucking amusement,” you snap, “and you refusing to show up isn’t gonna change my mind.”
“…Is that what you think I’m doing?” he asks softly. “‘Stringing you along’? And here I was, thinking that we were both enjoying ourselves. Was I mistaken?”
You scoff. “Yes—no—UGH,” you groan, then try again. “I’m just gonna come out and say it: you know I like you; I know you don’t actually feel the same. So I have no reason to keep playing along with you.”
For what feels like a minute, the line is quiet.
“Hello?”
“…I’m here,” he breathes. “I… You were right. I think we should discuss this in person. Have you left Scarabia already?”
“No,” you huff. “Grim’s still stuffing his face, so I’m waiting in the hall.”
“Good. I’ll be there in a second.”
“Are you here?”
“Perhaps,” he hums, and you hear the music and chatter of the party grow louder from his end of the phone. “See you soon.”
Sure enough, Jade takes no more than a minute to find you.
You’re the first to speak. “So what is it that we needed to discuss in person—”
“You’re wrong.”
Caught off guard by his uncharacteristic brusqueness, you flinch. “Uh?”
“About how I don’t feel the same. You’re wrong,” he repeats. His usual polite mien is nowhere to be found, leaving only raw sincerity.
A nasty bout of hope seizes your heart and clogs your throat.
“If you’re truly set on parting ways, then I can’t stop you,” Jade continues, voice level, “but if the basis of your choice is my supposed lack of… fondness for you, please consider sparing us both the unnecessary misery.”
You scoff shakily. “Say it straight, Jade.”
“Very well. I return your affections, Prefect.”
Heart beating a thousand beats per minute, eyes wholly unfocussed, you find your consciousness peeling away from your body and brain. “…Okay, I’m gonna get going now~” a voice rings in your ears—your voice.
“Where are you going?”
“Dunno…”
Jade steps closer to you and places his hands on your shoulders, maybe in an effort to ground you. It doesn’t work. “Shall we continue this conversation later, then?”
You hum.
“Alright, I’ll give you some time,” he whispers, turning to leave. “Have a good night, Prefect.”
But before he can get far, your hand snags the sleeve of Jade’s blazer. “…You’re forgetting something.”
“Oya? And what would that be?”
No words come out, but to your chagrin, your other hand rises…
and points straight at the crown of your head.
What. Is. Wrong. With. You.
Luckily, with a shake of your head, you do manage to snap out of your stupor before he can honour your request.
Less luckily, not in time to stop him; only enough to feel his lips meet the exact spot where you’d pointed just a second prior.
The touch of his lips is like a shot of epinephrine, the way the warmth diffuses through your bloodstream, head to toe.
Or maybe it’s an injection of poison, killing you slowly but surely.
Well, if this is death, Great Seven, does it feel nice.
You’re dead.
You really died.
Or at least you’re about to. Because the Grim Reaper is currently in the act of busting down your bedroom door to get to you. (After that incident with Jade, you started locking your door at night, thank Seven.)
The paintings on the wall swing like pendula. The junk in your drawer rolls about like water in a hot pan. You even discover tuna cans that Grim (yours, not the Reaper) hid at some point, inching their way out from beneath furniture with each shake of the room.
But your bed is so comfortable right now…
“Shrimpyyyyy,” whines from behind the quaking door. “Open sesame!”
…Oh, it’s Floyd. Which might actually be worse than the Grim Reaper. But to Floyd’s credit, you would prefer seeing him over his brother right now.
“What do you want, Floyd?” you whine back. “Go away.”
The pounding only gets more aggressive. “Open up!”
“No. Let me sleep.”
“Okaa~ay! I’mma kick down your door!” Floyd threatens. “In 5, 4, 3…”
“FINE,” you groan, dragging yourself out of the warm embrace of your duvet. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t wreck my house.”
You swing the door open, glaring at the eel on the other side. “What.”
“Fix Jade,” he blurts, pouting. “He’s broken.”
Unimpressed, you try to close the door, but Floyd shoves his way past you and into your room. “That’s just normal Jade,” you sigh.
“No, he’s being weird! He’s ripping up flowers and speaking in tongues!”
You yawn. “Sounds normal to me.”
Floyd grimaces. “Eehhhh… Is Shrimpy always this stubborn? No wonder Jade’s having such a hard time courtin’ ya.”
“Wha—He’s not—” you sputter, and Floyd takes advantage of your blue-screening to throw you onto his shoulder. “I’m not—!”
“Uh~huuhhh,” he dismisses, already in full stride. “Save it for Jade.”
Remember when you thought you’d prefer seeing Floyd over his twin? Well, you take that back. As much as Jade likes to make life difficult for you, at least he wouldn’t haul you—clad in only your pyjamas—across campus in broad daylight while it's snowing. Probably.
After a long, uncomfortable trek on Floyd’s shoulders—shoulders, plural, because he would just toss you onto the other shoulder when one side got tired—you finally make it to Octavinelle.
With little regard for your flailing body, your captor skips down the hall to his twin’s door and kicks it open at the tail end of Jade’s mutterings.
“Got a delivery for ya~”
“…me not,” Jade finishes quietly, attention fixed on the picked-bare flower stem between his fingers. “Ah, Floyd, you've brought the Prefect. What a pleasant surprise.”
Though his distaste is directed more at his brother than yourself, Jade’s sarcasm is obvious. His tone is curter than he uses with you, gaze sharper than what you’re used to, but Floyd is nonetheless unfazed. He throws you onto Jade’s bed.
Which already has Jade on it.
You are on top of Jade.
“Floyd—! You—!” you squawk, rolling off of the bed, off of him, hitting the floor with an impressive thud.
Over the edge of the mattress, olive and gold eyes scan over you in fleeting concern. “…Floyd.”
“You’re welcome!” Floyd spits back with equal irritation. “Someone needed to fix you before we go home!” And then he bursts into abrupt giggles, bounding out of the room with the door left just slightly ajar behind him.
The door is still open. You should follow him out. Just leave; Jade didn’t invite you here in the first place.
But you don’t.
You stay, sprawled out on your crush’s rug, surrounded by a dense dusting of snow-white petals. From the sheer amount of them, Jade must’ve plucked over forty giant daisies bare.
The sound of your heart pounding in your ears almost drowns out his murmur. “Do you need more time?”
You’ve heard Jade weave sarcasm into polite words. You’ve heard him excitedly info-dump about a passion of his. Just yesterday, you even heard him nervous and raw. But to this extent? Never.
You sit up. “…I need you to be transparent.” Your voice is shaking.
“You don’t actually like me, do you? Or maybe you find me interesting or fascinating or whatever. But you’re gonna get bored of me, aren’t you?
“If you know this won't go anywhere, then just tell me now,” you plead. “Please.”
Jade slips off the bed and kneels down to your eye-level—not that it matters when you don’t have the courage to meet his eyes.
Everything depends on his next words; you'll go all in if he says one thing, all out if he says the other. You might as well just bet your life on a coin toss.
He chuckles without humour nor coldness, “You truly have no faith in me, do you, Prefect? Since you insist on doubting my feelings, allow me to set the record straight now: I sincerely care for you, and I don’t expect that to change.”
You collapse back onto the floor with liquified muscles, all stress and heartache draining from your bones, gaze falling on the man-sized mushroom plush propped up on a stool in the corner of the room. Jade has dressed it up with a bow tie. You throw a hand over your eyes before you can be overwhelmed by the adorable sight.
“Cool, just making sure. Uh, I… don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Oya? And you had such a succinct plan to break up with me. Perhaps you should get into the habit of making contingency plans.”
You guffaw dryly. “I plan for the worst case scenario so if it doesn’t go according to plan, I can be pleasantly surprised.”
Your hand begins to fall asleep; you shift your arm back down to a comfortable position. The sight you’re met with—of Jade smiling back at you with such relief and fondness—ignites the answer in your throat. “I am.”
The two words come out more watery than you’d expected, and apparently more than Jade had expected too, because he asks, “Are you sure?”
“Mhm.”
“You’re crying,” he notes.
You wipe your eyes with your hand. “Oh.”
Pulling out a handkerchief, Jade gently blots away your tears. “May I safely assume that these aren’t tears of sadness?”
“Yeah,” you chuckle, closing your eyes as he pats over them, “sorry. I just… I’m super relieved? I'm not always such a big crybaby, I promise.”
“I know,” he reassures, stroking your hair. “Though you are a very pretty crier.”
“Jaaade,” you whine, tossing over in embarrassment.
“Oya? Why so shy?” He pokes your exposed cheek. “You act as if we haven’t been dating for the past five months.”
“We haven’t had a label for the past five months. I’ve been preparing for you to dump me,” you correct. “Not that we have a relationship to dump in the first place.”
Jade’s fingers brush down to your cheek. “Shall we fix that?”
“…You wanna be my boyfriend, Jade Leech?”
“Very much so,” he replies in full seriousness.
And so, your fate sealed, Jade gives zero resistance when you pull him down to your side. He wraps his arms around you, you press your cheek against his chest. The heart within beats faster than you’d expect.
You still have a question left unanswered, though.
“Jade?”
“Yes?”
“What’s with all the petals?”
He tenses, just barely, just for a millisecond before he melts back into you. “It’s… a fortune-telling practice.”
“Huh,” you twitter, amused. “I would’ve thought you’d only need one flower.”
“I would,” Jade agrees, “but curiously, each of the daisies I’ve come across so far has had an even number of petals, and I happen to be looking for a result different from what those ones suggest.”
You chuckle. “You gonna keep picking?”
He hums, nestling into you as if the floor with your company is the most comfortable spot in the world. “No need. I have my answer.”
It's impossible for a person to exist without ever having heard a love song, read a love story, watched a romcom, any or all of the above. Even so, none of the heart-wrenching melodies, flowery words, or dramatic confessions could ever have prepared you for the pure paradise you’ve been living for the past two months since making your relationship official.
(Wow! Who knew that life could be so happy when you’re able to love freely!)
Admittedly, Jade hasn’t treated you any differently from how he did before he’d officially become your boyfriend. He’s always been courteous, considerate, and only a touch concerningly sketchy.
The real difference? Your ability to actually enjoy it all.
When it comes to you, he somehow always knows, even when you don’t. The second before your stomach growls, he already has a snack at the ready. When you feel particularly touchstarved, he wraps you in his arms. When you trip on a crack in the pavement, he nonchalantly pulls you upright like a knight in shining armour.
And now, you don’t need to worry about declining Jade’s offers, or dodging his touches, or dissociating while in his presence lest you fall further for him. Now, you’re safe leaning in.
Your friends, on the other hand, are… worried, to say the least. It’s nothing new; they’ve been this way since before you even started dating Jade, but you thought they’d at least get used to it by now.
Apparently, you were wrong.
Last week, they tried to inconspicuously block you from spotting Jade in the halls. To no avail, of course: it's impossible for a barricade of guys lined up shoulder-to-shoulder to not arouse suspicion.
Yesterday, while you and Jade walked hand-in-hand through the courtyard, Sebek Red Rover’ed his way right through your joined hands. You hadn’t even seen him coming.
And today, as Jade walked the path to Ramshackle to meet you in the morning, Epel leapt out of a bush to football tackle him to the ground. Luckily, the blanket of snow cushioned their fall, but in an ideal world, you wouldn’t have a boyfriend-shaped imprint on your lawn at all.
Naturally, you pull said boyfriend inside to warm him up, and the feisty little perpetrator sprints off before you can question him, let alone scold him.
“How cruel,” Jade laments without any real chagrin, pouting and shivering in an exaggerated show of pitifulness. “With my fragile disposition, I’m afraid I have hypothermia.”
“You grew up in subzero waters, you melodramatic eel.” You tenderly brush the snow from his nose and lashes. “But I'm sorry I let it get this far. I’ll talk with them today.”
He preens under your touch like an overgrown cat. “If anything, I find it most reassuring that you have such loyal friends. As for myself, however,” he puts back on a dramatic pout, “my nose is still so terribly cold, it'll be frostbitten if I leave it be. Won't you please remedy that?”
His frigid cheeks nestled comfortably between your warm palms, Jade’s expectant gaze is impossible to ignore and equally impossible to misinterpret.
So you lean in, bringing your lips ever closer to the tip of his nose…
and cup your hand over it.
“Ah, how romantic,” the eel sighs dreamily. Like this was what he'd wanted all along. “I'm feeling much better already.”
“Happy to hear it.”
As if it were a campfire, everyone gathers around the gaming setup that Ortho brought over. Not you, though—you lurk in the corner—until the robot cinnamon roll himself shines the spotlight on you.
“Prefect! You’ve been standing there for twelve minutes, and you’re exhibiting physical signs of anxiety. Are you okay?”
At your silence, the other former first-years (now second-years) pause their game and turn to also look at you. “Ugh, how do I say this…”
You huff, shuffling closer to sit crosslegged on the floor before them. “Jade. You guys are bullying him.”
Seven pairs of eyes blink at you; you blink back.
When they give no verbal response, you press on. “I know you guys have your thoughts about him—and I get it, I do—but he’s also my boyfriend now. And you guys are my friends, and I care for you all, so… what’s going on?
“Has he done something to you recently? Am I not spending enough time with you guys? What… What do you need for this to work?”
The seven pairs of eyes blink at you again, then at each other, then at you again.
Sebek breaks the silence first. “Does he care about this as much as you do?”
“About what? The teasing?” you assume. “No, definitely not.”
“The relationship,” Ace corrects.
It stings, your friends’ lack of confidence in you and your judgement. But on the other hand, you know it comes from a place of care and concern.
Jack clears his throat. “You really care about him, Prefect. If he doesn’t actually feel the same way, that’s a problem.”
“He does,” you say desperately. “You’re just gonna have to trust me on that. He hasn't done anything sketchy since we started dating, and believe me, I’ve been looking.”
“It ain’t that we don’t trust ya, Prefect,” Epel responds. “It’s him we’re worryin’ about.”
You sigh. “I get that, but we’re together now. Could you guys play nice, just for my sake?”
The seven pairs share one more look.
“I’ll think about it. Especially if he brings tuna.”
“Alright…”
“Sure.”
“Fiiiine.”
“Of course!”
“If you insist.”
“But if anything does happen, we’ll be here.”
“That’s all I'm asking,” you smile. “Thanks, guys.”
Sure enough, one day passes without incident, then two, then three, and before you know it, Valentine’s Day rolls around. And boy, have you been preparing for this day.
You’re armed and ready with chocolate. So. Much. Chocolate.
Chocolates filled with caramel for your friends. 90% cocoa dark chocolate for other friends. Hollow white chocolate eggs coated in a thin layer of milk chocolate and with a surprise toy inside (the best kind), for other other friends. Slightly-botched-but-still-edible homemade chocolates for your distant acquaintances. Severely-botched-so-you-leaned-into-it-and-added-laxatives chocolates for your enemies.
And last but far from least, homemade mushroom-shaped chocolates for the boyfriend, in four different flavours.
Once you've personally delivered your greater haul to the doors of each of your friends, all that’s left is Octavinelle, home of your ultimate recipient. You find Azul and Floyd working in the Lounge—busy with the influx of customers expected during a Valentine’s Day promotional event on a weekend—and give them their gifts: a set of your finest, most potent laxative (jk. or am i) chocolates for Azul, an assorted pack of novelty chocolates from Sam’s for Floyd.
