(cater diamond x reader. set during the crisp 'n' dips diner event)
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âI personally recommend the Crisp ânâ Dips Burger,â says the waiter, leaning on your table. âItâs a classic! Canât go wrong with that.â
You struggle to form a cohesive response, feeling your cheeks burn. Does he have to stand so close? Wait, youâre an idiot, why wouldnât you want him standing close to you? Man, you hope your cheeks arenât turning colors. Theyâre definitely pink. He can definitely tell. Why are you fumbling your first opportunity to say something to him!
Your friend is having no such difficulties.
âAwesome,â she says, âweâll just need a sec to look over the menu.â
âOf course!â he chirps. âJust give Cay-Cay a wave-wave when youâre ready, okay?â
You almost swear he winks at you before skating away to his next table, doing a spin on the way. You canât take your eyes off of him.
Your friend leans across the table towards you, bubbling over with excitement.
âI canât believe we got in! The line was already so long when we got here, I thought we wouldnât have a chance. Isnât this just the cutest diner?â she gushes.
âI guess,â you say, âbut no diner meal is worth that line.â
She waves her hand at you. âOf course not, silly. It didnât go viral for the food. I showed you the chipmunks, remember?â
You nod. âI wouldnât be here otherwise.â
You came to see the chipmunks, but now your attentionâs been grabbed by something else. You track your waiter with your eyes as he rolls around the restaurant, waiting for an opportune moment when heâs far away to lean towards your friend and whisper, âI have never needed anything more than I need that waiterâs number.â
Her eyes light up and she tilts her head closer, scanning the diner. âWhich one?â
âOur waiter. The ginger?â
She studies him across the diner, tapping a finger on the table.
âHim? Heâs cute, I guess, but you never ask anyone for their number. Not even, like, platonically. Arenât you afraid of talking to people?â
She phrases it like a question, but you both know the answer.
âIâm not afraid,â you insist. âJust⊠I think too much about what people think of me, okay? I get embarrassed easily. But embarrassment be darned, I need that boyâs number.â
You both watch him skating between tables for a moment, only to realize with a devastating shock that he is skating towards you. Towards your table. And youâve both been so preoccupied watching him that you forgot to give your menus even a passing glance.
Your friend doesnât seem fazed, casually flipping her menu open. Sheâs probably planning to just tell him youâre not ready. If only you thought of that. Instead, you frantically try to scan your menu, words and dishes swimming before your eyes. When he gets to your table, he taps on it, grinning in your direction.
âHey guys! Are we ready to order yet?â
âCan I have the Crisp ânâ Dips burger?â you blurt out.
âYeppers, of course,â your waiter says, âgreat choice! And for you?â
He turns to your friend, whoâs staring at you with vague annoyance in her eyes.
âOh, Iâm not ready yet,â she tells him. âNeither of us really had the chance to look over the menu yet? I think my friend here just decided they wanted the burger on your recommendation.â
âItâs totes great, I promise. The onion rings tie it together into the perfect meal,â he says, turning back and staring straight at you. Youâve never been great with eye contact, but you physically canât look away from him. Despite that, you somehow manage to overcome your mental block and finally respond to him.
âIâm excited!â you say, plastering a smile on your face despite the butterflies in your stomach. âIâve heard great things about this place.â
He beams. âAw, thanks! Weâve put a lot of hard work into it these past few days.â
Before he has the chance to continue, if he was even going to, one of the other waiters calls âCater!â from the other side of the diner, and your waiterâs head snaps up.
âSorry, guys, duty calls! Iâll be right back to take your order,â he - Cater - says, pointing at your friend before skating away.
You roll the name around in your head and on your tongue. Surely he introduced himself when you sat down, but you were honestly kind of busy being star-struck by the droop of his eyes and the curve of his smile. They belong to a boy called Cater.
Your friend nudges you with her elbow.
âHey, you owe me one,â she insists. âI let it go that you ordered before I was ready and I veered his attention back towards you. Plus now he has to come back again to take my order.â
You nudge her back. âYouâre the best. Are you still gonna order the Popcorn Flurry gingerbread house so we can see the chipmunks, too?â
âOf course,â she says, placing her menu down on the table. âAnd then Iâm probably just going to get that burger, too.â
You nod, fiddling with the straw in your water. âDo you think I should ask him for his number when we pay, or⊠I dunno, theyâre really busy.â
âIâm not letting you chicken out,â your friend says, staring you down across the table.
âIâm not,â you say, and you mean it. Youâre someone who never takes risks, but you look at Cater and you think this is a risk youâre willing to take.
Your friend sighs, leaning back in her chair. âItâs not like Iâm super experienced getting peopleâs numbers either. But theyâre just so busy, Iâm not sure heâll have time to give it to you after weâre done, you know? So maybe itâd be better to try to get it now.â
You bury your face in your hands, feeling your ears burn. âOh gosh. But then heâll say no and weâll have to sit here and eat our burgers and itâll be so awkward. I donât want to ruin the day for you just because I -â
âHey, ready to order yet?â you hear, and your head snaps up and heâs right there, smiling at you with those eyes and those pointy canines. Whyâs he looking at you when your friendâs the one who still needs to order? Are you reading into it? Youâre reading into it.
âCan I have the Crisp ânâ Dips burger? And if I order the Popcorn Flurry, we get to see the chipmunks, right?â your friend asks.
âAw, who spoiled the surprise?â Cater says playfully, leaning on the table. âThatâs one of the menu items the chippies come out to help us with, so yeah, youâll definitely get to see them. Should I put you in for one of those?â
She nods, closing her menu and telling him, âMy friend really wanted to come see them, and I wanted to try the dish anyway.â
âI love chipmunks,â you add. Hopefully he likes chipmunks, if he works here. Or maybe heâs tired of them. But his face lights up, sending the butterflies in your stomach fluttering again.
âRight? Theyâre so cute! The uniforms are striped like a chipmunkâs back, too, which I think is such a cool touch.â
âYeah!â you say. âYour uniforms look great.â
He bobs his head, messing with the chipmunk charms on his belt. âFor sure. Iâve been thinking of asking the manager if I can keep one when weâre done.â
âWhen youâre done?â you ask. You can feel yourself growing more comfortable talking to him, overthinking less the words you say. Itâs hard to think in front of him anyway.
âMm-hm, the four of us are just helping out temporarily. Thatâs why ya boi Cay-Cay gets to be acting manager.â
This time he definitely winks at you, grabbing you and your friendâs menus from the table in front of you.
âLetâs hope the power doesnât go to my head,â he says, jokingly. âIâll be right out with those burgers and Popcorn Flurry, okay?â
You find yourself nodding even after heâs gone, until your friend grabs your arm from across the table.
