＃IKEMEN PRINCE !! ♡ — AUGUST LOOKS GOOD ON YOU (LEON X READER).
#. synopsis! — he was never really yours to lose .
#. characters! — leon .
#. warnings! — angst .
#. word count! — 1.4k .
#. others! — navigation & masterlist .
#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw), @hhoneypop (moodboards) .
You can still taste the lavish vanilla of Leon’s birthday cake on your tongue. Yves had spared no expense baking and decorating it the night before, insisting upon maximizing the freshness, even if that meant losing some sleep. To say you helped him with it would be a bit of an overstatement, —but you tried your best to be of assistance where you could (and where Yves, in all his perfectionism, would allow.) It was three tiers tall and masterfully prepared, and when Sariel sliced it open to spread the goodness around that morning, Leon hummed in delight and thanked his younger brother so profusely for taking the time to bake it in celebration of his birth.
Twenty eight had never looked so good on anyone. Not because the mere age of twenty eight was indicative of anything in particular, —but because anything on Leon was simply something spectacular, a sight to behold in every way. He was the kind of man that owned any room he set foot in just by virtue of being himself. People revered him without question, his charm winning over so many hearts (even when he wasn’t trying.) People trusted him. . . You trusted him.
Yves never did like to be the center of attention if it wasn’t on his own terms, so he begrudgingly accepted the thanks of his elder brother and then insisted they talk about something other than the wonderful cake everyone enjoyed without fail. Even Chevalier, in all his broodish angst, bothered to drop by that morning for a slice (that he only took a few bites from, granted, —but the fact that he even came at all was the real surprise.) He wasn’t exactly the leader of the Leon Dompteur FanClub, but he had a healthy enough respect for the Fourth Prinnce to give him a little nod on his way out the door. You guessed Leon had taken that as “happy birthday.”
Luke was there mostly for the cake, and because it gave him something to do that would justify (in his mind, at least), sneaking off to take a nap somewhere around noon. He scarfed down two pieces before even acknowledging what the dessert had been baked for, but Leon didn’t seem to mind the mooching. Luke was more of a stranger than a family member to him, but Leon always looked at him like he was waxing nostalgic. You always suspected Luke reminded him of someone, maybe of his younger self, —a version of Leon you never knew. . . Another part of you wondered if there was something he was making peace with when he looked at the youngest of his siblings; some shattered part of him he was learning how to live with.
You never asked, though.
Licht didn’t say much of the occasion, but paid his brother a greeting, quietly said happy birthday, and took a slice of cake even though breakfast had never been much of his thing. You guessed it was more out of respect for Yves and his efforts than for Leon’s special occasion. Nokto and Clavis each took turns slinging their arms around Leon’s shoulders, shaking him a little, and saying he was getting old. That was a little rich coming from Clavis, in your opinion, but you didn’t bother to speak up about it. Jin placed a large hand on Leon’s shoulder and bid him a happy birthday, almost offered to take him down to the taverns for a bit of fun later in the evening, then glanced to you and clammed himself up.
Sariel was more concerned about Leon fulfilling his duties than celebrating the Prince’s birthday, —to absolutely no one's surprise, and Rio poked his head in after a morning of being put to work to sneak a slice of cake away and say happy birthday before Sariel could catch him “slacking” and demand he go find somewhere to be of use.
It was a normal morning in the castle, all things considered.
He worked, even on his special day, —spent hours training his soldiers, skipped lunch (to your disapproval), and scarfed his dinner down like a famished dog. Or a lion, rather.
The sun had already begun to set when you were able to find some time to be alone with him. Up in his room, you brushed some of that unruly brown hair out of his eyes, letting him kiss you to the point of breathlessness and then some.
“Happy birthday,” you finally told him when he pulled away to get some air.
A lopsided smile spread across his features, one so infectious that it made you grin up at him in turn.
He didn’t tell you that your birthday wish was the only one he really took to heart that day, but he didn’t have to. You just knew. And call it your dastardly intuition or the sadness that lingered in his gaze, but a part of you just knew that much like Leon’s birthday, this wouldn’t last forever.
You used to really like August. Sunny days and clear skies, the sounds of children playing on cobblestone. It was warm and comfortable, and you’d stay up late to look up at the stars and make wishes that would never really come true.
These days, August haunts you like a bittersweet ghost, and it tastes just like lavish vanilla.
It’s not the sun-filled, fun-loving month you once knew anymore, —no, August comes like a phantom and it swallows you whole, eats you up inside, and spits you out at midnight on September 1st, daring you to live and keep pushing, waiting for another August to suck you under again.
I’m sorry, he said to you, and the worst part was that he meant it.
He was so sincere in the way he broke your heart, so gentle in the way he smashed you into a million little pieces and left you scattered there. Nothing had ever hurt quite like that.
It’s safer this way, he insisted, —but for who? Certainly not for the stupid organ in your chest that seemed to wane at every syllable of his tear-filled apology and subsequent explanation of why he couldn’t promise to love you until the sun exploded.
It’s better this way. But it wasn’t.
It won’t sting like this forever. And maybe it won’t.
He was probably right. You’re sure some fifteen years from now, you’ll be happier, and you won’t sit and stare at the ceiling on August nights anymore. You’re sure this’ll pass one day, he’ll lead this little country to new heights, and you’ll stay where you’ve always belonged, down in the city, running your bookshop, waving to his brothers when you see them on the streets. You’ll find someone else who’ll kiss away your tears, who’ll hold you when you fall apart and meld you back together so neatly. . . You’ll get better. It won’t always be this way.
You’ll grow up a little more, learn to stop and smell the roses again, whether they’re planted on castle grounds or not. You’ll accept what you can’t change and it won’t hurt like it does right now. You’ll taste vanilla and it won’t make you feel so small, —it won’t arouse all the memories of Leon and his dark chocolate hair or his sunlit eyes or his strong arms holding you close enough to have tricked you so selfishly into believing that he might never let go.
For whatever it’s worth, which doesn’t feel like a lot right now, —he’s probably right. Maybe it won’t sting like this forever. Maybe time will heal your wounds, stitch them up and kiss them like a caring mother. Maybe you’ll just learn to live with how badly it hurts until it turns to white noise inside your chest.
But that’s then, and this is now, so you sit around and sniffle over a piece of cake with frosting that’s too sweet, because you’re not Yves in all of his perfectionism, and you hope Leon’s cake tastes a lot better than yours. You hope he’s safer and better and that it doesn’t sting anymore, —but a part of you can’t help but want him to be a little sorry, even now. You hope all of his brothers will come around again and say happy birthday to him in their own ways, —Chevalier with his little acknowledging nod to Clavis and Nokto’s teasing. You hope he’ll eat lunch this time, that he’ll take a few breaks between tasks, and that he’ll think about you fondly for a little while when he goes back to his room to sleep for the night.
Most of all though, you’re still sure twenty nine has never looked so good on anyone.