As for Jade, he'd somehow managed to convince his housewarden into letting him take the day off. The details aren’t worth fretting over: you’re simply grateful to have him to yourself today.
Funny enough, as you walk down the hall toward Jade’s room, it feels as if someone’s watching you. But each time you turn, nothing’s there. Hmm.
You tuck the box of chocolates coyly behind your back and tap your knuckles twice against the door. He’s been waiting for you: if you couldn’t tell from the haste in which he opens the door, then the antsy little smile on his face would surely give it away.
“Hi, Jade.”
“Hello, my dear Prefect. Do you have something for me?”
“Well, aren’t you cocky,” you grin, withdrawing the heart-shaped box from behind you and placing it in his waiting hands. “Happy Valentine’s.”
“Happy Valentine’s,” he parrots, lifting the lid with a tiny gasp. “Mushroom-shaped…?”
“Did I go overboard? I almost put them in a mushroom-shaped box too, but I was worried you’d think it was Mushroom Day, not Valentine’s. For the record, I know you’re more than just ‘mushroom man’, but—”
“It’s perfect.”
A cacophony of thumps and yelps from down the hall draws away your attention.
You sigh like a weary parent of seven when you spot them. “I told them to behave—”
“It’s alright,” Jade chuckles, merely withdrawing into the room to grab a stack of… envelopes? “Allow me to handle this.”
“Jade Leech, if you’re blackmailing my friends, I will fry you alive.”
“I'd do nothing of the sort!” he laughs, prying off the hand with which you'd subconsciously gripped his arm. “No need to worry. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
So you watch from the doorway as your boyfriend eerily approaches your dogpiled gaggle of idiots. They’re too far and Jade’s voice too quiet for you to hear, but as the latter hands them the ominous envelopes, their feelings are clear as day.
You follow your friends’ journey of expressions, beginning with fear, morphing to confusion, then shock, and settling into joy before they roll off of each other and shuffle back down the hall with such excitement you’d think they won the lottery. Ace even throws you a quick thumbs up.
Your eel returns with a satisfied smile, summoning a pouch that couldn’t fit in his pocket. He presents it with a flourish: magical sparkles and pink hearts that float about like bubbles in the air. “And for you.”
“Jade…” You gingerly take the sachet and open it, revealing chocolates in your favourite flavour. But that aside: “Did you just pay my friends a dowry?”
“My, such marital language! I had no idea you’d set your sights so far ahead.”
Your blood runs cold. Too much. “Wait, I—Not like—!”
“To think that we haven’t even had our first kiss yet,” he prattles on, ignoring your protests completely. “Marriage! How scandalous, fufufu.”
Right. It’s near impossible to weird out (or outweird) Jade Leech.
Your face contorts into a cringe, whether at his antics or at yourself for finding him even remotely charming, indeterminable. “Alright, buddy. I’m starting to think you’ll never experience either of those things.”
“And if it wasn’t enough to tease me with the dream of marriage, you threaten to deprive me of your affection. Poor, unfortunate me, to have fallen for someone so cruel. Boo hoo.”
Your grimace is impossible to maintain as his brows furrow and his lips press into a dramatic, irritatingly adorable pout.
His.
Lips.
…Nope. You’re not about to reward him for his bullshit.
You press a chocolate into his mouth and nudge him away by the forehead.
“You sure live up to your name, Leech.”
“There’s no one I'd rather be stuck to,” he hums with his mouth full, “though I did intend for these chocolates to be eaten by you.”
If you tasted him now…
…Nope x2.
You stash away the sweets and leave, holding your hand out beside you until Jade inevitably catches up to you and slips his fingers into yours.
“Now this feels familiar, doesn’t it?”
You squeeze Jade’s mittened hand in silent agreement. As you walk hand-in-hand through the harbour, you’re reminded of your first date in the Kingdom of Roses. Though this time, instead of summer fare and games, it’s… lovey-dovey stuff.
Each shop has a Valentine’s promotional deal, game stalls host challenges for couples to test their bond, pop-up vendors sell charms for ‘everlasting love’. And people actually showed up for this bogus.
You could’ve sworn there weren’t this many people on this tiny island, but everyone must’ve come up from RSA since they’re mushy like that (ew). Can’t relate, you think, ogling your boyfriend whenever you think he’s not looking. (He always is, to both your embarrassment and your pleasure.)
Jade gestures with your joined hands at a nearby booth. “They’re giving out free lip balm at that booth there.”
“Free?” Enough said. “Lead the way.”
When you reach the front of the line, you realise that it’s not exactly for free, per se.
“So here’s how it works,” the brand ambassador explains. “I’m going to give one of you a cotton swab with a secret flavour, and the other will have to correctly guess the flavour for you to get your free lip balms. Sound good?”
The Chapstick Challenge.
“Excellent,” chirps your scheming boyfriend, clearly unsurprised by this information and far too pleased with himself.
“Uh huh,” you grumble, exercising your nastiest side-eye.
You snatch the cotton swab yourself before Jade gets any more ideas. For a split second, you consider applying it to yourself… but no.
Grasping his chin with your free hand, you trace his lips with the applicator. Frictionless, it glides over the peachy skin and leaves behind an even film of balm.
“You slimy eel,” you whisper, deep in concentration. “You’re not chapped at all.”
Smug eyes are what you expect to see when you look up. Instead, his eyes are blown wide and dazed. Heh.
“Here goes!” you announce louder than needed. Then, angling yourself to block the worker’s view, you bring your face ever closer to Jade’s, lips ever closer to his…
Just enough to catch a whiff of the balm.
You whip back around before your lips can touch. “Lavender vanilla?”
“Yes, that’s right! Here’s your prize!”
You’re forced to tug your eel by the hand to get him moving again.
“I’ve fallen for a tease,” he sighs after five minutes.
“Well I’ve fallen for a swindler,” you titter back. “C’mon, my swindler, I know you’re hungry. Let’s go get some food, hmm?”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Because Fate hates you, you happen to lead your boyfriend into a pasta restaurant where the owners greet you so warmly, you're now morally obligated to stay and order something.
And of course, because Cupid hates you too, this restaurant has a promotional deal: finish a bowl of one (1, singular) ultra long spaghetto with your significant other to get 30% off your meal. Jade’s eyes regain their light (read: cunning gleam) upon hearing this. You, on the other hand, do not want to have your first kiss over a literal noodle.
But 30% off the meal… And the only conditions are that you finish in under five minutes and eat from one end of the noodle?
Of course you accept the challenge, to your eel’s poorly concealed excitement.
So the waiter brings out the manhole-cover-sized dish, Jade bites one end of the noodle, you the other, and the timer starts.
End held between your lips, you glance casually at the waiter, who stares back at you with bewilderment. You glance back at Jade, who stares back at you with determination. He’s already halfway through the pasta by the 1-minute mark.
You feel just a little bad when the intact end of the noodle slips from your lips, vacuumed straight into the maw of your resigned boyfriend.
“Uh, wow…!” the waiter nods, baffled. “You finished in 2:11, so I guess that’s a success?”
“Sorry for being a poor sport,” you chuckle. “I’m sure you guys expect your participants to kiss, but my boyfriend here is just ravenous today so I thought he’d appreciate the extra portion.”
“Oh, n-no, that's fine! A lot of people try the challenge with their friends and we don't ask them to kiss, obviously,” the waiter rambles. “Uh, I'm just shocked that he ate all that on his own… and so quickly? It takes pairs at least four minutes!”
“And he’s still hungry, believe it or not!” Being seated side-by-side, it’s easy to peck Jade on the cheek. “Incredible, isn’t he? I’m so lucky to have him.” You pointedly play up the goo-goo eyes, amused at the way his eyes glaze over in defeat.
Of course you’d like to kiss him.
But so would he, and it’s good to make your eel work for what he wants, just once in a while. Enrichment’s healthy!
Jade’s resolve is wavering just a little.
“Look over there, my loving Valentine,” he notes with sarcastic monotony, “it’s a kissing contest.”
Subtle.
“So it is.”
“I’d imagine it would be very cathartic to express one’s affection so freely. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would.”
He stops in front of you, eyeing your lips. “Oya? Then what are we waiting for?”
Smirking, you clasp your bare hands behind the eel’s neck; his amber eye shines ever brighter with hope. But to his chagrin, your attention is pulled elsewhere. “Wait, there’s a photo booth!”
“Ah. I’ve heard about those. I’ve still yet to try one.”
“There’s a first time for everything!” you pipe, beelining for the amenity.
It’s four photos to a strip and two copies are printed: you take one and sunnily slot the other between your eel’s frozen fingers.
The first photo is comedically tacky, as intended. Your right and Jade’s left hands form the stiff, distinct shape of a heart; you don the most awkward grin you could muster, he wears his signature polite-and-nothing-more smile. It looks like you’re both terrible actors being held at gunpoint to play the role of a lovey-dovey couple.
The second photo shows the aftermath of performing such a terrible (albeit deliberate) display: the left half blurred with candid laughter (yours) and the right half still and calm (Jade). He’s smiling, genuinely, half-lidded eyes fondly trained on your dynamic visage.
The third photo is a snapshot summary of today. Jade leans in toward you, his desires clear, and you press your fingers over his lips in a gentle rejection. He looks at you with acceptance and affection; you look back with an amused grin (and equal fondness).
The fourth photo is Jade’s favourite. Well, actually, he hasn't seen it yet. But once he regains his senses, you have no doubt!
After all, it's the picture of your first kiss: chaste and sweet and picture-perfect.
You wake in the morning to a voice message from Floyd in the middle of the night, whining about how his brother is broken again; Jade won’t stop giggling and grinning in his sleep. And sure enough, when the former swung his phone closer to the source of the sound…
“…mmm…again…fufufu…”
Cute.
Cute.
You make sure to download and back up the recording in at least five different locations, for safekeeping.
Stupid Ace jinxed you.
“He’s gonna be too busy being a vice-housewarden and thinking about his internship!”
That’s what Ace said back in September!
…Okay, maybe it’s not Ace’s fault. But it’s also not Jade’s fault. Nor is it yours.
It’s everything else’s fault.
The arrival of spring marks the beginning of a storm of projects, labs, and mock exams leading up to finals in June. And on top of all that, your boyfriend has vice-housewarden duties and the Lounge and internship applications to worry about.
‘Worry’, of course, being relative; he seems to be managing just fine. And that’s the worst part, ashamed as you are to admit it.
Because he’s fine without you.
Does he miss you even a fraction as much as you miss him?
Would he be just as happy if you’d never confessed to him?
Oh Seven. If you’re like this already… how are you going to manage next year when you’re even farther apart?
You should be happy for him, happy that he’s doing well; you should have more faith in your relationship, be less insecure and clingy and insufferable. But as the weeks pass and your paths cross less and less, catching the rare sight of him from across the hall feels more painful than it should.
You don’t tell Jade any of this; no need to make a mess of things when he’s got more important things to deal with. At the very least, it can wait until after exams are done.
And things could always be worse!
Case in point: the annual Starsending ceremony being thrown into the mix.
First off, finals season and the weeks leading up to it are already stressful. As fun as it is to wish upon a star, unfortunately, finishing that essay worth 35% and due in five hours might just take higher priority.
Plus, you'd completely forgotten this tradition existed. It's only your second year in this world, after all, so excuse you for not being used to all the new customs. You also didn’t make a wish last year, so the memory of the ceremony must've been thrown to the back of your mind—buried under all the overblots, perhaps!
It certainly didn’t help either to receive the reminder no more than a week before the ceremony. The three unfortunate souls chosen to be Stargazers will have their work cut out for them.
And just who are the selected Stargazers? (Take a guess!) The horoscopes this year landed on November 5th—Jade and Floyd’s birthday—
and your birthday. Congrats.
One after another, Crowley assigns you the position of Stargazer, the role of drummer in the ceremony itself, and the traditional Stargazer uniform (which is very… attention-grabbing).
“…Do I really have to wear this outside the ceremony?”
“Why, of course! Haven’t you heard of the phrase, ‘dress for success’?” the Headmage replies with theatrical enthusiasm, then sobers. “A Stargazer out of uniform would leave a lasting bad impression. I'd be sure not to forget it.”
You shudder.
By the time you’ve gotten changed and swapped Grim’s ribbon to match, Jade has already magically donned his own uniform, and Floyd is… nowhere to be found. No surprises there.
But back to Jade: your eyes skim right over the uniform itself and hone in on
b a r e s h o u l d e r s .
The muscles flex, rolling back in a smooth wave, taunting.
“My,” Jade giggles coyly behind his naked hand, “your gawking has me feeling incredibly flustered.”
Voiceless, you tug the dropped sleeves of his cape up and over the curve of his shoulders; they fall helplessly back down to their original position, ornate embroidery framing flawless skin. Damn it.
The eel cocks his head, chin resting against loose fist. “Is there something wrong with my appearance?” he coos, like he doesn’t already know.
You lean forward, muffling your exasperated groan in layers of (boyfriend) material. Your heart has been aching lately, but the sweetness in Jade’s chuckle and the way he cradles your head against him soothes the sting.
Through luck and madness, you somehow survive. Three unit tests, an alchemy practical, Starsending ceremony rehearsals, the collection of hundreds of Wishing Stars, and you’re still alive.
Between your reputation (respected as the dependable Prefect and/or feared as Jade Leech’s partner) and threats incentives (brandishing Grim as a flamethrower and/or mentioning your boyfriend by name), the latter went smoother than you’d expected.
The process is simple: confront the target, demand they declare their wish, witness their Wishing Star light up with magic, collect it, and hang it up on the designated tree behind the school.
By Friday, all the stars have been collected and hung but Jade’s; a total happenstance—or so you thought. He clearly had different plans.
When the eel opens his door to you the next morning, you're hit with a small but uncharacteristic bout of fear.
“…Jade.”
“Yes, my star?”
“Seven,” you flinch at the new, festive pet name, and his gleaming eyes crinkle into delighted crescent moons. But nevermind the nickname, “Why are you wearing that?”
The ceremonial clothes. Pretty shoulders out there for all (you) to see.
“To collect your Wishing Star, of course.”
“No,” you drawl incredulously, “I’m collecting your star.”
Silence from Jade; the cattish grin on his face speaks for itself: Plans change.
You squint back. “Well, Floyd took my wish already.”
He hums, unconvinced. “Your wish, or Grim’s wish? I’m aware that the Headmage provided only one Wishing Star to share between you.”
“It’s worth more to him than to me. I don't mind.”
“I do.” He slips a jagged weight into your open palm, supporting your hand with his own. “Make your wish. We’ll light it with my magic.”
Void of magic, the magestone—Jade’s Wishing Star—is dark save for the hairline veins, smoky white, running through the mineral like rippling seafoam. Each of the uneven edges presses a soothing kiss to the nerves in your fingers.
A dismissive chuckle breezes past your teeth. Laying your heart bare for a casual tradition isn’t exactly an appealing idea. A throwaway, then: “I wish you’d wear normal clothes.”
The dusky glasslike stone stays unlit.