âWas I seeing things,â she whispers, âor did he totally wink at you?â
âHe totally winked at me,â you tell her. You donât think you can stop smiling.
-------
The diner is, of course, super busy, so after Cater drops off your food, he stops coming by as much. Which is fine. It gives you time to chat with your friend, who you are technically here to hang out with.
âOkay,â you say, for what feels like the kajillionth time. âSo my numberâs written on this napkin, and when he comes over to take our payment, I give it to him and say, like. âI think youâre really cute. Hereâs my number. Call me?â Is that gonna be too weird?â
Your friend just laughs, stretching in her chair. âIâve never heard you talk about a guy this much before. Maybe you should just ask him to marry you.â
You try to glare at her, but your heart isnât in it. âCan you focus?â you insist. âIâm giving him my number and you canât stop me, but I want him to actually call me. Or text me. Probably text me.â
âHe seems pretty chill,â she reminds you, âand super friendly. I bet even if you make the situation awkward, heâll be able to salvage it.â
âI guess,â you say, âbut Iâd rather it wasnât awkward at all.â
She laughs again, pushing her chair back so she can get up.
âIâm running to the bathroom, so donât chicken out if he comes by while Iâm gone,â she says. âAnd donât forget, youâre paying for both of us because I covered it last time.â
You just nod, staring down at the napkin bearing your number, trying not to crinkle it with your nervous fingers. You donât even know how long itâs been since your friend got up when you hear Caterâs voice again.
âHeyo,â he says, âare you ready to pay? Or should we wait for your friend?â
âOh, no, itâs fine,â you say, adrenaline pumping through your veins, hoping your voice is steadier than you feel. âIâm paying for both of us.â
He hums an acknowledgement as he puts the bill in front of you, and waits by your table for you to be finished with it. You thought waiters normally just dropped the bill off and came back later, but maybe things are different here. Or maybe itâs just a him thing.
Your hands are definitely shaking when you hand the bill back to him, and when he starts turning away, the only thing you can say to get his attention turns out to be a shaky âum.â But it works.
âWhatâs up?â Cater asks, voice cheerful as ever. Youâre having a hard time looking at him, feeling the embarrassment pooling in the back of your head, but you slide the napkin towards him.
âThis is my number,â you say, staring at it so you donât have to see his face. âI just, um. Call me, I guess? Please.â
Gosh, could that have come out any worse? What did you mean, âpleaseâ?!
But he takes the napkin, and he barely hesitates before ripping off a piece and reaching into his pocket for a pen. You watch him as he writes, and when heâs done he holds it out to you.
âHereâs my number,â he says. âThis way we definitely wonât lose touch, âkay?â
You take the scrap of napkin and hold it like the treasure it is, heart thumping so loudly you can hardly hear yourself think.
ââKay,â you say, and Cater grins.
âGreat,â he says. âPerfect. Um⊠I guess I should probs go back to work now? Acting Manager and all.â
âOf course,â you say. âYeah. Go do what you need to.â You seem to have developed a warm and fuzzy feeling thatâs originating from the spot where youâre holding his number close to your chest. Youâve never needed to not drop something more than at this moment.
Cater grabs the other half of the napkin off the table. He holds it tight in his hand.
âIâll put this somewhere safe,â he tells you. âSo⊠see you next time?â
You nod, feeling your face flush.
âAlthough,â you add, âmaybe not if you wonât be working here anymore soon.â
He shrugs. âEven so,â he says, âthereâll be a next time, I promise.â
You hold this promise in your chest along with the insignificant scrap of paper, feeling your heart thump against your hand as he skates away. Your friend is going to come back from the bathroom, and then youâre going to go home to your family for dinner. And then youâre going to put the napkin on your nightstand, and youâre going to type his number into your phone. And maybe, just maybe, when you call him - heâll pick up.
Hi hiiii! First, I just wanted to say that I find your writing so adorable! I recently found your blog and you have such a nice way of writing fluffy stories.
Would it be possible to write anything cute with platonic Georgina and a fem reader? I adore this woman and I think her (and all the moms tbh) deserve a bit more attention.
Honestly, just thanks for your time and the cute stories. I hope you have a wonderful day!
hi!!! thank you so much for the request, and I'm so happy you like my writing!! sorry it took me so long to get this done, I wanted to be sure I could characterize Georgina right. I'm still not sure I did but this was really fun to write! I hope you like it :D
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try something fun
You can feel Georgina staring at you.
She stands on the other side of the room, rummaging through the racks of clothes provided by the venue. Your arms are already full with her selections for Rook and Malleus, a mound of white and black that is somehow refusing to wrinkle. Now, you imagine, sheâs looking for something that will suit Riddle.
So why is she looking at you?
You were happy to agree when Georgina insisted you accompany her into the venue to pick outfits for you and your friends, leaving Grim behind with the others. A break from him is always welcome, and itâs been a long time since you got to be with a girl. Your school is nice, and the people are nice, but sometimes you feel very alone among all the boys.
Georgina pulls a suit from the rack, giving it a quick once-over before nodding approvingly.
âWhy, this will work rather well for Riddle,â she says. âDonât you agree?â
You blink at the suit in front of you. Somehow, as with the rest of the outfits, sheâs hit upon something that suits him perfectly.
âYeah,â you say, âdefinitely. I think the red will go really well with his hair.â
She beams, crossing towards you to lay the suit over the rest in your arms. She towers over you even more than her sons (and thatâs definitely saying something) but you feel much less wary in her presence. You find yourself smiling back at her, imitating her wide grin.
âNow,â Georgina says, clapping her hands, âwe need to find something for you. I did enjoy choosing these outfits for the others, but I want to pick something extra-special for you. Iâm certain we can put together a lovely outfit.â
She disappears into the clothes again before you can blink. The stack of the othersâ outfits weighs heavy in your arms, and you shift it, feeling vaguely nervous. What does Georgina consider extra-special? You havenât had the best track record with things Floyd calls special (getting to watch him at basketball club, during which Ace went âThis is for you!â before failing spectacularly at making a basket, and Floyd dribbled a ball off the court and into your shins), or Jade, for that matter (getting to try a dish he made with a rare mushroom, which he only thought to mention was vaguely poisonous after youâd tried it), so you find your mind running off to the worst possible scenarios for Georginaâs plan.
She peeks out from the racks of clothes, tilting her head so far youâre scared her hat will fall off.
âWhat size are you, dear?â
You blink. âIâm, uh⊠I donât know if your sizing is different here.â
She waves a hand as she turns back to the clothes.
âYes, human sizing is quite complicated. I certainly had a hard time figuring out what size I was when I first came on land.â
âWell, I think youâve figured it out. Your clothes seem to fit you really well,â you tell her, because they do.
