Vigilante is head over heels for you, his second best friend and cirme-fighting partner.
You are in love with Adrian Chase, the sweet busboy at Fennel Fields who probably doesn't even know you exist.
Taking relationship advice from Vigilante is probably not the brightest idea you've had, but the hopeless yearning has got to end.
Warnings: none in this chapter
Note: Consider this prologue a taster! More about Vij and reader's relationship will be covered next chapter. The story is currently in development and ~5 chapters have been planned so far. I usually prefer publishing the whole thing in one go but if I am confident that I will not change anything anymore I may post new chapters as I write :) I may also post some snippets of upcoming chapters here on this account.
crossposted on ao3
The parking lot was shrouded in night. Yellow streetlights spilling into your car while cicadas chirped from the inky blackness beyond. You stuffed the last chips into your mouth before brushing any crumbs that might be hiding in the creases of your dark outfit.
Mask up. Deep breaths.
You angled the rear-view mirror so your own reflection stared back at you, eyes bright amidst the chaotic mass of black eyeshadows around them. Underneath, a close-fitting mask concealed the rest of your face. Everything on your body was an elaborate design to help you blend into the night, so you could carry out your missions unseen and unknown.
Holding your binoculars up, you scanned the few houses down the street before spotting your target in a window-- a thirty-something years old man, clad in a white tank and dangling a cigarette from his mouth. The muscles on his body were defined, and he looked like someone people’d cross to the opposite side of the road just to avoid. But he wouldn't be a problem for you.
Or he shouldn't be a problem, and yet here you were, legs bouncing as you tossed the binoculars in the passenger's seat. It'd been months since you'd last donned the costume, even longer since you'd used your power. Admittably, you were a bit rusty. Not to mention there were a hundred different ways things could go wrong, and half of them would probably result in fates worse than death.
Whatever. Fuck it. This man broke your neighbor’s heart, trashed her house and stole her savings for their supposed Tokyo trip. And your neighbor was one of the sweetest people you'd ever met-- she made you cookies for Christmas. He deserved what was coming to him, and you wanted to be the one delivering it.
You laid back in your seat and let a huge breath fill your lungs before closing your eyes. The target’s face and demeanour filled your mind. Brown cut. Tank top. Taking a drag. Walking in that haughty way like you’d just scammed and robbed your girlfriend and gotten away with it.
The low humming of the engine and the cacophony of cicadas began to fade as your mind cleared. The soft air pouring out of the air-conditioner brushed the hair on your arms, and something beneath your skin stirred the way soft waves flowed and ebbed against the shore. Your very soul was coming loose. Escaping your meat cage, as one might say.
For a moment, everything was weightless. You couldn't feel the seat beneath you, or the rise and fall of your chest, or the steady beat of your heart. You were a tiny snowflake suspended in air, a piece of seaweed carried by the current, a weightless breeze blowing over a meadow…
And then the world came crashing down around you, like gravity suddenly started working again. Heavy metal music blasted in your ears and made your head throb. The whole room was tinted yellow under the dusty ceiling lamp, the thick clouds of smoke rendering you a coughing mess within seconds. The cigarette fell out as soon as you opened your mouth.
The first thing you noticed after you'd composed yourself was how damp you felt. Your armpits were sweating, the white top soaked and sticking to your back like a second skin. Looking down at your hands, you saw jagged, bitten nails and thick veins.
On top of that, the space around you was messier than a dumpster. Crumpled beer cans took up half the dining table. Newspaper and nude magazines had been mindlessly discarded on the peeling sofa. Everything that shouldn't be on the floor was on the floor–- dirty clothes, tissue paper, random cardboard boxes, trash that couldn't make their way into the bin three feet away.
This man was gross as fuck.
At least his mind was weak. There was but a split second of confusion before he gave up control over his body. Granted, you still felt like everything was wrong, like your skin was stitched together by a three-year-old or your organs had been rearranged, but it was nothing you hadn't dealt with before. You rolled your shoulders and got to work.
The first step in the mission itinerary was to find where the money was. He'd stolen the whole cookie tin of savings, and it should still be here somewhere. After a few minutes of flinging clothes around and getting on the somehow sticky ground to look under furniture, you found the round tin stashed under his bed along with a few discarded chip packages. You pulled the lid off–
Empty. He must've already deposited it in his bank.
"Asshole." You gave the bird to his reflection as you walked past the mirror. At least his phone was conveniently in his back pocket. Finding the bank app and transferring all his savings over to your neighbor's account was easy–- thank you face recognition–- and extremely satisfying.
When all that was done, you plopped yourself in one of the two seats around the dining table, dialled 911, and put it on speaker. After tossing the phone on the table, the wait time was just long enough for you to handcuff your legs and arms to the chair.
"911, what's your emergency?"
Probably should've turned off the speakers first, but whatever. You strained your voice to be heard above the music. "Hi, I'm calling to turn myself in. My name is Willie Stroker and I'm a piece of shit asshole who robbed my ex girlfriend. Please come arrest me at 124 Sally Avenue, like as soon as possible cause I think I'd die if I don't get my ass in a jail cell within an hour."
"Um, sir-"
"Great, good call, see ya." You brought your jaw down to end the call and used it to swing the phone to the other side of the room. Even if Willie Stroker could somehow move in this state, he'd have a hard time finding his phone in his self-made dumpster hell.
All set. A chill snaked down your spine– the guy was starting to realize something was deeply wrong, which meant it was time to bail. You let your shoulders slump and your head droop, and your spirit began to wander out of your body again...
You landed back in your own familiar body with a sharp gasp. The cicadas were back and it took a few blinks to adjust to the dimness, but it was your own meat and bones and you were relieved to be back, even if the huge blotch of eyeshadow made your skin kind of tight–
"Hey you're back–"
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
"HOLY SHIT!"
You screeched at the voice and the voice screamed back. Only after your nerves were untangled did you realize who you were looking at.
"Vigilante?!"
There he was, sitting in your passenger's seat with your binoculars around his neck. It was dark, but you could make out his eyes behind the red visors, widened with abstract horror. He looked no less the same as the last time you'd seen him. Maybe with less… heartbreak in his eyes. You grimaced at the memory.
"Yea, it's me. Hi!" He waved like you didn’t just scream bloody murder in each other’s face.
"Hi." You replied flatly, shifting your mask. At least the built-in voice changer was still working. "How long have you been here?"
"A few minutes," he leaned forward. "Were you in someone just now?"
"I was taking over someone's body, yes. Did you take my mask off?"
Incredulity crept into his voice. "No. Why would I?"
"I don't know," you murmured, feeling conscious and frankly unsettled about how defenseless you'd left yourself.
After what’d happened half a year ago and the subsequent radio silence on your end (Vigilante continued to leave you calls and texts every few days), you expected awkward silences and tiptoeing around conversations, but he was quick to hop between topics. “You’re lucky I was here, actually. I was making my way home after killing this creep who tried to follow a lady when I heard this non-stop honking- wait let me show you—” he slapped the wheel and the beep immediately pierced the silence.
“Dude, stop!” You pried his hand off, ducking a little while making sure no one was around.
“— so I rushed here and what did I find? You, in the middle of a seizure, your whole face on the horn,” worry laced his voice as he rambled on. “Thank sweet Jesus that your window was rolled down. I came in and restrained you until you were back. I can’t believe you went inside someone without me!”
Ah, yes. Vigilante and his ongoing fascination with your power, which originated from the one time you went inside— no, possessed— him. It was almost endearing.
The truth was getting a bit too embarrassing to bear. Six months of hiatus was all it took for you to throw proper procedures out of the window. Keeping your body safe and in hiding was suppsoed to be one of the most crucial steps.
“Thanks for being here.” You looked into his eyes as you spoke, making sure he received your sincerity.
The corners of his eyes wrinkled. “You’re welcome. You’re my second best friend after all…”
Your lips curled up behind your mask. Maybe you should also apologize for ghosting him, but if he was willing to put that behind him and let things fall back into their normal rhythm—
“…even after you rejected me in front of my other best friends.”
Okay. Nevermind.
Your hands shot out to grip the wheel as an effort to steer yourself. Vigilante was staring straight ahead now, fiddling with your binoculars, no doubt revisiting the very moment that made your skin crawl with guilt.
When he didn’t speak after a few seconds, you threw your hands up. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that in front of everyone but you caught me off guard!”
He shook his legs a few times, shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly.
“Just because I don’t return your feelings, doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Vij.” You added, although the word 'friends' almost lodged in your throat.
A dejected groan scratched its way out of his throat as he threw his head back. “I know, I know… I’m not mad at you. I just thought we had something, you know?” His voice was quieter now, devoid of the enthusiasm that filled it just minutes ago. “Can you just answer me this? Was all this--” he gestured at his mask. "-- the only reason you rejected me?"
Well. Your eyes roamed over the armored man slouching in your passenger’s seat. Somehow you didn’t need to see it to know he was pouting.
This was a man who was wanted for multiple counts of murder, who would giggle as he thrust a dagger into someone’s guts, who once asked you with a straight face if you wanted to dismember a corpse at your place or his.
But you didn’t care about any of that. He could be… rash, and his morality was definitely unorthodox, but at the end of the day he was a loyal ally. He always watched your back like a guard dog when you’re fighting, and he just jumped into your car to make sure you didn’t get caught by the whole town, no question asked. As for his sadistic tendencies… as long as they were directed at the rightfully wrong person, you had no issue turning the other way.
No, the reason you rejected him wasn’t any of that. It was something much simpler.
Anxious partly from anticipating his reaction and partly from the thrill of admitting something you’d kept close and hidden for so long, you bit out, “I like someone else.”
“Fuck!” Vigilante slapped the top of his head, the very image of distress. “Why did you have to tell me that!”
“You asked!”
“I know, I know…” he sighed. “Who is it?”
You chuckled dryly, “What, you gonna stalk and kill him?”
He shrugged.
“No! I’m not telling you!” You glared.
“Well, does this lucky son of a bitch like you back?” He asked, sitting up straighter.
This time you were the one who shrugged, too self-conscious to admit that you hadn’t even had more than five proper conversations with your crush of, what? A year and a half? Damn.
That seemed to brighten him up somehow. He leaned in, excitement barely contained. “I can give you all the advice you need.”
“What?”
“Yea! I know what you’re thinking, I failed at courting you so that must mean I’m the last person to go to for love advice, but you’re gravely mistaken, Skelly.” You snorted. The nickname might be silly but you couldn’t deny having missed it. “The result was shit, but my methodology was not shit. Everyone else thinks so. Even Eagly.”
The normal and sensible response would be to turn him down, because god knew everyone else did not think so. Even Eagly. But his insane ‘methodology’ might just be what you needed to push yourself out of the door. Go big or go home, right? Or you could take his advice and do it the complete opposite way, and it would probably work just fine, if not better. Not to mention you were frankly sick of hopelessly pining. Something had to change, and if it meant Vigilante was going to be your relationship advisor, so be it.
And so you nodded, “Sure. I'll accept your help.”
He giggled. “Sweet. I mean, not really sweet, since I’m literally helping the love of my life get with someone else, but you know what they say: if you can’t have someone, try to hook them up with someone else so they will fall in love with you in the process.”
You pointedly ignored his flattering words. “No one in the history of the Earth has ever said that.”
“No one?” He tilted his head. “What, did you ask every single person?”
In the distance, sirens were getting closer, splashing red and blue along the road. You closed the car window and started pulling out of the parking lot. Now Vigilante was bugging you to tell him everything about your little mission.
“On a scale of ladybug to eagle, what would you say your out-of-body experience was like?”
You shook your head and drove on, face aching from your concealed smile. Seeing Vigilante again was a huge weight off your shoulders. Working on your cases alone was getting lonely without him around. Not that you’d admit to craving his company without a gun to your head. He was just... a good crime-fighting ally.
Things were back to the way you liked them, and that filled you with a newfound sense of hope. After dropping him off near his home you would notify your neighbor of justice served, and you would get a warm bath and go to sleep. The next morning you would sit down at Fennel Fields and order a cup of hot coffee, and instead of staring at the boy with soft curls and cute glasses like a stalker, you would make sure to tell him “Good morning, Adrian.”
Six months ago—
“Look, Adrian, I’m happy you’re making a move, but do we have to be here?” Leota asked, carrying a box of pumpkin-shaped fairy lights into the abandoned warehouse. They were supposed to be normal lightbulbs, but getting her hands on any in such short notice proved impossible.
Seated on a crate in the corner was John, who was violently tapping his phone with his thumbs. “I, for one, don’t want to be here.”
Adrian, in his Vigilante outfit, jogged over and took the box from Leota. “Yet here you are. I know you’re secretly excited for this. You don’t have to say it.”
“I really, really am not.” John sighed, to which Adrian waved his hand and laughed like he’d just made a joke.
Dusk poured into the place through the tall windows along the brick wall. Adrian must’ve spent the better half of the day cleaning, Leota mused, because the room was spotless, unlike the other adjacent ones with glass shards and layers of dust as carpets. She could press her face to the ground and there wouldn’t be a molecule of dust. Not that she would try it.
As Adrian hummed and worked away, Leota sat down next to John. She wasn't lying when she said she was happy for Adrian, even though she knew next to nothing about you. On several occasions Adrian had managed to get you to help the 11th Street Kids take down some butterflies, so you were no stranger to the group and the unmasked faces, but you were always quick to show up and quick to leave. You never stayed for briefings or drinks. All she knew was that you were Adrian's second best friend (a title shared by you two) and that you were on their side. Also that Adrian was head over heels for you even though you didn't even know each other's real name.
"This place looks like it came straight out of a stupid Hallmark movie," Chris, with his helmet perched on his head, and Emilia were the last to arrive, the latter looking a bit uncomfortable.
"Hey guys!" Adrian waved, a slight hop in his steps. "This is so exciting, everyone's here for my big proposal for Skelly!"
"Wait, proposal?" Leota gaped.
Emilia frowned ever so slightly. "I thought you were just now asking them out.”
"Yea, I'm proposing a relationship with them, so it's a proposal." He replied matter-of-factly.
"Dude, a proposal means asking someone to marry you." John deadpanned.
"Uh, maybe to you it is."
With helping hands the room was totally transformed within an hour. Fairy lights hung from the walls, and blood red flower petals scattered the ground, strangely reminiscent of blood. When John asked about it, Adrian said in a dreamy voice, "This is where we met for the first time and killed a bunch of bad guys. I'm hoping the 'blood' adds to the romance."
After much insistence Adrian managed to get Chris to help him hang a huge banner up. It said: Will you be the teal to my Goff?
"Why are you bringing up the butterflies in your grand confession? And why the hell are you still hung up on what his favorite color was?" Chris questioned, exasperated.
"Fighting butterflies is a shared memory! And I know Goff liked teal because he was literally that color." Adrian pulled out his phone from his suit and gasped loudly. "Ohmygodthey'rehere please everyone keep calm and get your asses behind the crates! We'll do a Surprise! moment after my amazing showstopping speech!"
Leota took a seat on the ground next to Emilia, who shot her a look that said this is gonna blow, to which she returned a defeated shrug.
Adrian was still a bundle of nerves and bouncing on his feet when steps crackled the glass pieces in the corridor, and a moment later you were standing at the doorway, hood up, mask on, eyes sharp in the midst of the vortex that was your eyeshadow. Chris liked to joke that you were Evergreen's Batman after being jumpscared by you hiding in the dark. He was pretty on point.
"Hey–" your footsteps skidded to a stop. "What… is going on?"
Vigilante cleared his throat. "There's no new mission, Skelly, I made that up."
"Yea, I can see that," you inched slowly into the room. Leota couldn't see you very well without giving her position away, but she could hear, even with your voice changer on, the slight tremor in your words. "Will you be the teal to my Goff? Vij, what is–"
"Oh." The air was unbearably thick. "Oh, Vij. This isn't right."
Emilia mouthed the word 'fuck'. Across the room, John was grasping his own hands, looking like he was about to throw up, while Chris was exhaling long and deep through his mouth.
"What? Come on, Skelly, you haven't even heard me out," his voice croaked in a pathetic attempt at a laugh.
"You don't even know my face, Vij. Or my voice. Or my name–"
"I know enough! We've fought together, killed together, driven a stray dog to the vet together. I know the person beneath the mask–"
"You don't know anything–"
"I know that I'm head over heels–"
"No, Vij." You snapped.
It would not be an exaggeration to say the sound of a heart cracking was echoing in the room. Leota lost the fight against her curiosity and peeked out again, only to make direct eye contact with you. She swore, even with only your eyes visible, you looked like you'd just been stabbed in the guts.
"Okay."
"I...I'm sorry." You added feebly. A small bandage for a burn wound.
"Don't be."
There was shuffling, and footsteps getting farther away until there was nothing hanging in the air anymore. Leota crawled out and got on her feet, heart sinking as she stared at Adrian's back, "Adrian?"
The poor guy turned around almost sheepishly. "Oh wow, I almost forgot you guys were there." He sniffled.
note: inspired by first love and the song by matt maltese under the same name. 2.6k; not too proud with how it came out but it’s just a lil something to get the idea out of my head :P
The first time Leona caught someone asking you out in the botanical garden, he was irritated to say the least.
The garden had always been the first choice for those who wanted to confront their crushes, what with the cozy temperature and flamboyant plants making for an idyllic atmosphere, not to mention the lack of wandering students.
Except for Leona, that was.
As time went by, he learned to tune out the pathetic confessions and over-the-top declarations of love. So long as they weren’t doing it right next to his napping spot, he had no interest in others’ dating lives.
His disinterest went down the drain when he picked up your presence one day, automatically rousing him from his sleep. It was undeniable that he enjoyed your occasional visits and that you were good company, but that was all.