Jade titters, “Come now, don't waste our wish.”
“What do you mean? That’s what I want.”
He tips your chin to meet his eyes. “It’d be a shame if we resorted to my unique magic to know your true wish.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t,” he concedes, returning his hand to cradle yours. “I’ll be saving that for a more important question.”
You get a rush of tingles for some indiscernible reason. “Ominous,” you laugh.
He sighs sweetly. Such softness in his gaze, you’d think he was looking at a particularly freaky mushroom but no, he’s looking at you.
Oh. It's the way he looks at you that gives you the tingles. And also maybe the way he touches you. And—
Great Seven, you've been dating this eel for almost a year now; shouldn't you be less lovesick by now? Less distraught when you're apart? Less smitten by his mere existence?
This whole tradition, these Wishing Stars are purely symbolic. It won’t matter whether you wish to grow another 20 centimetres in height, or to do well in your finals, or for Jade to cover his damn shoulders. A silly wish won't overwrite reality.
But something about him makes you want to wish wholeheartedly anyway.
What to wish for, though?
‘For your internship to be fruitful’? Only a fraction of what you truly want.
‘To live the rest of my life in your arms’? …Tone it down a notch, pal.
‘That Azul would stop giving you so many shifts at the Lounge’? Okay, now you’re just griping.
You sigh, “I don’t know how to word it.”
“Is that so?” he hums with an impish grin, removing his hands. “Or are you simply self-censoring?
“Would it help if I told you that I love you? Or that I suffer in your absence?”
´(º—º)`
Kaput! goes your heart, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH goes your brain.
“Jade, what—”
“I suppose I’ll suggest something, then,” he interrupts. “Do let me know if I’m on the wrong track.
“‘We wish for the next year to be kind to us, and for any time we spend apart to pass in the blink of an eye.’ Is that alright?”
With wide eyes, you nod.
“Wonderful.” He places his hands back around yours and recites the wish; this time, the star sparks alight like striking a match. You’ve watched this process over a hundred times now, but it feels different this time: more brilliant, more meaningful.
The glowing centre of the magestone shines gold like Jade’s left eye, and at the pointed edges, fades into a soothing teal the same soothing teal as Jade’s hair. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
You open your mouth. “Jade—”
“Shall we go hang this—”
“Shush for just a second, will you?!” you bark, shaking him like a broken vending machine by the lapels of his cape; obediently, his mouth snaps shut. “We’re not just breezing by that!”
“…by what?” your eel feigns innocence.
Even as you glare at him—him with his knowing, expectant, self-satisfied little smile (stupid, stupid, stupid)—you can’t even manage to find him any less adorable.
“I hate you,” you lie, but the sweet kisses you press to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead each confess I love you, I love you, I love you.
Just before meeting his, your lips bespeak your true reply: “I love you too.”
Crowley’s year-end homily feels shorter this time; maybe that’s because you now have the clarity to actually listen. He probably reuses the same script every year, not that it's particularly remarkable: “What a pleasure it’s been to foster the academic progress of so many fledging mages!” and “This year has been fruitful for all of us!” and whatnot.
With the conclusion of the ceremony, you scoop Grim up and follow the flow with your clump of friends, yelling to each other about your summer plans as to be heard through the raucous crowd.
When you spot your boyfriend waiting for you in the courtyard and announce, “Bye, guys! Have a good summer!” your friends are all sunny smiles and laughs. Not a hint of stress to be found in your group, no concerns for your judgement, no suggestions or offers for alternative plans. Even Grim, who’s coming with you, has (close to) no complaints.
“Have a good summer,” they simply parrot, “invite us over sometime!”
One year ago, you confessed to Jade Leech. You did it with logic at heart, but faulty logic in practice.
And yet as he peers back at you with adoration in his eyes, one hand jingling a pair of keys to a flat—to your flat in Ultramarine City—and the other hand outstretched for you to take, you can’t help but wonder why you ever doubted this contingency at all.
initial concept inspired by schoenpepper’s “Jade Leech and the Three Breakups” (deactivated; reblog to view the full fic) and cannedpickledpeaches’ “Sad Poems but I Choose to Interpret Them as Happy” :) honourable mention to rel124c41’s many masterful fics (like this one, this one, and these ones) which simultaneously fed and fuelled my cravings for jade :’0 sorry for being so annoying but her works were genuinely the biggest reason i could finish this mess with any sanity remaining whatsoever
edit: oh my god i forgot to fix the part after the kiss where it's implied jade and floyd are still sleeping in the same bedroom. please pretend one of the following:
a) floyd felt like sleeping over and so jade let him stay
b) floyd barged into jade's room at 2 am and the latter slept through it
c) floyd hears him through the walls because jade is in fact yelling in his sleep, which you somehow find "cute" (this one's my favourite)
you confess to jade with one goal: to get rejected. things do not go according to plan.
tags/warnings: jade leech x reader (romantic), gn!reader, reader is yuu, swearing, set at the end of NRC year 1, confession crack, first date, reader is miraculously/momentarily a god at Dance Dance Revolution, not proofread cuz i’m lazy
a/n: so i DOUBLY made a liar of myself: i said i’d write a bunch a few weeks ago, didn’t; and then said i wouldn’t write for a while, then did. life’s still kicking my ass and i have midterms this week but i’m neglecting my responsibilities in favour of writing fanfic :D this one was actually meant to be the beginning of a wip request, but it was so long that i split it off and expanded it. that’s maybe half the reason it's so winding yet virtually plotless ;-; anyways so this is basically a prologue to that wip, but i’ll make it so that you can read either one as standalone :)
follow-up fic here :D
DO NOT FEED THIS TO AI.
word count: 3.2k
dividers by @/cafekitsune!
“I’m gonna do it,” you whisper.
“Don’t do it,” your entire first-year friend group whispers back, ears picking up on your stupidity even beneath the drone of Crowley’s long and winding year-end speech. They plead with you now more out of resignation than hope of persuasion. That ship has already sailed, and everyone knows it.
You eye the figure three rows ahead, clad in ceremonial uniform yet identifiable thanks to their towering height.
“I have to…” you sigh dramatically.
The ‘it’ in question that you shouldn’t do: confessing to Jade Leech, a sharp-toothed and sharper-witted eel with sketchy intentions and tendencies. It's a terrible decision that you’re unfortunately already firm on, but to be fair, this decision has been thoroughly deliberated. Your main reasons are as follows:
#1: You have a stupid crush on Jade Leech, arguably one of the worst people to have feelings for. Jade Leech is the type of person to leverage any crush for his benefit, let alone a crush on him. And confessing is the quickest way to get rid of your pesky feelings, something you’re very eager to do.
#2: After this, summer break will begin and school will be out of session. ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder’, as they say, and your feelings will absolutely compound if you don’t confess now. The break works in your favour though, as you won’t have to deal with repercussions until September comes back around. Best case scenario, everyone will forget by the time you return to school. Worst case scenario, you’ll at least get two months free of awkwardness and teasing. Which leads to:
#3: Jade will 100%, absolutely, undoubtedly reject you. He’s the type of person who only makes choices that benefit him, and you have nothing to offer. And though humiliation sucks, a one-and-done micro-moment of mortifying rejection is a small price to pay for emotional freedom.
It’s not that you want to confess to Jade Leech. It’s that you have to.
So with that airtight reasoning in mind as the ceremony finally comes to a close, you rush through the sea of eager students, your destination not a where but a whom.
The moment he’s within reach, you grab his sleeve. “Jade.”
He freezes; the crowd doesn’t. Even Floyd and Azul vanish in the flow of people. Still, though students shove past you ceaselessly, you stand strong.
“Prefect?”
You realize you’re cooked when Jade turns to face you. His eyes are wide in shock—adorably so—and surprise is a rare expression to see on Jade. It’s affecting you more than you’d like to admit.
“Um, could I talk with you?” you ask sheepishly, just as someone shoves you from behind. Luckily, you manage to right yourself before crashing straight into Jade, sparing yourself the extra embarrassment. “Preferably somewhere less busy?”
His expression morphs back into his usual: a coy, composed smile with eyes too scrutinizing for anyone’s comfort.
“Of course.” You repress a smitten grin at the sound of his voice. Soon, you won’t have to do that consciously anymore, and that thought is exhilarating. “Let’s be on our way, then. Stay close to me, Prefect.”
And you obey, never once dropping your grasp of his sleeve so as to not lose him.
It’s in the courtyard, beneath the apple tree, that Jade finally stops and you release his sleeve. With most students staying in the hallways and subjecting themselves to traffic jams by foot, only a sprinkling of smarter students pass through.
“What is it you’d like to tell me?” Jade asks, heterochromic eyes glimmering in the dappled sunlight. For a second, you almost forget that you’re here to be rejected.
Besides him, the scene isn’t picture-perfect: trampled apple blossoms decay beneath your feet, a brawl has broken out in the hall nearby, and you’re coated in sweat from being smushed in the crowd earlier. It’s pathetic and imperfect, which makes it perfect for your purpose.
You take a deep breath and brace for impact.
“Um…” you start, looking anywhere but his perfect face. “Well, y’know…”
Jade doesn’t rush you, doesn’t even raise an eyebrow. He’s perfectly patient.
“You probably know this already, but—oh Sevens, I’m regretting this even now—so I… ah, fuck it.
“I have a crush on you,” you blurt.
…
…
…
“Do it quickly, please,” you add once the silence stretches five seconds too long for your liking.
“...Do what quickly?”
Jade’s seeming ignorance simultaneously baffles and infuriates you enough to make you look back up at him. The cunning smirk that you expect is nowhere to be found. In its place: pure, genuine confusion. Which confuses you.
“Uh… reject me?”
“Did you not just confess that you liked me?” he questions slowly. “Why do you want me to reject you?”
“Why wouldn’t you reject me?” you counter. “Just get it over with.”
And with that, the confusion washes from his face, and the composed smile you’d been expecting in the first place reappears.
“And if I were to decline? What would you do then?”
“Then I’d be fucked!” you think aloud accidentally.
The cutest chuckle leaks from his lips and rattles your heart in your chest. You slap your hand over Jade’s mouth before he can inflict more emotional damage on you.
“Oya oya?” you hear muffled against your palm, Jade’s eyes crinkling with mirth. “Quite forward of you~”
With your other hand, you hold an authoritative finger in his face. “Stop it. Quit being charming and cute. Just turn me down, please.”
As you feel his lips pull into a sharp grin, your hand flinches away on the off chance that he bites you à la Floyd. But Jade is quicker, catching your retracting hand in his own.
“No.” He says it firmly, a stark contrast with how gently he strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I’ll see you soon, Prefect.”
Jade leaves you with a pat on the head, a rejected rejection, and a mess of thoughts and feelings. Somehow, in all your overoptimistic deliberation, you’d neglected to take into account your crush’s stubbornness and affinity for playing the long game.
Kicking at the wilted apple blooms under your soles reveals the small mushrooms sprouting underneath.
Fuck.
Deuce is the first of your friends to find out how unsuccessful you were in your mission, him and his mom having very generously offered you and Grim a place to stay for the summer.
“You’re cooked,” Deuce helpfully comments while you’re settling into the spare room. Grim, on the other hand, has already crashed on the floor. “Jade’s totally stringing you along!”
You groan your entire soul out your throat. “I know.”
“Just DM him and reject him yourself!”
“mMMmmmm…” you whine. “Fiiiine…” You unlock your phone for the first time since passing through the mirror at NRC and open the Magicam app. For all the mental and emotional turmoil that Jade put you through today, you don’t expect him to spare you the satisfaction of replying to your DMs right away.
Well, it's not the first time you've been wrong about him.
Jade messaged you first. 42 minutes ago, to be exact.
Good evening, dear Prefect :) Where would you like to go for our first date?
You place your phone face-down on the dresser and place yourself face-down on the floor.
You lie there for a good minute before Deuce’s concern catches up to him. “Uh, Prefect…? You good?”
You flop about like a fish. “uUurGghhhHhh.”
“Wait, is he blackmailing you? If he is, I’ll teach him a lesson.” Bless Deuce’s sweet delinquent soul. “Just tell me. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not that,” you groan into the hardwood before lifting your head. “It’s worse. He’s asking me on a date.”
“WHAT?!” Deuce practically screams. “He’s totally playing you! Or else he’s gonna bring you up a mountain and we’ll never find your body! Tell him no!”
“Yeah, I know,” you sigh. “Okay.”
Jade, I'm gonna have to reject your rejection of my rejection. Sorry for bothering you. Have a good summer break 👍
“Done,” you update. “I think he’s literally in the ocean so he’s probably gonna leave me on sent—oh Sevens he read it!”
Deuce leaps across the room to see your screen.
“Oh fuck, he’s typing!” you shriek, causing your friend to glance around warily and Grim to flip over in his sleep. “Oh shit, oh fuck.”
You shove your phone into Deuce’s hands. “W-What? What do you want me to do?” he sputters.
“Just—! If he sends something bad,” you instruct, “don't tell me what it is, just block him.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
You wait in charged silence for what feels like an eternity. Then:
“Prefect?” Deuce treads carefully.
“…what.”
“What counts as ‘bad’?” And slowly, he turns the screen toward you.
It’s a single sentence.
Even if I want to date you as well?
Yeah, that's bad.
Really bad.
Your first date is at a summer fair in a coastal town of the Kingdom of Roses.
You try to bail on Jade, really, you do! Or well, you try to convince yourself to bail on him.
He’s taking advantage of your naïveté for his amusement, whispers your brain as you agree on a time and place.
Tell him you don’t like sleazy schemers like him, it advises while you thoughtfully pick out your cutest outfit.
Say you got food poisoning and can’t meet him; the thought rattles through your mind on the 1-hour bus ride to the date spot.
Even as you arrive at your destination, your self-preservation endures. Even at the sight of Jade in a casual t-shirt and jeans, checking his phone for messages from you, It’s not too late to turn around!
Unfortunately though, your heart has been a whole lot louder than your mind lately. That fact becomes especially clear when Jade spots you: his eyes gain a twinkle to them as they meet yours, effectively shutting down every blaring alarm in your head.
“Hello, Prefect. You look lovely.”
“Um, thanks,” you respond choppily. “So do you.”
And because you’re in the palm of his hand and he knows it, Jade holds out said palm for you to take. “Shall we?”
It’s your Cinderella moment; of course you take it. If you’re this deep into a bad decision, you might as well go all in and enjoy yourself before the clock strikes twelve.
The date is… really nice.
You make pleasant conversation. About your hobbies, about your summer plans, about the shenanigans of the past school year. You tell him about the summer job you got to earn your keep at Deuce’s, and Jade tells you about the mesocosm he’d made with flora from Sage’s Island. He’s voluble when it comes to his interests, and you’re equally receptive when your guard is down. Together, you’re peak yappers.
“Are you hungry?” Jade asks when you (try to) subtly eye the food stalls.
You chuckle bashfully. “Just a little. It smells really good.”
“Good. I’m quite hungry myself,” he replies. “If you don’t mind finding us a seat, I’ll be back in a moment.”
And so you plop yourself down at a clean table for two, and wait for your date to return. With little else to do, you pull out your phone for the first time since meeting up. The notifications you’re met with—both the nature and the quantity—give you whiplash.