Georgina beams. âOh, thank you. Now, letâs see⊠I think I can tell what size you are after all. Why donât we try this one?â
She pulls out something rather fluffy, such a mess of fabric that you canât even tell where your head would go in it. Itâs⊠very different than what sheâs picked for the others. And⊠not a color you typically think works on you.
Georgina must be able to read the look on your face, because she laughs, gathering the item further into her arms as she strides back towards you.
âGoodness, is it that bad? I thought you might look positively darling in something like this, butâŠâ
She holds it up, and you both stare at it for a moment.
âItâs⊠really big?â you try. âI think I might disappear into it.â
She laughs again, placing one hand on her chest. âOh my, what a sight that would be. I promise I have something safe picked out for you, too. Iâm certain youâll love that one. In the meantime, though, Jade and your friends donât know how long weâll be taking.â
She holds it towards you for you to take.
âMight as well make the most of the chance, hm? Try on something fun?â
You try to picture yourself in the thing in front of you. You look like a cupcake. A really, really, fluffy cupcake. With your head as the cherry on top.
âSure,â you say, âwhy not? Just for fun.â
Georgina lights up. âOh, wonderful! Maybe youâll even find something you love, even if itâs just for fun.â
She takes the clothes youâre holding, trading them for what she has, and indicates a door leading off of the room.
âYou can try it on in there,â she says. âIâll go pick something else fun.â
You donât even bother trying to picture what sheâll find next. You can barely picture what youâll look like in this first thing. Instead, you go where she pointed, finding what seems to be a small storage room.
At least it has a mirror.
~~~~~~
Okay, you were wrong. This weird dress thing doesnât make you look like a cupcake. Not even close.
Youâre a cake if youâve ever seen one.
Your head is barely visible, but itâs manageable. As long as you make sure none of the fluff gets in your mouth and blocks your airway, your only concern should be making it out of the door.
You eye the door back to where Georgina waits, which you walked through so easily mere moments ago. Yeah, youâre definitely wider than it right now. The only question is how much this thing will squish⊠only one way to find out, right?
You reach through what feels like yards of fabric to reach the door knob, unlocking it and swinging it open.
Georgina is standing not far away, holding something else (is that fringe on it?), waiting patiently. At least you imagine she was, because as soon as she sees you, her face splits into a grin and she laughs.
âOh my goodness, thatâs⊠quite something, isnât it?â
âItâs⊠something, yeah,â you say. You find yourself laughing with her, remembering the sight of yourself in the mirror.
Georgina falls silent abruptly, placing a hand on her chin.
âItâs certainly unusual, but I thought maybe you could pull it off, if anyoneâŠâ
She sighs, seeming disappointed. âOh, well. I suppose that oneâs a no, hm?â
You nod, or at least try to. âI think itâs a little much for a wedding, too.â
âIt is fun, though,â she says, and you canât help but agree. You canât remember the last time you looked this ridiculous. Not that you have much time to look at yourself these days, anyway, between taking care of Grim and dealing with Crowleyâs nonsense, not to mention the way they always seem to make you take care of these overblots. Like you know anything about that.
âIt feels good to laugh,â you tell Georgina. She seems pleased.
âI have a good feeling about this one,â she says, pressing what sheâs holding into your arms. It unfolds into some sort of fringed shirt and hat. You blink at them.
âIs this⊠a cowgirl outfit?â
âWhatâs a cowgirl?â Georgina asks, tilting her head.
âItâs⊠nevermind.â
Youâre not even going to bother trying to explain that to her, though youâre not sure if this is a gap in her knowledge of the land world or just something that doesnât exist here.
~~~~~~
Well, even if they donât have cowgirls here, they certainly make cowgirl outfits, complete with chaps and a lasso.
You stare at yourself in the mirror, feeling an odd wave of homesickness. Of all things to make you think of the world you came from (the world you belong in), a cowgirl outfit?
You give yourself a good shake to clear your head. Now is not the time. Georgina is waiting.
This time you donât need to wonder if youâll be able to make it through the doorway, at least. The hat does make you a little taller, but nowhere near enough to hit the doorframe.
Georgina is right outside again, arms empty this time. She lights up when she sees you, reaching out to adjust your hat.
âWhy, that looks rather fetching on you,â she says. âMaybe I should add a hat to your real outfitâŠâ
âSo weâd match?â you ask. You always end up matching with Grim. Itâd be an honor to match with Georgina.
She blinks, like she hadnât thought of that. âThatâd be lovely. Iâm not sure I saw any good hats, though⊠Iâll need to check while you get dressed. If I know my son - and I do - heâll be getting rather impatient by this point. Itâll be just about time to wrap this up.â
From atop the pile of your friendsâ clothes, sitting where Georginaâs set it on a chair, she grabs something that looks rather elegant. You donât get much of a chance to look at it before itâs in your arms and sheâs urging you back into the mock changing room.
âIâm quite excited to see this one,â she says. âIâm certain it will be perfect on you.â
~~~~~~
Georgina was right. Somehow sheâs always been right.
You smooth down the outfit in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself - or maybe youâve hardly been yourself these past few months. How did she pick something that suits you so perfectly after such a short time together?
This time when you open the door, Georginaâs even closer. She greets you right in the doorway by setting a hat down on your head. For a moment it obscures your vision of her, but when you finally manage to look up sheâs smiling softer than she was with any of the other outfits.
âItâs perfect,â she tells you. âGo look.â
She follows you to the mirror, lingering just over your shoulder as you stare at yourself. How did she find the perfect hat? It works with your complexion, itâs the most comfortable thing youâve ever worn, and it ties an already-perfect outfit together.
âYouâre incredible,â you tell her. âThis is perfect. How do you have such good fashion sense?â
Georgina leans down closer to you, making eye contact in the mirror. Sheâs beaming.
âI told you,â she says, âI had to do something special for you. My sons speak so highly of you, and itâs not often they agree on something like that. So, of course, I had to make sure you were happy. And I must say, I agree with them too.â
She places one hand on each of your shoulders.
âAnytime you need something,â she tells you, âjust give me a call. The Leech family will always have your back.â
You blink, feeling a vague tightness in the back of your throat. Crowleyâs supposed to have your back, but he never means anything he says. You can tell Georgina means it.
âYou donât know,â you tell her, âhow much that means to me.â
She laughs. âI can imagine. Iâve met your headmaster a few times myself.â
Georgina leaves you to imagine what Crowley did those few times, exiting the small room to pick up the things sheâs picked out for the others. You follow behind, trying to keep your clothes nice.
She pauses in front of the door, behind which waits Grim and your friends.
âAre you ready?â she asks you.