Still, he waited for you to spot him under the tree, but you never came. Instead, you stopped a few feet away. and that’s when he picked up another foreign scent.
“I’ve been feeling this for a long time,” the faceless student started, his voice shaking near the end of the sentence. “But I really like you. Would you like to go out with me?”
Leona’s tail smacked loudly on the grass, but it went unnoticed. His eyes were wide open now, face as still as a statue as he processed his words. Someone was asking you out when he’s just steps away. It’s weird how it planted a bitter taste in his mouth, but perhaps he was just infuriated that he got woken up by something so… trivial. He should just go back to dreamland.
Instead, he listened closely for your answer.
“Um, thank you,” You sounded conflicted. “But I'm afraid I can't do that, sorry.”
“Ah…” The student was audibly disappointed. “I see. Sorry for bothering you.”
“It’s-” you opened your mouth to reassure him, but he was already scurrying away, head low like a child who just got berated by his parents. The corner of Leona’s lips quirked up, amused by your candid rejection.
Moments later, he heard you leave as well. It bugged him that you didn’t think to find him, but he’s too caught up with relief to care.
Relief. How strange that he would feel comforted by that. Shaking his head, he lowered himself onto the grass and dozed off again.
To his surprise and dismay, it didn’t end there. A week later, the same thing happened: another underclassman invited you to the garden with a box of chocolate in hand. Your position worked in Leona's favor— if he just shifted a little, he could observe the whole interaction through the broad leaves. It took an embarrassing amount of effort to stifle his curiosity and the urge to take a peek.
The moment the blonde second-year opened his month, Leona knew that he was a lost cause.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about how we would be a good match. You’re always the center of attention, and I’m handsome and popular, together we can be the hottest couple of the school. So what do you say? Go on a date with me?”
The boy spoke with such confidence, hand flipping his bangs and torso leaning against a thin tree trunk, that Leona almost scoffed. Though he could not see your reaction, from the way you tilted your head and crossed your arms, he could tell that you were not having any of it.
“If it’s being in the spotlight you want, perhaps you’ll have more luck dating someone more special. Like Vil. He’s a celebrity, after all.” You said in a calm voice, as if you weren’t basically suggesting that he walk straight into embarrassment. There’s no way Vil would even look at him, let alone listen to his arrogant and loveless proposal.
“Huh. You do have a point there. Good advice. Thanks a lot,” he patted your shoulder before strolling off like he hadn’t just tried to score a date with you.
The moment he’s out of sight, you let out an exasperated sigh and turned around. Leona settled into a more comfortable position as you neared, hiding himself behind the lush bushes.
“Leona?” You called, shoving the blades of leaves out of your face as you wandered further in. “Oh, here you are. Wake up, sleepyhead.”
You shook his shoulder, and he pretended to be stirred awake, grunting in annoyance. “What do you want?”
From where you were looking down at him, the glass ceiling casted an almost angelic halo of light around your head. “Wanna grab lunch with me? I heard they added something new to the menu.”
He watched your eager expression before rolling to his side. “I don’t want to go.”
“Oh,” it’s impossible to not notice the drop in your voice. “Okay then.”
As you turned on your heels, he cleared his throat, “We can eat here if you get me one of the new stuff. It’s got meat in it, right?”
That made your mood change as swiftly as lightning. “Loads, actually. I’ll be right back!”
His eyes followed as you dashed away with lightness in your steps, a fond chuckle rumbling in his chest.
After you returned, you talked some more about the shenanigans your classmates had been getting into and some gossip that had been circulating around the campus. Never once did you bring up the minor hiccups involving the two students, so he didn’t ask. A sense of security had settled in his head now that he’d seen you turn someone down twice, but it would turn out to be short-lived.
If he hadn’t been aware of your popularity among your peers, he certainly did now. It’s only been a month and he already needed two hands to count all the times he’d been roused from peace by someone asking you out. Some were as insincere and playful as the second pursuer, but most were serious, and creative about it too. He'd seen you being presented with balloons, flowers, handmade plushies, all kinds of crafts, heirlooms– there were too many to list. Not to mention the more poetic ones among the followers, who managed to turn their affections for you into something straight out of a fairytale. If he had had a single romantic bone in his body, he might've wept at one of the verses too.
On the surface, he had no idea that you were so popular, but a deeper look gave him all the explanations he needed. You'd stumbled into this world with nary an ounce of magic in you, crashing the entrance ceremony with a cat that breathed fire, and within months of settling down, you managed to stand against not one, not two, but three overblot dorm leaders. There was a courage that burned like a fire inside you.
But that's not all. You were kind and loyal and friendly and genuine, always ready to give a helping hand to whoever was in need. You somehow got on his good side, for sevens' sake. That alone said a lot about you.
It only made sense that all the things he liked you for were adored by others as well, but that knowledge was threatening. There might come a day when you're finally wooed by one of the admirers, or when you eventually set eyes on someone else. There might come a day when you say yes to their confessions and spend so much time with them that you forget all about him…
But then again, he couldn't imagine being on the receiving end as you apologetically turned him down. His pride couldn't take that. Plus it would just make things awkward between you.
How utterly preposterous. As if a prince like him would care if a human or two stopped bothering him.
"I think I have an idea as to what this is about." You said to the boy in front of you.
His ears twitched in your direction. Okay, so maybe he did care. His back was turned to the scene from where he was sitting behind the bench, but he was close enough to catch every word.
"I thought so. People are actually starting to guess who you'll end up with, including me."
Leona knew the owner of that voice. Not personally, but he was usually seen sticking to your side. From the scattered pieces of information you'd told him in passing, that guy was your study partner for alchemy classes and had been one of your best buddies alongside Jack and the other first years. There were times when he spotted the two of you walking down the corridor, matching smiles stuck on your faces.
Was this it? Perhaps the reason you'd rejected all those people was because you wanted to be with someone close, someone whom you knew. This guy– whatever his name was– would be a good choice in this case.
He refused to acknowledge the fear snaking down his spine.
"I wish you would still let me ask though," he said. You didn't outright refuse. Leona's heart sank.
"I've come to fall in love with you in the time we've spent together. I was really worried that confessing would jeopardize our friendship, but I can't keep my feelings from you anymore, or else I will probably go crazy in my head," Fabrics shuffled, it sounded like a velvet box was clicked open, and a tiny gasp escaped your throat. "This isn't much, but… would you like to grab dinner with me?"
Silence. Those pregnant moments weighed heavily on Leona. For once, he couldn't tell whether the deafening heartbeats were his or your friend's.
"This is-" you inhaled deeply. "This is too expensive, I can't take it-"
"It's yours to have. I figured only something like this can encompass how much I love you, so…" he trailed off before forcing a pathetic laugh through his nose. "You can't take it, or you don't want to take it?"
"I'm sorry, Hans. You're a really good friend, but I don't feel that way about you."
"Oh. That's… that's alright," he cleared his throat, then laughed again. "Man, I kind of expected this, but it still hurts pretty bad. Will you at least keep it?"
"But-"
"I know, but I really do want you to have it. Plus, I got one for myself too! They could be matching friendship bracelets."
You smiled ruefully. "Alright, I'll accept it. They do look cute when put together."
"I know right?" There was a beat before he talked again, this time in a more hesitant tone. "Can I ask you a question?"
You hummed.
"Is there a reason why you never go out with anyone? Like, are you just not interested in guys or dating in general…" Before you could answer, he clicked his tongue. "Okay, that's not really what I was hoping to ask. Is there someone that you like?"
“Yea, something like that.” The certainty in your voice made Leona’s chest lurch. So that’s it? Someone had already won your heart? Possibilities dashed across his mind: could it be one of the aforementioned friends? The sociable Cater or the cheery Kalim? Or was it Vil, who somehow made his way into your conversation that one time? Or– his tail swished at the thought– was it…
Smack! It disobediently hit the back of the bench, the creak seizing the moment. Your chatting voices were abruptly cut off and replaced by a deafening silence.
“What was that?” Hans said. Footstep approached, his scent moving closer.
“What was what?” You stopped him in his tracks somehow. “It's probably just the wind.”
“I guess so,” he scratched the back of his head, “Alright then. We should head back for classes.”
“You should go first, I have something to do around here.”
Damn it.
The air seemed to freeze as soon as Hans was gone, as if one tiny movement would break the stillness. Leona listened as the soles of your shoes cracked the grass. There was an intention to conceal your movement, but you would be naive to think that you could sneak up on him.
As expected, you jumped in front of the spot where he’d been sprawled out on, the victorious grin dissolving into confusion when you saw only the dent he'd left on the ground.
“Boo.”
You jumped a great height in the air at the ambush, shooting him a harmless glare as he scoffed at your response.
“Hey there, eavesdropper.”
“Eavesdropper? You were the one who wandered into my territory. Really should've chosen somewhere with more privacy.”
“I thought you denied being the keeper of this garden.”
"That's not the same thing. I'm not taking care of this place, it's too much work,” his gaze trailed down to the bracelets encircled around your wrist, then back to your face again. Perhaps he could find out who the thief of your heart was if he stared persistently enough.
“What is it?” You waved your hand in front of his face, ruining his plan.
“There’s something you said back there,” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, noting the way your back stiffened. “Something about you liking someone…”
“You misheard.”
His ears twitched. “Try again?”
Thud. Thud. Thud. Leona had never found you hard to read until now, watching you muster a look that said ‘I’m not gonna tell you’ despite your heart beating out of your ribcage. There was an answer in there somewhere, and he wanted to get it, wanted to know if it was him. He wanted to know if you wanted to take things further as much as he did.
As if the timing couldn't be better, the bell rang, easing the tension on your countenance. You took the window of opportunity and took a step back, “Oops, time to go. We’ll uh, continue this conversation later? Or start a new one, probably.”
With the quickness of a kitten on the loose, you turned and tried to make a run for it, only to stagger back when he clasped his hand around your adorned wrist. The pad of his thumb grazed over your pulse, passing under his touch in a hastening stream. Finally he caught something– a glimmer of anticipation lighting up your face, vanishing as quickly as it'd come, but there was no mistaking it. Had you always looked at him with such expectant eyes?
"...Your bracelet came off," he undid the clasp with a discreet tuck and dangled the string of jewelry in the air.
"When did it even-" you squinted at him suspiciously before snatching it back. "Thank you. I should really go now."
"Just one more thing. How do you like to be asked out?" He smirked as your eyes widened, clearly taken aback. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."
You pocketed the bracelet, drawing a breath before speaking again, pushing the words out with slow deliberation. "Well. It really depends on who's asking. I'm fine with flowers, but I’m not against surprises. Why do you ask?"
There was a pause, a break in how natural your previous sentences had been. You'd asked the last question in the sort of tone that betrayed what the fake nonchalance might have him believe. Paired with the warm tint on the tips of your ears, Leona felt his heart tighten at the growing confirmations.
“Curious, that's all."
After you finally waved goodbye, he waited until you’d left completely to pull out his phone, the gears in his head turning in high speed. A plan was already taking root in his head:
The next time you came into the botanical garden, he would be the one asking you out.
Characters: Andy Kang & Faye Sorano (ilitw nb!mc)
Summary: Andy and Faye reconnect over assholes, haircuts, and being trans in Westchester.
Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, queer friendship
WC: 3.7k
Warnings and others:
- Transphobia agaisnt a trans character (e.g. intentional misgendering)
- Andy and Faye are both 15 here. Andy has not yet had surgeries.
- Faye is non-biary and uses they/them pronouns.
- Faye is half-Asian and speaks Cantonese-- thus why they are only half-fluent in Mandarin.
As a trans person myself I realize how important it is to have queer support in your life, to simply be around other people who are also queer and trans. This sentiment is what I want to convey through this fic. Enjoy and i love you trans people!!!
@choicesprompts and @choicespride thanks for holding events for pride month!
Westchester was a small town, and Westchester High a smaller place, which meant basically everyone knew everyone.
But that didn't mean everyone was friends with everyone. Most people already had a friend group that had lasted years, which made it difficult for a stranger to assimilate into. Others were in cliques that never really piqued Faye's interest for one reason or another. The only friends they had were the three bandmates from Latecomers . It was an unregistered school band– school-affialited only because they would occasionally sneak into the music room after school to play together if it was not already occupied by the actual, legit school band. Even then, they barely saw said friends in their day-to-day life, since one of them already had their own crowd and the other two were in another grade entirely.
More importantly, a good amount of these students were assholes and bullies, who happened to be at the top of the high school food chain. These were usually the jocks or cheerleaders, whom Faye knew to steer clear from, though trouble would still knock on their door because it saw them as essentially a loner– which meant no backup. The only reason they would willingly engage with the bullies was to rescue some other poor soul from their vile dictatorship– like right now.
The corridors were empty save for a few people who'd just finished detention or club practices. Faye was neither of them but a secret third thing: they were just cooped up in the library to finish their assignments for the day. With their parents out of town, the house was unbearably quiet. One would expect them to be used to it, given how common it was for their parents to go on business trips, but it never got easier.
After shoving a few books into the locker, Faye adjusted the bag hanging from their shoulder and headed for the exit. Just as they were about to round a corner, familiar, grating voices stopped them in their tracks.
“For real though, did you cut it with a bowl on your skull or something?” Ben said, his back to Faye as he circled his hand around his head. He was with two other guys, bouncing a basketball up and down with his free hand. Sandwiched in the middle was a face Faye almost couldn’t recognize— Andy, with his shoulder-length hair gone and replaced by a bowl cut that looked like it was hastily chopped with a machete. He looked like a kettle ready to go off.
“Nah man, the bowl was probably the cutting tool,” another guy snickered. The same year as Ben, he was part of the basketball team and just as much of a bully as Ben was.
“If you must know, I cut it with scissors like a normal person would,” Andy bit out, slamming a bag into the far back of his locker.
The guy shrugged. “That ain’t a normal haircut though, that’s a Karen cut.”
“Oh ex-queeze me,” Ben said in a high-pitched voice, “Can I speak to your manager puh-lease?”
The two doubled over in heaps of laughter, either ignorant of or ignoring the way Andy’s face muscles struggled to disguise his rage. The guys always played rough with each other, their jokes always a bit too overboard, a hint too humiliating. They cared more about being funny than each others’ feelings. But was Andy one of them yet? Had they accepted him as such after years of pretending not to see him?
“Come on Kang, do your best Karen impression!” Ben nudged Andy, and that was when Andy snapped.
“You're one to speak because your hair makes you look like a goddamn pineapple.” He glared at the taller guy, arms clenched at his sides.
Ben went still, his expression hidden. From the back, his spikey hair did look like the crown of a pineapple.
BANG ! Faye flinched as he abruptly punched the lockers, the impact ringing through the corridor. He was towering over Andy now, but Andy stood his ground, arching his head back to look him dead in the eyes.
“You think you can grab a pair of scissors, snap it around your head, and become one of us?” Ben said lowly.
“Hey!” Faye acted before they could think, face hot with anger. Andy clenched his jaw, somewhat relieved to see them.
Ben’s mouth curled into a cruel smirk. “Oh look, a knight in…” He scanned their outfit. “…edgy scraps? What makes you think you can just join our conversation, weirdo?”
“Wow, what an original insult,” Faye said with feigned surprise. “Stay the hell away from Andy or I’ll call the principal.”
“What? Can Andy not stand up for himself? I thought she was a real boy-”
Ben’s punched to the floor before his words can land, sharp red tickling down his nose. The veins on Andy’s neck looked like they could pop any second as he kneeled and grabbed Ben by the collar, “Say that again, I dare you!”
Ben’s friend tried to drag Andy off him, but to no avail. The commotion caught a few students’ attention as they stood at the end of the corridor, watching from a safe distance. Dread settled in the pit of Faye’s stomach. Audience meant trouble.
Like a cockroach that just wouldn’t die, Ben laughed in Andy’s face. The blood and the crazed look in his eyes turned him into a maniac. “You still punch like a girl-”
The crowd gasped as the two grappled each other on the ground, fists poised to deliver punch after punch. Coward that he was, Ben’s friend fled the scene at the first sign of trouble.
Andy was pure anger, but Ben was bigger and stronger, and he flipped Andy onto his back within seconds. Faye leapt in and tried to pry the giant off of Andy, but he shoved them away like they weighed nothing.
“Fuck you!” Andy yelled as he wrestled Ben’s fists away from his face, his arms straining from the effort. Just as he was about to feel the impact on his face, Ben jerked sideways from Faye’s swung bag.
Andy seized the chance and wriggled out from under Ben, and in a heroic fashion delivered a roundhouse kick to the side of Ben’s face. The latter barely reacted in time and blocked it with his arm, falling to the side with a strained groan.
“What’s happening here?!” A voice boomed, startling the three like they were deer in a headlight. Principal Flores stomped towards them. If looks could kill, they’d be vaporized.
“The three of you, my office.” She massaged her brows. She was exasperated aside from being angry, like she already had an inkling of what had transpired.
Faye picked up Andy’s bag from the floor and handed it to him, who mumbled a thanks mid-wince. Ben got up from the floor, flashing his bloodied teeth at the principal in an attempt to smile. “Prin-”
“NOW!”
The three scurried past her towards the office.
────────
It wasn’t the first time Ben had been caught being transphobic, nor was it the first time Andy had gotten into ‘trouble’ simply for being trans. The principal knew that some punishment had to befall Ben, but his parents were also… very involved in the school’s running. Financially speaking.
Thirty minutes were spent in the office before a consensus was made. Ben was to attend detention for two weeks and to write an essay reflecting on his wrongdoings at the end of each. Andy was to be suspended for a day for starting the fight. Faye was left with five days of detention.
“At least she isn’t going to call our parents,” Faye sighed as they left the office with Andy, Ben having to stay behind to watch a student-made instruction video on respecting minorities. They caught a glimpse of the shabby production value before making their exit.
