It took him more than ten years for him to part ways with her, and a thousand more years to reunite.
But all it took was a few days together and a dozen more apart for him to fall in love.
(Qixi!alkaid, alkaid x little painter, longing, yearning, pining, immortal!little painter, Blue Sky Dream SR spoilers, inconsistent cultural practices I'm sorry, 3.5k+ words)
It is fascination untempered; the young Alkaid understands this. And he also understands that it is dangerous, much like the embers that fly out as iron strikes iron, haphazardly flying everywhere, ready to cause damage with one, small misstep.
He should control himself, yes. But he can't find it in himself to care.
Lingering around the shores of the moonlit lake, a boy with light blonde hair restlessly swings his feet off the pier. He is dressed oddly well, despite it being the dead of the night. His coat is newly bought with a peridot brooch pinned to his chest, and his hair is as neatly groomed as it can be. But a few strands stick out against his will, and all he can do is helplessly brush his hands over them to settle them down.
"I wonder if she'll come this time..."
Alkaid thinks back to the beautiful goddess he met a year ago on the night of the Qixi Festival. Her sleeves glimmered like the moon, and her laugh was kind and enchanting. Remembering that day was like trying to recall a dream; the images hazy, and thoughts coming out unclear.
'But even so, I want to see her again.'
After that, the young boy had consistently visited the lake every night in hopes of meeting her again. He knows it is foolish, knows that he may wait on this lake for the rest of the night if he does not stop, but he thinks the wait would be worth it, if it means he could talk to her again one more time.
He wants to thank her properly for saving him that night.
And so, tonight again he comes.
In the silence of the night, Alkaid gazes at the reflection of the moon that stretches a meter away from his feet. Honestly, he's tempted to reach out and touch it. But knowing last year's fiasco, he knows that making the same mistake again would be making a fool of himself.
"Sigh..." He sighs dejectedly, and looks up at the moon properly for the first time tonight.
Idly, he sings a song known to many, the same song he always hears as Qixi comes once more:
"In this autumn season, a picturesque canvas of flickering fishing lights upon Qiantang river is painted before our eyes."
"Just like how ink spreads out within water, so is this scene etched upon my heart."
"What a fine time, what beautiful scenery; I will like to share this night with you."
"Oh, wow." A sweet voice cuts in. "Forgive me for interrupting, but I don't suppose that's a song of festivities, is it?"
"It is." Alkaid answers reflexively. "I always hear my mom singing it during this time of the year..."
"..."
He stops short, whips his head towards the source of the voice, and finds the very goddess he has been waiting for sitting atop the pier alongside him, staring at Alkaid with a jovial smile.
"Ah..."
The young Alkaid lets out an involuntary gasp, and the goddess' eyes seem to shimmer with mirth, silently pleased with herself for succeeding in surprising this young child.
"Well?" She teased. "Won't you tell me more about this song?"
Over the past year, Alkaid had brainstormed dozens of things to say to her should he ever meet her again. But now that he has—and as a victim to her teasing no less—all he can do now is silently cover his cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.
Unbeknownst to him, his ears are red too. But the moon goddess pretends she doesn't see it for his sake.
"There's no need to be shy," she says, trying to coax him. "You sang wonderfully, a pleasing sound for the ears."
It doesn't work, the boy is still stubbornly hiding his face, so she adds, "And it's true, I would love to learn the song for myself. I don't usually come down to the mortal world after all."
Groaning, the little Alkaid removes his hands away from his cheeks, revealing an adorable baby face true to his age. She has succeeded.
"Then, why did you come here today?" Hearing that she doesn't usually frequent the mortal world, Alkaid couldn't help himself from asking her this.
"A whim, I suppose," she responds to him casually. "I was worried about the little boy that almost drowned yesterday, so I thought it would be alright to take a quick look around."
'Yesterday?'
The accident had happened around a year ago.
As if sensing his confusion, the moon goddess gently clarified, "Time flows a little differently for us immortals. Perhaps you could say that a day in the heavens is equivalent to that of a year in the mortal realm."
To her, his fall into the lake was an event fresh in her mind, while he himself could barely recall what happened that day.
Slowly, reality sinks into him. It suffocates him a little, and impatience starts to swirl beneath his chest, sparking a feeling of restlessness along its wake.
Despite being an innocent child, Alkaid was not someone who believed in the divine, and most certainly not in the flimsy existence of gods. In his opinion, facts that he could see with his own eyes were worth more than tales written within olden pages of yore.
He has heard of them, however. About how these deities always come and go, about how they're far more fickle than the eastern wind while leaving nothing else but tales behind for these humans that walk above dirt, as if an afterthought.
The girl in front of him will not stay.
Carefully, Alkaid takes in a deep breath.
"I could teach you the song, though I may not be very good at that." Unconsciously smoothing out the ends of his coat, Alkaid offers her a proposal. There is a soundless continuation to it, and she tilts her head, smiling slightly while prompting him with a "But...?"
Alkaid turns to look at her properly, and she sees his peridot eyes gleam within the limelight cast down by her moonlight. He is determined, and it shines in the way he carries himself, creating an almost uncharacteristic look with his small frame.
"If I teach you the song...you have to come back next year—I mean, tomorrow. That's all I ask for."
"Sure!"
"As a mere mortal, I understand that it would be inappropriate for me to...huh?"
Her acceptance comes quicker than expected, and it takes him a few good seconds to register her words, causing his sentence to cut short.
"You...will?"
"Yes, I will." She offers him a cheeky smile ill-befitting of her status as a goddess. "I mean, this is one bargain I can't turn down after all."
A year ago, Alkaid had reached out to the moon's reflection in hopes of catching it. What he got in turn was success in the form of silver sleeves fluttering amidst the night wind, and an encounter with someone who he'll never forget.
He shall desire to hold on to the moon a little while longer.
'Next year.' Alkaid says to himself, almost as if he were chanting a prayer. 'I'll be able to see her again next year.'
His heart soars at the thought, but the impatience inside his chest continues to swirl ever so slightly stronger, as if unsatisfied.
For the rest of the night, he stays by her side, teaching her the song of the Qixi festival. Of course, it's a little embarrassing to be watched as he sang aloud.
It's worth it.
Soon, the song comes naturally to both him and her, as Alkaid takes care for every verse that spills out of his lips. The moon goddess does her best to follow him, clumsily singing along in tandem:
"As we enjoy the bright moon, and as the light wind brings us the fragrance of flowers."
"Words are not enough to express our love for each other."
"As we brave the storms in our lives together."
"I only hope to stay by your side until Heaven becomes deserted!"
When the moon leaves for dawn, so too shall she part ways with him. But at the very least, he has her promise for next year.
Tonight, he arrives at the same lake, his attire neater and more put together than it should be for a mere midnight stroll. Within his clasped hands is a box of treats, ones he's made specially just for this meeting, just for her, hoping that she'd like it.
And maybe–just maybe–this will work enough as a bribe to convince her to come again next year, as foolish as that may make him.
Taking a deep sigh, Alkaid walks to the end of the pier and stares at the moon's reflection rippling across the lake. Catching his own image above the water, he takes note of the way he's grown a little taller, say maybe around two inches or so? At this rate, it won't be long until the vision of adolescence graces his figure. He considers sitting down as he waits for her, ready to wait even hours for this long-awaited meeting.
She comes quicker than he expects.
Just as he's ready to crouch down and sit, the moon's reflection starts to ripple, and like the cascading waves that throw themselves at shallow shore, moonlight pours down beside him and he sees her materialise right in front of him, figure aglow.
'Ah, she really did come.'
In all honesty, a part of him hadn't expected that.
Her eyes slowly open as she steadies her gaze upon him. The solemnity makes him draw a breath, but the tension doesn't last long, as her demeanour of elegance quickly switches to that of liveliness. A smile graces her face, and Alkaid lets out the sigh he had been unconsciously holding.
"Did you think I wouldn't come?" The first thing she does is tease him, obviously. "I made a deal with you, so of course I'll honour it."
Evidently, she has seen through his feelings of doubt.
It makes him feel a little guilty, however, and he gives her an apologetic look, slightly anxious that he might have offended her.
"Forgive me, my lady. I hadn't meant to offend you."
She waves it off. "Oh, don't worry about it, you didn't offend me at all. By the way..." Pointing to the box in his hands, she questions him with a curious look, much like a cat prodding at its object of interest. "What's that?"
"These are sweets." He holds up the box towards her. "I made them recently, they're meant to be simple gifts for neighbours and I was hoping I could give them to you today."
"Ah, so we're neighbours?" Her laugh shows her delight. "Now that I think about it, I don't think I've ever asked you if you live near here."
"Um, yes. I do."
Casual conversation comes to them easier than it did last year, and maybe part of the reason was the goddess' ever-growing sense of casualness with this strange, but refined boy.
Honestly, even now, Alkaid still found it hard to believe it. Two years ago, he wouldn't even have dreamed of such a thing.
But now, here they are, chatting away as if they were old friends. He's guided her to a spot beneath a nearby tree, and points up to the colourful pieces of paper that hang on the branches, fluttering with the night wind.
"Recently, the townsfolk have taken a shine to a new fad, which originated from the furthermost east of the Eastern continent." He points to the nearest piece of paper. It's yellow. "You write your wishes on paper and tie them up, in hopes that the wish will come true."
The yellow strip of paper flutters down, and the moon goddess sees the string has been worn down. It must have been a while since it was last hung up, meaning that Qixi has passed by a long while ago.
Catching the paper within her hands, she muses, "Mortals truly do love this kind of tradition, don't they?"
Alkaid smiles, and casts his gaze further up to the highest of branches, where a green paper has been tied. He says nothing.
She flips the paper over and sees the wish written on it.
(I want to grow taller quickly.)