You nod before you have the chance to talk yourself out of it. Your only hope is Grim hasnât gotten his paws too dirty, otherwise heâs going to be leaving little marks when he inevitably jumps on you. You donât want to mess up your outfit.
Georgina seems to see the hesitation on your face, even though youâve already nodded yes. She smiles at you encouragingly.
âYouâre going to be fine,â she tells you.
For the first time in a long while, you almost believe it.
Leona Kingscholar knows when to give up, and he's given up on you.
He watches you talking to your friends across the courtyard. The redhead says something and you laugh, the sound carrying over. Leona scowls.
Ruggie notices and tugs at his arm.
âLeona, come on, youâre gonna make us both late. Weâre making potions out of food in my next class, and I bet I can convince Professor Crewel to give me the leftovers.â
He grins, showing his teeth, and Leona lets himself be pulled down the hallway. He glances your way once more, and is startled to find you looking back at him. Your eyes widen and you turn away, ducking your head, but Leona can't take his eyes off of you, and he almost stumbles over a crack in the ground. Ruggie stops and stares at him.
âLeonaâŠ? Did you⊠just trip?â
Leona glares at him, trying to ignore the feeling in his chest.
âI wouldnât be tripping over anything if that Headmage maintained the grounds like heâs supposed to,â he growls. âWhatâs he even using our familiesâ donations for?â
Leona stalks ahead of Ruggie, sneaking another look in your direction once heâs caught up. Youâre gone from view. He pretends it doesnât disappoint him.
~~~~~
Leona catches himself thinking about you, later that day.
Heâs in a new spot under a tree in the greenhouse bushes, somewhere Ruggie might not think to check when he realizes Leonaâs trying to skip class. The sound of your laugh is rolling around in his head, distracting him from his nap.
Itâs not like you were even laughing at him. It was Ace, as always. So why canât he get it out of his head?
He turns over in the grass, only to find himself face to face with you - wide-eyed, hair full of leaves, crawling through the foliage on your hands and feet.
âOh,â you say, âhi. Um. Have you seen Grim?â
Leona stares at a particularly leafy patch of your hair.
âYouâre crawling around in here for that stupid cat?â
You frown at him. Heâs distracted by the flush in your cheeks.
âHeâs not stupid. And besides, Iâm his prefect. Iâm responsible for him, so if something happens, Crowleyâs going to get on my case about it. And goodness knows somethingâs going to happen if Iâm not with him,â you say.
You pull your legs up and sit next to him, resting your face in your hands with a huff. âWhy canât he just behave?â
Leona watches you breathe, watches the flush of exertion fade from your face. You lean your head back against the tree and smile towards him.
âIt really is nice in here,â you say. âI can see why you like it.â
He raises an eyebrow. âOh, is someone tempted to stay here and skip class with me? I thought you were a better student than that.â
He means it as a joke, a reminder that itâs still the middle of the school day. He doesnât dare to think youâll actually skip class with him. After all, you have class with Ace.
Instead of hurrying away to make it to your next class before it starts, though, or scolding him for skipping, you bury your face in your hands.
âMy next class is Practical Magic,â you manage. You almost sound like youâre crying. âI canât do anything in it without Grim. Iâm only half a student, anyway.â
Leona doesnât like it when people cry around him, or put themselves down. Especially not you.
He props himself up on one elbow and reaches towards you. He wants to touch your face and tell you what he thinks of you. That as much as he tries to deny it, his heart skips a beat when you smile at him, and heâs never dared to think of someone as much as he thinks of you. That youâre a whole student, a whole person, with or without Grim.
But he canât say any of that, so he just brushes a few leaves out of your hair. You look up, eyes vaguely rimmed with red.
âThanks,â you say, âI have no idea how so many leaves ended up in my hair. Itâs ridiculous, right?â
Leona smirks. âThe trick is to not crawl around under a buncha trees.â
âWell, some of us have responsibilities we need to fulfill. And I donât have a Ruggie to push stuff onto,â you say. You move as if to stand up, but Leona gets there first, holding a hand out to help you up. You blink at him.
âWhat -â
âIâll help you look,â he interrupts. âI know a thing or two about wrangling dorm-mates.â
Your face softens, and you reach up and take his hand. Even through his gloves, he can feel your warmth. He shivers.
âThatâd be great,â you say, hopping to your feet, âbut I really donât know where else he could be.â
âYou asked those friends of yours yet?â Leona asks. âThat Ace, and, uh⊠the other one.â
âDeuce?â you fill in. âNo, I figured if I didnât know where Grim was, they wouldnât either.â
âWell, youâre all practically joined at the hip. He probably canât tell you all apart. Come on, letâs go ask them,â Leona says, walking away without checking if youâre following. Before long, he can hear your footsteps on the path behind him.
âWeâre not,â you insist, once youâve fallen into step next to him.
He raises an eyebrow. âNot what?â
âNot joined at the hip. Me and Ace and Deuce, weâre not joined at the hip.â
Leona eyes you as he pushes open the door of the greenhouse. âYouâre being pretty defensive about this, herbivore,â he teases.
You blush as you follow him outside, the sunlight painting your face an intoxicating color. He forces himself to stop looking.
âI just⊠donât want you to think thatâs all there is to me. That I donât have a life outside of them. Does that make sense? I feel like that doesnât make sense,â you say. Youâre not looking at him either. Leona pretends itâs because you care what he thinks of you.
Heâs just about to ask where you think your friends could be, when he hears a voice that grates on his nerves in an all-too-familiar way. Ace.
Leona fixes his face into a neutral expression before looking around for the boy - and the other, whoâs surely with him. He finds them walking down the pathway towards you both.
You follow his gaze, and your face lights up at the sight of your friends, spawning an uncomfortable pit in Leonaâs stomach. You grab his wrist and tug him towards them.
âCâmon, letâs go see if theyâve seen Grim!â
He follows you (what else is he supposed to do?), trying to fight the scowl creeping onto his face. He know he doesnât have a chance with you, but that doesnât mean he wants to be reminded. You grin at Deuce and a little bit more at Ace, more than Leonaâs ever seen you smile in his own direction.
âHey, guys!â you call. âWhatâs up?â
Aceâs eyes flick to Leona standing behind you for a moment before he says, âNah, nothing. Just heading to class. Whatâs up with you, Prefect?â
You sigh, shifting your body a little closer to Ace. Youâre still holding Leonaâs wrist, but heâs sure youâve just forgotten to let it go. Youâre not holding it because you want to.
âItâs Grim,â you say, exasperated. âHe snuck away from me after our last class and I canât find him. Heâs definitely off somewhere getting up to no good. So I wanted to ask if you guys have seen him?â
Deuce nods, eyes sparkling as he leans forward. Ace leans in too, forming the three of you into a comfortable triangle. Leona doesnât think youâre doing it on purpose, but that makes his exclusion from the conversation almost feel worse.