“Yea.” Andy rubbed his nape. “Ma would’ve killed me. Guess I will just fake a headache and 'skip school'.”
They walked slowly towards the main door, the hallways already devoid of life. The silence draped over them like a weighted blanket.
“Thank you for standing up for me, by the way,” Andy said as soon as they crossed the threshold into the breezy summer evening.
“No problem,” Faye shrugged. “Does that happen a lot?”
“Ben being a jerk or me beating his ass?”
“The first one,” Faye said. “He deserved the beating anyway.”
“That he does,” Andy snickered, but it immediately dissolved into a sigh. “Honestly? It’s usually passive shit like leaving me and Tom out of practice or not passing the ball to us. They never include us in group huddles but always make sure that we are in the center of the yearbook picture. They won't outright disrespect you as long as you 'stay in your lane’,” he did an air quote. “Which means no talking back, no showing them up, and no complaining about all the things I just said.”
Each sentence he spoke was punctuated by a hard stomp on the worn concrete.
Faye debated patting his shoulder but decided against it. “I have to ask, why do you and Tom still stay if they treat you like this?”
Andy fidgeted with the strap on his orange sports bag. “Because we love basketball, man. And there aren’t many teams in Westchester, none that could get us to play under as much spotlight.” His face twitched. “And damn if I let those bastards ruin my dream.”
“That’s courageous of you,” Faye said. They would’ve said that they were proud too had they not decided that it would be awkward. They hadn’t really spoken for the past five years, after all.
They stopped near the bicycle stand, the one vehicle left being Faye’s black and white bike. “Well, I’m heading that way,” Andy pointed his thumb behind his head, in the opposite direction of Faye’s way home. He was about to bid farewell when they stopped him.
“Actually- do you wanna come over for a bit?”
Andy’s eyebrows shot up. “Come over… like to your house?”
“Yea.” They shrugged. “My parents are on a trip and I know a bit about haircutting. So maybe I can help with yours— if that’s what you want, of course. If you’re fine with it currently, then I won’t judge…”
Andy huffed loudly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded resolutely. “Yea, why not. You should’ve seen my ma’s face when I walked out of the toilet last night. She’d be glad I’m fixing it. And that I’m hanging out with you.”
He pulled his phone out and called home. After a short exchange in Mandarin, Andy handed it to Faye, still speaking in his mother tongue. 「我妈想跟你说话。」
Faye took the phone, bracing themself to speak in a language they were only half fluent in. 「哈啰Andy妈妈，我是Faye。」
A familiar voice cackled in their ear— a voice they hadn’t heard for years, they remembered. 「Faye! 你的普通话还是没有好起来吗?」
Andy hid his laugh behind a cough under Faye’s glare.
They chatted a bit more— about what Faye had been up to (which wasn’t much, but they tried to make it sound interesting with unnecessary details), whether they were really hanging out with Andy again (they stuttered a bit and settled on '可能'), and ended with Faye promising to help him with his hair.
Andy was heavier so they decided to let him drive and let Faye sit hazardously on the bike rack.
“New bike, nice!” Andy said and rode off into the main road. Faye held on with one arm around his waist, and decided not to tell him it was already a year old, bought when they had finally grown out of their childhood bike.
────────
Faye thanked themself from that morning for not leaving the room in too much of a mess. Posters of numerous bands filled up the walls, so much so that the original white paint was almost entirely hidden. Littered atop the waist-height cabinet were bottle caps, half-used threads and hastily cut fabrics, aftermath of their recent venture into making DIY accessories. Lime-colored fluorescent stars stuck stubbornly on the slanted ceiling. The two of them discarded their bags near the door and sat down on the fluffy rug, two bottles of coke opened between them.
"Well, how exactly did you cut your hair?" Faye asked.
Andy touched the back of his neck again. "Well… did you watch Big Hero 6?"
They raised a brow, nodding.
The tip of his ears began to redden. "Huge fan of the movie here. I was trying to copy Hiro's hairstyle. Just grabbed a fistful of hair and cut. I stopped as soon as I reached this state."
Faye recalled the character's messy, unkempt hair, then tried to mentally compare it with Andy's bob. "I can soooooorta see your thought process?" Andy shoved them good-naturedly, and they laughed. "Okay, my bad. You did cut off quite a lot, but it's not unfixable. You're still trying for the same style right?"
Andy nodded.
To make things easier, they decided to get things done standing in the bathtub so the hair wouldn’t get all over the bathroom floor. After Andy got a Hello Kitty towel tugged around his collar, Faye got a pair of silver scissors and got to work.
After a few moments of silence except for the swishing of the blades, Andy spoke, “So… how did you learn to cut hair?”
“By cutting my own.”
Andy swiveled around to look at Faye’s curtain bangs and undercut, making the latter turn his head back with their hands. “Stay still.”
“You’re pretty good at this,” He said. “Do you wanna be a hairstylist?”
They laughed, “No. Probably not. I haven’t thought that far.”
Falling into another lapse of silence, Faye focused on shaping their old friend’s hair.
Growing up, both of them wore long, black locks. Faye didn’t mind it until they did— their favorite characters on TV always had short hair, so it made sense that they eventually joined the club. Andy, on the other hand, had always preferred looking boyish. He seldom had his hair down, and his mom realized very early on that buying him anything too ‘girly’ was simply a waste of money. Faye had always admired how confident he was in his own style.
“How’s your mom doing?” They asked once their thoughts wandered to his parent.
“Fine. Hasn’t really changed much.”
Faye chewed on their lips. “Does she know…?”
Andy sighed, suddenly uncomfortable with just standing with his arms hanging by his sides. “She knows , but she doesn’t really understand. She knows I’ve always wanted to be a boy, but I think she still expects me to grow out of it.
“She doesn’t stop me from changing myself,” He added after a pause. “She just doesn’t want me to… ‘draw too much attention’. You know her, she just wants us to fit in nicely without causing trouble.”
Faye nodded to themself. There were only a handful of Asians in Westchester. Most people here had generations growing up in the same houses. Most people here were white.
Andy sighed loudly. “She was mad when I cut my hair, you know. I walked out of the bathroom and tried to make a beeline to my room, but she caught me. She froze and wrenched the scissors from my hand. I think she was about to cry. She’s always loved braiding my hair.”
Faye’s hands faltered in the quiet that followed. They wanted to touch him and tell him it’s alright, but found no courage to do so. Finally, he gathered enough strength to continue.
“She didn’t scold me for destroying it. Not even for making it look like this. She scolded me because she knew people at school were going to laugh at me.”
Shoulders slumped, Andy jammed his fists into his eyes to wipe them dry. “I get her, I really do. I just can’t help it. It felt so good cutting it all off, like I was gaining control over my body again and turning myself into who I was always meant to be. I felt so goddamn free.”
Faye left the scissors next to the sink as his torso jerked, and they held him in their arms. After a bit, Andy turned around and wrapped himself around them. They clung to each other, Andy’s hair half-cut, standing in the middle of the bathtub with clumps of hair surrounding their feet.
“If it’s anything, I think you’re cool as hell for just trying to change yourself, even if it didn’t turn out how you wanted it to,” Faye said. “Actually, I think you’re one of the coolest people at school.”
“Am I cooler than Ava?”
They smiled. “You’re on the same level.”
Their damp shirt stuck to their skin as Andy drew back, a hint of a grin on his face. He wiped the rest of the tears off and turned back, signaling that they could continue the haircut.
“I’m serious though. You’ve always been so unabashedly yourself,” They gathered a few strands and sniped them. “Be it on the basketball court or just laughing with others in the corridors. Even today when you socked Ben into oblivion. I know we haven’t really talked, but… in the least creepy way possible, I've always been proud of you.”
Andy let out a shuddering breath before responding. “I don’t know what to say except thank you, Faye. I have Tom to thank for that too. Without him, I wouldn’t even be half as brave as I am now. But it feels good coming from you. The trans community in Westchester is… well, you know.”
“Practically invisible?”
“Yea. We exist but it’s not like we ever get together and support each other. Tom is the most understanding guy ever but even he fails to understand sometimes.”
With squinted eyes Faye finished fixing the bangs. “Your hair is very straight so you’re gonna have to curl it a bit to get the layered look. Come on.”
The two left the tub and stood in front of the mirror. Andy’s mouth was ajar as he stared at his reanimated hair, now much better looking. For the final steps Faye pulled out a razor and got rid of the hair at his nape, grabbed a straightener to style the layers, and sprayed some hair gel to make sure it held.
"I love this, Faye." Andy said, taking in his new look. He felt excited looking at his own reflection. He reached to touch the scratchy patch of hair on his neck, somehow enjoying the texture. Or perhaps he was enjoying feeling what had happened to himself.
"Good to know," Faye grinned, then clasped their hands behind their back. "What you said about Tom… I just want you to know that, if you ever need someone to talk to or a shoulder to lean on, I'll be here. Doesn't matter the time or place."
With a smile as bright as the sun, Andy pulled them into another bone crushing hug. "Thanks, Faye. You're one of the coolest people I know too."
────────
The sky had already gone dark by the time Andy finished exploring Faye's wardrobe, trying out the fishnet tops and baggy jeans so long he almost tripped walking from one end of the room to another. Faye shared some shops they got androgynous pieces from as well as online queer communities that they liked to linger on, and they laid on the bed talking about everything and nothing, making up for five years of lost time.
"Have you talked to the others? Like Stacy and Ava…" Faye asked, staring up at the stars on the ceiling.
"I talk to Stacy and Dan sometimes whenever we have to share the court or see each other in the changing room. Had a few exchanges with Lucas, but he's so busy. Have you heard that he's taking five curricula at the same time?"
"He's always been an overachiever. I just hope he doesn't break." Faye replied.
"Same. I also say hi to Ava and Lily but that's it. You?"
They fidgeted with the mattress, feeling a familiar sting in their ribs at the thought of old friends and lost connections. "Not really. I also talk to Ava and Lily sometimes but I don't really hang out with any of them anymore. Everyone's got their own lives going on. Everyone's moved on."
"Yea," Andy mumbled. Then he turned to Faye with a stern look. "I'm really glad we started talking again."
They looked back, "Me too. I really missed everyone."
"Who knows, maybe one day we'll come together again," His mouth curled into a smile.
"I don't know if we can."
"Come on, we will!" Andy started shaking them the more they denied, until they finally cracked.
"Okay, fine. We'll all be friends again."
"That's what I like to hear," he wiggled his eyebrows. "Are you gonna show me your drumming skills now?"
────────
They probably would've talked till ten was it not for the house phone interrupting their conversation. It was Andy's mom, reminding him to go home soon.
He helped get all his hair out of the bathtub and tossed it into the trashcan, sparing one last look at the black mass.
"You gonna walk home alright?" Faye asked at the doorway, watching Andy put his sneakers on.
"Of course. It's not too far from here, and these guys pack a punch," he fist bumped himself, then gave one last pat on their back. "Thanks for everything." After a short moment of hesitation, "Love you, Faye."
A warmth settled in their chest, rendering the nightly chill powerless around them. It took effort to still their voice. "Love you too, Andy."
They stood outside their house until Andy's frame turned the last corner and vanished from view, playing the moment over and over in their mind so that the warmth rolled over them again and again. And they allowed themself to believe, if just for a moment, that everything could really be fixed one day.
summary: where leona has had a long day, and you have the power to make everything bad go away.
note: this is basically just 1.8k of domestic fluff
It had been an agonizingly long day for Leona.
He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and thus carried this dark cloud over his head the whole day. The second lesson had barely started when he was called to stop a dumb fight over an omelet between his dorm members. During his wait for the lunch delivery, Trein made a personal visit and warned him about his ghastly attendance record. While he’d taken it with a pinch of salt, the fact that his rest was disturbed dragged his mood even further down.
Then Ruggie came with a vegetarian sandwich because the canteen was already filled to the brim with students when he’d arrived. Needless to say, Leona didn’t get anything in his stomach in the end.
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Kifaji messaged him a reminder of Farena’s birthday party next month, assuring him that he had more phone numbers ready in case he planned to block him.
What really took the cake, though, was the fact that you weren’t around to chase the gloom away. You were so preoccupied with the schoolwork on hand that you’d missed his call, which you later made up for by texting him three consecutive messages.
‘busy rn, ttyl, love u <3’
Joyous.
It was barely four, but the sky was already dimmed by the rain that’d been brewing the whole day. After the last school bell of the day, Leona walked out into the courtyard, hands stuffed in his pockets, donning a ‘don’t touch me if you want to live’ look. He’d take a nap to get his mind off things, but they were supposed to have a club practice today.
If only it could be canceled due to bad weather...
For once, the world seemed to have heard his wish. Scarce raindrops dotted his shirt and bruised the flowers. It was a mere drizzle, but enough of an excuse.
However, he could only make a few steps before it got heavier at an alarming speed, assaulting his face. Picking up pace, he hoped to get under a roof before it could turn into a downpour, but the sky was quicker as it tore a hole in itself. The rain poured down on him in showers, dousing him in a matter of seconds before he could make it back into the hallway.
So fate really was hellbent on dampening his mood. He was pretty darn close to turning the whole campus into sand.
As he made his way to the mirror chamber, the passing students casted bewildered yet timid looks at his permanent scowl. The uniform was suffocating him, clinging to his body like a second skin. His hair stuck to his neck. If one more person dared breathe in his direction, he wasn’t going to be the only one having a bad day.
Head clouded with thousands of ways to cuss the world out, he let his legs lead him through the mirror. He navigated the turns and corners, swung open doors in his way, and walked through corridors with muscle memory alone, until he came to a stop in front of his room, and realized that it wasn’t his room.
It was yours. Somehow, in his mindlessness, he’d ended up right at your doorstep, hand raised in the middle of a knock. And somehow, he completed the action.
“Coming!” You yelled. Footsteps chased towards the door, and then he was face to face with you. Your jaw dropped open as you took in his soaked state.
“Hey.” He said. You sidestepped to let him in, not so subtly eyeing the puddle on the floor. “Sevens, you’re drenched.”
“What a keen observation.” he couldn’t help the sarcasm slipping through his tongue.
Stepping forward, you observed the tight knit of his brows and the downturn of his mouth, and asked, “Bad day?”
He only grumbled, finding it a bit embarrassing to admit. Instead, he leaned forward with outstretched arms, trying to pull you into one very damp hug.
“Woah, stop there,” you clasped his elbows, keeping him at arm’s length. A look of betrayal dawned on his face. “How about we get you out of those clothes first? You could get a cold like this.”
“And then what, wear yours?” He gave you a once-over, emphasizing on your height.
You made a look before heading towards the wardrobe, where you pulled out a shirt that was way too big for you.
“...So it’s you,” he took the shirt, noting the way it was bathed in your scent. “Ruggie berated me for weeks about this missing shirt, you know.”
“Yea, got it. Now go change,” you pushed him toward the bathroom. He gripped the doorframe, snapping his head toward you.
“Would you happen to have my pants too?”
“Haha. No.” You rushed to grab your pajama pants, rolling your eyes at his grimace. “It’s either this or fish skin around your legs.”
It looked like arguments were brewing in his head, but he bit down on them and closed the door. While you waited, you grabbed a few sheets of paper towels and cleaned up the wet footprints on the ground, shaking your head when he tried to suppress a few sneezes.
The giggles that came out of you when he emerged was almost enough to make him change back into the wet clothes. He tugged at the cloud-printed trousers that reached all the way above his ankle. “Not a word about this.”
“Pity. I know a few people who would get a kick out of this.”
Shoulders slouched, he headed over to where you were seated on the bed, a towel resting on your lap. Just as he thought he was finally getting the recharging hug, you pulled his hands away and grabbed the towel. “Your hair is dripping.”
“Are you just doing this on purpose now?”
“If you mean purposefully safeguarding your health, then yes, I am.”
“It’s just wet hair, you go to bed like this all the time.”
“Rainwater's different,” you snatched your phone from the nightstand, thumbs gliding across screen quickly. “Okay. You know what you looked like just now? This."
On the screen were a few photos of doe-eyed cats in the shower that you’d searched up by typing ‘sopping wet cat’.
“I did not -”
“You did!” You scrolled further down, and suddenly a chortle erupted out of you, which you immediately hid by shielding your face. It didn’t stop the laughs spilling out of you though. “Oh my- Oh my goodness. Look at this cat,”
He squinted at the photo of a kitty, face covered in milk, with the resemblance of an old, weak man. Meanwhile you were still struggling, flopping onto your back as you laughed wildly. Despite the roll of his eyes, the corner of his mouth quivered. Not at the cat, obviously, but at your poor, absurd humor.
“Fine, whatever. Do what you want.”
You sat up immediately, still trembling at the memory of the cat drowned in milk. After wrapping the towel around his head, you started ruffle his hair, pursing your lips when his ears twitched at the brushes of your fingers. You pulled the towel toward his jaw so that only his face was visible, and burst into laughter again. Who knew what you were imagining in your head.
“Stop it,” he grabbed your wrist, but the chuckle that escaped him at the end of the sentence was indisputable.
“Ok, sorry.” You carried on, undoing his twin braids and tousling his hair into a birdnest. On your face were remnants of a grin, gracing your features. He would very much like to see them bloom into a smile again.
Closing his eyes, he willed his senses to focus on your fingers as they untangled the stubborn knots in his mane. From left to right, you dedicated meticulous attention to each collected strand. He couldn’t help but shiver when you moved on to his ears, wiping the water that’d collected there. The tension in his muscles relaxed along with the tightness that’d strained his face the whole day, and soon he felt his chest rumble in satisfaction.
“You’re glad I love you,” he opened his eyes at your words. “Or else I’d never spoil you like this.”
You got off the bed with the damp towel while he stayed frozen in his spot.
Right. Love. That thing.