"Well?" She looks at him with an inquisitive gaze, the curl of a smile playing on her lips as if trying to mimic Alkaid's own smile. "What about you? Are any of your wishes hung up on this tree?"
"No."
It's both truth and lie. The green strip of paper steadily sways with the wind, its string sturdy and strong. Rather than a wish, the paper had served better as an outlet for his musings.
"Hm, should I make a wish?" She wonders aloud. "But I have neither paper nor brush to do so..."
Alkaid has the small urge to knock himself on the forehead for not thinking to prepare ahead.
"...I'm afraid I don't have either of those on me now." He offers an apologetic look. "If I wasn't in such a rush, I probably would've had the time to think about it a little more and bring them over."
"It's perfectly fine; I'll just bring my own materials next time." With deft hands, she takes a ribbon from her hairpiece and uses it to tie the yellow paper back to the branch. "If I were to rely on your gifts for enjoyment, I'm afraid that would simply be me unjustly extorting a young child."
"I'm okay with that."
"...I don't think you should."
Finally, they take their seat upon the grass, and the moon goddess opens the box of treats Alkaid had passed her to see glutinous rice cakes arranged haphazardly within the box. Alkaid panics a little upon seeing his handmade mess.
"I-I'm sorry. I really was in a rush—"
"Mhmm?" She has already placed one in her mouth. "Phwat jid you shay?"
How unbecoming of a deity.
But he likes it. The more Alkaid sees this side of her, the more his illusion of the ethereal goddess he first met fades away, replaced by something more genuine, more real.
Is this change good or bad?
Chest filled with relief, Alkaid shakes his head in slight exasperation. "It's nothing. Please enjoy the rice cakes."
"Thank you very much. Ah, that's right." She takes one out from the box and hands it out to him. "You should have some yourself."
"Oh, it's alright." He shakes his head reverently. "These are your gifts, and thus yours for the taking."
Truth be told—while Alkaid does enjoy sweet things—having eaten these rice cakes every night for the past month has made him slightly sick of them, but he couldn't tell her that.
"Come on now." She's quite the convincing one, her offer persistent as she continues to hold the rice cake out to him. "I'd feel bad if I ate something so delicious by myself; after all, good things should be shared."
Meekly, he takes it, not caring at all about his current exhaustion of rice cakes as he asks her, "...They were delicious?"
"Very!"
Are his cheeks red? His ears? Can she hear his thundering heartbeat? Alkaid internally fusses over how he looks right now, worried that she'll somehow realise that his soaring heart is filled with joy from her words alone.
His ears are most certainly red enough for her to notice, but again, she pretends not to see it.
As if changing the subject for his sake, she notes, "Ah, earlier you said you were in a rush, right? Was there something you were busy with?"
"Not really. It's just that...I actually have a curfew for bed every night, so I had to quickly prepare everything without being noticed." His grin sheepish, he adds, "My parents would find it strange if every snack I make somehow disappeared before morning, so I had to make sure they didn't notice."
Laughing, she says, "Your appearance is like that of the perfect model of a young master, but who knew you were the rule-breaking type?"
"Well, they'll lift the curfew eventually, then I won't be a rule-breaker anymore." Alkaid gazes at his hands, which are still as small as a child's. "I'll be turning into a proper teenager soon."
"But even when you're an adult, I'm sure curfews will still exist somehow."
Her wording catches his interest. "...Do celestials have curfews too?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Though perhaps they're slightly different than what you may think they are." Giggling like a young girl, the moon goddess leans in closer, as if ready to whisper a secret to him. Alkaid catches a whiff of her fragrance—light and lovely—as she tells him;
"You see, I had to sneak out of the Moon Palace to come meet you."
"Oh...Is that so?"
"Yup." Drawing back, she gives him a playful wink and holds a finger to her lips, creating a shushing gesture. "So as fellow troublemakers, keep this a secret for me won't you?"
"...Yeah." Alkaid wonders if he's smiling properly as he replies, "Of course I will."
If she's noticed anything off about his expression, she does not say it. He watches as she turns her gaze to the sky, all the way to the moon, and in her expression, he sees the emotion of reverence, and slight guilt. At the sight, the smile he wears becomes even more strained.
'...Is the Heavenly Palace okay with that?'
While he isn't sure what the Heavens think of those who break the rules, surely they wouldn't be happy, right?
As the moon goddess looks up to the sky, the place where she belongs, Alkaid looks up to her instead and thinks:
'Ah, it's as I thought; I can't make her stay.'
If he asks her to come next time, surely she will, if only for a friend.
But he shouldn't.
At the topmost branch of the tree, faint words could be seen on the worn-out strip of green paper.
(What is allowed closest to the moon?)
As their time together ends and she's ready to leave, he does not ask her to come next year, and says instead, "Goodbye." Alkaid thinks she's caught on to his true feelings as she promises to come back soon, dissipating into the moonlight. But however soon that shall be for her, he has no faith in it being a short wait for himself at all.
Maybe it'll be another year, maybe even longer than that, till she comes again.
Maybe the next time he sees her, he'll stand in front of her all wrinkled, frail, and old.
'I don't want that.'
The boy on the verge of turning into a young adult stares at the stars with an intensity like never before.
'I...have to keep trying.'
To be as close to the moon as his mortal body would allow.
"On the night of the Qixi Festival, silver candles give off a candescent glow."
"And the magpies perched upon willow branches are singing their hearts out underneath the bright, new moon."
"Within the bluestone alley, lanterns flicker and sway."
"As I hold onto your hand, and play out the roles of the Weaver Girl and Cowherd."
Turning around, an elderly man adjusts his monocle as he reads out the scroll in his hands, assessing the newest trainee of the Imperial Astronomy Hall.
"...Alkaid, huh? From what I've heard, you've passed the novice entrance exam with flying colours, and have shown initiative in forming friendly relationships with those around you, so there won't be any worries with your work ethic either..."
Looking away from the scroll, the astronomer fixes his eyes instead on the young man in front of him. The boy looks to be around 15 to 16, not a bad age to start learning astronomy at all. Furthermore, this boy is naturally talented, so there's no reason to turn down his application.
"Though this is more of a personal question of mine, I have to ask, what made you want to learn astronomy?"
"..."
Alkaid then answers;
"It is because I find the moon fascinating, and would love to learn more about it."
"Really, that's it?"
The old man mutters a slightly rude statement to himself aloud, seemingly perplexed. But Alkaid pays it no mind, and continues smiling.
"Well, I do find the study of astronomy to be an engrossing subject, so I suppose you could say it is something I'm passionate about."
With a smile so dazzling, the old astronomer has little choice but to flinch back at the brightness Alkaid exudes. The more he talks to him, the more befuddled he becomes, and as if given up on trying to understand, the old man nods his head quickly, saying, "W-well, since you're so interested in it, accepting your application is no problem at all. So if you would, please fill out your information over here..."
To those around them, they would only see a charming young teen whose talents have allowed him to excel in his studies, along with a well-mannered personality, which has earned him the favour of many.
They don't think further about his given reason for studying astronomy, and only he knows the real motive as to why he chose this path.
Till this day, he wonders still, "How can I keep close to the moon?"
HAPPY BIRTHDAY @zedieame REEEEEEE!!! You deserve every wish given to you on your birthday, so good luck on everything you do!!! If you're interested in the song mentioned above, here's a link!
Finally, after a year of relentless training, Clyde wins his ever first tennis competition, and keeping true to his promise, he plans on gifting his hard-earned trophy to his future father-in-law.
That father-in-law namely being none other than Cael, unfortunately.
(modern!cael, cael x mc, 3rd pov, clyde, humor, mild angst, character introspection, comedy treated seriously, I bully an npc, written with cn!server cael in mind, 4.8k+ words)
"One more!"
A familiar voice thunders across the tennis court with vigor, and the little painter turns her head to see that Clyde is, once again, training as hard as ever. She sees the tennis ball fly back and forth with rapid speed, and inwardly wonders if the force of it would knock someone unconscious.
"If that ball flies any harder, it might give someone a concussion," her classmate comments with a straight face, and she has to fight hard against agreeing with her loudly on the spot.
"One more! I'll hit it faster this time!"
With force, Clyde whacks the ball to the other side of the court and the entire class watches as it shoots past the coach, narrowly missing his face before landing on the floor and bouncing off.
"Hope the coach has insurance," she blurts out.
"All right." A gentle, but firm voice captures their attention, as Professor Anselm motions for them to take their seats at the stadium. "Looking at one match won't do. Feel free to survey the rest of the court to have a good grasp on what you want to paint. I've also booked us seats for the upcoming competition in advance, so take this chance to get a basic idea of what your theme will be."
Everyone is buzzing with excitement. Not only will they have front row seats to the approaching sports competition, but for the first time in a long while, Professor Anselm had come back from his several-month hiatus to resume back his classes at St. Shelter Academy. They all know it won't last long, so they're eager to fully experience every opportunity given while he's still here.
And of course, she shares their sentiment, maybe moreso than them.
"One more!"
Even with the permission to scatter, many students linger back to watch Clyde's training. Perhaps the strange sight of the usually foul-mouthed brat working hard had compelled them to stay.
Though in her case, it would be better if she got out of here before Clyde spots her and takes a pause in his training to heckle her.
"It's kinda of endearing watching him." A male classmate states. "Though things will be different once he grows older."
"Are you seriously going to bring his dreams down? Let him enjoy his youth while he can."
"Wait, so what does that make us...? Old people?"
The conversation–while not particularly loud–catches the attention of Clyde. Thankfully, he's still preoccupied mid-match with his coach, which should give her ample time to escape. But just as she's about to bolt off somewhere else...
"A lot of people seem rather interested in this match." Cael comes up to her, keeping up his facade as a professional teacher. Unfortunately for her, keeping their relationship a secret from others means maintaining a certain distance with him in school. "May I have your thoughts?"