âYeah, we just saw him, actually. Just over there. He was trying to catch a butterfly in the courtyard, and Ace said -â
Ace elbows Deuce hard in the ribs before he can finish. âI said,â he continues, âthat it was weird you werenât with him, Prefect. If weâd known, I couldâve caught him for ya.â
You wave a hand. âOh, no, itâs fine. Just knowing you saw him is a huge help.â
Ace shrugs, the tips of his ears dusting pink. âAnything for you, Prefect! Here, Iâll take you there. Besides, Leona-senpai probably has a class to get to anyway, right? You shouldnât keep bothering him.â
Leona expects you to let go of his wrist now. Maybe take Aceâs hand instead, or link arms with him and Deuce and skip off towards the courtyard, leaving him to return to his nap. Instead your grip on him tightens.
âNo,â you say. âLeona said heâd help me find Grim, so heâs going to help me find Grim. You guys can go ahead to class. Weâll go check the courtyard.â
Ace and Deuce blink at you, faces as surprised as Leona feels.
âO-okay,â Deuce says, âsure. Finish fast so you can make it to class on time, okay?â
You nod, hand still tight around Leonaâs wrist as you pull him past your friends and towards the courtyard. Heâs sure you can feel his heartbeat thrumming through his veins.
Leona tugs you to a halt around halfway to your destination. He shouldnât even bother asking you this - heâs sure thereâs a boring answer, nothing like what heâs imagining. But the question is burning a hole in his mind, and if he doesnât ask you now, itâll haunt him the rest of his days.
âOi, herbivore. Why didnât you want to go with your friends?â he asks.
You stare up at Leona, fingers shifting against his wrist.
âWell, I just - you said youâd help me find Grim.â
âYeah, âcause you were so sad and alone. But when your friends are offering, you have no reason to accept my help over theirs, right?â
Except for that reason. The one heâd like to pretend doesnât exist, the one he isnât even bothering to hope is true. But he needs to ask.
You only hold his gaze for a few more moments before your eyes drop to the floor.
âI mean, itâs not like I had a real reason. Just more of a⊠feeling.â
âA feeling?â His feelings are all traveling through his bloodstream, perilously close to you. Your hand is warm against his wrist.
âSince I donât normally get to talk to you, I kind of just wanted to spend some more time with you,â you say. You sneak a glance up at Leona.
He hopes his expression is unreadable. Heâs not sure it is.
âOh,â he says. âSpend time with me? Over time with Ace?â
You nod. âYeah, I just⊠yeah. Between you and me, I think Ace kind of has a crush on me. And then Deuce is just super oblivious to it, and Grim is so loud, and sometimes I just need a break.â
You sneak another glance at him, pulling him along as you start walking again.
âAnd I like your company,â you finish. âItâs easy.â
Leona canât help it. He laughs, somewhere deep in his throat, and speeds up so you're walking side-by-side, deciding not to notice the way your hand tightens a little on his wrist.
âI always got the impression you had a crush on Ace,â he tells you.
You blink and laugh a little. âMe? No, I - I mean, thereâs nothing wrong with Ace, heâs very nice, itâs just that I - well, I like someone else.â
It hovers in the air between you for a moment, like a secret shared between friends in the dead of night. Like a hummingbird drinking from a flower.
Leona doesnât ask who it is. He doesnât feel the need to. Your fingers are tight on his wrist and if you donât like Ace, that means he still has a chance. All he needs is a fighting chance.
You donât let go of him when you reach the courtyard, when you see Grim holding a butterfly in-between his paws, seemingly at a loss for what to do with it, or when you pick him up with one arm and say, âWell, we should probably head to our next class.â
His heartbeat is dancing underneath your palm. Your fingers are warm against his wrist. He doesnât want you to let go.
You stand together for another moment, Grim squirming in your arms, the wind rustling through the trees. Leona can hear his heart pounding in his ears. Finally you exhale and unwrap your hand from his wrist.
âI guess this is it. Until next time,â you say.
Leona leans towards you, wrist feeling cold.
âThat a promise, herbivore? You know where to find me next time you need a break from those friends of yours.â
âOkay,â you say, face breaking into a grin, âyeah, sure. Um. Thatâd be nice. Thanks, Leona. For helping me find Grim and everything.â
âYeah,â he says, âanytime.â
The image of you smiling at him burns itself into his brain. Heâs still seeing it after youâre gone from view, after the bell rings for the next class. He pictures you at your Practical Magic class, sitting next to Ace and next to Deuce, smiling at them. The image doesnât bother him. Because next time you get tired of them, youâre going to come find him.
Cater blinks at you with his beautiful droopy eyes.
âSorry, what?â
You clasp your hands behind your back so he doesnât see them shake.
âI, um. I was wondering if youâd want to maybe go to, like, a cafe with me?â
He waves a hand at you.
âNo, not that part, come on. The first thing you said.â
He leans forward. You almost think you see a hint of fear in his eyes, but youâre probably just seeing your own nervousness reflected.
You pull back a little (you donât think you can handle being that close to him right now) and force out a laugh.
âDonât make me say it again,â you say, your voice more light-hearted than your heart feels. âPlease.â
You rehearse it in your head for the seven-hundredth time in case he makes you. I like you. I like you. I like you.
Cater doesnât move for half a moment. Just as youâre about to choke out the words again, he tilts his head and grins at you.
âOf course! Dates are so Magicammable,â he says, tugging his phone from his pocket. âHere, letâs take a commemorative selfie.â
You feel your heart ease up as you settle into your pose next to him. He called it a date. That means youâre dating, right? He likes you back?
Cater shows you the picture on his phone, humming to himself as he taps away on it. Itâs carefully angled so it looks like youâre cheek-to-cheek. You were almost a foot apart.
â#schoollife,â he reads aloud, â#couplegoals. And⊠posted! I tagged you.â
âThanks!â you reply, head spinning, hands still shaking. He peers at you over the top of his phone screen, eyes full of something you canât quite place.
~~~~~
You fiddle with the straw in your drink.
Cater is across the table taking pictures of his drink from every angle, trying to find the best lighting. You donât mind it - in fact, you rather enjoy watching him work his Magicam magic. The problem is, you donât think heâs made eye contact with you once all day.
When he came to pick you up at your dorm, he didnât stay still long enough for you to notice, and on the way here, you were side-by-side, so it wasnât easy to make eye contact anyways. But now?
âHowâs your drink?â he asks, without looking up.
You stir it with your straw.
âFine,â you lie. You havenât had the stomach to try it yet.