How in the world were you able to utter that word all the time without batting an eye anyway? Anytime he tried to tell you how much he adored you, it felt like spitting his whole heart out onto a plate. It felt like pushing something spiky out of his throat. It felt like admitting that he was very, very vulnerable, and he couldn't stomach that. Not yet.
"Do you want to talk about your day?" You said from the bathroom, voice overlapping with the running tap.
"There were these pups who only knew how to use their brawn. Trein spent a whole 30 minutes bugging me. Skipped lunch. Kifaji texted."
"Yikes," you returned and climbed back onto the mattress, leaning against the bed frame. "Alright, let's make it better then."
He half expected you to block him again as he dived in, but you welcomed him with open arms. He lay his weight on you at first, reaching around your waist, before shuffling closer. Despite just having been soaked to the bones, he was as warm as a bowl of hot soup. Sleep crept on him almost instantly, he couldn't help it. Everything around him was way too soft– your bed, your torso encircled by his arms, his shirt around his body smelled nothing like him and everything like you, your hands buried in his hair. He took a greedy breath as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, then exhaled, hot air fanning your skin.
God forbid that anyone should see him in this state.
"By the way. That thing you said earlier," his words slurred. "I feel the same."
"What thing?" You replied innocently.
He shifted. "Y'know. The thing I'm lucky for."
"I'm afraid I'm clueless."
His head snapped up in annoyance. You weren't fooling anyone with your tone, but if you wanted to act oblivious, two could play this game
"I mean this," He moved in to press his lips to your forehead. "And this…" Another kiss fell on your left eyelid. "And this," The top of your nose. "And also this." He moved on to your cheeks, lastly sealing the spell by burying his head against your neck again. They were like stamps, his own way of showing you the evidence of his love.
Instead of responding, you gave him a stamp of your own, sure and gentle on the crown of his head. Outside the storm was still wrecking havoc, but he was inside now, not just under a shelter, but especially in your embrace.
Leona wasn't sure how or when, but your presence in his life had made his dreams a bit more bearable, a bit more attainable. And perhaps, in this very moment when he was able to forget the world around him, they had already come true.
summary: 5 times others know that leona is head over heels for you, and the 1 time he acts on it. 7.5k
note: just pure, innocent fluff ❤️ reader = ramshackle prefect
1.
Jack liked to imagine himself as a somewhat perceptive person, especially with his large ears catching wind of exchanged whispers and his outstanding olfaction that allowed him to pick up distinctive scents. As reserved as he seemed, he tended to watch things from the sidelines and keep note of different people's quirks and whatnots, and so more often than not he would surprise others with his hidden knowledge and observations. All in all, he knew quite well about people around him.
Or so he thought, because whatever was unfolding in front of his widened eyes was making him doubt all his previous judegements about his much respected dorm leader.
It was mid-afternoon with the sun hanging high in the sky, burning with murderous intent. Jack, having had the misfortune to be the first student spotted by Crewel, was tasked to 'bring him the disobedient cat who would rather sleep than attend his lessons'. Jack recalled the places Ruggie would go to find Leona and found himself in the botanic garden in no time, eyes scanning the lush green and distracting flowers. He smelled his presence first, then noticed something else mixed in that woody scent.
His confusion only grew when he recognized its owner, who was none other than the prefect of Ramshackle. The trail led him to a spot shielded by a thick canopy of banana leaves, and right underneath was Leona, serenely asleep and– wait, is he sleeping on the prefect's lap? And is that their hand in his hair?
Jack blinked. He wasn't hallucinating.
Your face brightened in recognition when he finally shuffled close enough. "Hey Jack! Here to check on the cacti?"
"...No," despite his initial shock, his voice gave nothing away. Leona spared him one glance before promptly closing his eyes again. "Crewel asked me to bring Leona to class, but… what are you doing here?"
As if just now realizing yourself, you removed your fingers from Leona's silky hair, earning a dissatisfied huff. "Your dorm leader here caught me passing by and made me his personal pillow. I haven't moved from this position for hours."
Jack hoped that you were only exaggerating about the time, but frankly he was too preoccupied with other thoughts to care. For one, the painfully arrogant, prideful, and self-assured prince was resting his head on your lap and letting you thread your fingers through his locks? The Leona who would scowl and glower whenever someone so much as brushed against his tail? The Leona who would bite someone's arm off before ever giving them the idea that he could be anything less than almighty, let alone soft?
"Just tell Crewel you failed. I'm not about to ruin my nap to brew stupid potions," Leona stated, stubborn as usual.
"No way, I'm not missing my classes so that you can have your fun in dreamland. Get up!" You nudged him. No movement. "Jack, can you help me drag him off?"
Before the poor boy could take a step, Leona growled. "Don't you dare. Just give me ten more minutes, damn it."
"That's the third time you've said it." You deadpanned, to which he responded with a half-hearted hum. Seeing as he wasn't moving any time soon, your shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'll bring him over as soon as the ten minute mark passes."
It was less than ideal to have to go back to Crewel empty-handed, but there was no convincing Leona when he was hell-bent on doing something. With a defeated sigh, Jack nodded. "I'll be relying on you then, prefect."
If there was one person in NRC who could be deemed trust-worthy, it had to be you. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back before bidding goodbye.
In reality, didn't leave right away. He knew that he shouldn't intrude on his friend's life (let alone his senior's), but curiosity got him in a chokehold. Besides, he needed to make sure that you wouldn't get your wrist torn off if you tried anything else.
"It's quite unfair, actually," you mumbled. "All you do is lie around all day, how do you even pass your classes?"
"Everything the school’s teaching, I’ve already learned back home." Leona's mouth curled into a smirk. "What, are you jealous?"
"As if," you rolled your eyes. As if out of habit, you started smoothing his mane out again. With each gentle stroke, Leona's face relaxed into a peaceful expression, and his ears twitched in what Jack could only identify as delight. You must've noticed it too, because something akin to interest flitted across your feature. Jack's stomach dropped. He had seen that look many times before, and it was a telltale sign of trouble.
After only a bit of hesitation, your outstretched hand moved to touch Leona's fluffy ear. That's it, Jack thought. You'd done it– poked at the hornet’s nest, shoved your hand inside a tiger’s yawning mouth, threw yourself into a river filled with piranhas. It was nice knowing you. There was no way you were going to get away with this.
Leona's eyes shot open, his nose scrunched in annoyance. "Careful where you touch, herbivore."
"Fine. My bad," you removed your hand with great reluctance, returning to dedicate your attention to his hair. The moment carried on as if nothing had happened, and within seconds Leona was already snoring.
What the hell was that. Jack swiveled on his heels and let his legs lead him away. In his head was only thoughts darting around, trying to make sense of why exactly Leona acted so differently towards you. The fact that he had you stay during his sleeping time was already out of character enough, but to let you off after you touched his ear, one of the most sensitive parts of a beastman's body?
There could be something going on here. Jack had a hunch on what it was, but he didn't feel like jumping to conclusions just yet. For now, he should just sit and watch.
At the end of the day, he got caught by Crewel again. It turned out that Leona never showed up for his lesson after all.
2.
It was a breezy afternoon, but for Epel it was hotter than ever on the sports ground. The Magift Club was having its routine training, and everyone was dedicating their best even though it wasn't a real tournament.
His own heartbeat was the only thing he could hear as he dashed towards the opposing team's goal, the golden disk hovering right beside him. Yells and heavy steps followed him, but he was determined not to let his legs give out. Eagerness lurched inside his throat as the net neared, and he angled his arm to throw the disk–
-- only to get thrown off balance by a gust of wind. He landed on his butt with a groan, and looked up to see the disk in the possession of one Savanaclaw student. Cursing under his breath, he swatted the dirt off his knees and dived into action again.
After some more intense chasing and magic being thrown around, he headed with the rest of the team towards the benches, where Leona was sprawled out on a chair, sharp eyes heavy-lidded and coated with sleep. It wouldn't be a surprise if he turned out to have slept through the entire match.
"... Your weakness is that you only know how to charge forward." Leona commented just as Epel was about to take a sip from his water bottle. "You can't improve if you never learn how to look out for ambushes."
"Ah… thank you."
Alright, so maybe he hadn't been out for the count after all. Nonchalantly, Leona shifted into a more comfortable position, his face angled away from Epel. Even if he came off as detached and uncaring most of the time, there were occasions where he would give out short yet valuable advice and prove that he had been keeping an eye on his members. Epel only hoped that he could see the renowned player in action more often. Sadly, it only happened once in a blue moon.
"Ah, look who's here," Ruggie said. Epel followed his gaze and spotted you walking across the field, holding a paper bag large enough to topple you. It wasn't rare that you would drop by and visit. In fact, most of them had been looking forward to you and swarmed you with warm welcomes (presumably because they knew you were hiding snacks in that bag, but Epel decided not to comment on that when his stomach was rumbling too).
"Where's Leona?" You asked once you've given Ruggie a bag of donuts. The grinning hyena jutted his head to the side, "Lazing around as usual. Wanna stay and watch us play?"
You arched your head back and scanned the clock above the rows of seats. "Sure, I have some time to kill." You gave him a thumbs up and made your way towards the chairs at the front.
Epel watched as you kicked Leona's chair to wake him up. He was too far away to hear whatever you were talking about, but you looked pretty close, chatting away with an exchanged chuckle here and there. Even though Leona still looked sleep-laden, he rested his head on his fist and kept his eyes on you the whole time.
One was his club leader, and the other was his close friend. He was starting to wonder how you two had become so close when Ruggie threw his arm around his frame. "Time for round two! What, you still haven't finished the cookies? Need some help?"
Epel quickly shoved them inside his mouth. "No fran qu (no thank you)!"
Everyone had already spread out in two teams when Leona promptly stood up from his humble 'throne' and stepped onto the field. "Wait. You, swap with me."
The second-year student in question pointed at himself and blinked.
Leona frowned. "Do I need to repeat myself?"
"N-no!" The student ran off with his tail literally between his legs. Epel's eyes followed the man as he made his way to the front of the opposing team, stretching his muscled limbs.
The match started as soon as you blew the whistle. If Leona actually getting on the field was out of the ordinary, then him putting effort in playing was enough to leave one flabbergasted and dumbfounded. He didn't even have to lift a finger to weave his way through the wall of opponents. Yet, as Epel watched on, he couldn't help but feel both amazed and startled at the same time.
Amazed, because Leona really lived up to his name as one of the top players among the long list of magic schools. He was quick on his feet, never letting anyone so much as touch the hem of his shirt as he flashed past defenses. In fact, his moves were so unpredictable and fast that whatever formations that had been discussed dissolved within moments as everyone scrambled to block him. But that was not all– he was tactical. One moment he was making others chase him so that he could sweep them away with one single hit, the other he was planting traps on the ground and sneering as they fell victim. It was like he could predict everyone's move.
There was no chance of beating him even if he had his eyes closed all the way. Though Epel's eyes were trained on the lone figure, he could hear your voice booming across the field.
"Ruggie! Epel! Go get him!"
"Ugh, I'm trying!" Epel clenched his jaw and rushed forward, shouting as he prepared to launch a sneak attack from behind– then Leona turned his head and smirked.
–
It only took fifteen minutes for Leona to render everyone useless. Epel dragged himself towards the benches and dropped himself carelessly, limbs sprayed out as he tried to catch his breath.
"Did you have to go that harsh on them?" You said as Leona returned with nary a bead of sweat. There was a touch of playful reprimand in your voice.
"They need to be humbled once in a while lest they become too full of themselves."
You two moved somewhere else, the air carrying your words away. The temporary silence was replaced by Ruggie's wheezes. "Jeez- lemme catch my breath. That was hell."
"I know right," Epel answered weakly. "Do you think Leona-san joined because we weren’t doing good enough?"
"Please, he wouldn't bother," there were sounds of a paper bag being rustled. A moment later, Ruggie spoke up again, this time with food in his mouth. "The answer is pretty simple, actually. Why do you think he worked so hard out there?"
"...He wanted to kick our asses?"
"Nah, that's too much trouble. If he wanted to kick your ass he would've asked me to do it." Epel wasn't sure what to feel about that information. "The truth is- he just wanted to show off, duh."
Epel craned his head so he was facing Ruggie. "Show off? To whom?"
"C'mon. Just see for yourself."
He did as told, scanning the place and eventually spotting you still talking to Leona, this time playfully shoving at his arm at something he had said. There was this look on his face that Epel couldn't put a name to. He'd seen it on someone else though: Sebek as he gushed about Malleus, Rook as he read a magazine with Vil's face printed on the cover, Cater when he came across something Magicam-worthy. Epel knew exactly what these displayed feelings were, but then it would mean that–
"Leona-san worked us to the bone just so he could impress the prefect?" Epel all but barked out the accusation. Ruggie giggled at his reaction and shrugged, leaving the boy even more exasperated. That wasn't really the point, but irritance was clouding his senses at that time. It was only until he was back in his room and lying in bed that he would start to connect the dots and let out a loud, stunned gasp.
3.
The café near NRC had been flooded with customers all day, and the queue only lengthened as time passed. Cater squeezed his dry eyes shut, having scrolled on his phone the whole time he was waiting outside.
Ever since a famed influencer on Magicam had complimented this café in a post, it had been getting all the hype. Cater couldn’t miss out on the fun, even if everything on the menu was too saccharine for his liking.
After what felt like millennia, he finally got inside the shop. It looked like pink had vomited all over the walls, but it should look aesthetic enough for the folks on Magicam. Cater spotted a vacant seat by the window and rushed towards it. From the corner of his eyes he could see a man heading in the same direction.
“Shit-“ the man cussed as he tripped.
“Ah, my bad.” Cater raised his hands and stepped away. The man muttered something under his breath and looked up. The seat had already been taken by the… same man that had just run into him?
Cater chuckled quietly as the man looked around the shop, then back at him again. His unique magic really came in handy sometimes.
He ordered the most famous dishes and turned to his phone again. Perhaps he would give them to those adorable first-years later, or just send them all to Trey.
After a while, even the endless scrolling came to an end. Cater pressed on the home button and waited for the page to refresh. Emerald eyes wandered lazily around the room, rounding when he caught sight of a familiar figure.
If it was any other person, Cater would’ve thought that his eyes had deceived him, but there was no mistaking those ears and long tail. That was definitely Leona Kingscholar, standing in queue with his hands shoved inside his pockets. Much like Cater, he was still in school uniform, and the look of irritance on his face made him stand out like a sore thumb in this sugary world.
Just what could he be doing here? Cater knew that the man wasn’t particularly into sweets and pastries. He definitely wasn’t one to follow trends either. Not to mention that he had zero media presence… unless he had a private account?
Leona’s tail flicked. The man in front of him suddenly crossed his foot in front of the other and stumbled out of the queue. Leona quickly stepped up and silenced whatever the man was going to say with a glare.
In the corner of the café, Ruggie’s shoulders shook with laughter.
Even with underhand methods, there was only so much the two could do to shorten the waiting time. It took another fifteen minutes for them to finally get to the counter. Cater watched with intrigue as the barista stuffed two well-loved red velvet cakes into a white box and handed it to Leona.
Ruggie quickly finished one of them as soon as he got his hands on it, and Cater read ‘worth the effort’ from his lips movement. The two left with the untouched piece sitting peacefully inside the box.
Well, that was something. Cater shook his head and started snapping pictures of the desserts that had arrived moments ago. To think that Leona of all people would wait in line just for a piece of cake… his thoughts went on as he mindlessly typed out a caption. Could it have been for someone else ?
Nah. No way. He couldn’t imagine Leona ever lifting a finger for anyone other than himself.
Night was already creeping on the horizon by the time he finally finished posting. The walk back school was accompanied by more scrolling. The prefect’s profile icon popped up in the ‘story’ section. Cater clicked in without a second thought.
It was a photo of a red velvet cake. The red velvet cake. The text above it read ‘pleasant surprise from an unlikely party!’
Within moments, he was already scanning the entire photo like a detective. There, in the right corner, was a tail. No doubt about it. And he knew the tail— he had just watched its owner spend nearly half an hour lining up in the cafe.
"Now isn't this an interesting discovery…?" Mischief passed over his eyes for a split second, his legs picking up the pace. It seemed that desserts wouldn't be the only thing he would be delivering today.
4.
It was nothing out of the norm for Leona to spend Monday afternoons napping under the tall apple tree. In fact, he went there so routinely that he might as well become one with the background.
Today, though, something had changed. Or as Rook would call it, love was in the air, because under the tree were two figures in lieu of one.
You were sitting cross-legged against the trunk, sheets laid out around you like a protective shield. Every once in a while, Leona’s tail would mess them up, and if you berated him he would feign innocence.
“Come on Leona, you’re the only one who can help me with this.” You nudged his knee.
Rook squinted, his eyes locking onto the documents. There, on the top of what seemed to be the cover page, read ‘Sunset Savanna’.
Ah, a history project then.
“Ask Ruggie.”
“I would if he wasn’t busy doing your duties. So you’re stuck with me.”
Leona made a low grumbling noise, but Rook noted that his face showed no sigh of annoyance. How unfair! The first few times Rook approached the beastman during his nap, he received nothing less than distasteful glares and venomous threats.
One more evidence supporting his hypothesis.
“Fine. You have five minutes to ask questions.”
A smile bloomed on your face, one that Leona didn’t fail to catch. It was only a flash, easily overlooked, but Rook saw it crystal clear— the subtle tenderness intruding on his scowl. It disappeared as quickly as it’d come.
“Alright. So what’s Sunset Savannah like?”
“Hot.”
You heaved a sigh. “You’re not cooperating here.”
“Maybe your questions are too vague, herbivore.”
“Ugh- fine! Let’s start with the people. Do you guys have a mascot or something?”
