The bell echoed throughout the academy walls, a reason for most students to quickly pack up and make it to the lunch room before their favorite lunch items would run out.
It was the most hectic time of day, like a bunch of wolves chasing a single prey, their food. Only to realize more than one pact was chasing the same goal.
Such chaos could not be truly understood had one not seen it every single day for years. And so of course, when that bell rang. The arts teacher didnât flinch at all when their classroom emptied out within seconds. Most of the mess was very poorly cleaned, as some paint still stuck to tables. Pens and papers littered the floor, as if a single drunkard cookie had tried to clean while their dominant hand was tied behind their back.
Looking up, youâre made painfully aware of a final student. Slow in their movements, as they made sure to actually wipe down their desk.
It shouldnât have surprised you, theyâve been like that for weeks now. Eyes empty, movements lethargic, and mouth spewing enough excuses to last a lifetime. First it was a âcoldâ, next it was lack of sleep, then a twisted ankle. Honestly- it was impressive.
Standing up from your desk, you leave your sketchbook to approach. Breath almost baiting in anticipation, the blonde student glanced up.
Their face was so- normal, you didnât say anything. Didnât need to, instead you took the opportunity to glance at their work. The assignment had been a self-portrait, and yet you stare at a painting of a bluebird. FascinatingâŚ
âIs it a metaphor?â You question, only getting a shrug in response. Not much to work with, but- no matter. You were more worried about this little cookie here.
âI havenât seen your friend around lately, did she change schedules?â You mutter, slowly remembering this student. Yes- they had a friend right?
A particularly smart cookie, straight Aâs, silver hair-... Did she ever take your class? You donât think so, but you couldâve sworn youâve seen her sitting here⌠Why was that?...
Oh right! Yes, yes, she uses your classroom to study because you usually don't have classes during- the- uh later afternoon. And while you donât condone skipping classes, you just couldnât say no to young cookies when they give those shiny eyes!
âMiss, Iâm sorry for taking so long. I fellâŚâ The student muttered, snapping you back to reality. Pausing, you flash them a concerned glance.
They hang the rag they used to dry onto the windowsill, shoulders slightly deflating.
âThe hallway outside the libraryâThere were a bunch of cracks in the floor.â You gasp in surprise, the academy wasnât usually so unrefined! Youâd need to check it out for yourself, but- after youâve made sure the student was okay.
âOh- no, how horrible! Did you fall badly? Any bruises? I-I can bring you to the nurses office!â You fretted, but the student remained eerily calm.
Mouth opening to respond, before their eyes shifted. You pause, about to look behind you when your eyes are suddenly covered.
âGuess who~â A smooth voice whispered in your ear, making you shudder. The hands were soft, and the familiar smell of blueberry milk was registered by your nose. It's something youâd normally smile at, but you were in the middle of an important conversation. I mean- you had both agreed to be strictly professional at work, even more so in front of the students.
So you swat his hands off with a small frown, fortunately he took it well and laughed. Not that you cared, a bigger question was the student-... Whoâs⌠Gone, t-they couldnât have possibly left so quickly? And without a single word from the new arrival..?
Whoâs becoming aware of your hasty looks around, searching the room as if the student would reappear again. But- nothing.
âMy soul?â The only other cookie in there muttered, grabbing your hand and gently kissing the back of it. You freeze, mind blanking, eyes dilating and gluing to him like youâd been enchanted.
âAh! There you are~!â He mused, before his eyebrows briefly furrowed. âWhatever were you searching for, dear?â His hand squeezed yours, just slightly. The question was a reminder to why youâd been looking so lost.
You send him a questioning squint, but all he gives back was a confused tilt of the head.
âI-.. TheâŚâ What was their name?? âTheâŚThe uh..â Your lover's eyebrows furrow, a concerned look washing any other emotion from his face.
âThe- what?â He questioned, also looking around the classroom. Your face flushes, your mind reeling a bit. Before you sigh exasperatedly. âThe student.â Now the concern on his face was tenfold.