Cater eventually puts his phone away and sips his drink, looking around the cafe. When he finally looks at you, his eyes fix on a spot just above yours, close enough that you almost don't notice. But you notice.
âIsnât this place great?â he says cheerfully. âSuper Magicammable. Their drinks are so sweet, huh?â
You nod, finally sneaking a sip of your mouth-wateringly sugary drink.
âItâs got a great atmosphere,â you say. âI bet they get a lot of couples. Gazing into each otherâs eyes across the tableâŠâ
Cater fiddles with his hair.
âI think itâs a little early for that,â he jokes. âItâs only the first date!â
He seems to make a concerted effort not to meet your gaze, studying the logo on his cup.
âThanks for coming here with me,â Cater says. âI always feel like people are judging me when I come by myself, frowny face.â
Heâs still smiling at you, and you feel some of your nervousness melt away. So what if heâs avoiding eye contact? Heâs probably nervous, just like you. Clearly he wants to be here, or else he wouldnât have come.
You reach across the table and put your hand on top of Caterâs. His startled gaze meets yours for the first time, and you think you could lose yourself in those verdant eyes.
âThank you for not rejecting me,â you tell him. âItâs- you donât even know how long it took me to work up the courage.â
His eyes flicker away, locking onto some spot behind you.
âOf course,â he says. âYouâre totes perf. Thereâs just⊠no reason for me to say no, right?â
He grabs your hand back, and you tell yourself that he doesnât need to make eye contact, he doesnât need to say he likes you back. As long as heâs here, with you, everything will be okay.
Right?
~~~~~
Youâve been dating Cater for two months now.
He still doesnât meet your eyes like he did before you started dating, but he texts you more and he throws his arm around your shoulders and he doesnât pull away when you lean into him. When you feel him breathing next to you, you feel like everything is going to be okay.
Youâve been dating Cater for two months when you finally break.
You stand outside his dorm room, holding a bouquet of flowers behind your back, hoping against hope that this will help. With him, with you, with something about your relationship that needs helping. You hesitate just a moment before you knock.
Cater opens the door with his hair messy and his jacket off. He stares at you.
âY/N? What⊠what are you doing here?â
You grin and present the bouquet to him.
âHappy two-month anniversary!â you chirp. âCan I come in?â
He curls his fingers around the doorframe.
âSure,â he says, slowly. âOf course!â
Youâve never been in Caterâs room before.
You hang out in your room, in Treyâs room, in the Heartslabyul lounge. But never here. The door shuts behind you with an underwhelming click.
The roomâs big, well-furnished. Impeccably cute. When you turn back to Cater, his hair is half-fixed and his grip is tight on the bouquet.
âThis is such a great surprise!â Cater says with a smile. âIâm majorly bummed I didnât get you anything.â
You shake your head.
âDonât worry about it,â you insist. âI just really wanted to get something for you. The shopkeeper said it was the most photogenic one they had!â
Cater shifts from foot to foot, staring down at the bouquet. He doesnât take a picture of it. He doesnât move at all until you sit down on his bed. Then you hear his breath hitch, and the flowers crinkling in his hands. He puts the bouquet on his desk and sits next to you, hugging one of his pillows.
He doesnât look at you.
Cater is never silent this long. After two months of dating and many more of watching him, you think youâre pretty good at reading his mood, but youâve never seen the look on his face before. The realization hits you in the gut.
Heâs uncomfortable.
Iâm in his room and heâs uncomfortable. I gave him a bouquet and heâs uncomfortable. He has an unhealthy attachment to his phone but he isnât even looking at it because Iâm in his room and heâs uncomfortable.
Heâs uncomfortable with me.
You stand so fast you swear you hear the mattress recoil and whip to face Cater. He blinks up at you.
âY/N? Whatâs wrong?â
âIâm whatâs wrong,â you shoot back before you can stop yourself. âMe. How long have you had a problem with me?â
âYou- what?â
âCome on, Cater, youâre so clearly uncomfortable with me being here in your room! If you donât like me, tell me, just -â
You feel your eyes sting and your throat tighten.
âDonât give me false hope,â you choke out. âI -â
You press a hand to your mouth, trying to swallow a sob. Cater sits motionless before you, his eyes full of worry and his mouth full of things he canât say.
âI do like you,â he says instead. âFor sure. I justâŠâ
He fiddles with his hair, looking anywhere but at you.
âYou donât really like me,â Cater manages.
The thought stuns your eyes dry and your head clear. You stare at him.
â...what?â
He still isnât looking at you, so you place one hand on each cheek and turn him towards you. He doesnât look you in the eye, but youâre looking at him in his. For now, you think, thatâs enough.
âTell me what you mean by that,â you say firmly.
Under your gaze, Cater breaks. He leans a little into your hands and stares solidly at your chin and says, âI⊠I donât like sweets.â
You blink at him.
âThatâs it?â
âNo, itâs just⊠thatâs not very Magicammable, right?â
He risks a glance at your face.
âThereâs tons about me that isnât super Magicammable, but you only know the Magicam stuff. So if⊠if you met the real Cater, I donât think youâd like him.â
His eyes are soft and full of sadness. You hold his face a little tighter in your hands and say, âI think I already do.â
Cater shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut against your hand.
âIâve been trying super hard to not let you see him. I donât want to let you down.â
âYou could never be a let-down,â you tell him. âIâve been into you for ages. Just the fact that you feel comfortable sharing this with me? It means more than you could know.
âBesides,â you continue, âI want to see every part of you. Even if theyâre messy, or imperfect, or you think theyâll be a let-down. I want you to feel safe with me. Because I feel safe with you.â
Cater opens his eyes again and finally, finally, for what feels like the first time in two months, looks straight into yours.
âYou seriously want to be in a relationship with me? Not Magicam Cater, not⊠not any other way I present myself, just⊠the real me.â
You laugh. âOf course. I asked you out.â
His face relaxes, just a little, and he laughs too, leaning on your hand.
âGeez, all this time, I've just been worrying about you finding out and being disappointed, and I justâŠâ
He looks up at you, eyes full of more love than he's ever dared to show before.
âI didn't get to enjoy dating you.â
You nearly lose your breath looking at him. You pull him towards you, savoring every fleeting moment that heâs near you and preserving the millisecond your lips meet for all eternity.
Youâve kissed Cater before, sure. But heâs never initiated, never pulled you close, never let the moment linger longer than the bare minimum.
This time is different.
One of his hands wraps around your waist, finding its place snugly like it belongs there. The other lands in your hair, fingertips brushing the nape of your neck. You let your hands slip from his face, resting against his neck and shoulders.
Heâs never let you this close before.
You can feel his heart beating in time with yours, feel the warmth radiating off of him. You feel dizzy from his touch.