Leona shifted so he was lying on his side, left arm propped up with his head resting on his palm. “There’s this warthog and meerkat everyone loves. They’re supposed to be related to the King of Beasts. Personally though, I couldn't care less.”
"How about something that cannot be found anywhere else?”
“Mm. Hot spring eggs,”
“You guys have hot springs?” With the way your eyes twinkled with interest, Leona couldn’t help but give in.
“No, it’s a volcano…”
Your ‘interview’ stretched out for far longer than five minutes, eventually jumping from general knowledge to Leona’s own experience with the place he grew up at.
“Sure, the sunset is beautiful, but the real show begins when night falls. All kinds of stars come out, perfect for sentimental beings like you.”
“I don’t believe that you’ve never looked at them before.” You challenged.
Leona scoffed, reaching to scratch the back of his ear. “Only as a kid. It gets boring.”
“The privilege is showing, your highness,” you sighed wistfully, angling your head so you were gazing at the bright sky. “I wish we had stars here too.”
“If you really want to see them, I can bring you there next time.”
Your face lightened up.
“Of course, it comes with a price.”
You rolled your eyes. “And what will it be?”
A dismissive hum. “I’ll decide later.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it then.” You started packing your things, missing the way Leona’s tail swished. Even if you had noticed, you probably wouldn’t have understood what it meant. Rook tittered into his palm as he watched on.
“Leaving so soon? I expected more questions,” Leona said.
“I'd rather not get on your bad side by keeping you away from your precious nap. I’ll come to you if I need anything—“ your words were interrupted with a sharp hiss. In your careless movements, the paper managed to slice through your skin, leaving a stinging cut.
Leona picked up the smell immediately, his eyes trained on your finger. The slit was unnoticeable at first, but red eventually started to bloom around it.
“Tsk. How careless are you?” He jumped onto his feet and snatched your hand, observing the cut. Your eyes danced between his face and the wound, much like a flustered rabbit.
“It's just a cut.” You started, trying to hide your hand. But his grip on you was strong, albeit not enough to hurt.
“No it's not. You could get an infection and end up troubling me again. I’ll get you bandaged up.” He began walking with his hand still holding your wrist, pulling you along.
You took advantage of the situation and dived into another round of questions for your project, and Leona, irritated that he might seem, answered them accordingly.
As the two of you neared the building Rook was in, his eyes suddenly shot up, practically shooting daggers at a particular window.
“What’s it?” You stood on your tiptoes. There was no one behind the glass.
His features remained hardened for a moment before he relaxed his shoulders. “…Nothing. You were sayin’?”
Rook waited a few seconds to reemerge again. Although you’d already vanished from sight, he had already gathered all that he needed: the lion had been captivated by none other than the magic-less prefect, and he barely needed his instincts and observations as a hunter to confirm that.
5.
It wasn’t that you hated group work. If anything, you enjoyed having someone share the workload. But when your group mates were none other than the red & blue duo from Heartslabyul plus a cat-shaped trouble magnet, you would really rather be left alone.
“We should make a body swapping potion. I bet it’ll be fun if Riddle and Floyd exchanged personalities.” Ace suggested with that look of his that often preceded undesired circumstances. You were heading to your next class along with the wave of students in the corridor.
“Can you please take this test seriously? I can’t get another fail!” Deuce slapped the back of Ace’s head, causing the redhead to stagger forward. A few students turned their heads around in curiosity, but most were already familiar with the two's antics.
Crewel had given each group the mission to brew from scratch one of the potions mentioned in the textbook as a part of the term test, not knowing what a mistake it was to leave the power of decision-making to you lot.
“How about a potion that can make all food taste like Tuna?” Grim asked, tail brushing your neck as he perched himself on your shoulder.
“Just ask Trey to do that for you.” You commented, not bothering to look up from the testbook in your hands.
“You’re right, henchman! Let’s go right now!”
“Focus on the test first, will you?” Ace was the one to complain this time, earning a hiss from Grim.
“Let’s narrow it down to potions that are easy to make. It’ll be more convenient if the ingredients can be acquired in the botanical garden.” Deuce went around the bickering duo to peek over your shoulder.
The mention of the botanical garden reminded you of a certain lazy lion. Being caught up in the test had kept you from meeting Leona in your free time. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for a whole week already. It didn’t help that he was in another year and had entirely different classes.
Perhaps you could pay him a visit later, but it’s not as if he would miss you or something. A foreign sadness crept up on you. You shook the thought off and opted to focus on the book instead.
It seemed that fate preferred otherwise, because a gust of wind carried Ruggie's laughter to you, followed by a gruntle from– speak of the devil– Leona. Your eyes were already searching for him through the passing crowd before you could contain your curiosity. The lurch in your chest told a lot more than you were willing to admit.
Leona, on the contrary, didn't need to search at all. His sharp eyes landed on you with infallible precision, as unreadable as ever. If it had been anyone else, you would've raised your hand and greeted them with energy, but this was the same person who once walked past you as though you were a mere stranger, leaving your open palm hanging in the air. As an attempt to preserve your dignity, you decided to avert your eyes.
Anyways, since when did Leona of all people go to classes?
Your heartbeat succumbed to a deafening rhythm the closer he got. Half hopeful and half desperate to suppress it, you held your breath the moment he was close enough that your shoulders touched.
As expected, he did not greet or even address you in any way. But there was something soft touching your cheek, the suddenness making your eye twitch in surprise. It caressed your face almost gently before cool air took its place.
You turned just in time to catch Leona's tail retreating.
–
Engrossed in the contents of the book, you missed all the meaningful gazes being shot around by your friends. Ace and Deuce had been at it for some time, while Grim pretended to understand.
Deuce was positive that he wasn’t on the same channel as Ace. Just earlier, when he’d caught Leona’s tail poking your face, he shot a quick look at Ace. A raised brow, a glance towards you, then back to Ace. It was supposed to mean ‘Did you catch that?’, and Ace took it as ‘Wanna ambush the prefect?’
The resulted mayhem when Ace tackled you was something you never wanted to bring up again.
Now Deuce wasn’t sure what went on between you and the fearsome leader of Savanaclaw, but Ace had an idea or two. Epel and Jack had both commented offhandedly about the weird atmosphere that surrounded you two. Deuce was present both times, but it'd probably flew right over his head.
Deuce wriggled his brows. Do you have any idea?
Ace mirrored him. Dude, what even is that supposed to mean?
Grim’s feigned participation was cut short when he caught sight of two familiar figures entering the canteen. “Hey! What is that sleepyhead doing here?”
All three of you snapped your heads towards the entrance. There stood the spotlight of their discussion, Leona, in his usual rumpled form, half-awake daze, sharp fangs catching the chandelier’s light as he yawned.
“First he heads to class, now he’s coming to the canteen himself. What’s up with that guy?” Grim gasped dramatically. “Is he plotting something again?”
“He’s not,” you came to his defense with suspicious rapidness. “Plus, what is there to plot about?”
“Mm. You have a point, henchman.”
“Alright,” Ace held his fist out. “Loser buys lunch. Rock paper scissors!”
Grim let out a shrill laugh as Deuce stared at his sole open palm in defeat. It wasn’t your fault that he only ever played paper.
While your cat proceeded to go off on a tangent the today's menu, you gazed over at the growing masses of students.
“So,” Ace craned his head. “Have you chosen the potion or are we going with body swapping?”
“Or the tuna one!”
“Neither.” You tore your eyes away and turned the book around. “We’re making a flower-growing potion—“
They groaned loudly.
“—because it’s easy to make. Do you want to pass or not?” You insisted.
“I would rather be well-fed! Flowers are stu- FNNGA!”
Grim jumped a good feet in the air when someone slammed their lunch on your table, his fur standing tall in alert. Leona sank onto Deuce’s seat, while Ruggie took the spot next to Ace. “You should try to be gentler, Leona-san.”
Before the lion could answer, Grim stood up and yelled, “Hey! That’s Deuce’s seat!”
“Yea? He’s tiny enough to squeeze in somewhere.” Leona said nonchalantly. There was a curiously excessive amount of meat in his dish. After a beat, he turned to you. “What’re you up to?”
Ace resisted the urge to tell him off, preferring to indulge in your interaction to preserve Deuce’s interests.
“Potion test. What, have you missed me?”
“A lil’ bit.”
That seemed to catch you off-guard. Ace snorted in his attempt to hold in a laugh, and received a kick under the table from Ruggie.
As you tried to come up with a response, he leaned in and grabbed your book. “Making something?”
“The one for growing flowers. Its ingredients are the easiest to find.”
“Ah. I know where you can find them in the botanical garden. I’ll show you later.” He closed the book and slid it across the table.
“Wouldn’t I be invading your precious rest?”
“Then you’ll just have to catch up and be quick.”
Just then, Deuce returned with an expression twisted between confusion and betrayal. Ace barely felt guilt-- there were many things he had to discuss with Deuce (and Grim, though he seemed ignorant).
For now, he just let the pouting boy squeeze in beside him and quietly observed Leona and you throughout lunch, utilizing whatever knowledge he had about love to analyze the situation. He picked up on the way you took Leona’s vegetables without having to ask and how you slapped his hand away when he reached for the meat on your plate. Occasionally he would throw in a snarky comment that aimed to drive you up and wall, and smirk when it succeeded.
And those looks, sevens. If Ace had to watch for a minute longer he might have to puke in his lunch. He reckoned that he’d already seen enough before turning to address Deuce, who was still hung up on his seat being taken.
It felt great, holding this kind of knowledge over you. If he played his cards right, he might even get some benefits out of it.
“Dude, what’s with that creepy smirk on your face?” Ruggie pointed out suddenly.
Ace shrugged, “Nothing. You’ll know sooner or later.”
6.
Ruggie was the first to know.
Leona had been upfront and rather transparent about his feelings, but the hyena had long before noticed the shifts in Leona’s attitude towards you. It was hard not to when he was the one kicking him awake and dragging him to class everyday. Leona's actions spoke a lot more than words could, and the occasional passing glances were impossible to ignore.
When Ruggie confronted him about it, he admitted it while making it sound as casual as he could. Ruggie never for a second bought his nonchalance.
And it was great, knowing that his dorm leader wasn’t a stone-cold heartless jerk. It was both leverage and great material for teasing even when Leona would threaten to tape his mouth shut.
That was until the people came in. First it was Jack, then it was Epel, then the many other friends and acquaintances who wanted first-hand information on Leona’s love life. Even underclassmen whom he’d only seen around campus approached him. At first it was a great source of income— nothing came without a price after all— but when it began to interfere with his work, it didn’t feel so satisfying anymore.
If Leona would just make it official, it would make Ruggie’s life so much easier. But no, that lion was so stubborn that he hadn’t even confessed his feelings yet. And he doubted that you were any wiser.
Now Ruggie knew better than to stick his nose where he didn’t belong. There were countless ways in which things could go wrong and he really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Leona’s wrath. Yet if they went right, he could get those nosy students off his back and end the torture of seeing you dance around each other like two dumbasses.
No, he wasn’t concerned about your (or Leona’s, for that matter) love life at all. He just wanted Leona to spend more time with you so he could catch a break.
Plus it’d put Leona in a good mood, and that’s really all he could ask for.
As usual, Leona’s room was disheveled when Ruggie entered, a chess board lying at the end of the bed while its rightful owner was snoozing, wrapped inside a blanket like a burrito. With light steps he lurked further in, inhaled deeply, and flung the file toward the sleeping lion with all his might.
Leona’s hand shot out from the blanket and caught the document mid-air. “What did I say about interrupting my naps, Bucchi?”
“That I should never wake you even if the sky’s falling down?”
As Leona stretched his limbs after the satisfying rest, the bed seemed to shrink in comparison. “You better have a good reason then.” He said mid-yawn, opening the file to read the papers inside. He was supposed to pick them up from Crowley, but decided that they weren’t important enough to warrant his presence.
Well, here goes nothing. “I take it that you haven’t heard then.”
“Heard what.”
“That the prefect is leaving soon,” Ruggie walked around the room to pick up the miscellaneous items on the floor, unfazed under the lion’s relentless glare. “Crowley found a way to send them back to wherever they came from. They’ve already started packin’, emptying the building and all.”
The silence was heavy. A heavy cloak of tension draped over the room.
“No,” Leona turned in his bed. “If they really were leaving, they would’ve told me.”
“Yea, but why?” Ruggie pushed, stifling a titter at the way Leona's tail swayed to and fro in growing agitation. “It’s not like you’re close or anything.”
Leona opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. A laugh startled out of him. “You’re fucking with me, Bucchi. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
"Whatever, man. I've said all I have to say." Ruggie took a peek of his meticulously concealed expression. It didn't matter that he wouldn't believe it now. He'd planted a fear in his heart, and fear was a vicious, powerful thing. He did one more round around the room, decided that Leona wasn't going to say anything else, and headed for the door.
“Y’know, I’m just saying, but we don’t know when, or if they will come back, so maybe you should get off that— okay! Stop throwing shit at me! ” Ruggie scurried out with his tail between his legs, cursing under his breath.
“The things I do for these dumbasses… they better pay me ten donuts if it works– no, twenty!”
—
The blanket was starting to feel constricting. Leona kicked it off of him and reluctantly opened his eyes, now wide awake and ruminating on what Ruggie had just said.
You're leaving.
He rolled over and turned on his phone– something he almost never did. There were over a hundred unread emails and messages, mostly from home, but he ignored them all and found your contact after some scrolling. The last time you'd texted had been about his absence at the prefects' meeting, and he'd left you on read. In fact, the conversations were mostly one-way, with occasional 'ok's and insincere emojis dispersed on his side of the screen.
It wasn't that you didn't talk a lot. You usually met up in person, and if he really needed you, he could just call you, though that was not an usual occurrence.
"It's not like you're close or anything."
His eyes flew up to your status. Last online: 6 hours ago. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, then retreated.
So what if you were really leaving? It shouldn't matter to him. You were just someone he tolerated more than most, and he'd known from the beginning that you didn't belong here. There had always been an expiration date on your stay. The horror of you suddenly vanishing from his life shouldn't be this hollowing.
But it was very, very hollowing, and very, very real. Perhaps a part of him had always thought that everything would stay the same– you and him here, where he was far enough from home that he could forget his empty, meaningless title as the second prince, the unwanted son, where he could rest knowing that nothing, and no one, could take you away from him.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there was nothing he could do, and he was destined to lose you the way he'd lost everything he'd ever wanted to someone else.
Or maybe– there was a tiny voice at the back of his head– maybe he still wanted to try and fight against it, as pointless as it sounded. Deep down, he only knew two things: that he would never forgive himself if he just let you slip away, and that you were always worth trying for.
Stupid herbivore, always planting this stupid hope in his heart.
He all but hopped off the bed, and pointedly ignored Ruggie's smirk as he made a run for the mirror chamber.
–
Trapped on all sides with arms so sore you could barely lift them up, you reckoned that the decision to deal with all this by yourself was a great mistake.
There was old and new furniture occupying the spaces around you, and some more that were stuck on the porch, all demanding your attention. You’d naively thought that the unpacking and moving would take no time. And now it was dusk already, and you’d barely gone through half of the deliveries.
After what had probably been months of requesting and protesting, Crowley finally allowed you to buy some new furniture for your dorm with the school’s money. It’d felt like winning a long, taxing battle, finally able to bid farewell to the drawers that wouldn’t open and the chairs that wobbled.
It was all fine until the furniture came. You’d been in class when the driver rang, and by the time you returned, he'd already left, leaving the heavy boxes outside the door.
Perhaps you really should’ve called some friends from Savanaclaw that were strong enough to help. Jack, for one. Maybe even the unmotivated dorm leader. Anyone would be a much better help than Grim, really, who was probably outside the building trying to claw his way into the unopened boxes.
In the midst of your wallowing, you failed to pick up Grim’s sharp yell, only the slam of the front door that shook the whole building. A scolding formed on your tongue, but quickly dissolved when you heard heavy footsteps come up the stairs. Squeezing your way through the furnishings, you poked your head out of your room and waited.
The stomps came closer, stopped. A pause later, Leona came around the corner, mane disheveled and eyes flying around, almost in panic. When they landed on you, his shoulders sank in relief.
“Leona? Wh-”
“Thank the sevens,” He marched up to you in a few strides, and when he’s close enough, his arms suspended in the air, reaching for a part of you that he could touch. After a long moment, he stuck them back to his sides.
Emerald eyes landed on the disastrous scene inside the room, especially the emptied shelves and belongings piled in a corner. Something strained passed over his features.
Once you got over the initial shock, you remembered what you’d just been thinking of. “Hey, now that you're here, do you think you can help me move-”
“Don’t leave.”
You blinked. “What?”
He clicked his tongue in annoyance, brows knitted in a frown. “Don’t make me say it again… I can’t believe you decided to keep me in the dark.”
You looked inside the room and back at him. “I mean, it’s not that big of a deal.”
“What if it is for me?” With a gentle hesitation that you’d never seen him exhibit, he reached for your hand. Your heart skipped when he brought your knuckles to his lips, his gaze solely focused on you. He’d always loved lingering around your personal space, but not like this. Not with his feelings being put on display, like a show you weren’t supposed to see.
“I came here in such a rush that I didn’t even have time to think over what to say. Just…” he closed his eyes. “Reconsider your leave. Please. Or at the very least, stay for a few more weeks. You can’t just stumble into my life and leave without a sign. I don’t even want to imagine returning to a life without you. For this once, I need you to choose me.”
And then, as if realizing his unusual display of vulnerability, his face hardened up. “...Look, I rarely ask anything of anyone. Whatever deadly grip you have on me, you gotta be responsible for it.”
You sucked in a breath, processing his abrupt spill of feelings, before lowering your head. For a moment he took the trembling of your shoulders as you crying, but soon enough he recognized the peals of laughter that fell out of you. If he hadn’t just laid his heart out in front of you, he would’ve taken the time to indulge in the sound that he loved so much.