96 missed calls, 114 texts from Deuce, 201 from Ace, 1049 from your first-year group chat and counting. All spread across the past two hours, all with the gist of: ‘ARE YOU STILL ALIVE???’
You simply open your camera app, stick out your tongue and shut your eyes in a play-dead face, and snap a selfie. Into the group chat it goes!
baymax!: Prefect! Hi!
ass: oh tahnk sevens he hasnt killed them yet
doos: Are you in danger????? Do you need help????????
🍎: damn i lowk thought deuce was lying about you going out with jade lmao
You: no deuce i’m chilling dw he’s actually super sweet
got that DAWG in him: You don’t know what he’s thinking. Call us if you feel something’s off
“WAKASAMAAA”: DO NOT let him take you to a secondary location.
You: guys i’m fine lol
[ass started a video call]
You: bruh what do you want
ass: just pick up dude
ass: gotta make sure
When you do pick up, everyone’s already there. “Hiii~” you greet.
Your friends collectively sigh in relief. And then they start drilling you with questions.
“WHY???”
“Did he make you sign an NDA? Or some other life-binding contract?”
“He hasn’t poisoned you or anything, right? Don’t eat anything he gives you!”
“Guys, it’s fine,” you laugh. “He’s getting us food now.”
“Don’t let your guard down! That’s how he’ll get you.”
“Oh Sevens, they’re cooked. He’s stringing them along.”
“You sure have a lot of faith in me, huh?” you sigh. “It’s just one date, guys. We’re not dating.”
“Is that so?” Jade’s voice croons from behind you. You scream. Your friends scream. Jade chuckles, laying out a feast-worthy spread of street food onto the table.
Your stomach drops at the sheer amount of stuff he bought. “Jade—this is so much. How much did this cost?”
“It’s my treat,” he assures you quietly, while your friends yell at you through the screen not to fall into his loan shark trap. “Don’t worry about it.”
“PASS US TO THE EEL,” Ace articulates loudly, but Jade gently takes the phone from your hand himself. “Listen here, Leech,” the redhead threatens. “If you do anything to the Prefect—”
“You’ll be sleeping with the fishes,” Deuce finishes, “and not literally.”
“Of course,” Jade smiles politely, and you groan in pure mortification. “Rest assured that I have no ill intentions with the Prefect. I’ll do nothing against their will.”
“That means nothing! It’s you, so they’re gonna be willing either way!”
“ACE!” you scold, snatching your phone back from Jade. “Appreciate the concern guys, but I’m fine. BYE.” You hang up and bury your face in your hands, quietly screaming. Jade laughs, whether at your friends’ passion or your mortification or both, you’re not 100% sure.
“Your friends care very deeply about you,” he giggles, finally taking the seat across from you.
“Yeah. Um, just ignore everything they said. They’re really spirited,” you plead. “Sorry about that. I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
“No need to apologize,” Jade reassures you. “I find it very endearing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth.”
A particularly loud growl cuts you off before you can refute him again. From a stomach. Your stomach.
“Please, dig in,” Jade invites, unfazed. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”
Despite everything, your embarrassment quickly dissipates as you two work through the buffet, exchanging reviews for each dish as you go. Even when you’ve eaten your fill, Jade is still ravenous. It’s impressive how a cute boy like him can have such a boundless appetite and daintily pat his mouth with a napkin like he didn’t just effortlessly Kirby-inhale three times as much as you did.
It’s annoyingly charming.
Bellies full, you slip back into easy conversation, and before you know it, the sun has nearly fully set. Lingering copper sunlight skips across the rippling surface of the sea, tinting the town with warmth (as if your rose-tinted glasses weren’t enough).
“The last bus back to Clock Town leaves in 40 minutes,” Jade alerts you. “Would you like to check out the rest of the stalls before we part ways?”
“Sure, let’s do that!” You slip your hand into the crook of Jade’s elbow as he offers it, the gentleman. “We still haven’t seen the vendors or the game stalls.”
You browse the pop-up vendors selling magical trinkets, handmade charms, jewellery, all sorts of wares, but nothing catches your eye nor Jade’s. And as you walk through the area of game stalls, you begin to think that you might have the same luck here, too.
Except a gasp from Jade stops you in your tracks. Like you, he’s equally frozen to the spot, but his gaze is trained on one particular game stall: what looks to be… Dance Dance Revolution? Well, to be more specific, it’s not the game that entrances him, but the prize.
It’s a jumbo mushroom plush. Like, you-sized-level jumbo.
“Wanna try?” you ask him.
It takes a moment for Jade to come back to his senses. “Ah, no, no need.” But the stiffness in his posture betrays his reluctance.
“C’mon,” you coax, tapping your fingers on his elbow. “Let’s do it.”
Unfortunately for Jade, his two years of experience with legs never prepared him for the impossible gauntlet that is Dance Dance Revolution. Five seconds into the game, it becomes clear to everyone that Jade’s dream of winning the mushroom is nothing more than that: a mere fantasy.
Well, not if you can help it. The second he steps off the platform, you’re up. Failure is not a possibility, let alone an option.
Your legs move unlike ever before. Even as you’d run for your life from overblot monsters, your legs never had this speed. Even as you were training for your VDC audition, your legs never had this level of coordination and precision. The omnipotent Spirit of Dance Dance Revolution has possessed your body.
And so, naturally, you win the game. The stall owner’s jaw is dropped, the passersby are applauding, and your date stares at you with so much wonder that you chuckle a little.
Jade is so adorably awestruck when you pass the mushroom to him, you almost forget how bad of an idea he is. Well, either way, at the moment, he’s perfectly harmless with both his arms wrapped around the giant stuffed stalk.
“Thank you,” he whispers, more tenderly than you’d ever thought possible for him.
“It’s my pleasure. You’re the one who bought me an all-you-can-eat buffet earlier, anyways.”
“Fufufu, I’d told you it was my treat,” he hums. “There was no need to repay me.”
“It’s alright, I’d rather not leave with debt anyways.” You do, after all, know that being indebted to the trio from Octavinelle is bad news, regardless of how sweet Jade seems. “Speaking of, my bus leaves in 10 minutes, so I should probably get going.”
“I’ll walk you to the bus stop, then.”
And so, as your bus approaches in the distance, your Cinderella moment comes to a close. Both of you got this date out of your systems, so now Jade’ll find you boring and leave you alone, and now you can die knowing what it’s like to go on a date with Jade Leech. All’s well that ends well, right?
Except, you find yourself thinking that it wouldn’t be so bad to miss your bus if it meant spending a little more time with Jade. The next bus comes at 6 in the morning; you know that would be a seriously bad idea. But you also think that if Jade asked you to, you’d still do it.
So in a last-ditch attempt to save your soul, you ask again, “Can you reject me now?”
He laughs. “No.”
“Hm. Worth a shot.”
“Instead, actually…” Jade starts, his hold tightening around the mushroom, “would you be interested in doing this again sometime?”
yan! dating sim twisted wonderland x reader. inexplicably, you awake in the dating sim ‘twisted hearts’ as a run-of-the-mill side character. no worries, the love interests are already after yuu. you just gotta stay out of it all, right? 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐗. previous part here
“Seriously? You're actin' like I told ya to march into a dragon's den.”
♡ It’s been four days since you’ve officially relinquished the title of jobless.
The diner in front of you remains undeterred.
♡ It’s the type you’d imagine a tourist’s spot like Foothill Town would harbor, and honestly, how you even managed to land a job here is unfathomable. You can still recall the swathe of pity in the interviewer’s eyes when you told him you were an orphan, homeless, and overqualified (you have experience in washing Scarabian dishes). Manipulating situations through pity isn't beneath you. Frankly, you're surprised it keeps working. Truly, do you look that pitiful?
♡ You did get the job at Crisp n’ dips as well, but . . . you turned it down, for very obvious reasons.
♡ Anyhow, no need to dwell on that. What matters more is that you have your first, official job, and you can’t risk getting fired because the busboy (a certain hyena) can’t stop plotting with you. You don’t even want to know why the laws of this universe deemed you two a fit, working pair, and by what sheer misfortune you two work at the same diner: as if having him share a class with you wasn't enough. It reminds you of a certain assertion, the devil couldn't reach you, so he sent Ruggie Bucchi to do the job. He looks a little goofy clad in work attire, but he’s still that same kid who tries to cop a look at your answers.
“Bucchi—”
“Just slip into Azul's office, look through his contracts, find the one with Vil's name on it, and get out before anybody notices—”
“Bucchi.”
“Easy enough—”
“Bucchi!”
Snapping out of hysteria, he looks at you, saucer-eyed, ears slapping the side of his head in alarm. Heaving a sigh of great disdain, you turn to him, hoping he can see the look on your face past the mound of fur concealing it. “Go back inside, and clean the tables— whatever is it that you do, please.”
♡ Oh! He seems amused. You want to punch him. It’s already hot in the mascot costume you’re wearing. Yes— that’s right. They picked you to be a mascot, wallowing in scorching perspiration and struggling to support yourself with spasmodic breaths. Unfortunately, your costume's permanent stitched-on smile sends the opposite message— it only seems to buttress the smirk he throws your way, and by God, you want to reach in and stuff him in the suit. It’s not like you can take it off, too. You’d done that after a particularly stifling endeavor, and had someone recognize you by the name Magicam Hunchback alone.
♡ Hmm . . . you wonder if Vil ever took that post down. Obviously not, judging from the speed of verbal recognition thrown your way. Perhaps it was because of your ill-fated nerves you hadn’t asked him to— you can’t help it, can you? Not when the lilac of his pupils drink you in and have you standing on the cusps of edged needles. He’s beautiful, above you, far more competent than you’ll ever be. It’s only natural he deems your futile requests a hassle to deal with... so if people were still theorizing about you being a soft launch and your tutor being involved with you in a relationship, why wouldn’t he take it down? It’s like he wants you to suffer just because you don’t knuckle under his demands.
♡ People talking about you, it doesn’t get out of your head, never does. They definitely make him laugh. Oh, great, thank you. How did bro pull Vil? You never wanted to. They must have a GREAT personality. You’d argue with that, but let it go— after all, if there’s one thing you’ve learned from arguing and making amends with someone who compares you to an uncooked potato: is that it’s fruitless.
♡ . . . Ah, that reminds you! Speaking of doom, it reminds you of the man responsible for half your mounting problems. You need to remember to tune in for today’s study session. He’s made it clear he won’t take your escapades lightly anymore.. and with Rook always carrying a thrashing, less composed version of you over his shoulder, you’d rather not risk the humiliation.
“..Seriously?”
“Huh?”
“Yer eyebags got eyebags.”
Ruggie's voice brings you out of your self-induced conspiracy. Peeling your lids open, you turn to look at the hyena. Through the spotty lens of your mask, you can only see half of his face, but you very well know it’s steeped in curiosity. Especially when he looks at the slip in your hand— or..paw.
“Is that a doctor's prescription? You catch a disease?”
“No, it’s Vil’s handwriting.”
There’s silence
Raising his hands in surrender, he yields, with a low whistle following the interval. “Y'know what? My bad. Would've rather heard it was terminal.”
“Tell me about it.” A press of your brows has your lips curving down. No matter how you shape it, your mind keeps sinking to the dilemma at hand. Why did Vil want you in his club? “I doubt Vil would let me go unscathed if he caught me saying this, but it really is tiring having to deal with him.”
Ruggie, no matter how little credit you give him (a pittance, really) catches on to your sombre tone. It’s only natural he does. You can’t find it within yourself to fake your emotions, or put up a façade when every two seconds there’s a little kid giving you a gummy smile and planting themselves beside you for a picture. Rocking on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets, he treads very, very carefully. You get the gist he knows what’s up, that this is the most fun he’s had all year round.
“...Y'know.” He avoids eye contact, lest you send another invisible scowl his way. “Usually when rich people start offering ya opportunities...”
There’s a moment’s pause before he deigns you a glance. A chameleon-like ability where the hues of his irises shift from to blue to gray.
“They’re investin’.”
You thump your head against a wall and startle a couple of children.
“Think about it! Nobody spends this much effort on somebody unless they're plannin’ on getting something back.” He insists, waving his hands in your face as if to stop you before you actually bash your head in the wall and die. He’d lose his job if you did. “Ya really think world-wide supermodel, hotshot Vil Schoenheit would deign a simpleton like you a glance?" He tilts his head. “People like you n’ me don’t get that luxury, and you still don’t get it through your head, do ya? You really are a goody-goody.”
♡ There’s no reason for Ruggie to do this. Really? Subtly coerce you into drowning yourself beneath waters and digging your own grave? The Ruggie Bucchi you know wouldn’t dare risk that, and you’re sure, on the assumption of yours that the Savana overblot has passed, that he’d know this better than ever.
♡ Unless . .
he’s intentionally trying to get you into trouble?
You sneak a glance at him. No matter how much of a layabout he may seem, he excels at his job, leaving tables spick and span and finishing it off with a swift assist to the waiters. When he talks, occupied, those twin canines protrude. You mustn’t forget why you want to stay away from them. They don’t keep your safety in their minds.
Twisted Hearts is a game about villains.
♡ Right! You don’t know Bucchi, really, you don’t. You know about the territorial hyena from the cringe-fest that is Twisted Hearts, but him in reality, you don’t. Does he know about Yuu and you? You wouldn’t put it past him. You don’t even know if Yuu and him are acquainted, if he’s head over heels just like the others, if he would really go that far as to intentionally lead you astray. He can smell you, can’t he? He is a beastman. Would he? One look at his smirk tells you the truth clear and fair. Who knows how to lurk in the shadows and contort their movements from afar the best, other than you, of course?
♡ You may have let Kalim get to you, you may have dampened Jamil’s suspicion, but that doesn’t make them your friends. They are not your friends. If they find out Yuu’s inner workings, they’ll make your life miserable, would they not? Because that’s what they are.
♡ Characters bound to destroy the world for their one and only. And in no universe, no matter how much Yuu deems it true, are you anyone’s muse.
“Mummy, look!” A finger juts out in your direction. “A rabbit!”
This is humiliating.
♡ Heaving another sigh of despondence, you try to peer at the crowd. Taking up all the seats are customers immersed in idle chitter-chatter and fussy children. In a way, it looks no different from your world,if you ignore the obvious dissimilarities in their comportment and physical characteristics. One customer has ears bigger than their head — what type of beastman is that? One looks like a run-of-the-mill average Joe. One has teal hair, striped with black, and the other . .
♡ Wait, what?
♡ . . Teal hair? You blink a few times to enhance what you’re seeing. You’re staring at the back of a person’s head. Into a haircut that’s all too familiar. Is that . . Jade?
♡ Yeah! There’s Yuu. Sitting opposite him. They’ve managed to find your job location, or not, perhaps they’re both here on an excursion. A very one-sided excursion where the latter is trying to ignore the eel’s prodding and probing, any sane eye can see Jade is annoying them, and he just seems so lively. In a way, a manner he never took up when he was with you, a manner which differs so far from his formality. He seems full of energy here, so entranced — you suppose you aren’t capable of overpowering Yuu in this regard. It seems as if their charm is irresistible.