âWhat student? I didn't see any when I arrived?â He muttered, gently rubbing circles into your palm. Your eyes narrow, cheeks slightly puffing out. âThe student I was talking to before you interrupted- d-did you not see them? They- they were right th-...â You turn back to gesture at their desk, only to find a completely empty spot. No desk or- picture.
You feel your face paling, eyes widening in shock. There's a concerned hum behind you, and as you turn to try to plead your case, a hand places itself on your forehead.
Causing you to stammer and flush.
âSlightly warm⌠Are you feeling alright?â He cooed, as you embarrassedly swatted his hand off.
âI-I- y-yes! I⌠Iâm not sick! I just- they were- Pure Milk Cookie, please- I-I promise!â Your argument does nothing but deepen the forming wrinkle between the headmasters' brows. He hushes you after some moments, gently pulling your hair out of your face. Cooing with a gentle and soft gaze, âI do.. But you need to calm down⌠Maybe take the rest of the day off? I can arrange a substitute.â He offered, hand resting on your cheek. You try to say something, but his soft gaze kills any words resting on your tongue.
You sagged and looked down in defeat and when you slowly nodded, he smiled. A pleased hum being your only warning before he starts to trail kisses from the crown of your head to your chin. Gasping, you find a smile creeping on your face as his hand gently snakes around you. Laughing as he trails back up to your lips, where he presses the last one dramatically with an audible âMUAH~âĄâ Like a final bow of a show, as he breaks it off, you find yourself wrapped up in his arms. Your golden star brooch almost grazing his soul jam.
But you were both too busy to notice when itâs light slowly flickered. The moment immediately broke as you flinched, feeling a ghostly grip on your arm not belonging to your lover. Which has you hastily looking around at- nothingâŚ
âHmm?â Pure Milk looked as well, only to find the same empty space you looked at. His eyes slightly narrow, his nose scrunching up like he smelt something vile. But itâs quickly replaced with warmth as he looks back at you.
âI had the chefs make your favorite, do you wanna eat together in my office?â Looking back at him, at his beautiful eyes, you hum.
âYouâre too kindâŚâ You mutter quietly, as if it's a crime, but the smile on your face removes any seriousness. Your hands slowly crawled up the back of his head, into the flowing ocean of stars he stubbornly called hair. Tugging him forward into a last kiss, which he returns with exasperated vigor.
It lasted for almost a minute before he ushered you out to get to his office while he cleaned up your classroom.
And you did, but not before asking over and over if he was sure. Just until you made it into the hall and he closed the door gently in your face. Leaving you blank faced in the hall, face flushing as you hastily move to leave. Fanning the warmth spreading across your usually cold skin.
Many times you found yourself wondering what he saw in you, to be so lovely and giving. And your thinking always brings back sweet memories from your first proper introduction. A moment you looked back on whenever heâd be so loving, or whenever heâd stare at you like you were the most important scripture ever written.
That first moment was what had sown metaphorical strings between your souls. His words, not yours!
But oh, when you reminisce on your early days passing by. You couldnât help how his words festered in your mind, yes, soulmates. That is what you truly wanted it to be.
Even if at first he was nothing more than a faraway thought, an unreachable god compared to you. The fount of knowledge, thatâs who he was.
And you? Well, youâd been a substitute, a jack of all trades. A little cookie the professors could push into their classrooms whenever theyâd randomly decided on doing something else. You donât blame them, they werenât cookies like you. They were a concept beyond most comprehension, made up by the most powerful sorcerer ever baked. The fount.
And so theyâd no concept of how itâd be in your position, causing them to be rather- harsh. Not out of malice, but ignorance. Something the academy stated not to accept, yet was riddled with. And it was most noticeable when it came to subjects that they werenât programmed to understand or even truly care about.
Like that first meeting, where youâd briefly let your dream job slip in a conversation filled with a group of them. Where you started to speak of your pull towards art and theater, towards the idea of teaching a class how to express themselves not through words on a paper, or a practiced presentation, but through a piece, a silent performance, or even a simple doodle at the corners of a test.