“Is this funny?” He scowled.
“Mm. No,” you jutted your head towards your room. “Did you think I was leaving?”
Confusion passed over his face. “Of course. You have everything packed, and Crowley…”
He trailed off, the gears in his head turning. Suddenly it all became clear to him. The new stuff laying around. The absence of your clingy friends. The simple fact that no one seemed to know that you were 'leaving'. After a moment, something akin to fury dawned on his expression. “…has never actually been helpful. Damn it, Bucchi.”
Your heart dipped when he removed his hand from around your wrist, ruffling his long locks. “Just a house makeover then. Got it. Forget about it. Bye.”
“Wait, no!” You rushed in front of him, blocking his exit. “What about all the stuff you just said?”
He raised a brow, feigning ignorance, and earned a roll of your eyes, “Well, I’m not letting them slide. I’m not going anywhere, at least not yet.” You thought for a moment. “The truth is, I haven’t decide if I want to leave. I’ve built so much around here that it’ll just be like leaving another home. But if it soothes you, I’m sure the day I have to choose is still far away from us. So, in the meantime…” You reached for his hand in the same manner, kissing the knot of his knuckle. His ears twitched, giving away his carefully concealed emotions. “Let me be responsible for the turmoils in your heart?”
“About damn time.” Leona moved in, this time landing the kiss on your lips, and his smile spread into it easily, like a lovesick lover returning home.
summary: leona reckoned that bringing you home for the holiday was not the best idea, especially when you started rambling on about how amiable his brother was.
note: some good ol’ hurt/comfort for my favorite lion
Leona, head in his hand, silently regretted having brought you home for the two-week break.
To be fair, he never would’ve approved it, let alone suggested it. But the only alternative you had was to stay at one of Rook’s villas, and that peeved Leona in more ways than he cared to admit.
Mostly he worried that you wouldn’t get along with his family (because he never could), while a smaller part was concerned that you would be scared off by their… forcefulness.
All of that went out of the window as he sat across you at the dinner table, waiting for the moment his patience snapped so that he could drag your ass back to his room. It only took one day for you to get chummy with Farena and his wife, while Cheka had long been planning your wedding.
Well, that’s not surprising. You managed to sneak your way into his heart after all, so it should really be within expectation that you managed to steal theirs.
What was surprising though, was that Farena would take so much of a liking to you that he busted out one of the best (and strongest) fruit wines from the cellar after dinner. What was more surprising was that you accepted.
So now he was watching his brother and his wife struggle with the most basic of human abilities, speech, while you babbled on about your misadventures in NRC, your sobriety thrown out of the window.
“And then the chandelier fell-” You hiccuped. “-fell on Ace, and stirred up a whole dust storm in the canteen!”
Farena inhaled loudly through his mouth before chortling. All his royal burdens, which were normally so indivisible from him, seemed to have vanished in his drunkenness, though Leona reckoned that he never had many to begin with.
The heavy door was pushed open, and Cheka poked his disheveled head in. “Oji-tan! Here you are! Can you tuck me to bed?”
Leona groaned and turned away in his seat, vaguely gesturing at the inebriated couple. “No. Ask your parents.”
“Ah, dar…darling,” Farena spotted his doe-eyed son and tapped his wife, attempting to rouse her from her haze, and made a series of incomprehensible hand gestures. Then he nodded and stood upright, swaying a little as he walked towards Cheka with open arms.
“It’s a pity, my dear,” she clasped her hand atop yours, face still raw from all the laughing. “But we should call it a day. Let’s talk- talk more tomorrow, ‘kay?”
“That sounds amazing, your majesty!” You saluted, earning an unbecoming snort from the queen.
“And you, Leona, escort our lovely guest to their room, ‘kay?”
Leona hummed half-heartedly.
The family proceeded to trudge out of the dining room, leaving only him, you, and a few guards inside. After a beat, he started, “Had fun?”
“Oh, so much fun.” You giggled and reached for the bottle of wine. He snatched it out of your reach in a flash.
“Hell no. We’re leaving.” He walked around the table and grabbed your elbow, hoisting you up.
“Ugh, the floor is melting…” you muttered before tripping over your own feet. If it weren’t for his iron grip, you would’ve face-planted onto the hard floor.
Soon as you regained your footing, you threw your arms around his neck, “Pleaze carry me.”
He clicked his tongue and pushed a few stray strands out of your face. “No.”
“Pleaseee?” You smushed your cheek against his shoulder, your hold around him loosening as a telltale sign of falling asleep. The tips of your ears were tinted red by the wine, and your body felt like hot iron against his.
The next thing he knew, he was cradling you in his arms as he paced the long corridors of the palace. Outside, Sunset Savannah was but a shadow against the night sky. It wasn’t totally dark, but a deep blue canvas with large and small stars embedded across it. The world out there had an unfathomable vastness, ever-expanding, never-ending. But right now, all Leona could focus on was your short breaths and attempts to snuggle even deeper into his embrace.
“Stop wriggling,” he said.
“You’re so mean…” you murmured, letting your arm fall limply to your side.
“This is what you signed up for.”
“Yea, I know."
He turned a few corners and finally got to his room. It was many times bigger than what he had back at NRC, but the space had always been suffocating. With your presence though, it felt a little more pleasant.
Just a little.
“Drink up.” He nudged your feet that were dangling off the side of the bed, offering a glass of cool water. You emptied it in no time.
“Your brother…” you said after leaning back onto the bed, now sounding less like there were sandpapers in your throat. “He’s nicer than I imagined.”
“Yeah?” He replied curtly, shrugging off his top layers so he could get cozy for bed. He had his back to you, but the flutter of his ears indicated that he was listening.
“Mhm. From what you told me, I expected him to be big and scary and unforgiving…” you slurred.
He couldn’t recall what exactly it was that he’d told you, but it must’ve been nothing good. Across the room, you fumbled with the collar of your shirt, trying to get some air. Agitation grew the more he watched. Eventually, he clicked his tongue and helped you release a few buttons.
“But he’s so nice! I mean, he’s a king and all that, but he’s also… not? I dunno. He’s really warm . It’s not awkward talking to him at all,” you grabbed his arm, as if remembering something. Your eyes were almost twinkling from your enthusiasm, and his hand working on your shirt faltered for a split second. “Oh, and he’s bright, y’know what I mean?”
Leona didn’t answer. Of course he knew, he’d been hearing those words since he was born. What a radiant and exuberant boy! He’s sure to lead the country to a great future. All the while he would conceal himself in the shadows, listening in on those ignorant people’s exchanges.
It was only when he opened his mouth to speak that he realized how clenched his jaw was. A sense of unease had crept up on him, and your wobbly voice complimenting all of Farena's virtues swam in his head. No words came, or more precisely, no words that weren’t venomous.
Then, with a start, he realized he hadn't been worrying that you wouldn't bond well with his family at all-- he knew before anything that you would click the moment you met. No, he was just scared that you would come to understand why people compared him with Farena. He was scared you would see him how everyone else did:
Aloof, vicious, not enough.
Buried memories flooded back into him, sharp as a polished knife. He touched the thought of you being on their side like a wound, and it answered with an ache. The pain was so abrupt that he could already feel something hardening within him. He opted to ignore it.
"Move over." He ordered, and you rolled to the other side of the bed. Without another word, he got under the covers and turned his back to you.
Silence seemed to stretch out, filling every corner of the room. Your shallow breaths gradually took on a calmer pace, and Leona thought for a second that you were already out for the count. Then your voice came, quiet but startling.
"Are you mad?"
A pause. "No."
"'Kay," you shuffled, turning to lay on your side. "Are you upset?"
"Go to sleep." He snapped.
"Was it something I said?"
He was partly annoyed, partly confused as to how you managed to notice the shift in his emotions even when you were drunk as a skunk. The space right behind him sank as you hovered over him, watching his side profile. He didn't need to look to know that you were observing him, but he did anyway, glaring back at your wide eyes with an edge impossible to hide.
"Was it the stuff I said about your brother?"
The mention of Farena was like a step on his tail. Leona growled, pulling up the blanket so you would have nothing to look at. "Shut up."
Your arm gave out under you, and you fell back onto the mattress with a huff, creating the illusion that you'd given up. But knowing you, there was no way you would just let this slide.
Predictably, you started moving around again, this time trying to pull him down onto his back. Compared to him, your feeble arms felt even weaker when you were drunk, but you were annoyingly persistent enough that he gave up and complied. A scowl seemed permanently pasted on his countenance. "What."
In the lightless room, Leona had a better look of you than you did him. Your hair was a spectacular mess, spilling over your eyes, in which there was determination, penetrating his soul. He fought the urge to look away, fearing that his feelings, those idiotic fears of his, would somehow reach you.
“C’mon, don’t give me that look,” you scratched the back of your head. “Sure, your brother may be charming and— hey, don’t push me!” You slammed your hands down on either side of his head.
“I swear to the Sevens, if you don’t-”
“No one can hold a candle to you, okay?” You snapped, as if the loudness of your voice could somehow force some senses into him. “No one even comes close. I know you’ve been told otherwise more often than not, but they're wrong. You're not abominable or wretched or lacking or pathetic or whatever the hell it is that they associate you with. Yes, you can be obnoxious and have a shell impossible to crack. Like a... turtle. But I know that deep down, you are not as unkind as they make you out to be.”
You waited and sighed at his silence. “Look, you don’t have to tell me how you feel. I know you hate gushy conversations. Just… I see you, okay? Even when the world doesn’t. And I love every part of you, even the hidden layers. Plus, you do have something your brother doesn’t.”
“And what may that be?” He probed.
You jabbed your finger at his chest. “This.”
“…My heart?”
You blinked, then cleared your throat. “Yea, that too.”
He wasn’t sure where to start, the whole speech you just did, the spontaneous turtle simile, or whatever the hell you meant by ‘that too’. The only thing he could mutter was, “Are you sure you’re drunk?”
“That’s your response?-”
“You just sound really collected-”
“Did you even hear a word I said?”
“Yes, crystal clear. Now sleep.” He grabbed your wrists and pulled, scoffing as you flopped onto him with a yelp.
Calm seconds ticked by as you shifted in his arms, positioned just how you usually were back in his dorm room. The only difference was that his hold was tighter than usual, a silent revelation of the thoughts he couldn't voice.
“For the record,” he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “I don’t give a damn about what anyone has to say about me, except you. So…”
So as long as you’re by my side, I’ll never be afraid.
“…Never compliment my brother in front of me again.”
His words were wasted to the air— you were already gone in the land of Nod, blissfully unaware of the hell of a hangover you were going to go through the next day. A loving sigh escaped Leona as he ran his hand through your hair before dipping his head to kiss your cheek.
“Mm,” he grimaced as the sharp alcohol assaulted his nose. “Remind me to never let you drink again.”
aka a collection of ideas for my childhood friends to lovers leona au / aka my headcanons of the entire life of leona kingscholar. jeez
note: am i dumping all my ideas for this au here because they’re too disorganised and messy that i can’t work out anything but i don’t want to just let them go to waste? yes i am. this au has been tormenting me for weeks but my brain just can’t figure how to seamlessly plan it so chances are i’m gonna put it away. it’s not like i laid awake in bed till 4am because i was thinking about it last night anyways lololololol
i did actually write a bit for this au, which you can find at the end of all the points, but it is unedited and was done before the tamashina-mina event so it’s definitely not perfect. i would be happy if it was readable-
this idea dump is 5.8k (god bless), and the attached work is around 4k? so yea
The story starts when Leona is 8, begrudgingly attending Farena’s coming of age ceremony. Everyone is cheering and celebrating the beloved first prince’s birthday, all the while Leona sulks in the carriage, feeling the acidic jealousy rot in his stomach. He’s never received a celebration this grand in his name before, and he’s certainly never worn something some extravagant, even on his own birthday.
Just as he’s fighting his urge not to jump off of the royal carriage, he’s approached by an eager kid who, judging by appearance, can’t be older than him. they’re putting their short legs to use by chasing the carriage, a bouquet of fresh flowers secure in their grip. Leona thinks at first that it’s yet another present for Farena, but they’re calling for him instead, asking that he take the flowers. So he does, reaching all the way out of the carriage to grab the gift, earning surprised and distraught yells from the guards.
By the time he’s seated and looks back again, they’ve already disappeared in the sea of people.
Leona’s never received anything like this before. People only ever compliment and offer gifts to Farena, fuzzing over his bubbly personality and applauding the grace he presents himself with. Even back when they were faced with their mother’s death from a deadly illness, he was still praised for upholding his dignity and composure, while Leona stood at his side, mourning the death of one of the only people who truly cared about him.
So naturally Leona’s curious about the nameless admirer. And what better way to meet them than to order flowers from each and every florist’s shop in Sunset Savannah to see if they’ll show up for the delivery? It’s a long shot, one that depends entirely on the assumption that they even work at a flower shop and didn’t just buy the bouquet somewhere else. But he’s willing to bet on his luck.
So days passed, Leona’s made like twenty or so orders and his room is filled with foliage, from small pots of plants to tall wide leaves. Kifaji is honestly a bit confused by this, and a lot of guards are saying that he’s throwing an unreasonable tantrum. But never-mind them, because he eventually gets what he wants.
So on a fine early afternoon another delivery comes. This time it’s a whole cart filled with blooms of different colors. Sort of looks like a whole bush has been moved onto it. It’s so huge that he can’t see the person rolling the cart, but then he lolls his head to the side and spots those familiar eyes, the ones he’s been wondering about when he’s wide awake at midnight.
And guess what? They’re excited to see him too. So much so that they topple over and cause the entire cart to fall forward. The bush cascades onto him like a waterfall, but luckily the cart doesn’t crash him, but instead fall backward with a loud CRASH. Kifaji almost has a heart attack at that.
At Leona’s command the retainers and chamberlains leave him alone with the kid, and they get to know each other, like where the kid’s from, why they gave him the flowers etc. Turns out they wanted to thank him for the clothes donation he did for the poor kids living near Elephant’s Legacy a while back then.
Leona doesn’t have the heart to tell them that the donation wasn’t his idea, that he only said ‘whatever’ when the tailor suggested that he gave the ill-fitting outfits to kids in need.
Wanting to spend more time with his new ‘admirer’, he ditches class and sneaks them all around the palace, showing them things that have their eye’s sparkling in awe, but especially his personal achievements. They’re amazed by all of it: where people states that his interest in chess is somewhat boring (even though it’s just because he’s not as energetic and sociable as his brother), they think that it’s cool and smart. Even though he doesn’t like painting as his brother and father do, they don’t judge him for it, but instead agree that spending time in the library reading ancient books is more worthwhile.
Then they move on to talk about magic. Leona is obviously proficient, but they on the other hand actually don’t possess it. At least not yet. So they’re like ‘omg you have a unique magic already can you show me’ and that’s when Leona hesitates. He has endless ways to impress them, but his unique magic has always been something that others frown upon. It’s destructive, it’s messy, and it’s not beautiful. But you insist anyways, and young Leona decides, what the hell, screw it.
And to his surprise, they’re not a bit terrified. Quite the contrary, as you goes off on a tangent talking about how it could come in handy in so many situations.
And that’s the start of a precious friendship! Leona decides to order flowers regularly from their shop alone, and they get to know each other a lot better from there onward.
Years pass and they’re basically besties now. The young florist visits at least once a week, and the second prince is always more cheery and energised when they’re hanging out.
He tells them all about his life, how his mother had been sick for as long as he could remember and how her death took a toll on him. How Kifaji is pretty much the only chamberlain that doesn’t talk behind his back. How the others do it all the time just because Farena shines far brighter than he does.
The florist talks behind their backs as revenge, and it makes him feel just a bit better. And proud too.
It’s great knowing that someone cares and appreciates him. It makes him want to keep trying.
Similarly they let him into their life. They show them where they live, which is somewhere near the border between the bustling city and the neglected neighbourhoods, the poorer villages that fail to catch up with the Sunrise City and other major cities’ developments. Due to the country’s insistence to uphold the ‘coexistence with nature’ mission, little progress is resulted in those areas, and the disparity is beginning to look like a wide canyon.
Having lived in the palace for most of his life, this is the first time Leona learns of the parts of Sunset Savannah that the royals don’t talk about.
And as a result of the slow, almost stagnant growth of these places, infrastructures are nearly unaccessible. Even if people get sick (and they get sick quite a lot) they don’t get much medical support, at least not nearby.
One of the victims is the florist’s mother— and this is entirely the reason why they need to be working at such a young age. She’s been ill for a long time and is bed-ridden for the better part of a day, so they have to support the family. There is little medicine they can get their hands on, and even if they do get something, nothing really works.
With such a important mission on their shoulder, they’ve never really considered what they wanted to be in the future. The immediate goal was to have their mother get better, and to keep the family business going.
Looking at the ghastly lives of the people is sort of a reality check for Leona. And that’s when he begins to feel an ambition grow inside him.
He wants to change things, because no one in the palace seems to care about the people who are suffering so long as they’re out of sight.
The first time he raises the idea with his father, the king does take his words into consideration, but ultimately decides that it’s more important to preserve the country’s culture. Plus the councillors / politicians etc don’t agree with his views anyways, claiming that he’s too young to understand that ‘some sacrifices have to be made’.
Which is absurd, because he’s looking right at one of the sacrifices right now, and it’s their most important friend, who’s forced to provide for their family all on his own.
Leona doesn’t give up. He goes on learning more about the country he lives in, spends a little more time away from the glorious Sunrise City, and comes up with plans to improve Sunset Savanna. They’re not perfect, most of them are not totally feasible, but at least he’s doing something. Even Kifaji gives him his own opinions at times, unlike the other chamberlains who dislike that he’s trying to upend how the country’s always been operated.