♡ But then they get up. And you have this unbearable urge to get the eel alone and atleast share a word or two with him. Yuu pays, clearly, and they’re leaving, another dot in the mass of a thousand. Surely, this isn’t what he’s been doing all this time? Frolicking around with Yuu? Your tormentor? How original.
Before you know it, a rabbit paw catches his sleeve. It's.. well, a bit worn out. Not something you’d expect Jade to wear, but his name comes out nonetheless.
“.. Jade?”
When he turns—
you realize that is not Jade.
♡ Floyd Leech?!
♡ How doomed are you?! How did you even let it slip past you that Jade has his other half? You’re extremely lucky you’re still clad in your little rabbit costume, because you don't think you can ever stand the notion of him copping a look at your face and recognizing you on campus. You go rigid entirely, words on the precipice of your tongue and perishing right after as his eyes, half-lidded and bored, languidly rove over your probably ridiculous button eyes. Extricating your hand just as it latched on, you stand in place.
♡ . . . You also make sure to give him a little wave. Just in case he takes your silence into suspicious account.
“Huh?” The nasally voice is accompanied with the slow stretch of a pointy smile. “And who’re you—”
“Floyd!”
♡Oh, shoot! You totally forgot today was the day of the most dreaded examination: midterms.
♡ Whatever attention he had on you gets wiped off in a millisecond, and he slinks back towards Yuu almost obediently. You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Opps are everywhere.
♡ And that’s not an atypical thing, really. You’ve never focused on those, that’s how you get your grades to amount to a forgettable pittance, but today is especially dreadful because in the midst of ‘fixing up' your bedhead, Vil had spent the better part of twenty minutes reminding you he expected nothing short of excellence. You can understand his expectations, after all, he'd spent months drilling the material into your skull, whether you welcomed it or not.So with a smile that stretched a little too tightly over your lips, you assured him you would. And you’re sure if this world were any more unbelievable, you’d have a big, fat paper slapped on your back with the words liar.
♡ Specifically because you’re stuck on the first question. You kept skimming through the sheet trying to find a question you’d at least know about, before realizing you’d reached the end of the paper — and you can just imagine that scowl on his face. You can remember him droning on about this same problem, but your memory’s waterlogged, and no amount of scourging can pluck that itch free. . What an exemplary upperclassman you are!
♡ It’s also not just because of Vil, it’s also because this is the start of book three, and if your notion goes according to plan, then Ace, Deuce, and Grim will all grow little sea mementos on their head—with Yuu left to save their friends from their own stupidity. It’s quite laughable, really. That part keeps distracting you.
“A bold answer.”
♡ Professor Trein has made ten rounds to your table, and has stood above you for the better half of it as you both stare at a blank page. Whenever you write out the answer, it elicits a disapproving hum, and you’re forced to wipe it out. In the end, you just make do with a solid guess, and turn your paper in, chewing down your uncertainty and following the tide of students as they make their exit.
♡ The rest of the day resumes.
♡ After a tiring study session with Vil, you attempt to trudge back to your dorm. Your mind’s hazy, misty, and through the dense, foggy plumage shrouding Night Raven, you struggle to keep up. It doesn’t help your brain is, much to your resistance, actively trying to memorize thirteen pages of alchemy at the same time, so when you see more than three figures up ahead — or atleast the shape of them — you uncharacteristically pay them no heed. Big mistake.
♡ Oh, shit! Your suspicions that someone had noticed Yuu's sudden interest in you are confirmed sooner than expected. Namely, when a handful of Savanaclaw students corner you on Main Street and decide a confrontation is a perfectly respectable substitute for magic. You’re no stranger to conflict, but you’re not a connoisseur of handling them too, per se — so imagine your surprise when you’re boxed in by the most ripped beastmen known to man. They give Savanaclaw its name, it seems, and promptly remind you to never engage with the dorm again. Because . . . it doesn’t make any sense. You haven’t done anything wrong, what reason do they even have to resort to violence?
♡ Unless . . someone called them in? Ruggie doesn’t strike you the type to do that, neither does Leona (or does he? He was never your favorite) so perhaps you’re just haplessly grasping at straws and hoping your little theories land. Either way, the group doesn’t give you any room to argue. Grabbing your collar, reeling you in by the shoulders, whatnot. The typical bunch of Savanaclaw knuckleheads, really, so that accomplishes one more goal of yours: physical pain. You don’t know which part of your body hurts, it's everywhere.
“We’ve heard of ya” One of them snickers. It’s a hideous sound, you think, one that makes you stare past them amid the aridity of your throat.
“.. You have?”
“You deaf or somethin’? That’s what he just said.”
♡ Quick! Think of something! Damn you, Vil. If he hadn’t plagued your mind with textbook material, perhaps you’d conjure one of the typical tricks you have up your sleeve. It then occurs to you, you don’t even have any experience in the fighting department. How are you even supposed to defend yourself? You watch as they quite literally empty the contents of your bag, bric-a-brac and stationery descending on the ground in cacophonous waves. It’s clear no one is around the area this time, all except—
“Hey, can you guys please move aside?”
♡ Deuce Spade! And . . . who’s that?
Someone’s behind him, but your focus remains on him. “I need to get to Mr. Sam’s shop. You’re blocking the way.”
“Mr.Sam’s shop?” A rowdy beastman chuckles. “Why?”
“.. I need to get some parchment.” Deuce’s eyes narrow, spade crinkling and belying his skepticism beneath. “I’m going to send a letter home.”
♡ Except . . . he seems wary of you. Not just you, all of you. Does he even know you’re the one that’s being wronged here? There’s someone behind him, someone you’ve never seen before, but something about them rings a bell of recognition within you.
♡ The contours of their face, the way they stand tight-lipped, they have a good couple of inches over Deuce — their hair is quite messy, jutting out in sleep-mussed strands as if they rolled out of bed, yet giving the impression it’s styled like that on purpose, curling around their face. Their face is steeped in staid indifference, they don’t spare a single glance towards the delinquents, yet amid their unsolicited questions, it treks towards you.
♡ Who is that? Your heart squeezes in on itself. Your lip’s worn between your teeth as you feel them comb through your concealed stature, languidly traversing each and every part of your figure. It makes you feel uncomfortable, it makes your privacy feel impinged upon and paraded for their perusal. . .it feels as if the mere sight of you is being drunk in. Who is that? They look familiar, overly familiar, too familiar.
♡ That’s Yuu?
Your eyes are nailed open, pinned wide by incredulity. You don’t know why, but your heart bursts in little staccatos. There’s a little, stray strand at the side of their head, and dare you say, it’s styled exactly like the Leech twins.
♡ No way. No way! They actually did it. They changed themselves because you poured your heart out at some blasted library! But . . what about their height? Even their face seems different. Makeup? Heels? Now they’re accompanying Deuce, staring at you, because no matter how much you could’ve told them you like someone who couldn’t give a single care in the world about you, they can’t help themselves. It’s like they need to stare at you. Just what the hell is wrong with them? Do they really think you’ll topple over by their feet just because they did a little something new with their face or hair?
“Well, look what the prefect dragged in.” The Savanaclaw knucklehead jeers. “Deuce? Ain’t you supposed to be runnin’ your ass off at the track club and sucking up to your professors? Piss off, and take your little wuss with ya.”
Deuce looks on the cusp of letting his face devolve into pure fury. You can’t help but think it’s not that serious, but upon watching the tremor of his lips, you reconsider. The prefect and he have been pals since the beginning, and they must’ve fought tooth and nail beside each other. It’s only natural they have that kind of relationship, palpable in the way he pushes them behind him. Oh, wow. Shielding them with his body? Ground-breaking.
“Yuu, get behind me.. I’m only asking you this once, alright?” His brows press as he takes his attention to the group. You can’t help but feel as if he doesn’t remember you. “Step aside. We’re not here to pick a fight, so please move out of the way.”
Yuu obliges, shuffling, though you’d argue that’s because they’re too busy staring at you, gauging your face for a reaction. A reaction on the change. A reaction on anything.
The Savanaclaw bastard mulls it over. “Hm.” Then he cranes his neck head-on. “Nah. Can’t say the same for us.”
♡ That’s all it takes for a punch.
♡ The sound is loud on skin. You don’t even know who threw it, but somewhere amid the jabs, punches are flying. Punches are flying in every wayward direction. Punches are flying . . . at you? The last thing you see is a Spade, and then your entire vision gets tilted, harshly. You’re spinning, why are you spinning?
♡ You realize a second too late when the air is knocked out of you. Did you just get punched by Deuce Spade?!
♡ A solid right hook to your rib and you fall to the ground in blinding pain, it’s like he straight up tore something out of you. A half-choked scream evades and amid the tussling bodies, you see Yuu staring at you. They make no move to rush to you— but the pain is unbearable, and you clench the space over your ribs. Pain shoots up in your cheek when someone tumbles over you, dust kicks up everywhere.
It's clear everyone’s getting their ass handed to them.
You lay sprawled on the ground alongside some ugly Savanaclaw bastard. Grunts follow. Glaring at him, you seethe. “This is all your fault.”
“... Sorry, man.”
♡ You wake up in the infirmary.
And with that, stars burst in your vision.
♡ It takes you a while to come to.
♡ Your vision is, at first, incredibly spotty, and for the dots to ebb away, requires you to keep on blinking. Blinking requires strain, and strain requires more pain which you don’t deign to verbalize. There’s no question that you were brought here by someone, a student, even. No lights have been turned on, you’re left in the quiet chalice of moonlight streaming in from windows and the growing pain on the plush of your cheek -- it’s past curfew, and no one is in the office, not even the Savanaclaw mutts. Shuffling, you realize a blanket’s draped over your shoulders, and a poorly-attached.. bandage on your skin which flutters away.
♡ . . What a bummer! You got your ribcage and cheek beat in? You should’ve known to jump out of the way, especially since you know more about Deuce than anyone in the room! You must’ve really underestimated his relationship with Yuu. Because Book Three is coming around, it should be even stronger than before, considering they’ve dealt with two overblots. Strangely though, Yuu in Twisted Hearts was never quiet when he’d been forced to take to his fists. In fact — the dialogue options all centred around de-escalating the situation.
♡ . . Seems like you really messed with their head after the library incident. Thought it should offer you some comfort, it has icy shards of reluctance roving over your spine. If the time might come where you’ll be coerced into interacting with Adeuce again.. then you’d have to book it immediately. Yuu’s made it clear they’ll stop at nothing, especially since they’ve changed their appearance.
“You’re awake.”
♡ ..
♡ ..What?
♡ Ack! What the heck?!
♡ You flinch, blinking once more, and look around the room for the source of the voice.
♡ There's an apparition at the foot of the bed. No, there’s a person standing there, a person you’ve never met before, you can tell. The pitch of their voice, the dialogue.. it’s all unfamiliar and..
It’s Yuu.
♡ The room glistens once.
Or.. it looks like Yuu.
It looks like Yuu, but with the way they’re dressed and carrying themselves, they look like J̸A̸D̸E̸. They don’t look like themselves, and how long had they been standing there, watching you mull everything over on your tongue? Back at Main Street, you’d skimmed over their new looks, but now, having given the luxury of time, you’re taking it all in and realize that they’re trying to impersonate him. The man, who you, in the heat of the moment, had called best friend.
Your heart quickens. How did you not notice it before?
Beams of silvered incandescence fall in stripes upon their face, and you realize their eyes have been morphed into a different shape, their lips a different colour, their height now towering over you... What? How’s that even possible? How come no one noticed it at Main Street? Had they always looked like that? No— that’s not right. There is something completely wrong and yet has eluded everyone. Even the Savanaclaw brutes recognized them as the prefect, where you, someone who’s been flanked by said prefect, erred in the recognition at first.
“.. Yuu?”
J̸A̸D̸E̸, they look like. J̸A̸D̸E̸, the manner they carry themselves. They drink in the battered and bruised visage you’re clad in, and with that ̷J̷̷A̷̷D̷̷E̷’̷S̷ ̷G̷̷R̷̷I̷̷N̷ playing on the softer curve of their lips, their J̸A̸D̸E̸’S̸ H̸E̸A̸D̸ lolls towards you. Y꙰U꙰U꙰ J꙰A꙰D꙰E꙰ Y꙰UJ꙰J꙰A꙰D꙰E꙰
“Forgive me.” Upon receiving a pointed brow from you, h҉e҉ chuckles. “I was under the impression that reunions between companions of a certain familiarity were typically accompanied by some gesture of goodwill. A hug, if I recall correctly.”
They’re speaking like him. A roulette of personalities before it clicks into one concrete thing. You’re not even looking at their face anymore, your hands are wound around the softer bedsheet and your lips are restless welts between your teeth. What do you even do in this situation? Yuu, somehow, against all odds, has boxed you in an infirmary. It terrifies you, but, audaciously, you chew down the quiver of your face and school it into a calmer one.
“Yuu.”
You can’t see their eyes, but you know they widen around your utterance of their name. Quickly, before you can even process it, they cover the distance between you too. It has you jerking back against the wall, biting back a hiss at the strong contract. —They’re in front of you. They’re looking at you. What have you even done to deserve this?
“Yes?” Your eyes hesitantly climb upward.
“.. Can you leave?”
They look like you’ve just said something befuddling. Quirking a brow and adorned in that same expression as you, they question. “.. Why? You’re hurt, aren’t you? It’d be unwise of me to leave you to your own devices.” Their eyes glister. They’re yellow now. A color oh-so familiar. “Oh, speaking of you being hurt, I apologize on behalf of Deuce. He really..”
Your hands. Their hands. They meld them together, fingers slotted against each other. Yours are warm, but theirs are denuded of any temperature, even as they press into yours like an ill-fitting locket. There’s a pit amassing in your stomach, gnawing at you, a massive blackhole of dread. It's everywhere, coagulating in the confines of your throat, even your ears and rigid body. You won't look them in the eyes, even as they give your hands a squeeze of confirmation, as if to ascertain you’re actually there.
“.. He really angered me, you see.” Nails delve into the plush of your skin, before releasing it in a portrait of half-moons. “Oh, but enough of him. May I talk to you?”
—As if you’re real.
Are you real? You can still hear their voice in the back of your mind.
♡ No, no, no. You want to scream at them, but you’re afraid it’ll only escalate the situation.
“.. Okay.” You tread carefully. “We’ll talk. We'll talk tomorrow, okay? I’ll talk to you all you want—”
“—Just leave. I’m hurt.”
♡ It’s like they can't bear the thought of not listening to you.
“Spud!”
♡ Nodding, you watch them exit the room, the door closing. And just like that, you hide beneath the covers, not wanting to lament on what the fuck just happened! Squeezing your eyes shut, you don’t breathe until you're certain their footsteps have diminished into nothingness.
You jerk awake.
♡ Dampness amasses upon your waterline before slivers of it stream down and onto your open palm. You’re sat upright, and the face of your tutor, Vil Schoenheit, should not offer you so much relief, but the bottled up chrysalis of your heart, the thumping staccatos of your pulse, all join to let out the happiest sigh you’ve ever breathed. You’re in the nurse’s office, you have not moved places, but Yuu is not here anymore. They’ve left.
“Vil!”
♡ You chew the word back down when you see the surprise on his face.