You admit you mightâve gone off the rail, starting to rant about different art forms and poetry. Naming pieces and artists whose faces were completely lost to time. Explaining in mighty words the nitty gritty details of a simple eye from some old portrait nobodyâs heard off.
The other professors were staring at you weirdly, some even having zoned out. You didnât notice, not at all, not until one of them yawned through your excited babbling. Snapping you out quickly, and painting your face with a humiliated flush.
You tried to shy away, to smoothly salvage the conversation, but when one added a rather teasing remark. Which was harsh â unintentional, but still harsh. Then the rest began to add on. You knew they werenât trying to be mean, that they were only teasing you in the way they did with others like themselves. But youâd never felt smaller than you felt there and so you slowly shifted into the background. Quiet and meek as they slowly disperse for their scheduled classes.
And when you assumed yourself alone, you bit back tears, taking a deep breath and hastily chugging down your now cold tea.
And as you turned to leave, you fully slammed into another who you hadnât realized was also part of the prior conversation before you started yapping.
âIâm sorry, I didnât-â Upon looking up at the being youâd rudely slammed into. Youâre struck by horror and awe as you stare straight into the singular eye of the headmaster. Also known as, the benevolent fount of knowledge. The horror you felt was immeasurable, even as you find yourself lost, looking at a entity so beautiful, practically a walking sign of his own power, of his magic, his knowledge.
Made of starry clouds, he was wrapped gracefully in ribbons inscribed in dead languages. A jewel resembling a clover placed atop his elegant clothes, looking absolutely divine on him â everything did. From the star brooch on the front of the fluffy collar. To the billowing cape with moving constellations shining inside its enchanting void.
That big singular eye could probably be mistaken for the finest of diamonds. Glittering with stars, with gentleness, with knowledge.
Heâd been so bewitching, so- breathtaking. And he had this gentle gaze, staring at you like you were more than just an expendable part of the workforce.
âI didnât know there were others here who enjoyed GaliziaâŚâ Heâd hummed, voice a reverberating and soft tone â equally as otherworldly and enchanting as him. Still, his words had caught you off guard, and you had stammered to try and defend what you assumed was your dignity. But all it did was burn you out until you finally just muttered in agreement.
Expecting more mockery, youâre instead greeted by bemused laughter. You had cringed and shyly moved away again, causing him to snap out of it and hastily panic out a response.
âI- I did not mean to laugh- at least not in a negative way! Ahem, quite the contrary, I- I really enjoy the subject of art. And I found your⌠Speech, quite refreshing.â
And as you looked back up again, you saw nothing but true regret in his eye. As he looked away in shame, muttering a polite apology and adjusting his brooch.
That interaction had marked your first meeting, sure you had a bit of conversation after. But it was fully awkward, even if he insists now that it was the moment he first gained interest in you.
And so youâd both began to talk more after it, and then the talks started to evolve. Normal conversations of art in the halls turned to heated debates about literature and poetry. Which then began to turn into late night talks beneath a star littered sky, with more personal topics seeping in so naturally. Until you both found yourself months later, slotted together side by side. Whispering soft secrets no one else would ever know about.
Then he began to physically change, you were no stranger to the five virtues and their powerful nature. Still, it was shocking to see someone able to shift shapes so seamlessly. From the tall and powerful figure, came a cookie resembling him.
And you werenât the only one shocked by this change, it had shaken the whole academy in surprise. Rumors started spreading, and they grew louder when heâd offered you a job as the first ever âart teacherâ.
Youâd never felt so flustered before, as heâd held your hands in his now equally sized ones. Eyes lidded as the offer laid as a mere cover to what he was actually offering. A confession.
You had never agreed faster in your life, tears welling in your eyes as your arms wrapped around him. He hesitantly returned it, shorter and less cloudy arms trying to get used to moving as heâd squeezed you tightly.
And that was just two years after that first meeting, and yet now. Wooh, you couldnât remember how long youâd been together. Watching him change forms with time, youâd see him through most of the time. And through that you also started to question how you yourself didnât seem to⌠Change.
But that must just be his affectionate treatment keeping your dough intact.