He lets go of you after longer than ever before and still too short a time, holding your gaze with his own like heâs making up for lost time. Maybe he is.
You knew that. Youâve always known that. Youâve always thought you were smart enough to not sign anything Azul Ashengrotto handed to you. And you always thought he wouldnât try it on you.
But here you are, sitting in class, glaring at the back of his head. Itâs been ten days since you broke your contract, and the stipulated âone hour in which the undersigned must do anything Azul Ashengrotto, Manager of Mostro Lounge, tells them to do (barring crimes of any sort)â has yet to arrive.
You sink your head into your hands. When your sleep-addled, coffee-deprived brain was presented with a predatory, lengthy, and, frankly, unethical contract that promised you twelve hours with the softest bed on campus (in exchange for going mountaineering with Jade every morning for the next week, starting at 3.30am), you didnât bother reading all the fine print. You didnât even bother reading the word âmountaineering.â You saw âsoft bedâ and you signed.
So it went that the next morning, Jade went mountaineering alone at 3.30am, and when you saw Azul in class, he slapped the contract you barely remembered signing onto your desk with a smarmy grin.
âFor one hour,â he told you, âat a time of my choosing, you will do whatever I want. Wait for me to tell you when.â
You chew on your pen as you continue glaring a few rows up at him. Here you are. Youâre waiting. And yet ten days have passed, and Azul hasnât spoken to you once.
When Trein releases you for your next class, you stuff your notebook and pen into your bag and make it to Azulâs desk before heâs even started packing up.
He looks up from where heâs still finishing up his notes and peers at you over the top of his glasses.
âYes? Can I help you?â
You have to resist the urge to slam your hand on his desk. Instead you just place it gently and lean towards him.
âWhen,â you say, forcing a smile, âam I going to fulfill the rest of my contract?â
Azul places his pen down and smiles up at you, folding his hands under his chin.
âWhy,â he beams, âI believe it was stipulated in your contract that it would be up to me to decide when that time was.â
You grit your teeth and try to maintain your smile.
âYes, but it would be much easier for me if I had some sort of ballpark of when that will be. Or what Iâll be doing.â
Azul bats his big beautiful eyes at you.
âOh my, does the contract-breaker have some sort of complaint?â
You tap your fingers on the desk and stop bothering to smile.
âCome on, Azul, I thought we were friends, right? Or at least vaguely cordial? Remember when we did that project together?â
Azul tilts his head.
âYes, I remember. Remember me doing all the work.â
You scoff and grin at him.
âAs if. I totally carried you.â
He laughs, for just a moment, before catching himself. He coughs into his hand.
âAnyways. Iâm still deciding what to do with you.â
âOkay,â you say, âwhatâs the problem? Donât you always complain about not having enough dishwashers? I can wash dishes.â
Azul studies you for a moment.
âThatâs not exactly the kind of thing I was thinking,â he says.
For a moment you feel very afraid for what he means by that, but you reassure yourself by remembering that the contract specifically stated âanything (barring crimes of any sort).â Surely he means something relatively normal, right?
Azul watches you stew on that for a moment before sighing and closing his notebook.
âI have to get to my next class,â he says, âbut come to my office at the Mostro Lounge after class today. Iâll have more details then.â
âFine. Iâll be there,â you say.
You turn on your heel and try to storm off in a huff, but your bag smacks something off of Azulâs desk. You donât bother turning around to see what it was, but out of the corner of your eye you see Azul chuckling as he reaches to pick it up.
You try to be upset that he was laughing at you, but you canât help getting distracted by how cute he is when he laughs.
You slap your hands on your face. Focus. Azul doesnât get to be cute until heâs completely freed you from this contract.
You walk towards your next class, trying to think about anything other then Azul. It doesnât work.
~~~~
By the time you reach Mostro Lounge, itâs already been fifteen minutes since the end of your last class. You wouldâve been there sooner, but Crewel insisted on discussing your horrible grade in Potionology right after class.
Azulâs waiting for you at the entrance of the Lounge, already in his dorm uniform, tapping his fingers on crossed arms.
âHey,â you say, breathless from running over. âSorry, Professor Crewel wanted to talk to me and I couldnât get away.â
âI saw him pull you aside after class,â Azul says. âIâm not going to hold it against you.â
He turns abruptly and starts walking towards his office. His mouth is set oddly, like heâs upset. You fiddle with the bottom of your shirt, hoping against hope that he isnât upset with you. You donât think you could handle that right now, not while you still donât know what heâs going to make you do to fulfill your contract.
Azul is silent all the way to his office, as he opens the door and escorts you inside, as he lets you get settled in a seat. He steeples his fingers on his desk and watches you with an unreadable expression.
You try to relax under his gaze, but thatâs no mean feat. Just as you feel your face start growing hot, Azul stands from his chair and strides over to you. He clasps his hands behind his back, and you could swear you see him hesitate before he speaks.
âDance with me,â he says finally.
You blink at him.
âWhat?â
He holds out one gloved hand to you.
âYour hour starts now,â Azul says. âDance with me.â
You stare at his proffered hand, trying to figure out what he means, why he would use his hour for this, of all things, and if his hand is trembling or thatâs just a trick of the eyes. Finally you reach out a hesitant hand and take his.
Azul pulls you up from your seat and pulls you close with a pretend confidence thatâs been lacking since you arrived. From somewhere music starts, and he begins leading you around the room.
Youâve never been much of a dancer, and you donât think he is either. His steps are slow and somewhat stiff, but theyâre easy to follow, and the music is simple. You find yourself overthinking your hands on him, every moment when youâre not distracted by his hands on you. His fingers ghost your waist like heâs scared youâll disappear if he goes any further. You decide not to read too much into that.
The song ends almost too soon, and you find yourself touching Azul Ashengrotto in several places in an empty room. You can feel his breath on you. You can feel his heartbeat drumming through his veins.
He doesnât move, so neither do you, even though you can feel the clock ticking down your hour, even though you donât want him to waste the time heâs won from you.
His eyes flicker over you, full of something you canât quite read.
Finally Azul takes a deep breath, pulls his hands back from you. He was barely touching you, but you feel cold all the same, every spot where his hands were close begging for warmth.
He checks his watch and pulls out one of his slimy smiles.
âNine minutes have passed,â he says. âNow what shall I make you do for the remaining fifty-one?â
He leans back against his desk and taps a finger against his lips as he thinks. You stare at them, mesmerized, for a moment, until you decide thatâs enough of that train of thought and lean on the desk next to him instead.
âI thought youâd have everything planned out,â you say after a moment, nudging him with your elbow.
Azul glances over at you, grey eyes through silver frames.