♡ You don’t know if it is because you’ve never once willingly uttered his name so.. joyfully, or because he’s wondering why, on the name of the Sevens, are you here. Judging from the way he’s in his Dorm Uniform, you must have taken him out of Pomefiore for this occasion, but beneath the gloam, he really does look like a cherub, an angel, more so because his face is tenfold embellished, softened and glamorous — not a day goes by where he doesn’t look gorgeous. Your guardian angel, you’d describe him as, if you were a completely different breed of yourself, and if the circumstances were different, and if..well, you get the gist.
“..”
For the briefest of moments, more surprise fractures his impeccable composure. It vanishes just as quickly.
"Well." He smooths a nonexistent crease from the sleeve of his uniform.His lilac eyes sweep over your face with unsettling precision. "That is certainly the most enthusiastic greeting I've ever received from you....Should I assume you've suffered another concussion?"
You hastily scrub at your face and wince. The valleys of your palm glisten, giving you away. “..No.”
"You've been crying." At your prolonged silence, he shakes his head. “You have no need to verify it, I have eyes."
He doesn’t prod for more. Instead, he crosses the room with measured steps until he stands beside the infirmary bed, crossing his arms.
"The physician informed me you were rendered unconscious after an altercation. Really? I leave you unattended for one afternoon and somehow you manage to involve yourself in physical violence."
“...It wasn't on purpose.”
“I would certainly hope not.” His thumb lightly catches your chin before you can recoil. He angles your face toward the light. “...Though judging by the state of your cheek, I can see bruising, and here I was under the impression you merely enjoyed collecting eye bags."
Letting you extricate yourself from his nitid hold, he eyes you, brows knitting close at your reluctance. “Did the nightmare concern your altercation?”
.. Was it a nightmare?
“..No.”
“Someone else, then.”
“...Yeah.”
He studies you long enough that you begin wondering if there's something written across your forehead.
“Who?”
“I dunno.”
He turns away, sighing.
“I've discovered that people disclose the truth more readily when they cease believing they're being interrogated.” He glances back over one shoulder. “So I will ask you again another day.”
“Did you call me spud to wake me up?”
The question is airy, quick but elicits a soft sigh from him, stopping him in his tracks. When he whirls around, heels clacking against the tiles, there's a curvature to his lips, but not of pride. As if almost conveying he’s got you figured out, that you aren’t as elusive as you’d deem yourself. The sort of expression worn by someone who's finally finished assembling the last piece of a puzzle.
“So that is what's troubling you.” You stiffen, and he hums, folding his arms. “I suppose I can indulge your curiosity. After all, it would have been rather inconvenient to recommend you for Film Research while referring to you as 'that spud from Scarabia.”
Your stomach drops.
“Naturally, I sought out your student record.”
♡ Horror dawns upon you. It's then you realize of course there should be a school record of the person's body you’ve been transmigrated into.
“Only to discover...” His smile thins. “...that you seemingly don't have one.”
♡ . .
“Quite an impressive feat, really. Every student admitted to Night Raven College leaves behind paperwork. Enrollment records. Academic reports. Disciplinary files, in some unfortunate cases.” His gaze settles on you. “You, however, appeared to have vanished from the school's archives altogether. It was terribly inefficient.”
He brushes an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve.
“Fortunately, Housewarden Al-Asim proved considerably more cooperative. I simply requested whatever documentation Scarabia had on you.” His eyes soften into something almost miserable. “..As you can imagine, my efforts did not bear fruit.”
♡ You don’t answer. Kalim knows your name. That day, at the infirmary, you'd given him it willingly, but it surprises you that he didn’t give it away. Did he even remember it? He has more than thirty siblings and he knows all of them by name, allegedly. It should be habit by now.. (Still, amid the sheer terror that Vil just implied he’s going to take you out of Mountain Lovers and place you into Film Research instead, you feel warmth in your heart).
Presently, you school your expression, letting your gaze trek upward into the purple inferno that’s Vil. So, Ruggie wasn’t lying when he said Vil had been to Octavinelle. He must’ve struck a deal with Azul, Azul must’ve gotten Jade to comply, and Jade must’ve agreed. “I don’t want to join your club, Vil. I respect you as my tutor—”
“Do you? That’s certainly shocking.”
“But I can’t accept this.”
"No," You don’t know what you were expecting, but the degree of his calm, it infuriates you no more than it riddles you with confusion “You won't accept it. There's a difference, and a rather important one.”
He covers the distance between you and purple inundates your vision, the purple of his dress, plaguing the ground. Though you’re loathe to admit it, his composure is far more formidable than outright anger, and subconsciously, you sink deeper into the blanket fortress you’ve built around yourself. Cool antiseptic against the interior of your skin, it grounds you until your eyes are inevitably forced to dwell into the reign of his eyes.
"Acceptance, if you’d give it some thought, would mean consideration followed by a conclusion. You, however, as I’ve said before, have made a habit of refusing opportunities before you've even afforded them a glance.”
“Because they're opportunities I don't want.” You curl, coil, and do everything to shield your face from his. Detestable, you can tell it irks him so, so much. “I don’t want them. I don’t want to be put into the spotlight, I don’t want to be seen, I don’t want any of this!”
It shames you. Puts you to shame more and more and more. Sentences you to a perpetual embarrassment, because here you are reduced to tearful, loud hysteria, and Vil has not once raised his voice at you. He peers at you the same, a petulant toddler in his eyes. Why? Why can he never see you as something more than that?
“Are they?”
“—Yes!”
“Or are they merely opportunities that require you to become something more?” A long nail scrapes the cloth and suddenly, the blanket is taken away from you. You gasp involuntarily, crisp air meets the bare of your skin and your mouth falls shut, given the luxury of seeing his face clearly. You don’t mull it over too long for his liking, and he scowls. Deep and unforgiving. “Tell me, have you once attended Film Research?”
“No.”
“Have you spoken to any of its members?”
“..No.”
“Then by what merit have you deemed it unsuitable?”
“...Because...”
It is a strange, trance-like, curse-like bubble you’re in. Words seep from your mouth and into the fracture of the air much too fast, for a moment you’re inclined to believe he’s used his signature spell on you. Has he? Can he even do that? You hate him.
“...Because Mountain Lovers leaves me alone. I want peace. I don’t want people looking at me.”
Vil lets out a slow, almost imperceptible breath.
“There it is. You've convinced yourself you don't deserve them to. You are under the absurd impression that remaining invisible somehow absolves you of responsibility." His tone remains maddeningly even. "If no one knows your name, they cannot burden you. If no one notices your work, they cannot expect more of you. If no one grows attached, they cannot disappoint you." He tilts his head. “...It's a remarkably comfortable philosophy.”
His eyes narrow just slightly.
“It is also cowardice, and if there is anything I despise more than sloth, it is precisely—”
Lilac.
“Cowardice.”
Even through the crescendo of his stare, you feel as though you can’t let him leave just yet.
“Wait, Vil!” He stops, and you lower your head in shame.
♡ You are a coward!
“.. Can you at least walk me back? To Scarabia?”
♡ A smarting, throbbing pain pulses throughout your body, you hiss and seethe and sputter into Scarabia’s lounge, where the night sky, buttressed by noctilucent stars on liquefied ink, bubbles and takes you into its breezy arms. You arrive quite late, at a time where everyone has surely returned to their rooms and tuned in for the night, but this is not your first rodeo and definitely not your first time breaking curfew. You’re more so grappling with the fact that Deuce Spade, the seemingly, oh-so loyal companion, has thrown a solid right hook to your rib and now you’re most likely crippled. . . and that Vil has, without mercy, sentenced you to a lifetime of Film Research.
♡ You hiss again. You’d very well seen dialogues regarding how others would describe his strength as unexpected, but you didn’t really expect you to be the example.
♡ You'd been so convinced the stolen items had something to do with Jade, or Y҉I҉U҉U҉—or perhaps the usual mound of unrequited love. But now, you’re re-considering where you really stand. Had it been done out of malice? The characters have shown they've no qualm with hurting you, and clearly, this implies they’d stoop to more . . . . violent methods, if needed. Crisp air only burns the welts on your skin, you’re glad no one’s here to see you reduced to such a state.
♡ Except the viper! Isn’t that just so peachy?
♡ He knuckles at his lids three times before letting his face pucker into a ball of confusion and drawn brows. Donning his sleepwear, his hair meanders loose, and his skin’s rid of gold, the same as you’d seen on him the night before. Stumbling, toppling over your own tongue in a drawl, you don’t realize the burn of air is whisked away with the sensation of someone tugging at your uniform and setting you down on the ottoman.
“Do I even bother?” He questions. Your head is low, dipped. A swab of cotton pounces at your face, a pitter-patter following the motion of his fingers. Do I even bother asking you what happened, because you and I both know you never speak the truth? And how did you even get Schoenheit to walk you to Scarabia? With a finger pressed along your ribs, he prods. “Tell me when.”
♡ Gah! Everything is happening so fast, you can’t even process it. How can you when the one guy who’s so steeped in loathing is staring back at you, after you’ve just had a mental acceptance regarding their partiality to violence?
“When.”
“I haven’t even touched the bruise yet.”
Luckily for him, you’re pretty dazed after the encounter.
“Wheehee... My bad.” A puddle of emotions twist your face into a frown as you lament. “Do you know they didn’t even use spells? It was a bare-knuckled fight!”
“Shh. Follow my finger.”
“You’re holding up two.”
“Only one.” Lolling his head skyward, his lips press down into a thin line of.. irritation. Even when you’re crumpled, he eyes you warily. There is always something in those eyes of his, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have taken it lightly. But you don’t, because the way he peers down at you, it’s almost literal. You beneath him, the natural order. “.. I thought you avoided attention, so why provoke Savanaclaw?”
You have a strong aversion to small talk, especially when Jamil is on the receiving end. “Really generous to assume they need a reason for beating me up.”
“Hm. I suppose that’s true,” Without any need to continue conversation, he still keeps on probing for more. It’s quite laughable, isn’t it? He never struck you as the type to willingly engage in chatter with you, even now, his face is strained. How fun, knowing you’ve inconvenienced him. “Still, I would’ve thought you the type to at least defend yourself.”
You perch your cheek on your hand. “You thought wrong.”
“Clearly,” Pausing against your temple, the cotton is cool, even while littered with grime. “Why?”
“Why you thought wrong? Well, clearly, it’s a skill iss—”
“Why? You've had opportunities. If people insist on handing you those, why keep on refusing them? Even your own Housewarden likes you.”
You grimace. “I wouldn't phrase it like that.”
“You've earned Leech's attention.”
“I'd rather give it back.”
“Vil Schoenheit has practically dragged you into his orbit. He accompanied you just now to your dorm, didn’t he?”
Now, there’s an ugly bruise on your face and it’s not one he can touch and see, he can feel. Your lips pull into an elegiac little frown, and your eyes glaze over in mourning.
“I'd also, definitely rather give that back.”
His fingers still.
“...Why? Most students spend years trying to be noticed, and you spend every waking moment making sure no one remembers you.”
♡ Not this conversation! Looks like you’re at a bit of a standstill, but that entertains the thought: looks who’s talking. Pot, meet kettle, isn’t that what he does, in a sense, in a far more different sense? You don’t know how to reply to that, because Jamil is very clearly, very not passively, explaining the obvious. Even the way he looks at you now is complicated, denuded of emotion that can be gauged. You merely purse your lips in lieu of a response, and avoid his gaze, like you’ve always done.
“Can we please talk about something else?”
There’s a pressure on your palm. An accidental, harsh pull, and with a sigh, he tells you; “I can never understand you. Oh, well, it’s done.”
You blearily blink up at him. “It’s done?”
“The bandaging.”
He was bandaging you up this entire time? Oh, so that’s why he was so atypically immersed in your conversation.
Leaning back and scourging the contents of his work, which in actuality is just a linen strip of white shrouding your palms and the bare of your arm, he hums. It’s a non-committal, little thing that’s whisked away beneath the empyrean domain, blues and purplish-black lairs of twilight, cast back into the likeness of his eyes. He’s staring at you again. Waiting for, well, something. Something you’re clearly not willing to give.
“Thank you.” Clearing your throat, its dryness is gone. In the heat of Scarabia, only you feel its cold fangs nip at your skin. When you retract your gaze, you realize, shit. Had you been looking at him? “.. Aren’t you going to leave?”
He raises a brow.
“It may have slipped your mind that I’m your Vice Housewarden.” His arms are now folded. “In any case, you should be the one heading to bed.”
♡ Say less. You really don’t want this unsolicited thing to escalate, so you verbalize your agreement with a hum, and attempt to leave him be. The keyword here is attempt— and the trigger word here is Yuu.
“After all, I imagine Yuu must be waiting for you tomorrow.”
A chill goes up your spine.
♡ You fall back down. Why? Because a tremor shot up your legs and now you’re that same crumpled mess you were in the library.
♡ Ugh! Great! Another Yuu-thing to worry about. You really wish they stopped getting on your case. The incident at the infirmary still hasn’t left your mind.. Y꙰U꙰U꙰’S꙰ face staring you down. Why’s Jamil looking at you like that? With a shadow cast over his usually staid face? It unsettles you no more than it terrifies you, how have you messed up this bad? Quick, think of something! It’s time you set the record straight once and for all.
“You don’t have to worry,” hands morphed into fists in your lap, you think he feels you avoiding his gaze. “I know.. your— ahem, affections lie with Yuu. I would never personally get in your way, Vice Housewarden.” Heaving a shuddering breath, you stand up. “I’ve too much respect for you in that regard.”
♡ Uh. . why’s he looking at you like that? Brows raised, lips on the verge of shooting up into an amused smirk.
“Hm? Affections? Where did that come from? I don’t recall bringing that up.”
♡ .. . . For your next trick you’ll need a gun and a shovel to dig your grave. Really?
“—It's obvious.” You amend. “The way you look at them.”
“When did you see me looking at them?”
Uhh.. “When didn’t I see you looking at them?”
“There’s no point in puerile assumptions, really.” There it is again. That clipped, clear tone. Lids rolling over charcoal finality, he folds his arms again, and once more, his hair curtains his face in a blanket of shadows. “I’m a boring guy to be around. One who doesn’t know his way around the latest trends or media. What could Yuu possibly gain from sparing me time? They’re an odd one, no more than you.”
♡ Jack of all trades, master of none!
♡ He’s trying to dissuade you from it, the reality of what he feels, and if you were any less of a connoisseur at combing through facial expressions (which really is just obtained foresight from Twisted Hearts), you’d have believed him. But you don’t, not even for a second — in a sense, you believe he thinks he’s gotten you off his trail, that he’s outsmarted you. You don’t want to pester him for more, try to steer his belief, or attempt to relate to him. Truth is, you always see that smile of his whenever the prefect is mentioned, that tug on his hood, and the glint in his eyes. He lives up to his name. A viper, camouflaged in plain sight.
♡ He must mistake you for a dumb one, or maybe he doesn’t. You think he doesn’t, not at all — perhaps he’s waiting for you to make that one mistake and sink in the hole you’ve been digging for yourself.