She ponders on it for a little while before she speaks.
"Well, if I had to say what stroke their interest, I suppose it would be the representation of youth." She shifts her position so that she's hiding behind Cael's silhouette, keeping herself out of Clyde's field of vision. He realizes her intentions, and gives her a smile that contains just a hint of mirth. But he doesn't say anything about it, urging her to continue. "And?"
Off at the side, she sees her classmates prepping up their easels and canvases. All of them approach their work differently, some sitting far off to capture a landscape view, and some deciding to have a close-up view of other courts to paint portraits.
Watching them, she continues on with her pondering. "When we're young, we think that so long as we put in effort, we'll achieve anything we work for. But sometimes, it's not that simple. As we grow older, we see that sometimes putting in effort can frustrate us more than it satisfies us."
"That's true." One of her classmates join in the discussion as she offers her opinion with a weary grin. "It took me working to the bone to meet the enrollment qualifications for St. Shelter Academy. But even then, I ended up at the bottom of the acceptance list. Not that I'm blaming the school, of course."
To them, seeing a young child working hard to achieve his goals reminded them of their old dreams from childhood.
As more students chime in their opinions, Cael continues to listen to them without a word, his smile gentle–almost understanding–as he nods along. When the discussion reaches a natural pause, he asks her, "So, will youth be a main theme in your drawings?"
Laughing, the little painter gives off a vague, "Probably."
Too absorbed in the conversation, she failed to notice the tiny blob of blonde heading her way, and the many female students scattering away in escape.
"Hey you!"
'Ah, crap.' She felt her eyes twitch in annoyance, and considers running away right then and there, clutching her sketchbook close to her chest.
But as the mini menace sidles up his way to them with his usual pompous expression, she understands that there's no escape, and can only remind herself to endure whatever cynical remark that comes out of his mouth later on.
Judging from the way he's walking towards her, her attempt to hide from him was probably a failure. How unfortunate.
"For your information..." Giving up on hiding behind Cael, she swivels out to meet Clyde head on. "I do have a name, and I wish you'd use it instead of calling me 'hey!' or 'woman!' if you could."
"Hm? Does it make a difference whether I call you by your name or not?"
"Yeah. For instance, you'd be polite to your elders for once."
But he's no longer listening to her. Instead, he's looking at Cael.
At the possibility of seeing something funny, students idle about five feet away from the scene, nonchalantly pretending to go about their business. But the little painter knows that the one-too-many glances they throw their way aren't just a coincidence.
Cael isn't put off by the attention, and addresses Clyde patiently. But his tone carries no humor or gentleness, clearly unamused from the way Clyde treated her. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"I've heard about you, your name's Cael Anselm." Completely disregarding his question, Clyde scans Cael up and down, blatantly assessing him with a confident look on his face, as if he's figured out something.
At Clyde's knowing look, the little painter feels a bead of sweat drip down her forehead. Cael, on the other hand, remains composed.
'Now that I think about it,' Cael thought. 'She did say she overheard Clyde hinting that he had a crush on her.'
If Clyde knew about their relationship, it would make it seem as if he were about to declare a war of love against him, but Cael knew better. Clyde has had no opportunities to see them together, and if he had spotted them outside on their dates, Cael would have noticed his presence.
"Professor Anselm, you're—"
So, Cael doesn't bother trying to stop him, and waits for what he has to say.
Maybe he should've stopped him.
"—you're her dad, aren't you?!"
"..."
It was so silent you could hear a pin drop, and she gapes at the kid in utter indignation and bewilderment.
'Of course not! How could you think that?! For instance, we look completely different, and second—!'
She starts an angry rant in her mind, but as much as she wishes to say it out loud, to say how much she loves Cael with all her heart; she can't, lest she expose their relationship. Right now, she has to make do with seething in silence and gives Clyde a mournful glare.
"Why do you think that?" Cael questions. All emotion has been wiped off from his eyes, even as he's still smiling. At his expression, students start to leave the scene, not brave enough to find out what will happen after.
However, Clyde is thick-skinned, unfortunately or thankfully so, she doesn't know.
"Well, it's because you're her legal guardian!" Oblivious to the slight shift in mood, Clyde's figure remains as dashing as it can be for a kid his stature. "That's what they say, doesn't that mean you adopted her?"
"No, I did not."
Cael's response comes quick, cutting down Clyde's words with such sharp swiftness, she could almost see a blade pass through the air.
Sighing, Cael looks around and sees the few students left remaining trying to enjoy the drama before them. But once his gaze reaches them, they all freeze, and the final blow was delivered as he said, "All of you should get back to sketching."
The effect is almost magical, and within five seconds there's barely anyone around them. There is no need for any of Cael's usual "magic", that is simply a special ability of his to wield.
She wants to leave too, and makes an effort to sneak away. But after taking less than three steps, Clyde calls her out.
"Hey, where are you going? I'm not done with the both of you yet!"
"Ugh..."
This time, she can't stop herself from groaning, knowing that she had only herself to blame for not being able to escape sooner. From the corner of her eyes, she sees Cael give her a look of disapproval, a little disappointed that his girlfriend had planned on leaving him to deal with this kid all by himself.
"Well, whatever it is, you're responsible for her right? Legal guardian this or that..." It seems as if Clyde is convinced that he should see Cael as her father. "Whether you give it another name or not, the fact that you've been taking care of her means that you're family, so why shouldn't you be her dad?"
A child's logic is an entire branch of common sense on its own; it simultaneously sounds both illogical and believable at the same time, making it hard to argue from an adult's point of view.
Knowing that explaining further won't be possible in public, Cael dodges the accusation by cutting straight to the point. "Well, what did you come here for? I doubt you came up to us just to point out our relationship."
"Would you look at that?" Despite Cael's unfriendly tone, Clyde seemed satisfied. "This is how adults negotiate in the real world! I quite like you!"
"..."
Unable to say anything to that, she internally ponders just why Clyde was so fixated on being an adult, but doesn't get the chance to explore that thought further as the blonde kid shoves his hands in his pockets in search of something.
"Since you've asked so nicely, I suppose I could entertain you." He says as if he wasn't the one to approach them first. As he takes his hand out of his pocket, she sees two tickets crumpled in his hands.
"These," he starts proudly, "are tickets to the one and only prestigious Stellaris Cup tournament! Be sure that the both of you come and watch me win the tennis competition!"
She bit back a another groan, knowing just what Clyde had in mind. She wanted to refuse him right on the spot, not ready to deal with the whole "give me your daughter" schmuck just yet.
Cael answers for the both of them.
"Alright."
'Why?!'
Nodding his head in satisfaction, Clyde declared, "Just you wait! When I get that trophy, I'll present it to you, my future father-in-law, and get permission from you to court her!"
"How did it come to this...?"
Cael says nothing to her distraught, but the ghost of a smile is visible on his face as he looks at the two tickets clutched in his hand. He didn't need to accept them, having already booked seats for themselves, but Clyde insisted, saying, "These spots are the best place to watch me win!"
The sun sets over the horizon, and Harp Island is bathed in a glow of saturated orange and yellow. She looks to her side, sees Cael's silhouette embracing the warm hues of the sunset, and strongly wishes she could capture this beautiful scene within her canvas at this very moment.
Amidst everything, he still remains a wellspring of inspiration for her.
She contemplates on quickening the pace, wanting to return back to their home together as soon as possible. But as she continues to study him, she notices his gaze is unfocused, gaze almost melancholy as he stares off far into the distance, looking at a future she'll never see in her lifetime.
She wants to call out to him, to tug on his clothes and bring back his reality to the her of this moment, but refrains.
'If he has something he's worrying about, he'll tell me of his own accord.'
It was one of the few things they had promised to each other, to hold patience and trust in one another as they explored the ups and downs of their relationship.
Soon, Cael realizes she's staring at him, and turns to her with an almost helpless smile. "What are you looking at?"
"You," she answers simply. "I was also thinking that you'd look good in red, but making sure to accentuate the red of your outfit specifically with a sunset backdrop might be a bit of a challenge for me to paint..."
The wind blows gently, and the silver strands of Cael's hair sway in tandem, mimicking the image of fluttering wisterias. He motions for her to come closer, and she does, closing the distance between them as their hands intertwine for the first time today, finally.
Right now, she has all of him–including his hidden thoughts and feelings–to herself.
"I...was thinking that things could've been different, in some other timeline."
What brings them even closer is not the diminished distance, but the unnameable emotion that sounded almost like longing she hears in his tone.
"That if you had taken some other branch in life, I would have had to look at Clyde's declaration with a different perspective."
Above the sky, birds flock and take flight, their paths diverging to different destinations.
"Had you chosen anyone else, I wouldn't have been able to consider his demand as your lover, but as someone who had to let go of you eventually."
No matter how much effort he put in, the forever young Peter Pan would have to learn eventually that there were some things he couldn't have for himself.
Just like a young child.
"How about we look at the 'us' of today?" She stops their walk, and moves in front of him to look at him directly, as she grasps his face within her hands. "Do you believe that you could accept our relationship as anything else than what we are now?"
He wants to say he can, that so long as she was happy, he could accept whatever future she choose even if it was one without him. And maybe he could've said so with absolute confidence a year ago or more, but now...
Cael is a human being. He will feel fear and anxiety at illogical futures, and he is also someone who wants happiness for himself, not just her.
"...No." His eyes curve up with his smile, raising his hands to cup hers with a need that felt as if they were the only anchor of the ship he rode across his life.
A smile blooms across her face, and he feels it more than he sees it, as she presses her lips to his sweetly.
"Then I won't let you go. You are the one that I chose, and the person I want to walk with until the end of our story, even if the ending is painful."