âOh-!â You involuntarily yelped as you stumbled on something, hastily looking back, you find yourself staring at a deep crack in the floor. Muttering confused under your breath you look around, before staring at the library doors to your side.
This-... Is what that student had been talking about⌠Your brows knit together, eyes squinting at the troubling view. This wasnât good, not at all. But as you turn to find your lover to report this to, you finally note how eerily quiet the hallways were. Sure- it was lunch, but there would still be some students whoâd be out in the hall. As well as faculty, it was a bit concerning. Maybe it had something to do with the cracks?
How very worri- âAh! My beautiful peony, were you waiting for me~?â You flinched as a pair of feet came into view. Dragging your gaze up, and there he stood.
âOh- not on purpose, but it is lovely to see you againâŚâ You muse, before your eyes flick down again. He had stood in a way where his robes covered the cracks in the floor. He followed your eyes, and when catching your gaze he wryly grinned.
âMy eyes are up here, darling~â He purred, laughing softly when you flinched, gaze averting shyly. It only made him smile brighter, eyes lidding in that way he always did when his mind drifted. But alas that look breaks as he clears his throat, gathering your attention back.
âJokes aside, what is it you were looking for now?â He asked, with just a hint of concern.
âI-â You started, but stopped. Catching a whiff of a sweet blueberry milk, his signature, it made your mind immediately blank.
âI⌠Honestly don't remember.. What was I looking for?â you muttered, hand instinctively meeting your lips. As you quietly chew through the tips of them, its sweet and fruity taste feels bitter with the circumstances. And your chewing grows deeper as youâre desperately trying to remember just what it was. But Pure Milk Cookie, ever the sweet and caring lover he is, softly takes hold of your hands, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hand slowly drags yours away from your mouth, mending the damages with his oh-so soft magic.
âI'm sure whatever it is, it will come back to you in due timeâ He said gently, moving to this time take both your hands, caressing them.
You stared into his eyes, two blue pools of stars, that drags your attention from the world around you. He chuckled and leaned close to your ear, tenderly whispering âHow about we go and eat that favorite of yours, hm? â You're so deep into this feeling of him, that you canât find your words. Instead you nod, pressing your forehead into his shoulders, which he returned by placing soft kisses on the side of your head and raking his hand through your messy but soft hair.
âWe are heree!â Pure Milk Cookie burst through the door, with you following calmly behind and gently smiling at the cookies waiting for you both.
âOur dear fount! And the dearest art professor!â The chef, along with the line of servants, greeted. Bright smiles etched on every warm cookie face. You still werenât used to such luxury, shyly smiling and giving a polite little wave of the hand. Your lover, much more comfortable, started up a light conversation with the chef.
Leaving you to quietly follow at his side.
âSo! Have you prepared it all?â Pure Milk Cookie exclaimed, slapping his hands together in anticipation and excitement. The chef, ever humble, chuckled. âDown to the itty bitty details, dear fount.â
Pure Milk made a happy hum, looking at you. Before intertwining your pointer fingers, granting you a soft smile as he drags you off to the covered tray. Saying a very heartfelt thanks to the chefs, before taking the tray. The chefs all humbly accept his praise, before returning to their previous work. You watch them with fascination, movements animated, so elegant and perfect. And- almost exactly like every other time youâre in here. Such skill truly was remarkable, and you find yourself truly glued to the perfect synchronization of them.
And youâd probably stay there for the whole duration of lunch, if not for a tug at your hand. âLetâs go, hm?â He coos, dragging your gaze back to him as he drags you off. You now stand in the hall, hand still entwined with him as he says his final goodbyes to the staff. You donât look back at the kitchen, only listening to their exchanging conversation. Because youâre sure youâd get lost in their smooth movements if you looked again.
âAh, what gifts they are~â He mused after closing the door, almost as if they were his own spawn. Which, technically speaking, they probably are? You never really got a straight answer when you asked him about it.
âWell then! We should hurry to my office before lunch ends!â You snap back to reality, realizing you were both already walking.