”Come on,” Your voice nags his attention. “..Boring guy? You've been trying really hard not to laugh all this time— especially when you were patching me up.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his head lists gently towards the side.
“I looked awful, I know. You can admit it.” Pitter-patter, there goes your footfall, away from Jamil as you angle your body towards the one place you can find rest. You can’t see his face, but you don’t think of anything else other than his signature composure. That’s bad. “It’s way better to tell me you think I’m miserable up-front than going behind my back and keeping it to yourself.”
That’s bad. It’s bad. Jamil is willingly making conversation with you. This is bad. You need to set him towards a different path.
♡ Reaching your room, you catch someone peeking at you through a half-open crack in the door, Scarabia Student B! Nosy, curious, wondering why you and his Vice Housewarden were in that lounge. Without greeting him, you slam your door shut.
♡ Unfortunately, rest does not easy.
♡ Finally! The end of a tiring day.
♡ In the murkiness of your room, lit only by the pearly eye outside, you comb through the space. It’s barren, of course — your shelves, though, are lined with . . . accessories.
♡ One of the most shiny things you own, is of course, a bracelet! Gifted to you by none other than Kalim. Your journal is by its side. There’s also a little mushroom encased in glass you’d discovered on your bygone hikes with Jade. You’d never noticed that before. . . it only now reminds you just how many of your little trinkets you’ve left back in the Mountain Lovers club, they must be catching dust by now. Should you drop a visit tomorrow to pick them up? You don’t know how you’ll handle seeing him.
♡ Climbing out of bed, you pick it up! There’s a little slip of paper plastered on the pane: Amanita verna (Destroying angels).
♡ It seems familiar. A swathe of white is all it is, steeped in the colour from head to toe.. You remember it! That’s the same mushroom you’d encountered on your first hike, the same one you told him not to eat. It’s almost strange how he’s kept it all this time — and really, in glass? What if its toxins are airborne? When did he even give this to you?
♡ Wake up! Sometimes you get reminded why Kalim is unfit to be a Housewarden. Under the pretense of something important, he’d woken you up and led you to Scarabia’s kitchen. You’d, at first, thought he just called you for breakfast, but one glance at the time gave the numbers 4 : 50 AM away. Under no circumstances, in any universe, would you be willing to wake up at dawn’s peak, except this one. There are few things in this world worth waking before sunrise for. An emergency. A natural disaster. Perhaps the Second Coming.
♡ Shuffling back to bed, you pull the covers up to your chin, squeezing your eyes shut. Oh, well, a new day awaits you.
♡ Turns out, he’s trying to arrange a party to commemorate the end of midterms, but Jamil’s chagrin is hindering his plans. A dorm-wide party to ‘boost everyone's spirits?’ it makes sense why Jamil has vetoed the idea outright.You can’t understand why this party would be a hit, considering that it takes place a day before midterm results would mean everyone is too preoccupied with stress or fatigue to ruminate on it, but oh, well, you’re far past arguing with your Housewarden. If the goal is ensuring everyone fails together, it’ll certainly work.
♡ You have no desire to help him out, because for one, you’re fatigued beyond measure, going against Jamil would warrant only doom — and finally, you don't trust him in the kitchen. There’s a reason why Jamil’s restricted his access to fire and anything flammable. (Though, even if it were to occur, can’t he use his unique magic?)
♡ All in all, you’re a bit surprised to see Kalim’s eagerness, so much so he’s completely overlooked what Jamil would think of him. The latter wouldn’t cook, in spite of his demands, so the boy’s brought it upon himself to do the task instead, only, for some reason, he needs your help, not the help of hundreds of other Scarabian students that would befit the skill. This has all the makings of a disaster.
“I wanna throw everybody a surprise party after classes!” He throws his hands up, relenting. The light emanating from his face alone makes yours crimp. “I think it’ll make everyone less nervous before the midterm results are announced. So? What do you think?”
“The truth or a lie?” At the persistence of his smile, you mutter. “I think it'll make everyone fail midterms, Housewarden.”
“Really? Then we’ll just have it after.” He seems surprised. Was he expecting you to agree with him? If he really insists on your companionship, then it’s only natural you come out of your shell and tell him the bare-faced truth. Though the tinge of it makes you feel the tiniest bit woozy. “Everyone in Scarabia’s studying all the time, they deserve something fun, don’t they?”
“.. Yeah.” Air whistles through your teeth as you set your eyes straight on the cutlery. “They do. I think that’s very considerate of you, Housewarden.” And that, in all honesty, is not a lie.
♡ He begins rummaging through cupboards with alarming enthusiasm! Bowls, plates, three ladles, a whisk. Somehow, a watermelon, and a flour bag half his size. He turns to you and asks you what you both should make, and you relinquish the decision to him. You help him out with whatever he’s making with the watered-down dough — slicing melons into bits and focusing way too much on avoiding the knife’s end, and whenever he asks for something, you put yourself to the task and provide.
♡ It’s only natural, though, that his need for conversation overwhelms him.
”Hey,” he smiles at you. “Now that you mention it, you never brought Jade over to Scarabia!”
You never mentioned it, but okay. The question makes you pause.. Jade. The real Jade, not the one you thought you saw. Crimson, fruity rivulets skim over the ridges and valleys of your palm as you pretend to ruminate it over, but you end up conceding the real answer to him regardless.
“I don’t think we’re friends anymore.”
♡ That makes him pause!
♡ He seems shocked, truly. Eyes saucer-wide and lips parted, but then again, you expected it to be subsumed beneath the weight of his optimism. Even when he has no idea why Jade’s left you alone, he still makes an effort to alleviate your mood. After all, that’s the impression you left for him to feast on, that you were lonely, on the verge of dying and in dire need of help. For once, the kitchen falls quiet save for the gentle simmer of something forgotten on the stove.
“..Really?”
“Really.”
Kalim blinks once. “..Did you two have a fight?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what happened?”
“ ..Nothing.” Your head lolls over your shoulder. Tongue curling over soundless words, words you’re not even sure why you’re deigning him the brunt of, coalesce. “Nothing needs to have happened, Kalim. Sometimes people just stop talking, and that’s a part of life. They don’t need to have disagreements.”
He’s frowning at you, you can tell from your periphery, a bona fide frown that’s not at all the moue he wears when Jamil refuses to indulge one of his whims. A genuine one whose likeness is casted back into the nitid curve of your knife, as you twirl it around and around. "I make it pretty easy."
"How?"
“I avoid them. Hide. Run away. Occasionally pretend not to hear them. Sometimes I literally climb out windows.” A tiny smile tugs at your lips. “I'm kind of difficult to be friends with.”
♡ Kalim doesn't smile back. Instead, he sets the mixing bowl down with a dull clink!
“I don't think that's true! You just listed a bunch of things you do.”
Something warm engulfs your hand. Your hands. His hands. He melds them together, fingers slotted against each other. Yours are warm, but his are even warmer as they press into yours like an ill-fitting locket — but it’s not at all like Yuu’s grip. It's gentler, it’s genuine, and it’s kind. You won't look him in the eyes, even as he gives your hands a squeeze of reassurance. “Not who you are. You're nice. You always help me when I ask. You help clean. You always thank the ghosts after they serve you lunch. You're just scared people won’t like you— and tell you what—”
He’s beaming at you now. “Sometimes Jamil ignores me for days. Sometimes he tells me I'm impossible, but we always end up talking the next day! So you..” A thumb juts out from your interlinked... pinkies? Had he made a subconscious promise? “Should talk to Jade.”
♡ You stare at him. . Yours and Jamil’s situation is very different, and the dynamic these two share bears no similarity to Jade and yours. If anything, you have no obligation to make amends with the eel, but still, you make do with a shuddering nod.
“See? You’re smiling!”
♡ The new day is horrendous because you find yourself back at the Mountain Lovers club, against all odds.
“I’m not.”
♡ Right before sending you off, Kalim gave you a small task. He wanted you to send out the invitation cards to multiple students, seeing as you’d taken on multiple jobs with the same nature. One of the names you instantly recognized, Silver. You agreed, but made your way to your old club, hoping you wouldn’t catch Jade in the process.
♡ Only now you’re clearly trying to hide from someone, because the eel is right there.
♡ Honestly, if you’re being honest, you hadn’t expected Jade to be in the Mountain Lovers Club, the most expected thing of him. You’d at least think he has a knack for camouflage, with the way he’s completely eluded your senses these past few days— or months. So imagine the consecutive, twelve heart attacks you get when you catch the prowling figure in the corner, situated where he always is since the day you stumbled into the room.
“Would it be impertinent of me to assume you’re trying to hide from me?”
♡ Ack! It’s been such a while you’ve seen Jade that it almost feels surreal. A husband returning from war, as you’d first put it during your departure in the earlier phase of your.. parasitic relationship, but now you’re not so sure anymore. What does it feel like?
♡ . . . He’s caught you dead in your rights amid your prancing, and even ensconced within your reluctance, you sneak an itsy-bitsy glance at him. Your gaze is confined to his self-same face, one that remains unchanged though you’ve spent so many days apart. His comportment is exactly as you remember it — suave and placid — and somehow, that's what makes seeing him so strange. Yours has changed, has it not? You’ve been dealing with Yuu, Scarabia, Ruggie, Vil . .
♡ Ridiculous. Leech is standing five paces away from you.
♡ What do you even say? You don’t want to probe at him, ask him where he’s been, ask him about Vil. It’s entirely possible he was occupied with the semester, with Mostro Lounge, his hikes, or whatever his slippery mind latched onto. Showing that much eagerness would definitely corrode the image you’ve been trying to build, right? Though, him disappearing right after that cheek memento seems too odd to be a coincidence, and you know it isn’t, you’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, for his own sake.
So, you just heave a sigh, and let your eyes trail to the room.
“..You've always had a talent for assumptions.”
“Have I?”
“You've assumed correctly enough times for it to become annoying.”
"How flattering.” He hums, accepting the correction. It irks you. “I’m relieved to see your wit survived my absence. I was riddled with fear, you see.” With a gloved hand on his chest, he sniffles. “How you could possibly survive without my interference.”
♡ Ugh! He expected otherwise. Sure, you had a bit of a tussle with the withdrawals, but you did just fine without him. Sure, you can see him grinning slyly at you, his words but a harmless jab.
“I considered several possibilities.” He keeps on going, eyes transfixed on the arrays of . . truth be told, an entire ecosystem of wildlife. The emanating light casts an azure glow on his face, and you find veils of lashes covering the glint in his eyes. “That you would continue avoiding the Mountain Lovers Club indefinitely, or that you had simply forgotten where it was, and I did entertain the notion that one of Schoenheit’s extracurricular endeavors had finally succeeded in claiming you. Dare I say, you're even starting to resemble him in speech.”
You pale at the implications. “You're hilarious.”
“So I've been told.” That smirk may as well be a cathedral of pointed arcs, ripping past his lips as he places a gloved hand on his chin.
There’s that usual silence, enveloping you. You try to let your attention fixate on something else to avoid the strain of conversation, somehow it feels foreign to you.
But then he breaks it.
Unfortunately.
“But of course, horrible as I may be, I couldn’t possibly leave my best friend to fend for themselves.”
♡ Ouch! You nearly topple over a display and break the glass.
“..Best friends?” You cough. “That sounds inaccurate.”
Ah, right. You had mentioned that, hadn’t you? Back when Yuu kept on pestering you, and you found no better alternative than to pin that label onto the one person you would never find yourself making friends with. His smile neither grows nor diminishes, remaining suspended in that infuriating middle ground where every word he utters sounds like the conclusion to a joke only he understands.
“I see. Then perhaps I’ve been reading the situation incorrectly.”
♡ You don’t get it too twisted. For what it’s worth, you know Jade doesn’t actually consider you a companion. In actuality, he doesn’t appear to find the idea of physical contact or friendship too appealing as demonstrated from your botched cheek kiss, the embarrassment of which you mentally recoil from — so he makes do with throwing little jests at you. Perhaps he indulges himself in your micro-expressions, the way you school them, or the sneer you send his way. It’s a wicked game, but really, you’re not all that irked. In a way, you can proceed with your plan. The keeping-Jade-Leech-near-you plan. It worked before, he wards people off perfectly, doesn’t he?
♡ You.. just have to remain interesting enough. To his eyes, that is. You need to keep his curiosity at its apogee. The question at hand is: how do you do that?
“Incorrectly?” Your voice, brought into the moment. It’s only now you realize that the both of you aren’t even looking at each other except for stolen glances eluding the other’s attention. Back to back, the two of you stare into opposing sides of a display. This can’t get any stiffer. “Usually, when a best friend disappears, they inform the other beforehand. An explanation, if you’ve ever heard of it.”
There’s silence.
You can just see the surprise coloring his face. In tinges of blue, white, green— the sea, spumes of it contorted into a release. Not a soft one, a milder, more slippery one.
“..I hadn't realized an explanation was expected.”
Something flickers across his face. You see it in the glass, the likeness of his it casts back at you when he moves his head to stare. It's gone so quickly you wonder if the light had merely shifted beneath the leaves overhead. Like a tinge of intrigue rejuvenated. You wonder what is so haplessly appealing about you?
“Then allow me to apologize.”
♡ The next moment, he’s offering you his arm, and you take it without hesitation. He’s had you close, and there he is, leading you to.. where? You don’t question it, but along the way, he deigns you a glance down.
“Perhaps I was too presumptuous.”
You don’t. “... What’s this about now?”
His eyes grow a tad bit darker, but then he grins again and you frown. "I had thought the interval of our separation might warrant another display of affection, to put it modestly..."
♡ You go still.
♡ Jade picks up on it, giving you a questioning hum. It’s gone as soon as it inspissates, and you trudge forward to the destination.
♡ The cafeteria is loud, loud, loud! It feels foreign, because you spend most of your time secluded in your dorm, eating lunch junk where no one can see you. Apparently, the ghost chefs hired at said place were once five star connoisseurs, and you’d be nothing but dumb if you missed out on a chance you never had the luxury of in your past life... which goes to say: you aren’t exactly sure how to take him bringing you to the cafeteria, of all places.
♡ . . .
“Can you go and get that sandwich for me?” Ouch, where are your manners? Eating with your mouth full? You mutter again just in case. “The one.. ugh, what’s it called? The one with the uhh—the green thing?”
“Brazenly telling me to do your bidding,” even in the hubbub of an area this packed, he manages to embody that properness immaculately. “Heh, heh, heh,” you ignore that diabolical laugh. “Now, does it not disturb you we may not be as close as you think?”
You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, mindfully chewing his question over. . . Of course, you’re never one to deem yourself of greater amity in his eyes, that’d be ludicrous to assume, but if you don’t play your cards right and act like they’re unstable, you feel like you won't be getting too far.
“..I don't know,” you admit after swallowing. There is no taste, you notice. “You haven't poisoned me yet.”
Jade stills. There’s a glint in those eyes of his, it vanishes as soon as he gives you room to ponder on your own spoken words. Why would that be your first thought? It works, though, because he prods.
“Is that your metric for friendship?”
“It’s a decent start.”
“You are very forgiving.” A chuckle sounds. “And if I refuse?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” heaving a sigh, you prop your chin on your hands woefully. “.. I would have to get it myself.. but it would’ve been really nice if you did it for me.”