"People say that she has a 'guardian', whatever that is." Clyde swung his legs off the spindly chair, all while leaning to his side to make it easier for the chair to turn. "Do you know anything about it?"
Lars blinked at the unexpected question, before his face twisted into a grin. "Why so curious?"
"I said I wanted to give a trophy to her father, so I gotta know who he is, duh!"
"If you really want to know, get off the spindly chair. I bought that specifically for myself."
Scowling, Clyde listens to him, and jumped off the chair. Usually, he would be more indignant, but if he wanted to find out who his future father-in-law was, he had no choice but to negotiate with Lars on adult terms, meaning he had to be polite.
"First off, Professor Anselm was her legal guardian." Now having the spindly chair all to himself, Lars made himself comfortable as he seated himself down. "This means he was legally obliged to take care of her until the age of 18, an age where she has already grown past."
"So he took care of her when she was younger?"
Happily now spinning around like a child, Lars replied, "Something like that. From what I've heard, it was only for a few years. He's not officially considered her father, and neither of them recognise each other as a 'father and daughter' pair to begin with."
It all sounded too complicated, so Clyde decided to simply settle with the idea that Cael was her father.
"Oh, and one more thing." Lars' grin grew wider. "He's quite the scary man, so I wouldn't charge full steam ahead if I were you."
'What's the big deal?' Clyde thought.
When talking with Cael, the scary man in question had remained perfectly civilised, even as Clyde declared courting his daughter. In his opinion, that is a man of men.
"He's a little too pretty though..."
Looking in the mirror, Clyde deduces that while–indeed–his looks were nowhere close to being as beautiful, he's sure that he'll grow up into a handsome man worthy of her awe in the future.
'But if I wait any longer, she'll grow old!'
Not once did Clyde think of the possibility that she could date someone else. He fully believed that he would succeed in winning her over.
"Now then!" Slinging his tennis racket over his shoulders, he confidently walks out of the changing room and heads for the tennis court. "It's time to win that trophy!"
Jubilant sounds, ranging from cheerful chattering to disappointed groans, fill the auditorium as the final scene of St. Shelter Academy's Stellaris Cup arrives; the awarding ceremony. It is a long and arduous part of the function, but having seated themselves at the front rows, the art students do the best they can to pay rapt attention.
One by one, the winners' names are called out as medals and trophies are awarded to them.
"For a child his age, his talent in tennis is nothing to scoff at." Cael says, eyes fixed at the bottom stairs of the stage. "His competition was tough, but he must be really determined to win you over."
"Ugh..." She has a headache just thinking about the inevitable chaos that will soon follow after Clyde's awarding ceremony. "He's not even considering my opinion in the first place."
Even if she rejected him outright, he'll no doubt just brush it off with an arrogant scoff and say, "But that's because you haven't realised my unique charms yet!"
It's almost admirable how positive he can be.
"The endless stubbornness he carries is a skill some of us lose when we grow older." At the distance, the both of them see the tiny blonde arrive at the stairs of the stage, ready to have his name called out. "So it's only natural I should respond in kind."
To those eavesdropping around them, it would make it seem like Cael was a father ready to ward off the bothersome boy chasing after his daughter.
But she knew better.
Rocking on her seat, she watches as they call Clyde up to collect his trophy.
"And the champion of Harp Island's Elementary Class Tennis Tournament is Clyde Rorschach! Please come up and collect your award."
His proud and triumphant look could be seen by even those several miles away, and her classmates snicker on the side. One of them pats her on the back in pity, wishing her, "Good luck."
"Yeah, you'll need it. Oh, and thanks for keeping him clear from the rest of us."
Clyde's intense training meant less chances for him to bother everyone, and was a cause of relief as a result.
She's not as happy, and does not appreciate being thrown under the bus like this. Somehow, everyone had learned of Clyde's declaration, and now watch over him with either warm, or pitiful eyes.
"Wow, thanks," she muttered sarcastically. "Really feel the appreciation here."
Maybe she'll switch out their paint water in secret the next time they paint in class.
Her demeanor quickly switches to one of grievance, as she subtly tugs at the sleeves of Cael's coat and whispers so that no one else can hear her. "Can we have sauteed fish for tonight's dinner?"
"With taro balls if you'd like."
He whispers back, indulging her the way he always does. But his eyes quickly flit back to Clyde, who was now getting off stage and heading towards them.
"We should take this somewhere else first, however. Just to spare the embarrassment."
As the both of them leave the auditorium, Cael reminds them to use the experience to work on their projects, and she feels the pitiful and expectant stares bore at her from behind, making her shoulders sag from exhaustion.
'Well, better get this over and done with.'
She half-considers sending an SOS to Lars and ask for his help to reign in his cousin. But maybe all he'd do is just laugh at them.
After several minutes, the both of them find themselves standing out on the nearest pathway to the auditorium. The trees sway softly to the spring wind as night falls, and the paved road is lit by the lamps built at the sides. The scene would have been almost romantic, if not for the current situation.
"I wish I could've just spend the rest of the day with you alone..."
On a usual day, she would have coquettishly pressed up to him and convince him to go home early with her to spend some alone time together.
Today was not one of those days.
Cael shakes his head slightly, and she sees the low ponytail he'd tied for today shake softly. "You don't need to worry from here on out."
There is no one else in sight for now, so he leans down, breath brushing against her and causing a shiver down her spine as he murmurs, "As the person who loves you the most, it's my duty to let him understand that the person you chose is me, and no one else."
Maybe it's the proximity between them, the low tone in which he speaks with, or the heat that seemed to smoulder at the edges of his eyes as he pulls away; that sparks a small flame of heat within her. It warms her ears, and the chill of the night is magically staved off.
"Okay," she responds to him in a hushed voice, unconsciously lowering her voice to match the mood. "Just go easy on him."
He lets out a breathy laugh, something that he wouldn't have done a few years ago. "I'm not some predator after him, don't worry."
"W-what are you doing?!"
'...Oh no.'
She's almost too afraid to turn around, but forces herself to anyways, and sees Clyde looking at them with a scandalised look on his face.
On the contrary, Cael seemed to have expected his reaction, and she vaguely sees a sparkle shine in his eyes.
"Um, Cael?" She calls out to him, deliberately hushing her voice this time. "Did you plan for him to see us...?"
"Yes."
'Oh, alright then. That makes a lot more sense now.' She accepted his intentions immediately, as she watched Clyde struggle over his words. From his point of view, it must have looked as if they were kissing, and considering that he had completely gotten the wrong idea of their relationship, he would obviously be more than just shocked.
'A rather brutal way of introducing our relationship, but I'll take it.'
"Clyde, what's the matter?" Cael asks him, his tone conveying worry, but his intentions speak a different story. "You seem to be rather troubled."
"Y-you...!"
She gazed up at Cael with an impressed look. "Amazing, you managed to render the most foul-mouthed kid on the block speechless."
As if her words had awoken whatever coherency he had left, Clyde shouted, "That's nasty! That's what they call—!"
In her mind, she finishes his sentence off for him.
Due to his lack of vocabulary, he fumbled with his words once again, completely forgetting about the shiny trophy in his arms. The trophy tips dangerously, looking as if it could fall down at any moment with Clyde's negligence.
"Be careful." Cael warned him. "If you drop that trophy, it'll probably make a dent."
Freezing, Clyde realized that the trophy he held was close to falling. Contemplating between yelling at Cael or saving his prize, he choses the latter.
He didn't like the fact that this adult was toying with him as if he were a child; which he was, but in Clyde's eyes, this was a huge disrespect to him. The way he sees Cael now is a far cry from his initial impression of him.
His scowl was heavy as he shouted at them. "I thought you said you were her father! What kind of father—!"
"When did I ever say that?"
Cael stops smiling altogether, and the visual difference between his usual gentle demeanor finally gets past Clyde's thick skull.
This man wasn't playing around.
"When we talked at the court—!"
"I don't recall giving a verbal confirmation."
"But you didn't deny my words! When adults don't answer questions, it's because they just don't want to say yes to begin with!"
"You have a point. However..."
Cael brings back his smile, but this time, it is anything but friendly.
"When adults refrain from confirming something, it may also mean that they have intentions to confuse the other party on purpose."
"Y-you didn't say anything on purpose?!"
"Yes."
At that, Clyde gasped, horrified. Clearly, the way of adults was more than just difficult—it was downright terrifying, especially if your opponent was someone as skillful as Cael.
That's what Clyde believes anyways, not knowing there was more to it than that, and that Cael could be even more terrifying if he wanted to be.
But hey, ignorance is bliss.
Instead of a well-groomed man, what he sees instead is a predator approaching him slowly and steadily, as Cael doesn't give Clyde the opportunity to speak. "Seeing as how you have gotten the completely wrong impression of our relationship, it is only right that I explain it to you thoroughly."
He gestures for her to come closer, and she does. But as much as she wants to drape herself over him the way they do in spy dramas, she holds herself back and settles for taking his hand instead, knowing that this was enough to get the idea across.
But Cael has other ideas. Not content with just holding hands, he brings her hand up to his lips fluidly without pause the moment their fingers intertwine. As he presses his lips against her fingers, she sees him stare at her, and only her.
"The one whom she chose to stay with is me, above all others, and no matter what, I shall not lose to this affection."
'So much for going easy on him,' she thought.
But when she turns around, she sees an unusually determined look on his face, eyes practically blazing as he faces Cael with a certain defiance to him.
'...I knew it wasn't going to be that easy.'
From here on out, Clyde's perception of Cael shall now switch from "father" to "rival".
"...Okay, fine. I see."
Dropping his hard-earned trophy to his feet, he glares at them with as much force as his baby face could muster, and declares;
"Fine then! I accept your challenge....and steal her away from you!" The statement was rather outrageous, yet Clyde continued on with pulsating conviction. "Just you wait, she'll come running for me one day and leave you in the dust all by your lonely self!"