âAh, rightâŚâ You mutter, before smiling softly as you picked up pace so that he wasnât dragging you around. Youâd feel bad to be such a dead weight, glancing at him. You were going to offer to carry the tray, only to find heâs had it float after you.
Biting your lip you awkwardly glance at the polished floor, listening to the hushed whispers of some students idling in the hallway, glancing up as you pass the library.
âIs it really okay if I take the day off? I wouldnât want to worry my studentsâ Your voice is meek, hesitant, as you fiddled with his fingers. He simply returned it by gliding his thumb across your knuckles.
âOf course! Your headâs obviously not in the game today~!â He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, fingers combing through your hair. It was supposed to comfort you, but you couldnât help the pit of guilt in your gut. And he noticed.
The fount sighed, taking your hands into his and comfortingly smiling. âEver the kind cookie I know and love, but don't worry my soul⌠Iâll arrange the perfect substitute for their artistic needs.â
âI- are you sure? I- can I at least help you with anything? Youâre working harder than me, and Iâd feel bad just going to bed⌠Without you.â He paused, before his face flushed brightly, stumbling a bit as he flashed you a bright and toothy grin.
âY-you wanna share a bed tonight?!â He excitedly squeaked, unintentionally skipping your precious question. It wasnât often you both spent the night together. Cuddled up in each other's hold, and sharing late night secrets. And every time it was spent in his room, mostly because yours was the normal and small dorm room. Which you stubbornly refused to move out of.
He happily wrapped his arms around you, spinning you in a circle and peppering the side of your face with sloppy kisses. You snort in surprise, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his shoulder.
And when you look up again is when he pushes a door open. Your face blanks in confusion.
âHuh- oh, how did we get here so fast?â You mutter aloud, letting go of him as he raises a brow.
âOh, I apologize! Just teleportedâŚâ He explained, setting down the tray of food on his unusually clean desk. Matter of fact, looking around you found his office strikingly spotless. He didnât allow the cleaners in here, so it was no doubt him who cleaned.
It took your mind off the teleporting thing, as you audibly awed.
âDid you clean? It looks fantastic!â He looks up from where he was dragging a chair over for you. A blank expression on his face, as he stares at you for a while as you look around his office. Until he hummed, face lighting up with happiness.
âI just had the time!â He shyly grinned, face flushing darker. Digits tapping atop the backrest of your chair, before pulling it out for you. âNow, you really must be hungry.â You pause, before feeling your stomach clench uncomfortably. Yes, you were hungry- very hungry.
Sitting down, he pushes the chair back into place. Moving around the desk to his swivel chair, it gave a creak when he sat. Scooting it closer to the table, and like instinct he searches under his table. And you set out the food and dishware, placing the tray aside. Just in time for him to place down a white teapot, golden trimmed edges shiny from being polished. He brought out two matching tea cups, placing one beside your plate of food.
Humming a tune as he warmed up some tea, leaving you to wave your hand as a jar of sugar and milk floated over from his shelf. He gave a pleased sound, watching through his lashes.
âYouâre getting so good at it, truly, a natural.â He mused lovestruck, as if it wasnât something he praised every time you did it. Still, it was as flattering as it always was, his attention and compliments like the sweetest and loveliest of syrups.
âThatâs because someone is good at teaching~â You state, accepting the filled cup of tea. He had already made it to your taste, leaving him to overflow his own cup with milk and sugar cubes.
âI was made for nothing else!â He responded with a bright smile, before he paused, zoning out into the reflection of his milk tea. It was odd, watching his face slowly melt into blankess. Eyes hollowing, gaze stuck and breathing slowly unevening.
Alas, he stopped once you placed your cup onto the saucer, making it clink gently. His smile returned, as he took a lengthy sip.
âAh- ahem, anyhowâŚâ He took his spoon, âletâs dig in!â
You watch him start to eat, he is having soup again. You glance down at your own plate, before following his lead without a single question.
It tastes amazing, absolutely perfect like always. A warmth settles in your stomach, and you grow to feel more content with each bite.
Pure Milk watches, and despite his small sips, he finishes faster. The soup is gone within seconds as he pulls a handkerchief from his sleeves⌠Padding it elegantly around the corners of his mouth.