“What do I receive in return?”
“I don’t know,” you drag a hand down your face. “I’ll decide when you get me my burger.”
“Did you not say you wanted a sandwich?”
“What's the difference?.. Fine. I have nineteen thaumarks you can probably barter for a mushroom pen or something.”
♡ You can tell Jade has to physically stop himself from appearing amused, because this little Scarabia NPC is genuinely trying to negotiate with their entire, non-existent wallet! Nevertheless, he doesn’t torment you more. Instead, he brings back the sandwich you wanted — and gods, it does look like the most appetizing thing on Earth. Without sparing it any mercy, you shove the thing into your mouth and disregard the question present in his eyes.
“Forgive me for probing, but the manner with which you’re.. eating that sandwich..” His eyes widen the slightest bit. “I would assume this is the first time you’ve been given the opportunity.”
“You’re one to talk. Have you eaten anything other than Destroying angels?”
♡ Aha! Shock paints his face!
♡ He is quick to mask it up, but even in that staid composure there appears to be something he wants to say to you, present in the still contemplation of his lips. Then, when you lean closer, he blinks back into reality.
“What a predictable question,” he chuckles, his familiar close-eyed smile settling back into place. “If you truly wish to know, my palate has had the fortune of wandering rather extensively. I'd argue cuisine tells one far more about a culture than history books ever could. A nation's fears, its prosperity, the produce its soil permits... all of it finds its way onto a plate.”
You hastily clamp your lips shut. Perhaps egging him to go on a tangent wasn’t the best course of action.
“Take sandwiches, for instance. They're deceptively ordinary. Bread is rarely chosen at random. A dense rye carries fillings quite differently from an airy milk loaf, while sourdough lends enough acidity that one must consider the sharpness of the accompanying vegetables. Even the order in which ingredients are layered determines whether one tastes the meat first, the herbs first... or simply a regrettable mouthful of sauce.”
“Uh—”
“Mushrooms are especially remarkable in that regard. Their flavour changes so dramatically depending on the variety and preparation. A delicate sauté brings out an earthy sweetness, whereas roasting deepens their savoriness entirely. Some are wonderful folded into cream sauces, others are best left almost untouched. They're... surprisingly expressive ingredients.”
By the time he’s finished his prating, you’ve already downed everything at the table. Food’s shadow coils in the corners of your mouth as you relish in the aftertaste, but it’s a bit hard to do so, especially when the eel is eyeing you all the while. Tongue swiping across the back of your teeth, you emit a false cough and look towards him. You don’t even know what it is he’s eating, and you don’t question it.
“For a second, I thought we weren’t talking about food anymore.” You quip, glancing at him. Hm, strange. Why’s he looking at you like he wants to pounce—
♡ He shoves a spoonful of food into your mouth!
“Did you taste the basil?” Utensil remaining untouched, he pours his attention onto you. The back of your palm bolsters your coughs as you try to get the shock out of your system, setting him straight with a mean glare. The sudden action combined with your little injury has you sure he just knocked a tooth out or something.
“What the fu—” You massage your throat, immediately unsealing your lips to take a look at your mouth. No teeth knocked out, thankfully. “You little..”
Open-mouthed, you think over his question. “There was basil?”
“..Hm.”
“I didn’t even taste it.”
“..Hm.”
“Is there usually basil in this?”
“Hm.”
His lackluster responses make you look at him.
♡ . . . Strange how he’s looking at you back like that.
♡ You blink at him. He’s staring at you like you just slapped a bucket of water over him. He only snaps out of it when you wave a hand over his face and seal your lips into a questioning line, eliciting an atypical.. gulp from him.
”I apologize.” He closes his eyes. “What were you saying?”
“There was basil in this?”
Raising his fork, the prongs glister beneath the light, sliding along the curvature of its gaps.
"There was. If I was where you’re sitting, I’d taste it quite deftly.. Simply because,” he muses and muses.
Stab!
Prongs are embedded into a slab of food, guillotined by steel before your eyes and shredded open into rivulets like juice. Soundlessly directing your attention to those eyes, twins of olive-brown and gold nailed down with mirth, he croons.
“..My family always believed a meal ought to be savored rather than conquered.”
There is silence crowding the contest of eye contact.
You excuse yourself shortly.
♡ Malleus Draconia and Cater Diamond are standing right fucking next to you.
It’s time for your next class.
♡ The sentence is melodramatic, because for someone of such a high-sounding prestige, they’ve been confined to the space of the botanical garden's verdant grounds. When does one ever get the chance to utter that? Two complete opposites standing next to one another, and oh, there’s you too, trying not to drown in your own ill-fitting, misshapen lab uniform, but chances are they don't notice, because the heir to Briar Valley is completely soaked right now!
“What's going on here, Diamond? Why is water spraying at me out of nowhere?”
♡ Yikes. Even his voice is intimidating enough to make your spine stiffen. You're practically shivering in your boots.
♡ ...No, no. Pull yourself together. Trying to sneak past him now would only invite unwanted attention. All you have to do is what everyone else at Night Raven College seems to manage effortlessly: avert your eyes, keep your head down, and scurry off before the future king notices your existence. The campus had already written the script for interactions with Malleus Draconia years ago! Fear him. Avoid him. Pretend you have somewhere else to be!
♡ It had only just struck the end of Alchemy, and you'd wandered into the subtropical section of the greenhouse to collect the specimen you'd been cultivating. Stumbling into... this... certainly hadn't been part of the itinerary. Then again, they were your schoolmates. Running into them shouldn't have been surprising. (Oh, it’s only surprising because you’ve completely isolated yourself from Yuu now. Avoiding them, never lingering long enough. Something within you ceases to exit when your mind wanders back to the infirmary. Was that real? Have you gone mad?)
“It's the sprinkler system.” You don't even need to look to picture Cater's grin. “They use it for irrigation. Whole zone's got a timer that mimics subtropical rainfall. Guess nobody gave you the tour.”
“Artificial rain...” Malleus repeats, almost thoughtfully.
A gloved hand reaches into the downpour. Water gathers upon his fingertips before dripping back into the beds of foliage below. “How curious. Humans truly do possess peculiar methods of tending their gardens.”
♡ You'd like to point out that the future king of Briar Valley is currently discovering... sprinklers, but you enjoy living. Besides, everyone has gaps in their knowledge. You, for one, still don't know why Professor Trein insists on carrying Lucius into class when the cat has never once demonstrated academic aptitude. Quietly, you crouch beside one of the planter boxes. Your herb should be... there! Perfect!
♡ Nearly uprooting the entire planter, you make a beeline towards the exit! Phew, you survived that. Now you have to suffer through the remainder of your classes.
♡ Soon enough, most of them are over, and the midterm results are to be announced very, very soon. Before that, you adhere to your job as the Night Raven mailperson. It’d be wise of you to get the job done before there’s a herd gathering, and Kalim’s voice is already etched onto your mind by the time you’re carrying the letters.
♡ Sifting through hundreds of parchments, you realize three of them belong to.. Diasomnia residents. There’s an anonymous love letter, Kalim’s invitation card, and a letter from home! You should be able to catch them on campus if you hurry — because you’ll have to delay your plans if they're in their respective dormitories. It also makes you lament on why you even agreed to deliver the invitation card to Silver, of all people, but you have to thank Kalim for his help some way. This just happened to be the easiest. Chances are you’ll find him drowning in sleep. Can’t be that hard.
♡ It takes you a while to find him. The hallways are brimming with people.
♡ True to your deduction, there he is, eyes slid down in respite and chest rising with ebbs and falls. Though you don’t look at his face that long, he's still dressed in his labwear. This should be easy enough— but quickening footfalls of other students have you sifting hastily through the bag — and you pluck out the card, tucking it into his pocket. He shuffles in his sleep, lips parted, murmuring something, but you’re already running off like your hands have caught fire. . . and they may as well have.
♡ — Because halfway up the staircase, you realize the card is still in your hand.
. . . . ?
You blink, turning it over. It’s Kalim’s invitation card. And— Diasomnia, right there. And.. there's the letter from home. And—
♡ The fucking love letter!
♡ You’re sprinting back, nearly toppling over the staircase. You gave him the love letter! A few students eye you— no, no, no — you feel stressed tears prick at your eyes when you see Silver’s resting place devoid of any presence. He’s gone! (With the love letter still in his pocket!)
♡ . . . By the time you return, huffing and puffing, you’re frowning. How the hell did you mess that up? Fortunately, Jade’s already there, waiting for you. Arm in arm, you walk.
“Do I need to assume?”
“No.”
♡ It’s no biggie, you think. You’ll just catch him at a later time, or have someone retrieve the letter for you. Out of every love interest, Silver should be the most compliant. You just need to focus on something else.
♡ A tide of students, the same as before. They’re all circling what looks to be the board, and some of them part when they catch the eel’s look. There’s a rush. A stampede. Midterm results are here. Bodies are released and ejected like someone kicked open an anthill, and through the writhing masses, you catch sight of . . Yuu. Grim, Ace, and Deuce. The furball’s pointing up at the listed names, and perpetual horror slashes everyone’s faces into two. What makes you uncertain, though, is that the prefect also looks horrified.
Why do they look horrified?
Your answer comes in the form of an anemone ripping out of their hair.
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synopsis.⠀after a horrid meeting at work, you find xavier asleep at your desk. he's... unusually clingy.
tags.⠀sfw, fluff, crack kinda, pre-relationship xavmc, gn!reader, reader's already a little annoyed for comedic effect, idrk i wrote this on a whim :C. short & not proofread!
“That’s correct, miss. This month’s attacks have been greatly reduced thanks to our—”
One more word from this meeting and your head will explode. No, in fact, implode. That would be less of a mess to clean up. It’s a shame you’re all by yourself there. Apparently, they specifically needed you, showing you off as a trophy for all you’ve managed to accomplish recently. There was no way out.
You wanted Tara to be there, at the very least. Nudging your shoulder every now and then, cracking some random joke-remark while the higher ups would be discussing over serious stuff… anything but this. Her presence would help with lighting up the mood instead of having to deal with the fact that two of your supervisors are standing there, admiring you as if you’re a statue made out of authentic gold.
Thankfully for you, it ends quickly, which makes you walk back towards your desk, exiting the meeting room. It feels like your head is made out of nothing but putty, melting down on your body as you sluggishly try to find your way back. Not only this, but paperwork’s happily anticipating you back there. Another headache perfectly awaiting your arrival. Wonderful.
Slowly pulling yourself together, you open the door leading to your office. That’s where you see a white-haired man, in his hunter uniform, in your chair, his head on your desk, in… what?
“Xavier?” Your voice reaches his ears, his fingers coiling ever so slightly around the edges of your desk. His closed eyes twitch a little, before groggily opening themselves up, still squinting, to take a good look at you and at his surroundings. He seemed as if he didn’t understand why he was even there.
“Mmh?” He lets out a soft murmur, slooowly raising his head from the desk. This way, you can get a better look at your work partner and neighbor who just so happened to fall asleep right where you should be sitting at. You perk your eyebrows up in response to his mumbling, asking for answers.
Xavier doesn’t speak, however. That prompts you to break the silence once more.
“Are you… alright? What’re you doing here?”
It’s not long before his eyes fully open to look directly into yours. “Just hanging out.”
Hanging out?! Is he being serious right now…?
“At… at my desk?” Rhetorical tone drips out of your throat.
“Yes.” He answers casually, as if this is a normal, day-to-day occurance. Still a little perplexed by the situation, you approach him and signal towards the stack of papers on your desk. You motion towards them, indirectly letting him know that you still have work to do. And that he’s in the way.
While he does pick up what you’ve been gesturing, Xavier doesn’t exactly let go of interrogating you as if you were the one who he caught red-handed. “Is your meeting over?”
“Uh, yes…” You furrow your eyebrows a little, responding to his question. Obviously it would have ended, you’re standing right in front of him. “Why? Did you want to talk to me about something? Are you alright?”
It’s the second time you’ve asked this. You do know Xavier to be a bit of an oddball, but this seemed a little out of your area of expertise. Luckily for you, he finally stands up—a little silly due to you intrerrupting his very nice nap in your ‘abode’—and eyes you up and down, like a confused puppy. You’re still completely lost.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just… waiting for you.”
And the reasoning you did not know of. Still, your brain feels way too heavy to carry on your shoulders to actually try to understand this man. You just got out of an awkward situation, just to enter in yet another one. Sighing, a little heavier than you would have liked, you sat back down on your chair, your hands sluggishly grasping the paperwork to slide it in front of your face.
Xavier is still there.
You wait a little longer, too occupied to mind him, engrossed and utterly engulfed in that ugly stack of sheets, carefully sorting everything and going over the same lines written there—
Xavier is still there.
—to make sure that you’re absolutely doing everything well for the Association. After all, as you’ve noticed today, you were the grand trophy of your workplace, no? You just had to continue to—
Xavier is still there.
…Well.
“Why are you still here.” The way you phrased it didn’t even sound like it’s meant to be a question. You painfully tore your eyes away from that blinding white, meeting his calm blue eyes. As if that didn’t infuriate you further.
“Sorry. Should I go?”
The way he phrased it didn’t sound like a genuine question, either. Just a little more pathetic, so to speak.
“Ah— I mean, uh, I don’t mind.” You reply, almost instantly. The way his eyes were practically begging you to let him hang around you for a while longer made your heart melt. You can’t just whisk him away, especially when he’s been acting so… odd.
Gathering your thoughts together (amongst the stack of paper which has now been reduced in height a little), you gesture towards Xavier that he can come a little closer if he wishes to. Maybe, if he’s a little closer to you, you’d be able to press him further as to why he’s so insistent on staying.
It’s fun, if you’re honest.
Taking this opportunity, you let him lean a little closer. You poke his cheek, grabbing his attention. Pulling the exact move as he usually does: engage, then fall silent before the other. Your question remains unspoken in your eyes, which seem to stare him up as if your gaze could easily pierce right through him. That same odd feeling lingering in the air between you two.
“I’m… I’m sorry.”
There he goes! He’s finally talking to you, as awkward as your situation still might be, he’s at least saying something.
“For what?” You press on, even though you already know what he’s sorry for. You just want to squeeze out answers out of him, that’s all.
“For invading your desk. I only wanted to find you, but then sleep washed over me, and… your desk was the nearest station.”
His knee accidentally touches yours, making you jump a little. It wakes you from whatever daze you were in, letting out an exasperated breath.
“You have such a way with words.”
a/n.⠀haven't posted in like... a month... hdhfdh i'm sorry. this is a little sloppy because i kind of lost interest in lads recently given everything,, </3 instead i've been super into indie visual novels! who cares!!!!!!!! oh oh also, check out xavier's birthday bang where i'll be featured in as well ^^ keep an eye out! until then, i might go on a short hiatus on here ;;
taglist.⠀feel free to ask to be (un)tagged in future works~⠀@hirayalia @naomiarai @thinkingofzayne @lariivcx @wetforsylus @snowypi @gravitationalbluberry @valkyrhii <3
I feel like we got over 4town from turning red way to quickly, can we bring them back please they would silence those saja boys immediately. Saved the world with just one song and they aint even demons. #bringback4townfor2026
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
