— because he'll have to say goodbye to you too
| solomon x reader [angst / fluff]
—a little angst, fluff, separation anxiety, first blog
a/n — YAAAAY FIRST VICTIM IS...Solomon!! While I was making my profile (thats still not finished), the one for Solomon was already getting likes even empty????? so here i'll drop this...First time posting my work !!! Please remember that I'm a young writer and english isn't my first language, do not hesitate to point out any mistakes!(￣▽￣)♡
The first time you noticed something was wrong, it was because Solomon smiled at you too quickly. It wasn't his usual smile.
The little too knowing smile you learned to find charming. The one you noticed was softer. As if knowing he doesn't belong in a room and yet still acts like it's another Monday.
He said lightly, stirring something in a cup that definitely wasn’t meant for human consumption.
You corrected after you swearing to yourself that you wouldn't consume whatever that was...
“But you’re still staring.”
You leaned against the counter in the empty Purgatory Hall's kitchen, arms crossed.
“You’ve been weird lately.”
That made him pause just for a second, but as always, he simply brushes it off with a soft chuckle.
“Weird is a strong word for someone as normal as me.”
He sighed feeling your unimpressed stare, he’d been expecting this conversation and just hoped it would be later.
“If something was wrong, I would tell you.”
“You always says that, but you never do."
Solomon didn’t respond right away. He tapped the spoon against the edge of the cup once, twice, without rushing.
He brushes it off with that careful smile again, of course.
"Maybe I'm just starting to understand you."
His gaze flickered to you as you push off the counter.
That made him laugh softly, after a pause, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
The next day, you found him on the balcony of RAD after classes, Solomon always went somewhere high when he wanted to pretend he wasn’t avoiding things. The night air was cold. The Devildom dark sky looked endless, like it had no intention of comforting anyone, expected from literal Hell.
You stepped beside him, leaning on the railing. Below, faint lights of the Devildom flickered like distant thoughts you couldn’t quite reach.
“You've been quiet lately, pretending won't make anything better for you."
Solomon finally exhaled softly, like he was releasing something fragile.
“I don’t age like you do,”
That made you go still. He turned slightly then, just enough for you to see his expression properly. He was calm, but you could tell underneath it there was something restrained.
“I’ve watched people forget me,” he said. “Not all at once. Slowly. It happens in pieces. And I don’t mind it,”
He added quickly, like that fixed everything.
“It’s part of how things are.”
For once, you couldn’t find a joke to cut the tension.
“You acting like distance is the same thing as safety.”
“You think I’m pushing you away,” he said.
“I think you’re trying not to let me get too close.”
He stayed quiet, and spoke back up almost too softly.
The question hung there. His tone isn't defensive, challenging nor teasing. Solomon was just exhausted, he was just human.
You looked at the sorcerer who had lived longer than most things in this world should. Who could outlast kingdoms, wars, names.
And still somehow looked like he was bracing for the moment someone decided he wasn’t worth remembering.
“That’s not your choice alone to make,”
His eyes flickered at that, something like surprise or perhaps hope.
He murmured under his breath, loud enough for you to hear and reply.
“Nothing really surprising”
“I’ve been told that a lot...But, point is, I’m not going anywhere because you’re complicated, Solomon.”
His breath caught, barely noticeable, but you noticed it, you always do. And for once, he didn’t have a reply ready.
The silence between you felt less like distance now, and more like something fragile trying not to break.
After a moment, he looked away and spoke softly.
That finally got a real laugh out of him, a soft one but this time you recognized it as real.
And when he leaned a little closer to the railing beside you, he knew he didn't need to move away again.