To an extent, she had expected this. This kid was the type to become more audacious the more you interacted with him.
"Alright then." Cael answered smoothly. "I look forward to seeing how much you'll grow within the next few years."
Beneath seemingly kind words of encouragement, was a snide to Clyde's age—and height.
Completely missing the hidden meaning behind the message, Clyde continues to declare his determination loudly into the night, ready to charge ahead to a new goal, and leaving behind his old one.
And thus, the one-sided battle begins.
Eventually, Peter Pan will grow up and learn that not all wishes will stay with him. But it's okay, new wishes can be made.
All he has to do now is treasure them to the fullest.
Late happy birthday @myurucrie , so instead think of this as a random gift.
wait wait I only saw two posts on xhs but is that fandom we all know and hate attacking hlr because the new empire event has military uniforms(duh) or im just misreading the mtl
help are they attacking luchen specifically because he has one card holding a fucking Apple???? Specifically that one where he’s robotic??? What the hell is happening 💀
The little painter thinks she has it in the bag, until she pulls the cake out from the oven and finds it a burned atrocity.
She made another one after that, obviously. But who would've thought that her boyfriend would end up eating the black cake she took out as a joke with complete seriousness?
(modern!alkaid, alkaid x mc, 3rd pov, fluff, humor, alkaid is hopeless, 2.1k+ words)
Ping.
Hearing the sound of a bell, she quickly scrambles over to the oven in order to check her latest work, footsteps hurried and excited. To celebrate a big project he'd finished, she planned on going over to Alkaid's place with a surprise cake as a reward. It's been ages since she last saw him really, so she did all she could to make the best cake possible on her first try, evident by the various edible decorations she's splayed out on the kitchen table.
But...
"Here we go...HACK! COUGH—"
After opening up the oven with vigor, she was immediately assaulted with fumes of black smoke pouring right out into her face. The smoky gas fills her lungs with one breath, and she fans away the black smoke with tears in her eyes, coughing.
"Ughhhh..." It takes her a while to calm down, opting to go and open the window to air out the smoke. When she finally has the courage to take the cake out from the oven, she freezes, eyes wide and blurts out, "What is this?"
What is it, indeed. If it weren't for the round shape of it, one could easily mistake the charred item for a very large piece of charcoal, now wholly unrecognizable from its original form. It looked as if a single bite into the deformed cake would sent someone to the hospital, and the sight of it made the little painter physically flinch.
She absolutely could not serve this to Alkaid, lest she send her boyfriend into an early grave.
She wants to toss it, almost does so too, hands trembling on the tray as she holds the burned cake over the trash bin from the weight, until an idea lights up in her head like a light bulb, and she pauses.
"Wait," slowly, she voices out her thoughts. "What if I just...gave it to him but don't let him eat it?"
Oh no, now she can't stop her imagination. The sight of Alkaid's face transforming to utter shock at the sight of the burned atrocity plays out in her mind, and involuntarily, she giggles.
It's rare for her to get the upper hand over Alkaid, so why not turn this opportunity into a fun little joke?
'Everything should be fine so long as I don't let him eat it.' She nods to herself in satisfaction, a grin already forming across her face at the thought. 'All I have to do is swipe this out after a few minutes with an actually edible cake and we're good.'
Invigorated at the idea of her new prank, she hurriedly orders a new, pretty cake box. One for the burned mess, and one for Alkaid's actual gift. After all, now that she's committed to the bit, might as well go all out and wrap both boxes as fancy as she can.
She thinks she should decorate the burned cake too, until she takes a look at the clock and decides that there isn't enough time. Instead, she takes a piping bag, and draws a cute face taking the form of Alkaid smiling on the top. She thinks she did a pretty good job if she did say so herself, having made the colours match Alkaid as much as she could. But when she takes a quick glance at the clock, she realises that her perfectionist as an artist had cost her too much time painting the cake.
'I really should get to work on that other cake now.'
Behind her, Beanie yowls in disapproval.
After an arduous fight against checking every step of the way twice, she'd finally managed to produce a reasonably presentable, and definitely non-burned cake out from the oven and hopefully, it tastes as great as it looks.
Once she's done decorating the cake—layering swathes of lime-green frosting topped with white chocolate and palm sugar—she gets set to work in packing the cake into a beautiful pre-made box. She does the same for the other cake too. If it could even be called a cake, that is.
With Beanie tucked into one arm and the other carrying the two cakes, she quickly finds herself approaching the front door of Alkaid's house, and vaguely hears the meowing of a cat growing louder and louder. Hearing Sparkles, Beanie meows back from her arms.
To Alkaid, Sparkles' cries are a sign of her arrival. Maybe it's because it's been so long since he last got to spend time with her, that he began to look forward to seeing her again even more than usual, and he's unable to keep a smile off his face.
So, before she could ring his doorbell, he walks to the front door—footsteps lightly giddy—and opens it up to find her staring up in surprise at him. Chuckling, he says, "Hi."
"Alkaid!" Her eyes light up in greeting. "How'd you know I was here?"
"My personalized girlfriend-detector informed me." Alkaid says with a straight face, while stepping aside to let her in as he gestures to Sparkles swarming around their feet. "It's extremely accurate too, so I'll know it's you the moment Sparkles starts meowing for more than ten seconds."
"Well damn." She fakes exaggerated disappointment as she steps inside, sighing loudly. Her eyebrows pinch together in a false frown, forming the picturesque image of a maiden unsatisfied. "I guess I'll never be able to rob your place in secret now."
"If you want to rob my place, give me a call beforehand. I'll unlock all the doors."
At that, she pauses and stares into Alkaid's face, concluding that he was, indeed, being serious. Frowning for real this time, she says, "Please don't, I don't want anyone else robbing my boyfriend's house before I get there."
His face morphs into that of jubilant laughter, with the rare, beautiful chuckle she treasures so much ringing about the house like blessed bells, and oh, does she love it.
"Come on, now." She gestures him towards the living room table with the air of a fussy mother, and plops Beanie down on the floor. "I said I'd make a cake for you, didn't I? Now go on and sit down so that we can enjoy it, it's been ages since we've hung out together and I shan't waste anymore time."
Hearing her switch to fanciful language, he covers the small grin creeping up his face and nods obediently. "Yes, of course, madam."
She's happy with him playing along, and confidently heads into his kitchen to fetch utensils and plates. After having come over to his place a dozen times, she's naturally memorized where all of his cutleries were as if it on were the back of her hand. Absentmindedly, she picks out a cute set of small, white plates with floral patterns and cat-shaped mugs.
Picking out a herbal tea, she leaves the tea leaves to steep as she balances the plates on one hand, and brings out the burned cake with the other. Doing so, she chuckles silently to herself.
'Wait till he sees this.'
"Pan-pan-pan-pan-pan~" She mimics the sound of a drumroll with a lovely voice, as she re-enters the living room, cake in hand. "Sorry for the how the cake looks, but I couldn't quite get it right since it was my first time baking a cake. I hope you don't mind!"
She doesn't get a good look at his face as she sets the burned cake down in front of him, desperately hiding her expression away so as not to give away the large grin forming on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him smile helplessly.
"That's quite the interesting decoration you have there." She hears him say, his voice otherwise calmer than she had expected, if not for the hesitant tone of his voice.
'That's the issue here?' She wondered. Maybe he was just trying to play down his bewilderment. She's tempted to take a peek at him, but when she feels an uncontrollable giggle bubble up her throat, she swallows it down and thinks better of it.
Surely, by now, Alkaid has paled at the sight of the cancer-inducing cake, and is probably struggling to come up with a proper response to his girlfriend's hardwork, judging by pause in his actions. In a hypocritical attempt to save him, she claps her hands, says "Oh no! I forgot about the tea!" and rushes back to the kitchen to fetch the real cake of the day.
Maybe she should've taken a closer look at his face, and maybe then she would've realised the expression on his face was anything else but bewilderment.
Humming to herself, she pours the tea into the cat-shaped mugs she brought out earlier, gleefully imagining his face crumbling into betrayal as she presents him with an actually edible cake. As if wanting to hammer it home, she yells into the living room, "Hope you enjoy it, the tea is almost ready to go with it too!"
By this point, a wicked grin has formed across her face, as she picks up the tea tray while balancing the non-burned cake on the other. But it's only when she steps past the entrance of the kitchen, does she hear the distant clatter of utensils.
And it's only when she takes two steps into the living room, does she see her boyfriend take a bite of the cancer-inducing cake she left out as a supposed joke.
"!!!"
Suppressing a scream, she rushes forwards, careful not to drop the tea set and cake, and sets them both on the table before waving her arms in panic, yelling, "Alkaid?! Why did you eat that?!"
"Ah..." The little painter feels her heart drop to her stomach as she hears him swallow it down, and looks back at her with clear confusion in his eyes, saying, "Because you made it for me?"
She gapes at him. Wanting to assuage her worries, he tries to calm her down. "It's alright, it tastes just fine," he says with his usual smile, as if he didn't just eat a piece of charcoal.
'That's not the problem here! And there's no way it would taste "just fine" at all!' She swallows her words down, and tries to stay calm. "B-but, I saw you hesitating eating it earlier because no matter how you look at it, it's not edible!"
Alkaid sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "Well, the painting on the top of the cake looked really nice, I thought it was a shame to destroy it and eat it up."
'That was what made you hesitate?!'
"And besides..." Alkaid tilts his head at her. "You made it for me, of course I wanted to try it. It's the first cake you've ever baked, isn't it?"
'Ah, I should just push him down and—'
Abruptly, she slaps herself in the face, groaning, and Alkaid is of course, startled. But before she could let him get in a word of concern, she dives her hand into the box containing the real cake and brings it out with newfound energy. At the sight of the beautiful cake, Alkaid's eyes widen.