All the while the florist gives him all the support he needs. Even when it feels like the majority of the world is against him at times, with them by his side, he feels invincible, like he can really change the world if he wants to.
Them making flower crowns for him as he works on his projects… that’s it. That’s the image.
Leona is maybe around 14, 15. His father falls ill (why is everyone sick in this story…) and there is a dire need of a new ruler to watch over the country in his hopefully momentary absence.
A king. Leona’s spent his whole life looking at one, and though he’s far from a mature adult, he tries his hand at politics anyways, hoping that he at least has a shot at becoming one in the near future. But everyone has already had their pick, and it’s none other than Farena. Farena, who rejects Leona’s ideals like everyone else.
“It’s simply too complicated”, he says, but Leona doesn’t see how hard it can be to take a new path.
But he’s still trying, at least for his dear friend. His dear friend, who’s been sticking with him through all the doubts and rejections. His dear friend, who’s promised time after time that they’ll never leave him or turn their back to him. His dear friend, who is there for some of the worst nights he has, comforting him as he winds down from nightmares. His dear friends, who always smells like a walking garden. His dear friend, whom he inevitably falls for.
At the same time, a romance is blooming somewhere else in the palace. Farena has fallen in love with Malaika, and after perhaps a few years of dating on the down low, they are ready to get married. And obviously this is good news. People see this as another indication that Farena will be a great king, seeing as he’s already had so much planned before him.
It’s like they don’t even plan to give Leona a chance.
But as always, his friend somehow sees the better side of things as they always do, telling him not to lose all hope yet.
Sometimes it feels like they’re the only person keeping him going. Would be. sad if they were to. Leave him. (clear throat) Anyways.
In the meanwhile, he decides to take advantage of the wedding. Perhaps the passionate atmosphere can assist him in his own romantic endeavours. Though it’s usually unusual and almost unorthodox for a commoner to attend a royal wedding, they get a pass since Kifaji assigns them to help with the decorations.
And it kind of does. He gets to dance with them, though the music is way too quick for him to really soak in the moment. He gets to see up close how there are stars in their eyes as they watch the bride and groom exchange their vows. Eventually, during dinner, he becomes annoyed by the other guests’ heartless questions about his life and sneaks away with his friend. It ends with a few guards hot on their tails, and in a moment of fight or flight, they dart into one of the empty rooms to hide.
Which just so happens to be the throne room. There’s no one around to berate him anyways, so Leona decides to stride towards the throne and take a seat on the gilded surface, overseeing the now vacant room. There seems to be power infused in this simple throne; the power he needs to make a change in the world, to make the ignorant listen to not just him, but also the demands of the people.
As if that’s not enough, they move to his side and jokingly calls him ‘your majesty’ and his heart does a whole somersault. Even though it’s just for a moment, he feels like he has everything he needs in his hand: the person he loves, and the throne that he so deserves.
And really, he could’ve just told them his feelings there and now, but he’s so caught up in the moment that he decides to postpone it. He’ll have the opportunity to do it in the future anyways. He’s certain that they’ll stay with him till the end of time.
When the invitation letter from NRC comes, Leona doesn’t bat an eye. There’s nothing the school can teach him that he hasn’t already mastered. Plus he’d rather stay here with his friend than go somewhere else all on his own.
Not to mention he’s busy trying to persuade those in power to agree with his vision about rebranding the country, which has been largely unsuccessful. Farena has been busy attending to other matters, and though Malaika sees where Leona’s coming from, she too is burdened by her share of responsibilities.
Time after time the officials have described his ideas as foolish, irresponsible, unreasonable, as if they still see him as an incapable child. Meanwhile it seems like they go along with everything Farena does, even if it jeopardises the livelihood of those under poverty line. All the while his friend's mother withers away. Watching the impending death looms over them places a knife in his chest. He doesn’t want to see them grief like he did when his mother left.
Leona can’t help but feel frustrated. Years of hard work hasn’t led him anywhere. As a kid he was more often frowned upon than not, but now that he was a teenager he still hasn’t gained the respect he deserves. Projects after projects are banned, to the point where the council members groan every time he shows up to their meetings. His ambition starts to dwindle. It feels like he’s trapped in the same tunnel with no hope of escaping.
Well, except when he’s with the only person who understands him. Even when they’re spending most of their time taking care of their mother now, he still derives strength from the occasional letters exchanged between them. (i loveeeee letters i love epistolary fics)
The pent-up frustration eventually leads him to do something rash: he challenges Farena for the position of Sunset Savanna’s ruler. To anyone else, it sounds like an absurd comedy. Leona— 16 and still growing— is challenging Farena, who not only is a decade older but also has more experiences than he does in managing a country.
I feel like challenges to the throne can go two ways; either they settle this with a physical fight or a peaceful voting. Obviously the former is going to hurt a lot more but I feel like it’ll be more impactful…
So say the rules require them to settle this with a fight. Which now that I think about would be more reasonable because there’s no way Leona will get enough votes anyways. So under a stormy night (for dramatic effects) the two brothers have an inevitable clash, and this isn’t just for the title of king.
It’s also the anguish Leona feels from living in Farena’s shadow all these years. His anger at the unattainable standard he has created for him. His jealousy at all the love that’s been thrown his way, all the attention their father has given him. But also the sadness from having him as a brother, from the lack of connection between them. It’s never really Farena’s fault, more like since the day Leona realized why the guards were more concerned with a paper cut on Farena’s hand than half of his room dissolved into sand, a crack formed in their relationship, and it only grew larger until it’s an impossible canyon.
The ending is written in stone. The guards and Malaika watch on, the spectators sparse and few. They’d rather not have the people know about such dispute within the royal family. The rain washes away the beads of red on the ground, but not the bruises on each of them’s flesh, and certainly not the gaping wounds in their hearts. Even as Leona is pushed to the corner, he doesn’t let himself stay down, his aching legs and sore arms be damned. And with him not admitting defeat, Farena can’t end the fight.
In the end, it is Kifaji who pulls him away before he’s injured beyond recognition, but even then he thrashes and attempts to push him away. “Let go of me”, “I’m not losing”. The words scratch his throat as he yells. Finally, Kifaji lets go of his arm, his face twisted in hurt.
“Tone it down, my prince! You’re being difficult!” It hurts him as much as it does Leona, but he goes on, “There’s no point.”
It feels like yet another inescapable twist. Kifaji, who’s always given him the silent approval. Kifaji, who treats him to sautéed mutton every time he’s faced with defeat. Kifaji, whom he trusts with his life. It turns out that he’s just like everyone else.
That day, it’s not just his relationship with Farena that shatters, but also the bond he shared with Kifaji.
Allowing no one near him, Kifaji has no choice but to visit his only friend. They rush with him back to the palace upon hearing about everything that’s happened, and feels their heart lurch uncomfortably at the sight of Leona’s battered state.
With utmost precision, they clean and bandage his wounds like how they wrap papers around bunches of flowers. The silence stretches, as if the moment it’s broken, the tears welling in their eyes will fall uncontrollably.
And so neither of them speak a word. Once they’re done with throwing away the bloodied towels, Leona lets his head loll onto their shoulder. Even in their presence it feels like his heart is hardening into a rock, one that upon being crushed, will never be recovered again. The night embraces them; two souls beaten down by life, robbed of their hopes and dreams.
Leona will never admit it, but that night, he holds their hand like it’s his only lifeline.
In the end, the thing that stomps on his aspirations is but a little child.
Cheka is what Malaika and Farena decide to call him. The young, adorable son of the king (in all but name anyways), who is also a promise that Leona shall never get the throne.
It’s… devastating. His steely, cold eyes are fixed unblinkingly on the snoring infant in his arms. Cheka had been crying non-stop in the middle of the night, craving his mother’s embrace, but Malaika is caught up in a meeting. As it turns out, funnily enough, he only goes quiet when he’s shoved into Leona’s arms.
Leona wills himself to feel hatred, to feel spite, but nothing comes out but for a single tear that rolls down his face. The only thing eating him up inside is pity for himself.
He feels lost. For the longest time he’s felt like he’s playing on the losing team, like the game’s rigged, but to think that the definite indication of his defeat is a young child?
The walls of the palace close in on him. Any second now they’ll come crashing down. Would anyone notice if he’s buried under debris? Probably not. The beloathed second prince, the disappointment in everyone’s eyes.
Is there any point in trying?
As hopelessness engulfs him, his only hope is to call for the only person left in his life who would still back him up. After all, they’ve promised time after time that they wouldn’t give up on them both. Hours tick by; he paces in his room, feeling every hair on his skin. There seems to be a predator in the corner of his room, looming over him, waiting to catch him in a moment of weakness.
He waits, and waits some more. When the guard returns empty-handed, he goes there by himself.
When was the last time they met? Right. Last month, when Leona asked the royal healer to gauge the cause of their mother’s illness. Dread overcomes him as he nears the shabby shop. Paired with the crumbling depression he’s been feeling the whole day, he won’t be surprised if the ground under him caves in swallows him whole.
It’s empty. The wooden sign says ‘closed’. There’s no light from the second floor, where they live. The flowers in front of the shop has withered. It looks vacant, deserted. Coincidentally, that’s also how Leona feels.
They’re just … gone. No one has idea where they’ve gone to; all of their neighbours claim that they just disappeared one day, like they were taken by the wind. Leona sends out anyone who’s not caught up in caring for the newborn prince to look for them, but to no avail. He has no idea what has happened to them, or whether they’re even still— alive.
The thought makes him sick to the stomach.
He waits for days. Weeks. Then he realises that he’s truly alone. For the first time in his life, there’s no one left in his life who know him.
Call it impulse, call it his mind playing tricks. He doesn’t have it in him to think about reason anyways. All he knows is that the longer he stays in this cage of a palace, he’ll suffocate.
A fortnight later, he digs out the crumbled, forgotten invitation letter from his drawer, and leaves for the college far away from his homeland.
Three or four years of school. That’s quite enough to make someone become a bitter, cynical person. That’s where Leona finds himself anyways, lazing his time away at NRC. He doesn’t technically like it here— too many people, too noisy— but it’s better than being stuck in the palace, forced to come face to face with the fact that he’s born with the short end of the stick.
Classes are largely meaningless. He doesn’t have to listen to a single lecture to get full marks in tests and exams. Leading his dorm and the Magift club doesn’t give him as much satisfaction as he initially expected. Most days it feels meaningless to do anything, but it doesn’t kill him. Whatever sadness or problems that come his way can be solved by a nap. If they persist, then two naps. Eventuality they will leave him alone; there isn’t much point in trying anyways.
Why the botanical garden? Well, it’s just a personal choice of his. Maybe it also has something to do with the fact that the mix of flowers and grass reminds him of a softer, better time. Not that he will ever admit it. If anyone asks him why he knows so much about botany, floriculture and all that, he can just brush it off by saying that he’s spent too much time in the garden.
He doesn’t really miss anything. Or anyone. This life he’s leading is not ideal, but, again, it’s just enough to get by.
At least he’s not totally lonely. There’s always someone bothering him, like Ruggie right now, who’s berating him for being late for the preparation of the entrance ceremony.
The corridor is packed with new, curious faces. Most of them seem to recognize the lion beastman and stay out of his way smartly. As he lazily trails behind Ruggie, he hears a bit of commotion coming from just around the corner. Gasps and cusses, and also muttered apologies.
It’s probably nothing, he thinks to himself as he turns— only to come face to face with a stack of books higher than him. It looms over him, threatening to fall directly on his head.
(is this… deja vu?)
Moments before he can feel the impact, Ruggie yells, “Laugh with me!” and manages to balance whoever’s holding the books. “Come on, Leona! We’re already late!”
As he clicks his tongue in annoyance and walks past the faceless student, he hears them mutter a thanks under their breath. It sounds- awfully familiar. Familiar enough to make him swivel around sharply, gaze drilling holes in their back.
“Leona!”
Damn it. He shakes the thought away and follows the hyena instead.
The little encounter gets forgotten in the back of his mind as he prepares to welcome a new group of dorm members. The newbies stand in a crooked queue, turning around and talking to the strangers around them. Some of them are adjusting their robes, the others fidgeting nervously. Whispers fly, most of them speculations of whichever dorm the speakers are about to be sorted in.
It doesn’t surprise him that most his new dorm members look to be physically advantaged. He wouldn’t want it other way; it helps raise his chances of victory in the next Magift tournament.
As he’s about to drift off into dreamland, he hears the next name being called. A name that he hasn’t spoken in years, a name that he’s been trying to bury in his memories.
There’s no mishearing it— his eyes are wide open now, landing on the hooded figure in front of the mirror. Their face is obscured, but then they give their own name to the mirror, and that’s when Leona knows for sure that’s it’s them.
He couldn’t put to words what was happening in his head. Happiness? Surprise? Confusion? An amalgamation of emotions blur within him. He holds his breath, waiting for the announcement of the dorm. What’s it gonna be? No, how even are they here? Have they somehow figured out magic? Where have they even been?
“The shape of thy soul belongs to… Savanaclaw."
Well, he'll be damned.
Immediately after hearing that, their head shoots up, eyes landing on the tall and muscled group of students. For some reasons he cannot fathom, he turns his face to the side, concealing himself. Is it because he's unready to confront a face from the past? Is it because he's hung up on the fact that they left him without a word?
No, it feels more like shame. He isn't sure if he wants to be seen by them in this state. Not yet.
He remains quiet during the trip back to the dorm. Ruggie shoots him a confused glance as he's supposed to give a short speech to welcome the first-year students, but he lets it slide.
Even as he's standing in the very front of the queue, he can make out that distinct flowery scent if he tries. Years of memories come crashing on him, so sudden that he finds himself at a loss of words as he leaves Ruggie to assign the rooms.
He knows there's no point in hiding when he's literally the dorm leader, but the thoughts within him are too much of a whirlwind. Even when he's time after time fantasized about meeting them again, this feels way too sudden. He needs time to untangle his feelings. Maybe then he'll have the guts to face them.
This plan goes down the drain in the end. He hates feeling like a coward, but what he hates even more is that they are literally in the same building as him, and he's knocking himself away. Propelled by nothing but a racing heart, he gets out of bed and down the hallways, coming to a stop in front of a room that he hopes is correct.
He knocks.
Seconds pass. No one seems to be answering. Just as he's about to give up and return to his room, the door is swung open, and in the doorway stands the person that's been weaving in and out of his dreams.
Time has been good to them. Their features have become more defined, and they are holding themselves up with more confidence now. Leona freezes right there like an awkward statue, mouth agape. Words fail him. What is he supposed to say anyways, except that he's missed them?
After a beat, recognition dawns on their face. The beam on their lips is so beautiful it could light up the whole building. They all but throw themselves at them, and Leona stumbles backward from the strength.
What is he to do but to wrap his ams around them as well? It feels like he's back in the palace again, only this time without any sourness coating his tongue.
So they finally get to talk about everything that's happened in the past years. It turns out that one night their mother got dangerously close to the edge of death, and in a moment of bone-chilling fear, they woke up the neighbourhood doctor for help. As usual, he couldn't do anything, but at the sight of their distraught tears, he advised that the two of them go away to this other country, where developments in technology and medicine were more advanced. With no time to waste, he helped them sneak onto the last late night ride out of Sunset Savanna and to the foreign land.
It turned out that there was indeed a possible cure for their mother, but the follow-up treatment was a long, taxing journey. They found a place to stay in, and it took six months for her situation to finally stabalize. By the time they had the time and money to return, Leona was already long gone. All they knew was that he'd gone to a prestigious school for magic users.
With the responsibility to support the family and continue the family business off their back, they could do whatever they want. And, as can be seen, they chose to pick up a few books from the local library and teach themselves magic, all so that they could meet Leona again.
At this, he is once again rendered speechless. All this time they've been giving their all just to get to him, and what has he been doing? Letting time slip through his fingers like sand? Suddenly he feels very, very small standing in front of them.
But as always, they don't push him away even after all this. Because they know the Leona who's buried under all these layesr: the Leona who's unafraid to speak up for his beliefs, the Leona who looks out for those around him, the Leona who never gives up no matter what. They're sure that he can pick himself up again.
And perhaps, with their hand securely in his once more, he can really try again.
I feel that it's a bit obvious that the ending is a bit rushed, even though it's supposed to be the 'to lovers' part in the 'childhood friends to lovers' equation. The truth is that my ideas only reached as far as the point where Leona goes to NRC, so the rest I just came up with on the spot. Not to mention this is just roughly how I imagine the au would go, so there may be plot holes. That being said, here are some other ways the ending could go:
They don't get back together right away, but instead they slowly approach each other again, tip-toeing around each other the whole time. Perhaps they meet when his friend is visiting the botanical garden, because of course they would. Leona is distancing himself a bit cause he doesn't want them to see how he's turned out. But they eventually get familiar with each other again.
Similarly they don't confront each other immediately, but this time Leona's overblot does happen and they show up to stop it. I feel like they'd be disappointed at his ourburst and him using underhanded methods to secure victory, but give them a few scenes and they'll work it out together and Leona will see his faults.
And now onto a little reflection about this au of mine... it's such a precious brainchild of mine I want to cradle it in my arms until it eventually grows up to be an actual fic. But regretfully I have neither the time nor energy to plot everything out, only scattered ideas as you can see. There are quite a lot of things I want to develop in the story:
obviously the relationship between leona and his childhood friend
relationship between leona and kifaji
leona and farena
leona and his parents
leona's backstory, specifically how he became who he is today
the theme of trying again and again
the theme of mutual support in a relationship
Juggling all of these and attempting to expand them to each their full potential have been a challenge. There are also other things that stand in the way, such as how to portray Leona in a young age. Personally I have almost zero recollection of my childhood so I can't help but struggle with balancing the helplessness he feels and the naive hope every child possesses.