âI have a meeting in a few hours, as well as some classes to attend. I will need to gather my materials, so Iâll meet you quite late tonight.â He squeezes the embroidered fabric, shoving it into his sleeve again, before turning to you for an answer.
âOh- thatâs fine!â You stumbled over your words, adjusting the grip on your cutlery. Stopping him as he tried to clean up, âI got it.â You stated flatly, flustering him again as he cleared his throat. Rubbing his neck as he timidly smiled.
âVery well. Donât miss me too much during dinner~â He stood up, making sure to yet again pepper the side of your face with some kisses. A thanks and goodbye, before you're left alone.
Cleaning was no issue, quite the opposite. It was calming, the dishes returned to the kitchen. Which was empty, the chefs most definitely on break. And since you didnât want to bother them, you just washed the dishes and placed them aside to dry.
The halls were also empty, save for the few cleaners or professors walking past. Exchanging polite greetings with you, all things that are normal for the academy. Entering the halls of the dormitory, it got much quieter. Still normal.
Your room was on the far end, a bit of a bad spot, as it was a really old room. Seeing as you got it while still a substitute, but you grew too attached to the horrible view and creaky floors to just move out.
Pushing the door open, you take a hefty breath of that sweet soggy scent that wouldnât leave no matter how much you cleaned. The old wooden floors were streaked with dry paint, old abandoned pencils and papers you never got the energy to clean up. Useless knick knacks lined shelves, and even more useless items were stuffed in boxes on the floor. Trash that you picked up, was kept solely because you believed itâd one day have use. It was a messy old room, just like it always was.
Pure Milk had called it an âabstract look into the mind of an artistâ, it was only hoarding. Even if he insisted it was a âwondrousâ room. He was flattering like that, and you knew heâd never lie to you.
Sitting down at your desk, you instinctively grab a sketchbook. Stuffed pages filled with scrapped papers and yarn. You only used the yarn because you have too much of it left. It was a gift from Pure Milk after you mentioned learning to crochet, something you then never followed through with.
So, feeling bad, you use the yarns whenever you can.
Finding a clear page, you rummage through an old coffee cup filled with pens and pencils. Until landing on a short pencil, the end of it completely bit through. But it was either the wood, or your hand.
âGeez.â You muttered, picking off some of the blue waxing around the bite marks. It was a bit embarrassing, but it still functioned, and you werenât really one to throw away stuff.
âNoowwww-.â You make a sharp line across the page, humming pleased when it comes out pigmented. âGood.â
The room is filled with the soft sounds of pen on paper, and your own voice. Making small comments to disrupt the silence, you donât note the time change. Until golden light streams in over the small window inside your room, making your hand freeze.
Suddenly, a firm and quick knock echoed from your door. Startling you out of your seat, as you quickly moved to hide the sketchbook. And the very clear image of your lover drawn on the page. âComing!!â You shouted. Shoving the book in your drawer as you hastily moved to the door.
Opening it just as you adjust your hair, but before speaking, or even opening your mouth for a normal greeting. A pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you hastily into a soft chest. You choke on a gasp, before registering the soft smell of blueberry creams.
It makes your mind and body relax, sliding your hand up and around his neck.
âHon, you startled me.â You lightly scolded, feeling his lips press into the side of your head. He hummed apologetically, squeezing you slightly, making you register the thing heâs carrying. A basket.
âLetâs have a picnicâŚâ He murmured, a slight tired rasp in his voice. You glance to the basket, a lovely light orange and white checkered patterned blanket was tucked over the food. And it felt soft as you run your finger over it, he lets you peek inside. At the many covered foods and juice.
âPicnic? Oh, love, youâre too kind.â You shyly cover your face with his shoulder, giving him a tight hug, and a kiss on the cheek. He practically melts, which unfortunately wasnât just a simile. As he leans a bit too much weight on you, making you hastily scramble to adjust your position. Holding him up as his chin rests on your head, he laughs. And after a moment, you also laugh.