Feeling an embarrassed blush creep up her cheeks, she looks to the side as she coughs, saying, "I made another cake."
"Oh..."
Now truly, Alkaid is left dumbfounded for real this time. While she had achieved her original goal in the end, her underestimation of her boyfriend's acceptance level to her weirdness had caused unwanted collateral damage. That collateral damage namely being Alkaid's stomach.
"So um..." Setting down the cake, she shyly picks up the dessert spoon she brought out earlier and suggests, "...Let's dig in?"
"...Ahahahaha!"
Alkaid covers his mouth with the back of his hand to stifle his laughter; and succeeds only barely. Wheezed chuckles escapes past his lips as he shakes, trying to push down not only the roars of laughter, but the love that threatened to escape him whole.
He is afraid. Afraid that if he were to show her all of his love, it would be too overwhelming. So for now, she remains unaware of his restraint.
But soon, he can't help himself anymore, and lets out peals of laughter as he throws his head back.
"Ugh..." Groaning, she gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to actually eat the burned cake... I honestly expected you to say something like, "I can't eat this!" and balk."
"No, it's okay, hahaha..." Fixing himself upright, the smile he shows her is almost blindingly bright. "That's on me in the end. I just really wanted to eat your cake."
"...You only ate one bite, right?"
"Hm? No, I had two."
The little painter bites back another silent scream, and makes a mental note to send her boyfriend to the hospital after this to check for cancer.
Thankfully, the second cake tasted great, but all the little painter could do was hide her face in shame as her boyfriend praised her baking skills. Meanwhile, oblivious to the entire fiasco, the two cats continued to occupy themselves by gnawing on Alkaid's pillows with fervor.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY RHEA!!! I hope the fic is to your taste because I'm too much of a coward to write a size-kink smut fic based on Kamikakushi.
They’re much smaller, much softer than his. Everything about you is novel to him, all of your softness, in a world where the vast majority of its population have grown up wielding knives and guns. It makes sense— you come from a world far more peaceful than Eden.
He hopes that one day, no child will have to be forced into learning how to wield a knife or gun.
Another thing he likes about holding your hand—
Your thumb will almost always gently rub one of the scars on the back of his hand. He used to hate the scars marring his body, never wanting to show you anything from his unsightly past. These are his scars to bear, and his alone…
…is what he used to think. You don’t let him hide them away, instead coming even closer to him whenever you see his scars.
Over time, he’s become comfortable with having his scars revealed.
Because whenever you see his scars, you rub against him and hug him endlessly. You pepper him with kisses, one for every scar on his body.
A fuzzy warmth fills his chest as he sneaks a peek at your side profile. His gaze drifts down to his hand intertwined with yours, bright red flame marks pressed intimately together. He subconsciously squeezes your hand, drawing your attention away from the wandering stray cats. You smile at him, lips curving in a gentle arc that has his ears flushing pink.
“Ayn?”
His heart flutters wildly with a single word. He lowers his head, fiddling with your hand.
“Your hands are soft,” he mumbles, bringing your hand up to his lips to carefully kiss your fingertips.
He turns your hand over, brushing his callused fingertips against your similarly callused fingertips.
“Your fingertips are so rough, just like mine.”
“Ah, yeah… you can thank hours upon hours of painting for that.”
Sometimes he struggles with the fact that you chose to stay in this world— in this world where his fingertips are callused not because of something as beautiful as practicing hard in art, but because he was forced to use all sorts of makeshift weapons growing up. There isn’t anything gentle or soft about him; every change his body has undergone were for the sake of survival.
As he’s fiddling with your fingers, you suddenly hold his hand in place, your fingers slipping in between his.
“In this regard, we’re the same.”
You grin at him, holding up your hand that’s holding onto his hand.
“I like your calluses,” you hum, shifting your hand so that your fingertips are pressed against his. “I like everything about you.”
His lips part, not a single word coming out. His ears burn even redder, and he lowers his head shyly.
“I like your calluses… everything about you, too.”
You stare at him with rapt interest. After a prolonged silence, he finally looks up and sees the mischievous glint in your eyes.
“Ah…?”
Abruptly, you step towards him, the two shadows cast on the ground by the sunset fully merging together. You hold his cheeks in your hands.
He recognizes this look in your eyes. Obediently, he lowers his head for you to reach.
Your lips find his, playfully biting at his bottom lip, your hands on his cheeks pulling him closer still.
Dazedly, as he feels the rough skin of your fingertips rub against his skin—
Out of all of the Seven Sages, the one who Louis Miller respects, and fears the most; was Monica Everette, the Silent Witch and his colleague. A sixteen-year old girl who laughs as she reduces everyone in her sight to numbers.
"7927365920...Oh, I mean Sir Louis," her eyes snapped briefly back to reality, recognizing him by his human name, before her gaze glazed again over with a creepy smile on her face and said, "25143757...I will slay the black dragon all by myself, so please inform 436394748...I mean, the vice-commander, 7927365920."
Witnessing this horrific sight, he couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine.
This witch in front of him was a monster beyond his comprehension.
(louis miller, the Seven Sages, monica, monica my baby, angst, reference for past-abuse, mentioned violence, 1.7k words)
"And so," with a wicked grin on his face, Louis Miller the Barrier Mage, waved a pile of papers in his hands, saying, "I propose we send the Silent Witch to slay the Black Dragon of Worgan, a good idea if I do say so myself."
Ray muttered under his breath in a disturbingly low tone as per usual, "Monster...the worst kind of filth...and he's handsome while doing it...trash, trash, trash, trash..."
"Oh, so you agree with my idea? Splendid!" It was anything but splendid, but under the force of Louis' evil grin, Ray could only cower while muttering more curses.
Mary Harvey, the Starweaver Witch, placed a hand under her chin, pondering. "What are your reasons? With your record, I expected you to have simply gone over and beat up the black dragon by yourself."
Unfortunately for Louis, the majority of the dragon-slaying expeditions requests had all been dumped on him. Among the Seven Sages, only he, the Artillery Mage, and the Silent Witch were the ones suitable for dragon-slaying combat.
However, the Artillery Mage is only ever tasked with dealing with greater dragons while the Silent Witch spends most of her time stuck at home without ever attending meetings, leaving Louis stuck running around on dragon-slaying expeditions aplenty.
No one doubted Louis' proficiency, so it was surprising to see him request Monica specifically to do the job.
"That tiny girl has been cooped up in her cabin for too long, it's about time she fulfilled a worthy task as a member of the Seven Sages. Plus, with her chantless magic and terrifying accuracy, hitting between the brows of the Black Dragon of Worgan should be easy enough for her."
"Oh, that's understandable!" Nodding his head vigorously in agreement, Bradford Firestone, the Artillery Mage, then asked, "The Silent Witch should be able to deal with that, so which one of us will be going along with her?"
Adjusting his monocle, he looked at Bradford dead in the eyes.
"No one."
A cold silence fell within the Jade Chamber.
"Uh, Louis?" Raul, the Thorn Witch, spoke up as he scratched his head in bewilderment. "I don't think that's a good idea–"
"That's utterly preposterous!" Emanuel, the Jewel Magician, slammed his hands down on the table as he shouted. In the background, everyone could hear Ray murmuring, "Scum...no, he's worse than scum...even worse than me, who is worse than scum..."
No one paid the Abyss Shaman any mind, and Emanuel continued to reprimand Louis. "Have you no shame!? How could you push the sole duty of slaying the Black Dragon all on one Sage! Your actions are a disgrace to the Seven Sages!"
In truth, Emanuel's outburst wasn't based on his worry about sending Monica alone, he had simply taken the opportunity to, once again, attack Louis and cast shame upon him.
Louis, of course, retaliated while smiling an eerie smile. "Oh? How thoughtful, why don't you go with her?"
"T-That's–!" The Jewel Magician's face was red with anger, as he stuttered over his words.
"I understand the Silent Witch is strong, but it would be better if at least one of us else went with her, just as backup. I doubt that even sending the dragon Knights would do much help" Bradstone raised his hand with vigour and fire aflame within his eyes. "I'm willing to lend a hand!"
In the eyes of the Seven Sages, the problem was sending Monica to deal with the dragon alone. No one in the room thought it was weird to send a sixteen-year old girl to deal with the most horrifying dragon species of all.
Black dragons were the horror of all horrors, known for bringing an entire kingdom to ruin, with carrying flames said to be sent from the underworld, burning away anything and everything, be it barriers, iron or stone; the power of the black dragon was nothing to take lightly, at all.
When everyone heard the news of the appearance of the black dragon, despair had spread over the Kingdom of Ridill, and thus, the current situation was of the utmost emergency. Even Ray, who usually doesn't attend meetings, was here. That's how dire the situation is.
But amidst all this, one seat remained empty. The seat belonged to Monica Everette, the Silent Witch, the sole candidate to deal with the Black Dragon of Worgan, as of now.
Currently, she was in her cabin in the woods. Blissfully continuing her research without pause, ignorant of the whole disaster resting on the doorsteps of Ridill.
"Louis Miller."
The commotion quietened down, as Mary Hervey addressed Louis with a heavy tone.
"Are you sure of your decision?"
"Yes."
"Then it is settled." Mary tapped her staff on the ground, bringing a sense of finalization to the room. "Monica Everette will be sent to the Worgan Mountains to deal with the black dragon, alone."
There were protest following after that of course, plenty. But eventually, everyone reluctantly agreed on the final decision on the compromise she bring the Dragon Knights along with her, slowly leaving the room one by one, leaving only Louis, Mary Harvey, and Bradford behind in the Jade Chamber.
"...This is horrible... I'm so useless... I can't even help with anything....I am worse than scum...that's why no one loves me..."
Ray's muttering died out in volume, as he finally left the room.