But all of those aside, at least I'm putting this au out in the world. Maybe one day I'll get around to making it a real thing :) I hope y'all have enjoyed this mess of an au as much as I do!
If you're interested in the stuff that I came up with for this au weeks ago, it is linked below. JUST A HEADS UP: it's unedited and written before the recent event, so there could be inaccuracies. I also don't like how I've made Leona too bitter for a 8 year old. But feel free to read it and give me a few feedback!
summary: promise rings, some backstory i sprinkled on a whim, a few stuff from the tamashina-mina event. 3k
note: diversity loses! tormented writer posts more leona fluff despite being consumed by angst ideas. @twistedchatterbox gave me the idea of promise rings a while back then so here’s something i made! it’s a bit messy cz i wrote most of this on bus rides lol
This day couldn’t get any better, Leona thought, putting aside the fact that he was at a festival he really didn’t want to attend, and that he had been surrounded by his curious schoolmates the whole day, forcing him into the role of a tour guide. At least he got to show you around the place he’d grown up in, shower you with cuisine after cuisine that you couldn’t find anywhere else, and bring you to a hot spring that made him feel that his bones had been broken down and resembled again, all of which you responded with the utmost enthusiasm and amazement. Despite the love-hate sentiments he held for this place, knowing that you enjoyed the tour put him in quite the good mood.
Also, he was definitely putting ‘roadtrip’ on his non-existent bucket list now.
A content sigh slipped out as he sat sprawled out in his seat, head resting on his fist, a single strand of hair falling over his attentive gaze. Everyone had had their fill at dinner and was enjoying the dance show. Melodies swirled and clashed in the air, accompanied by the soft fluttering of the dancers’ outfits. His focus was, however, not on their flawless performance, but rather on the giggling group in front of the stage.
You were linking arms with Kalim, following his ecstatic steps with a touch of clumsiness. Lilia was linked to your left, even though he was just doing his weird moves that somehow resembled a bird. Grim was somewhere else, struggling to mirror the dancers and trying his absolute hardest not to get kicked at by accident. Once in a while the music would speed up, and you would all scramble to match the tempo, laughing when your legs bumped into each other.
The unbridled bliss on your face was as bright as the afternoon sun. Amidst the collision of songs, he made out your laughs as though they were a melody written especially for him. If the hotel was vacant but for the both of you, he would’ve jumped out of his seat and danced with you just so he could see how much you were enjoying yourself up close. Ideally he would have the song changed to something much gentler for him to soak in the moment under the glorious starry night.
“…Leona, are you listening?” Vil’s voice dragged him out of the little fantasy he was conjuring in his head.
“I stopped listening the moment you brought up your something-something products.” He said, which was only half a lie. Even when he was distracted, he picked up a few lines, like how the climate here could've very well ruined Vil’s skin without the lotions he’d brought and how all the sweating could’ve melted his makeup had they not been waterproof. Basically just different words to show that he’d come prepared.
“Of course you did,” Vil rolled his eyes. Following Leona’s gaze, he glanced back and forth between the trio and the man beside him. “Lilia is quite good at dancing, isn’t he?”
“Yea.” The answer came mindlessly. By the time Leona realized himself, Vil already had that annoying smirk on his face.
Darn you for distracting him.
Vil took a sip out of his glass, letting the fresh juice swirl in his grip. “Even to this day, I still can’t believe that they are into you of all people.”
“Is that jealousy I hear?”
“Not in a thousand years.” He put down the drink. “It’s just that they’re bright and easy-going and all, and you’re… well, you’re you. You act like you don’t want anyone breathing near you most of the time.”
That’s true, to some extent. Leona had found your presence a handful at first, but you managed to sneak into his life anyways.
“But there are times when your feelings become painfully obvious,” as if remembering something, Vil’s assumed an accusatory tone. “Like today, when you made all of us feel like third wheelers while you went on this lovey-dovey date with them. But really, that just proves my point. Whatever doubts that I initially had about you two… they’re wrong.”
“Do you have a point?” Leona frowned. As much as he would like to call him out for sticking his nose into his business, he knew that he was just looking out for you. Ever since VDC, you two had got on friendly terms, and that meant he was going to care for you anytime he saw fit. It was his way of showing his love.
“If you’re really serious about them, you should put a ring on it.”
He’d never turned his head this sharply. “What?”
“Well, not to straight up propose, just get promise rings or something. A lot of my co-stars wear them to show loyalty and devotion. It’s a good way of telling someone that you’re committed.”
“I am committed.” He shifted in his seat. “And they know that.”
“It’s just a suggestion. Take it or leave it.” That was the last thing Vil had to say before Lilia proposed having a karaoke session, forcing him to intervene.
…Of course you knew that he was committed. He’d made it abundantly clear, from remembering every little thing you’d mentioned in passing to showering you with gifts. He showed up to most school events for you, and he stood up for you whenever someone was dumb enough to pick fights. The list went on— surely he’d made it apparent enough how much you meant to him.
So why were you knocking on his door at 2 in the morning, with a hesitation that reminded him of when Cheka would stick his head into his room in the morning to see if he was awake?
“Hey. I know you’d rather sleep by yourself, but I can’t really fall asleep, so I was wondering if you’d have space for one more?”
He rubbed his eyes, brain still a bit fuzzy, and moved to one side of the bed. You scampered inside with the blanket wrapped around you like a cocoon and dipped your weight into the mattress.
“Was the bed uncomfortable?” He asked, spreading his arm so you could roll right next to him.
“No, I just can’t get used to new ones.”
And with that, you were off to dreamland in a few minutes.
The patterned ceiling stared right back at Leona. Where he’d just fallen asleep effortlessly, there was now a recurring thought romping in his mind.
It wasn’t the first time he’d shared a bed with you. As a matter of fact, Ruggie often found him hogging you while he’s napping in the botanical garden, clinging to you like you were a life-sized plush. But most of the time, he was the one initiating it. He’d thought that it was enough of a demonstration of how he wanted you around, but in reality—
“I know you’d rather sleep by yourself.”
Just how did you come to that conclusion? It wasn’t even the first time you’d said something similar. You’d always been on the cautious side, tip-toeing around the topic of intimacy like you were afraid that you’d be ‘too much’.
Perhaps worse still was the fact that he’d never been straightforward about his feelings. They had always been wrapped in other gestures, hidden under layers of seemingly ordinary words. Who was to say that they couldn’t have been lost on you?
“Put a ring on it.”
At the end of the day, it was Vil’s fault for planting the idea in his head.
—
Sneaking around the palace was child’s play to Leona. He’d mastered the art of hiding in dark shadows and unseen corners since a tender age, when the guards and chamberlains would talk behind his back. Plus, nothing much had changed inside the palace. They were really driving home the idea of preserving the past.
Minor changes had been done to his room from the weekly cleaning, but otherwise everything was as he remembered. He made light steps to his empty desk and pulled open the drawer, searching for a jewelry box. Within were dozens of trinkets that would make Ruggie’s eyes twinkle like stars, from pendants to bracelets, all of which Leona had no interest in wearing.
All except this. He fished out a brown pouch and flipped it upside down. Two identical rings fell right into his palm. Each was a bit chunky, with an untainted emerald embedded in the golden shank. He pulled out his hair tie next, checked the mark he’d made in the middle, and compared the circle it formed with the size of the rings. It was a perfect match, as he’d suspected.
Leona recalled the day he’d gotten them. He was sitting at his mother’s bedside, hands balled into fists on his lap. He recalled her fragile, glass-like smile, recalled the shake in her hand as she removed the rings from her fingers. He was still too young and naive to know what was going on, but he had a hunch.
She had placed them in his parched, dry hand then. His knuckles had been cracked and bruised from earlier that day, when he’d lost control of his unique magic during training. With a wistful sigh, she ran feathery touches on the cuts, as if she was trying to heal them. But no dice; she would’ve healed herself had she possessed that sort of power.
“What are these for?” He clenched the golden rings in his chubby fingers. They looked ordinary, just like any other accessories the chamberlains like to throw on him before grand ceremonies. The only thing that stood out were the stones, which seemingly matched his eyes.
“When you find someone who feels like home, and they feel the same about you, give them the rings to show your feelings.”
“Do you mean I have to marry them?”
She laughed at his uneasy grimace— a sound that had yet to be lost in the currents of time. “Of course, or else they’ll go away forever.”
Young Leona immediately stuffed one of the rings back into her hand, “Then you must keep one! This way you’ll never go away from me, right?”
It would take a few more years down the road for him to understand why her eyes welled up at his words, or why one day Kifaji lifted him up in his arms and rushed him to her bedside, why that was the only time he would ever see her again. It was then that he realized that those rings were not charged with magic or blessings. They were just gold imbued with grief.
“What are you doing here, Prince Leona?”
Kifaji was standing at the doorway, hands hidden behind his back. God knew how long he’d been watching. Leona must’ve been so absorbed in his little treasure hunt to have not picked up his footsteps.
“You sound awfully accusatory. This is my room, isn’t it?” He slid the rings back into the pouch and pulled at the string to seal it.
Kifaji watched him pocket it. “Those are your mother’s rings, aren’t they?”
It seemed like his keen observation hadn’t been lost in time. “So what if they are?”
“Well. I can’t and won’t say anything since they’re your possessions. But curiosity beats me, so I must ask: what do you intend to do with them?”
“I intend to wear them, cause that’s how rings are supposed to be used,” Leona nudged the drawer shut with his knee, feeling a bit irritated by the questions.
“Yes, but it’s certainly been a while. Why your mothers’ rings in particular, and why now?”
He sighed. Nothing ever went past Kifaji’s eyes. “Fine. It’s because I’m gonna give one of ‘em to someone else, okay? End of story.”
He strode past the chamberlain out of the door, but the latter persisted, catching up rapidly. There was a moment when he was side by side with Kifaji, and was a bit astounded by the height difference between them. He never really noticed it before. To think that there was once a time when Kifaji could pick him up like he was nothing but a sack of rice.
“It’s that friend of yours that’s been tagging along, isn’t it?”
Leona decided to focus his efforts on walking.
“I was skeptical at first when you showed up with a bunch of guys that claimed to be your friends. Except for that kid. They seemed different.”
He scoffed. “Why, because they were hugging a cat the whole time?”
“No. Because of the way you treated them.”
“Oh yea? Enlighten me.”
“Remember the mangoes at the Raintree Market?”
And then Leona was strolling through the lively bazaar again, watching his schoolmates try out local fruits. The vendor had planned to give you one half of a mango as he’d done so for the others, but Leona asked for the whole fruit and a knife instead.
“The right way to eat a mango,” he sliced the mango in half, and began cutting squares on the one without the seed. Then he held the fruit on its two ends and pushed the pieces out. “Is to cut it into bite-sized chunks.”
“Don’t you remember? I used to do that for you when you were young. You’d cry and thrash because you despised fruits, so I decided to cut them into tiny pieces and have you eat them while we played chess. You cleared the plate in no time.”
There was a certain tone to Kifaji’s voice that Leona couldn’t quite recognize. All he knew was that he was suddenly aware of the aged hunch of his back. Where he used to race him through the palace with ease, he was now panting with the efforts to keep up with his long strides.
Leona slowed down a little to let him catch his breath.
“As the chief chamberlain, I do have the duty to ensure the integrity of anyone affiliated with the royal family. But I’m guessing you’ll do anything to get me off your back, so there’s no point anyways. Plus, if you’re taking out your mother’s rings for them, I suppose there’s no point in doubting your decisions.”
“Good.” Leona’s voice came out quieter than he expected. “I didn’t need you meddling in my business anyways.”
Some guards shot him confused glances when he passed by, but he ignored them. The two of them walked in silence until they arrived at the entrance. The sun had just emerged from the horizon, and was marking the land with a warm tint.
“I’m glad you found someone, Prince Leona.”
“Yea, yea. I got it,” he waved him back into the palace, but stopped just before he could turn around. “Thank you for escorting me.”
Kifaji froze, then let out a light laugh.
“That’s what I do.”
—
Securing the rings turned out to be the easy part. The challenge was in how to present them. Whatever plans Leona had been brewing in his head vanished thanks to the mishaps during the festival. By the time he remembered the rings in his pocket, you were already on your way back to the school campus.
Fine. He just had to adapt. He could book an expensive restaurant and do it with a band playing in the background. He could do it unexpectedly, in a totally unsuspecting occasion. He could recruit help from his dorm members to build a fitting venue.
But somehow, he just couldn’t do it. He’d had everything planned out in said restaurant, but he just couldn’t pull out the rings. He’d brought you to the beachside to watch the sun set, but he couldn’t make out the words. He’d prepared time after time what to say, but they never managed to untangle the feelings inside him.
The longer he held it off, the more he felt that it was a bad idea. What if you didn’t like rings, or what if you didn’t like him enough to dedicate yourself to that kind of promise? Even though they weren’t engagement rings, they still had a certain weight to them. Not to mention they were not any rings, but the ones his very mother used and left in his care.
He should really stop ruminating about this whole thing before he brought the rings back to the palace.
A crunch prompted him to look in your direction. You were lazing on his bed, back turned to him as you binge-watched one of those boring reality shows. There was another crunch.
“Are you eating chips?”
You froze in place. The video on your laptop went on, the audience’s laugh piercing the silence. “No?”
“Show me your hands.”
You shifted, and slowly raised them where he could see. There was salt on your thumb and index finger. He moved forward instantly, nevermind the chessboard next to him. After a bit of wrestling, he snatched the packet of chips from your hold.
“I said no eating on the bed!”
“Oh, so now you can eat on your bed but I can’t?” You argued.
“Yea, that’s the point.” He read the favor on the packet before reaching in to grab one for himself.
“Hypocrite.” You rolled your eyes and held your hand out. As he gave it back, you caught a glimpse of something red on his finger. “Hey, what’s that?”
It was a cut, shallow but precise. It must've happened when he was pulling at the packet. He hadn't even realized it at the moment, but now it was starting to sting a little, with a bit of pink smeared on the flesh around it.
“A papercut,” he shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t papercuts sting?” You paused the show and leaned in to check its depth.
“A bit. I’ll just avoid wetting it.”
“Nah, you should put a bandaid on it.”
“It’s a teeny cut.”
“My point stands.” Seeing as he wasn’t planning to do it himself, you sighed and threw your torso off the bed. "This is why you should never steal my chips, you know."
His steely eyes followed as you reached for the desk, or specifically, the drawer on the bottom, where he’d been keeping the rings. You didn’t seem to notice the addition of the porch to the miscellaneous mess inside, as you soon pulled out an unopened box of bandaids.
“May I have your hand, your majesty?” You gave him the best smolder you could muster, which just looked absurdly humorous. He complied regardless, letting you have your fun.
“Mm. I’ve never seen a cut this deep in my years of being a healer, your majesty,” you nodded meaningfully and ripped the box open. “I must subject you to the most effective medicine I have here: a magical band-aid.”
“You’re ridiculous.” He said despite stifling a smirk at the name you'd been using on him.
“And you’re in a life and death situation here, so I prefer that you don’t take this lightly.” You peeled off the seal and lined up the cotton with the wound, acting with a meticulousness that mismatched the insignificance of such a small injury. Strands of hair cascaded down your face, and he pushed them out of your face.
Well, wasn’t it just wonderful to have your attention solely on him. He wouldn’t even have batted an eye at something as trivial as this, but you took it upon yourself to care for him anyways, like you always did.
His gaze fell from your face to the band-aid around his finger. Had he been more distracted, he wouldn’t even have noticed that you’d been working around his ring finger, on his left hand no less. And he knew it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but as you smiled proudly at your flawless work, he couldn’t help but feel warmth crawl towards his heart.
It dawned on him then: the only thing more wonderful than having you pamper him over a tiny papercut, was to have you do it for the rest of his life. Even on days when he couldn't care less about himself, to have you look after him all the same. The knowledgedidn't come as a spike of adrenaline or in the form of an epiphany. It felt like a moment of clarity, like the wind's kisses against a wind chime.
“Y’know what this looks like?” He asked as you threw the band-aids back into the drawer.
“What?”
“A ring.”
You shot him an incredulous look. “It looks like anything but a ring.”
“Touché. It did feel like you were putting one on me though,” he stopped you just before you could shut the drawer, and rummaged through the mess blindly. Finally, his hand grasped something velvety. “To prove my point…”
The light-hearted smile fell from your face as you watched him take the content out. It was a bit ludicrous now, to think that after all the time spent creating the perfect atmosphere, he was just going to basically-propose-to-you on a whim, but there was no moment better than this. The gold weighed like rocks in his hands, but heavier were the words brewing in his chest.
“My mother left me these rings and told me to give one to someone I want to spend my life with,” he gauged your surprised reaction, “And I know it’s still early for us to even think about stuff like this, but I haven’t been this sure of anything for a while, so I gotta say it now. You’re the person I want to grow old with, and this will not change no matter if it's a good day or a bad day. I want to go to sleep and wake up to you every day, and I want you to know that there’s nothing that I want more than to be with you if you'd let me.”
He took your left hand in his, his thumb instinctively running over your skin. “So, would you let me take care of you for the rest of time?”
Your bewildered expression slowly shifted, and your mouth curled into a bright beam. “I say, that sounds like a wonderful future.”
The band fitted around your finger so flawlessly, it could’ve been made with you in mind. You planted a kiss on the ring on his hand, and the gold seemed to glimmer, now coated with not just his mother’s, but also your love.
As you pulled him close, a gush of warmth seeped into his heart, claiming its spot in the depths of his feelings. Perhaps this was exactly where home was— with your arms wrapped tightly around him. Maybe one day, he could even build a home of his own, rooted in nothing but the certainty you'd given him.