âO-ohkay! Up- up!â You wheeze, gently pushing him up to stand properly again. Heâs still shaking with giggles, before taking a deep breath and relaxing. Adjusting the basket on his arm, offering his hand for you to take. âApologies, my doll, I simply canât think-! With this hunger of mine!â He pressed his basket-holding hand to his forehead dramatically. A pout on his face is replaced by a smug grin, he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. Before pulling you out of your room, the door closes behind you.
But youâre too dazed to care, giving him a confused narrow of the eyes. He squints back, smiles still big, pupils dilated, and cheeks flushed a lovely shade of cerulean. He looks so lovely, and you canât help but buffer, face flushing just as much as his. And you let him drag you along.
âAhhh~! Doesnât this fresh air just feel⌠Divine!â
You smile softly, taking a deep breath as well. Pure Milk was setting out the blanket at the top of a hill. Where a lovely little apple tree was growing, the fruit werenât in season yet. But that doesnât matter, seeing as the lovely little pink blooms looked adorable.
âYes, divine.â You muse, before turning around as you hear a thud below the hill. Looking down it alarmed, you expect an animal, maybe a cream sheep or just- well. Not sure.
Your dearest was still busy setting things up, when you decided to stray from his side and inspect the sound. It makes a little bit of guilt form in your stomach, but itâs drowned out by curiosity.
Walking a little further down, Pure Milkâs humming grows quieter. Until itâs barely audible, your feet stopping at an odd indent in the grass. Oddly cookie shaped, did- did someone fall here?
No, no- thatâs not⌠You adjust your brooch absentmindedly, narrowing your eyes. This was unnatural, but so fascinating. You canât move closer, itâs- a mental thing, you presume. It might be the oddness that disturbs you, and the lack of a clear answer.
Because the indent is so- prominent, like someone really fell here- hard, fell very hard. The grass looks completely crushed around the major parts, showing the dirt below. While places you assume to be hit by clothing are still somewhat erect, and by the softer outline. They seemed to be wearing a cape- and hat⌠That somewhat resembles the ones of a student, but bigger.
Youâre about to push through the tiredness in your body when a body wraps itself around you. A hand encasing yours and dragging it back to your chest, making it graze your brooch.
âWere you trying to flee?â The question is silly, yet he sounds so serious⌠A dark rasp in his voice, you glance down at his arm. Furrowing your brows, and despite your better judgement, you answer his question with another question.
âDid you change clothes..?â Itâs not so shocking, he tends to change his form on whim. Yet these- sleeves, they begin to fill you with panic. And you grow a bit too aware of how heâs holding you- no! Caging! HEâS TrAPpING YoU-!
Ripping yourself from him, you spin around, body tense and pulse picked up. Youâre heaving every breath like the ability to breathe will be stripped from you in a minute. Like youâll never again feel the softness of the grass, or the relief of cold water on a hot summer day, or even the happiness of seeing your students grow, or- or- OR-...
Normal. Heâs normal. Same clothing as before, same soft milky robes, same beautiful calming sleeves. The only thing different is the furrow in his brow, the clear concern on his face was making your panic turn to guilt.
He hesitantly moves back to give you space, yet his voice is soft.
âOh. Iâm so stupid, bringing you out when youâre clearly not feeling well. We can postpone this if you want?...â He mutters, making the guilt only grow. You wave your hands dismissively and hastily.
âNo no!! I- I- Iâm sorry I just-!â
âDonât apologize! I should be the one who is sorry⌠How selfish of meâŚâ
You were still winding down from panic, trying to catch your breath as Pure Milk Cookie stood aside to give you the space and time you needed⌠A slight breeze comes from behind you, ruffling your robes and the grass.
Glancing back, you stare down the hill, where smooth layers of green lay. No sign of imperfection, except for the occasional milkcrowns.
âI-... No!â You hastily turn back to him, a bit too hastily as you grab his sleeve. The fabric crinkling beneath your tight grip, he doesnât seem bothered by your painful grip. His attention is on you, and you only. As he tests the waters by reaching a hand out, letting you make the move to grab it. Fingers locking perfectly together.