"I'll also be sending the 1st and 2nd Legion of the Dragon Knights with her, of course." Louis said, placing a few pieces of paper on the table in front of Mary. They were the paperwork involving the request to dispatch the Dragon Knights. "I'm not that heartless."
"I don't know about that, you seem pretty heartless to me, every other time especially..." Bradford murmured.
Louis pretended he didn't hear that.
Tapping her fingers on the table, Mary Harvey frowned, an uncharacteristic look on her face from her otherwise usual serene look. "Is that a good idea? Monica dear is utterly terrified of humans, she would simply froth at the mouth and collapse at the sight of a legion filled with large men, at best."
"All the more reason to. She needs to get over her fear of humans eventually."
And of course, suggesting that she face two whole legions of soldiers without so much as batting an eye was a very Louis-like thing to do, who didn't have the patience for subtleties and instead, always opted for the most forceful solution.
Bradford sighed loudly. "Louis, while the final decision has already been made, are you sure we won't send anyone else with her? No matter how much you like bullying others, this is taking it too far."
"This isn't bullying, Bradford." Mary Harvey said, as she stood up and walked towards the windows on the side of the Jade Chamber. "Our dear Louis isn't doing this to bully the Silent Witch, not completely at least."
"So he is bullying her to some extent."
"What an uncouth choice of words." Louis sighed. He's had it up to the ceiling with Lyn constantly calling him a morally-bankrupt man. He doesn't need his other colleagues to join in.
"Louis likes to bully people, yes. But even he is not someone who would risk ruining an entire operation on mere mischief."
"The fact that you even had to clarify it says things."
Louis glared at Bradford, who only returned a challenging grin.
With her head raised, The Starweaver Witch peered at the star that represented Monica Everett and her future, which was shrouded in hope, danger, and the birth of happiness. And next to it, a single star of misfortune blinked along, as if signalling the beginning of the tumultuous events that would follow along the next few months.
"Bradford." Mary gazed up at the night sky, eyes focusing on the lone star twinkling above the capital's lights. "Out of everyone among the Seven Sages, the one whose abilities he respects the most, is that little lady."
Pretending not to hear her, Louis popped open a jar of jam he snuck in earlier and used a spoon to scoop some into his mouth, all the while with his eyes furrowed and his gaze cast aside.
In short, while Louis Miller did enjoy bullying the strong–who, in this case, was Monica–he truly believed that she could handle it. With her chantless magic, she would surely be able to subdue the nightmare of nightmares, he had no doubt.
Surely, this will help her regain some confidence in herself, and maybe aid her in growing as a person.
His sole mistake? Underestimating Monica's hatred for humans.
Finishing up the entire jar, Louis swiftly picked up his robe resting atop the chair, and exited the Jade Chamber, ready to fly over to Monica's house and bring her back over for the expedition without mercy or pause.
It hurts. It hurts.
A tall man approached her, and instead of hyperventilating and shivering like she usually would, Monica felt her mind drift away, recalling the cruel memories from the past.
"Greetings." The Captain of the 1st Legion of the Dragon Knights bowed towards her gracefully. "It is an honor to receive the cooperation of the Silent Witch."
'Ah, it's uncle.'
"Greetings!" Unlike the captain of the 1st Division, the Caption of the 2nd Legion of the Dragon Knights was loud. "We wholeheartedly thank the Seven Sages for giving us their aid in the battle against the Black Dragon of Worgan."
He's loud.
'I'm scared.'
"....27492..."
"Hm?"
Both captains looked at Monica with perplexes expressions, towering over her. Their figures overlapped with the memory of her uncle and before her eyes, she sees him. Sees him shouting profanities and abuse down at her with a bottle in his raised hand and instinctively, Monica knew it would be swung down on her.
'Ah, he's going to hit me again.'
Behind them, rows and rows of soldiers stood at attention, all with perfect form and looking over towards them with curiosity in their eyes. She was after all, a member of the Seven Sages, but right now, Monica could barely register them properly, as her vision started to swim.
"283939375759293...18374489393...Ah..."
Numbers filled her vision, only numbers. The angle of which their eyebrows shot up, the frequency at which their shouts oscillated, and the total distance between the two corners of their stretched mouths, as they asked her what was wrong.
"...12740482021333...Hehe."
Numbers were beautiful, they would never hurt her the way her uncle did. They would never scorn nor scold her the way her town did, yelling at her for being the daughter of a criminal and treating her as if she were no more than a disease that crawled across the ground.
There would be no more pain.
The Silent Witch smiled eerily at them, as the humans in front of her were reduced to nothing else but numbers.
Everything else was nothing else but numbers.
"36372819247382902938403943...."
On the inside, there was still a part of Monica Raine that remained broken.
A dive into my headcanons about what Pokemon would be on Harp Island Ayn's team—and the whys from an out of universe perspective. [slight spoilers for general Ayn content, up to SW]
— budding musicians, chocolate, and the color pink. 0. the pre-fic rambles
IGGY
Dex Entry [Sun, IGGLYBUFF]: It likes to sing but is not yet good at it. With praise and encouragement, it will get better little by little.
Dex Entry [Ultra Sun, IGGLYBUFF]: It's always practicing its singing because it wants to improve. Even when it's asleep, it keeps singing in its dreams!
Dex Entry [Ultra Moon, IGGLYBUFF]: Left to its own devices, it will constantly practice singing. You should make it take a break so it doesn't hurt its throat.
Dex Entry [Shield, JIGGLYPUFF]: By freely changing the wavelength of its voice, Jigglypuff sings a mysterious melody sure to make any listener sleepy.
Ayn, in every life, is always drawn to music. In this incarnation, however, it's said that his father was initially against his hobby, forcing his mother to sneak around in order to get him lessons.
And Jigglypuff? The odds have always been stacked against her. Whenever she sings, her captive audience falls asleep. It's an uphill battle just to get heard. Also, have you seen the Jigglypuff from the Kanto/Johto run of the Pokemon anime?
Also, it's a baby pokemon as Igglybuff.
Ayn is good with kids.
KITTY
Dex Entry [FireRed/LeafGreen, SKITTY]: It is said to be difficult to earn its trust. However, it is extremely popular for its cute looks and behavior.
Dex Entry [Omega Ruby]: Delcatty prefers to live an unfettered existence in which it can do as it pleases at its own pace. Because this Pokémon eats and sleeps whenever it decides, its daily routines are completely random.
Shiny Delcatty is pink, and it knows Sing. That's it—that's the post.
Now, in a broader sense, every Ayn deserves a cat pokemon. Given that parameter, Delcatty was the obvious choice because of its aforementioned qualities. Skitty's inability to trust easily is also quite interesting in the context of a baby Ayn coaxing it into being his friend because that's just adorable.
Ayn's not a stranger to converting haters, after all, by which I mean I will forever laugh at Eden O'Connor's backstory.
VEE
Dex Entry [Ultra Moon, SYLVEON]: Sylveon wraps its ribbonlike feelers around its Trainer's arm because this touch enables it to read its Trainer's feelings.
Dex Entry [Sword, SYLVEON: By releasing enmity-erasing waves from its ribbonlike feelers, Sylveon stops any conflict.
Again, pink. Knows a sound-based move, though it's not Sing.
The other option was Smoochum.
Anyways, you'll notice a very obvious theme here. I'm not trying to hide it, not when it's in the title. Additionally, Sylveon is a friendship evolution, just like Jigglypuff. And it's pretty much a recurring thing that Ayn tends to focus on having some kind of found family in most worlds.
I also like the idea of Sylveon being the mediator between Ayn and Mister Alwyn. As a pokemon, Sylveon can't do much but it can at least make sure they don't hate each other forever. Also, Fairy types are very much terrifying, and it reminds me that a baby Ayn fought another boy and won.
POPPY
Dex Entry [Sun, POPPLIO]: This Pokémon snorts body fluids from its nose, blowing balloons to smash into its foes. It's famous for being a hard worker.
Dex Entry [Ultra Sun, BRIONNE]: It gets excited when it sees a dance it doesn't know. This hard worker practices diligently until it can learn that dance.
Dex Entry [Violet, BRIONNE]: It cares deeply for its companions. When its Trainer is feeling down, it performs a cheery dance to try to help.
Dex Entry [Violet, PRIMARINA]: Also known as a songstress, it is a sight to behold on moonlit nights when it sings in front of the colony it leads.
Primarina, other than likely being modeled after a songstress in an opera, also knows Sparkling Aria, which fits in with the musical theming of Ayn's pokemon. There is also some pink in its design.
The other option was Chingling, which, shockingly, does not learn Sing. Absolutely horrifying.
Brionne's and Popplio's Dex Entries are the important ones here. Basically, a younger, more sillier version of Jigglypuff. Ayn is shown to be surprisingly good with children, and to have this hammered in by having two starters and a baby pokemon is something I am very proud of.
Also, Ayn does have a tendency to brood, especially with his daddy issues, so it doesn't hurt to give him pokemon that are known for trying to comfort their trainers.
COCO
Dex Entry [Violet, CROCALOR]: The valve in Crocalor's flame sac is closely connected to its vocal cords. This Pokémon utters a guttural cry as it spews flames every which way.
Dex Entry [Violet, SKELEDIRGE]: Skeledirge’s gentle singing soothes the souls of all that hear it. It burns its enemies to a crisp with flames of over 5,400 degrees Fahrenheit.
Haha, silly pink crocodile that knows a sound-based move (Torch Song).
It's my long running headcanon that Ayn is just insanely lucky when it comes to shinies. Which is why he gets three of them. Thematically, however, Skeledirge would absolutely suit SW Ayn. Unfortunately, SW Ayn is half way to a pokemon himself, so modern Ayn gets him.