âNo, youâre not- youâŚâ Sighing, you lean into him, he doesnât reach out. But he reciprocates your affections by leaning closer. Your cheeks almost grazing his soul jam, shining under the sunlight. âYouâre good, I just- goodness, Iâm sorry- I- I feel so ashamedâŚâ
You donât want to get into it, because- you donât understand what happened. And why it made you so scared, alas. You canât bring yourself to try and put it to words, because youâre afraid you wouldnât be truthful. And he deserves the truth, just like he always gives you.
You bite your lip, since your hands are busy holding him.
âI just- goshâŚâ You heave, feeling your head start to spin. Legs growing numb, yet heâs there to hold you as your body seems to fail. You donât understand, you- just, whatâs wrong with you? Are you really sick?
âOh, doll, are you tired? Letâs get some food in ya.â He picks you up, your head falling onto his shoulder as he hooked an arm under your knees. You huff a tired sigh, feeling truly sick.
âFeel better my love?â Pure Milk Cookie questioned as you and him laid below the trees cool shadow, gazing up at the fleeting fluffy clouds above.
His arm is under your head as a pillow, and he presses a kiss to your temple. You nod, your throat feeling a bit too dry to talk. He offers another glass of juice, but all you really yearned for was water.
Something he conjured up fairly quickly, you drink a bit. Relaxing under his watchful eye, heâs so observant. So caring- so kind and perfect and-... Yours. Heâs yours.
Taking a careful breath, you lay back down. Pure Milk curls closer around you, he also looks tired. Is he sick of you? Sick of you being⌠Sick..?
No, heâs just tired from work, he deserves rest. Deserves it more than youâŚ
âDonât look at me so, youâll make my heart overwork.â He chuckles, face flushing as he shyly tugged a loose string from the picnic blanket. You smile, all worries dissipating with a single peck to his hand. He squeaks, burying his face in his free hand as he turns it away.
âAh, sorry~ just- zoning out!â Combing your fingers through his thick cloudy hair, your gaze moves back to the sky. You wonder, if the clouds werenât just a bunch of water droplets and sugar. Would it even be half as soft as your lover's hair?
Your hands move further in, finding his scalp and starting to massage it. He grunts, before releasing a large sigh of relief. Eyes closing as his body relaxed, a content smile creeping on his face. He looks to be in heaven, and ready to sleep.
You want to join, but your exhaustion wasnât strong enough to knock you out. So instead you looked up to the sky, admiring the many clouds breezing by. Theyâre calming, just as much as your lover's presence.
The world turns silent, filled with only his soft breathing.
That is until you saw a funny shaped cloud, making you jerk.
He jolted back into consciousness, just as you pointed up to the sky.
âThat looks a lot like your soul jam!â You smiled, turning your head to look at the cookie laying peacefully beside you, who sleepily chuckled and cuddled closer to you.
âIt sure does, my love.â The virtue of knowledge smiled, eyes flicking from the cloud to you, with pure admiration in his eyes.
You stared back, drinking in his radiant eyes, but you soon noticed something⌠Peculiar about those eyes. His eyes, one still black and the other still white, still carrying that charming and enchanting look now seemed⌠Different.
The fount slowly sat up with the help of his elbows, pushing him from his resting position to check on you, seeing your dazedly blank expression.
âMy sweet⌠Are you okay?â He asked carefully, slowly.
You didn't answer. Only staring as you tried to figure out what was-
Apart from his oddly⌠Slit pupils, one with black colored eyelashes and the other with white colored eyelashes, the left eye is now marred with- a faint claw shaped marking?
Pain shot up through you, as you quickly grasped your head. You groaned as you tried to suppress it. No.. no please no.
You coiled up and shrunk yourself into yourself, in this torture, tightly clutching your head. Pure Milk Cookie gasped. Scooting closer to check on you, worry and panic evident in his voice. âMy love! .. mY.. lOvE!!.....â Youâre certain heâs screaming your name.
Suddenly, a sharp voice rang through your head.
âWake up, Y/N cookie.â