The more important thing is that I really wanted "silly lil Ayn fan gets to stay with Ayn forever." And it was a toss up between Primarina and Skeledirge, and I thought, silly pink crocodile escaping to watch an Ayn concert is infinitely more chaotic than whatever Popplio could come up with.
And, again, the part about being gentle and patient with a lil guy who just gets too excited? Ayn could handle it.
ETTA
Dex Entry [White, MELOETTA]: Many famous songs have been inspired by the melodies that Meloetta plays.
Dex Entry [Alpha Sapphire, MELOETTA]: Its melodies are sung with a special vocalization method that can control the feelings of those who hear it.
Pink fighter singer lady. Do you see the vision? Do you see it?
Meloetta, in the anime, was fun and whimsical, befitting its status as a Mythical Pokemon. Also, I imagine every musician wants to meet Meloetta at least once. Can you imagine the look on his face? Ayn's songs attracting a mythical pokemon? Too funny to pass up.
It continues the theming of his other pokemon, and also fits Ayn's desire to preserve the stories of others because Meloetta can unseal ruins in gameplay. Thus, lead him to lost histories.
But mostly, I just really wanted him to have pink pokemon.
For some reason, he recalled the strange letter he received this morning; what happened to Sena? Worry over him for what reason? What does he mean by frustration? Who was that special person he mentioned?
Does it even matter? If he's dying right now, there's no point in even thinking about something that might not come true.
I want you to know that you do have a future.
"..."
Thinking on those words, he propped himself up on his elbows using all the remaining strength he had left, and did his best to crawl out of hell.
(koyo, koyo x misa, mentions of character death, major spoilers for koyo's route, some fluff, koyo sends a letter to his past, the reference letter can be found in the given link below, 1.7k words)
Holding up a finger to his lips, Yozora tells the latest rumor of the urban legend circling around Narimigahama.
"...Hey, have you heard? There's a legend saying that if you wrote down a letter and burned it by holding a broken match to the center of the paper, it'll be sent to the past."
"No, no I have not. And if you're trying to convince me to do it just because it's not as scary as your other challenges," Misa points a threatening finger at Koyo, "I'll eat the rest of the sweets in your fridge."
Even if she did do that, she would have had all the right to. After all, the one who stuffed his fridge chock-full with every homemade treat possible was her, who somehow made it her life's mission to cram every spare space possible with sweets. It's been a month since Valentine's day, but Koyo still can't see the back of his fridge.
At her threat, he chuckles. "Rest assured, the one that'll be doing the challenge is me, not you."
Misa swings her legs off his bed, "Will this be the main topic for your next stream?"
"Yep." Still sitting in his chair, he grabs open a drawer, revealing some writing tools and paper. "But since the actual rumor itself is pretty simple, I'll have to spice it up somehow."
She shoots him a worried look, as she sees him open up another drawer, revealing a box of matches.
"Don't burn your house down."
He couldn't help but smile dryly, "Trust me, Misa," Koyo takes out the box of matches and shoves them deep into his pocket. "I have no intention of having my house burned down again. I won't be doing it at home."
"Then where?"
He hasn't decided yet. First and foremost...
"I'll make a decision when I get to that, for now, it'd be better if I started writing the letter first." He spreads out the writing materials on his desk, and Misa finally removes herself from her spot on his bed, walking over to his side to peer over his shoulder.
"When they say you'll be sending a letter to the past, where exactly will it end up?" Koyo feels Misa's breath puff against his cheek and stiffens, his hand holding the writing pen suspending in mid-air.
"..."
"Koyo?" She tilts her head at his reaction, unaware of what she's doing to him, and Koyo shakes his head. This level of intimacy was normal for them of course, but he's still trying his best to grow accustomed to it.
Trying to play it off, he twirls the pen in his hand nonchalantly. "Yeah well, this variation of the rumor is said that the sent letter will end up with your past self. To be honest..."
Koyo stares at the blank piece of paper in front of him.
"If it's true, I could think of a few things I'd like to tell him."
Misa hummed, and rested her on his shoulder. "So that's why you didn't want to during the stream?"
"Mhm. I'll just vaguely tell them about what I wrote, that should be fine. Truth be told, I'm not expecting it to work." He laughed.
If the letter really did go back to the past, surely he would have remembered about it in some way? Or maybe this was a bad idea, and Koyo was creating some sort of new paradox.
But Misa, unlike her usual skeptical-self even with her exposure to the occult, does not question him. Because she knows him, knows that this letter is more of a sentimental gesture for himself, rather than something he's doing just for the sake of his streams.
"So what are you going to write?" Turning around, Koyo faces his girlfriend, and sees her staring at him with her clear, blue eyes. The ones he loved, and never thought he'd love in the first place.
How strange it is, that through some twist of fate, they ended up with each other.
"Just some advice." Pressing the tip of his pen against the surface of the letter, he begins to write.
'It hurts, everything hurts.'
He could hear Reika's girly giggle ring in his head like a curse. No matter how he tried to shut it out in his mind, it followed him, even as the flames consumed his house and the monster that had ruined his life finally lost it's life right beside him.
It was sickening, he wanted to throw up, to find a way to get rid of this pain. He knew there was no hope of him staying alive, and with every second that passed, he felt the strength in his body fade away.
He really was dying.
"Ugh... hack-"
A small groan escaped his mouth, but it was quickly ruined by the fumes of smoke filling his lungs, making him cough. He'll die before the flames burned his body to ash, whether it be from the gashing wound on his abdomen, or the toxic fumes destroying him from the inside. That fact is his only piece of respite in this damned situation, because at the very least, either would hurt less than burning along with everything.
This is the only thing he can make do with, so he closes his eyes, prepared for the rest of his life to flash before them, awaiting the moment of his final breath.
'I don't want to die like this.'
A burning hatred, and a thirst for revenge hungered in his bones as if it could keep him alive for even a second longer. But Reika was already dead, even if he survived, what would remain left of this insatiable pain?
For some reason, he recalled the strange letter he received this morning; what about Sena, his best friend who was already on the verge of death? What does he mean by frustration? Who was that special person he mentioned?
Does it even matter? If he's dying right now, there's no point in even thinking about something that might not come true.
And one last thing...I want you to know that you do have a future.
"..."
Thinking on those words, he propped himself up on his elbows using all the remaining strength he had, and did his best to crawl out of hell.
In all honesty, when he found some random letter tucked in between his things, he was scared. Scared that Reika had somehow found a another way to sneak herself into his life, even as he was trying to run away from her. He almost threw it away too, held up the letter above the trash bin, but his hand slipped, and the letter fluttered to the floor, wide open for him to read and see.
Instead of that sickeningly sweet perfume he had expected, what he smelled instead, was the aroma of baked sweets, and the scent of the laundry detergent he always used.
He hesitated, before he picked it up and read it.
"If any of that is true..."
It hurts moving, and with every inch forward he crawled, he felt more blood ooze out of his wound. Slowly but surely, he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer.
'I want to live.'
He wanted to see if the future the letter his future self described to him was real. He wished for it.
It gave him hope.
Little by little, he makes his escape. He hears the loud sirens in front of his house, the panicked voices of the gathering crowd, and loudest of all, the screams of his parents as they fight against the firemen blocking their way from trying to save him.
But the noise becomes distant, and his vision turns dark, as he recalls some of the last few lines of the letter he'd received.
Ah, you must wonder who I'm talking about.
If there was still a future left for him, then...
She's the most important women that the me of today met in this world.
He'll make it out of here, no matter how much it hurts.
Later on, as he opens his eyes and realises that the world he's in is no longer the realm of the living, he'll forget about the letter entirely.
But it's done its job, because for now, he's alive.
"Phew, I'm finally done." The letter was short, but throughout the entire process, Koyo had spent almost an hour agonizing on what he should and should not reveal. It was a little more taxing than he had expected, so he stretched his arms out, wanting to rid away the fatigue.
"Here." Having watched over him silently as he wrote, Misa places a cup of caramel pudding in front of him, the one she made herself. "If you're tired, you should take a nap."
He decides to take his shot, "Will you join me then?"
"W-what? What are you saying?!" Hissing back at him, her cheeks flushed a vibrant red, and Koyo routinely stamps down the desire to tease her further, afraid she'd get mad at him.
"It's just a nap, and I'm being serious..." His voice becomes smaller and smaller as he trails off, as he grabs her by the waist and pulls her closer, his own ears turning red from embarrassment.
This is not him teasing her no, he's being 100% serious. He ignores his usual urge to escape, and looks at her in the eyes.
"I really will eat the rest of the sweets," she jabs a finger at him in indignation, not wanting to lose to him, "please stop teasing me."
While he's absolutely sure she wouldn't do that, considering she's not mean enough to eat all the gifts she gave him, he knows she absolutely can. His girlfriend had a major sweet tooth after all.
"Go ahead and try." He reaches up to pinch her cheek, and is reminded of the time they first met. "If you eat anymore than your usual, you'd definitely get chubbier. Not that it would be a bad thing of course-"
She smacks his hand away, and narrows her eyes at him.
Koyo couldn't help but laugh at her familiar reaction, feeling the nostalgia seep into his heart like tea leaves to hot water, filling the air with an aroma irresistible to him.
Picking up the nearest pillow, Misa whacks it over his head.
"ACK!"
Maybe he's teased her enough for today.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY KOYO! This is probably the first time I've written a birthday fic for a fictional character and posted it on the same day lol, but this was more of a coincidence than anything. I would like to give my gratitude to the madlad who made 266 pages of compiling 9RIP content, who sparked this brainrot.
This fic was based off B's Log September issue where Koyo did write a letter to his past self, but instead of it arriving to ghost Koyo like he had originally intended, I made it so that it arrived before he became a ghost. I couldn't help but think about how sweet it was!
If anyone wants to read the letter, here's the link (credits to the original maker, none of it belongs to me).