âThatâs why this took me so long,â he admits. âI wanted to have it all planned out, butâŠâ
He loses himself in his thoughts again. You wait for him to finish the sentence, but he never does, so you nudge him again to get his attention.
When he looks over at you, you tell him, âI wouldâve danced with you anyways. If youâd asked.â
It sits between you for a moment. He blinks.
âWhat?â
âSo really,â you continue, âthe hour hasnât started yet. You get those nine minutes back to make me do whatever you want with, okay? So. Whatâll it be?â
He averts his eyes, stares down at his feet on the ground.
âI canât ask you to do what I most want you to do,â he mutters, âso I donât know what to do with this hour.â
You feel your heart plummet from your chest. He canât ask you to do it? But there was only one stipulated exclusion to the contractâŠ
You lean down to meet Azulâs eyes. He looks vaguely embarrassed, but you stare him down anyway.
âWhat is it?â you demand.
He jumps slightly, clearly taken aback by your demeanor.
âIâm sorry? I just said I couldnât -â
âIs it thievery?â you interrupt.
âWhat?â
âArson, tax fraud, pyramid schemes? Come on, tell me, I can take it.â
âI really donât -â
âItâs really not a big deal, just tell me.â
âBut -â
âTell me.â
âYou canât-â
âJust tell me what you want me to do!â you shout at him.
âKiss me!â he yells back, and before he can clamp a hand over his traitorous mouth, you do.
You take him by the lapels and you pull his stupid adorable face towards you, and you kiss him.
He doesnât kiss you back. When you let him go, he looks half upset and half confused and you think heâs blushing but maybe youâre just deluding yourself.
âI- I know I didnât add a stipulation to the contract,â he stammers, âbut romantic gestures are inherently not an acceptable thing for me to make you do. I really just -â
You pull him close before heâs finished speaking, resting one hand on the back of his neck. You cup his face with the other, and he stares at you with wide-open eyes.
âThe hour still hasnât started,â you tell him. âThis isnât part of the contract.â
At first he doesnât respond, staring at you in stunned silence, but then you kiss him again, and this time, he melts into you. He puts one hand on top of yours and buries the other in your hair and after the ghostly touches of your dance you feel like you could fly.
Thereâs a knock on the door after not long, and Azul, ever diligent, only stays glued to you for five more seconds before getting up to answer it. You distantly hear Jadeâs voice asking about some technical matters, and Azul telling him that he specifically asked not to be bothered for an hour. Your cheeks are hot. You feel giddy.
When Jade finally leaves, Azul shuts the door (and locks it) before walking back over to you. He plants one hand on either side of you and stares into your eyes with a more honest gaze than youâve ever seen from him.
âIâve liked you ever since we worked on that project together,â he tells you. âIâm sorry for making you sign that contract, but I just⊠saw an opportunity to coerce you into spending more time with me. I shouldnât have done that.â
You plant one hand on each side of his face and pull him so your foreheads bump.
âFunny,â you whisper. âThatâs about the same time I started liking you.â
Azul blushes in front of you, for sure this time. And this time, Azulâs the one who pulls you close.
When your lips meet, your brain fills with him, him, and only him. Every other thought leaves your head, except for one:
He drums his fingers on the table, trying to pretend it doesnât bother him while Sebek shouts next to his ear about the audacity, and how dare they!. Silver is trying to calm him down.
Malleus seizes the opportunity while both of their backs are turned to teleport away, away from the hustle and bustle of his dorm to somewhere he can be alone.
Among the gargoyles on the roof of Ramshackle dorm, he can finally breathe, staring up at the sky.
They didnât invite him. Again.
He didnât bother to find out what it was this time. Maybe they couldnât track him down to tell him the meeting was happening. Maybe they were too intimidated, maybe they just forgot.
He studies the stars in the sky, feels the cool air on his skin. Maybe it was for the best that he wasnât there. After all, though the other Housewardens seem unafraid of him, he can always feel the weight in their gazes.
Thatâs Malleus Draconia, they say. Prince of the Fae, Lord of Briar Valley. Heâs so tall, so intimidating. Havenât you heard? Heâs one of the top five mages in the world.
Malleus pats the gargoyle beside him on the head.
âYouâre not afraid of me, in any case,â he tells it. It doesnât respond. They never do.
Perhaps I could persuade the Headmage to hold the next Housewarden meeting in the presence of a gargoyle, he muses. If Iâm able to extol their virtues to the other Housewardens, surely theyâll enjoy my company and be more likely to remember to invite me next time, right?
Right?
Right?
He hears the gate at the entrance of the dorm squeak open and perks up. Conversing with the Child of Man always makes him feel better. And better yet, theyâre alone, save for their feline companion.
Malleus teleports down, appearing suddenly on the path in front of Yuu. They jump back, clutching their chest and curling into themselves in a way unnatural for them. Malleus chooses to ignore it.
Just like he chooses to ignore the lack of applicants to his club, Liliaâs fondness for Silver, the other Housewardens forgetting him again, again, again, again -
He smiles at them. âGreetings, Child of Man.â
âYeah. Hi,â they say, clutching their companion close. He eyes Malleus suspiciously.
âI thought all the Housewardens were in a meeting right now,â Grim says. âWhatcha doing here?â
They didnât invite me. Again.
Before Malleus can speak, Yuu closes their hand over Grimâs tiny mouth.
âDonât say that,â they insist, an almost frantic lilt to their voice. âIâm so sorry, Horn- ah, erm. Uh. Sorry.â
Malleus frowns.
âChild of Man, are you quite alright?â he asks. âYou seem⊠skittish.â
They shake their head overenthusiastically. âIâm fine. Just tired, thatâs all.â
They shift from foot to foot, the motion sending a pen tumbling from their bag. Malleus reaches to catch it on impulse, and -
Yuu flinches away from his hand like itâs on fire, so abrupt they send half a dozen more pens careening towards the floor and almost trip over their own feet.
Malleus freezes with the first pen in his hand, eyes locked onto the wide-eyed horror reflected on Yuuâs face, heart sinking to the floor. Heâs seen that look before.
They break the eye contact and drop to their knees, letting Grim down and scooping wayward pens into their shaking hands. Theyâre shaking. Why are they shaking?
He knows why theyâre shaking.
Malleus doesnât bother trying to help Yuu gather the pens. Heâs been in this situation enough times to know they wonât let him. Instead he clutches the one heâs holding tight in his fist, fighting hard not to break it.
âWhat happened?â he says.
Yuu doesnât look up from their work. âSorry, what?â
Malleus feels the pen splinter in his fist.
âWhy are you afraid of me now?â he says. âWhen you learned my true identity, nothing changed between us - well, I was under the impression that nothing changed, but perhaps I was mistaken.â
Yuu shakes their head. âNo, nothing changed. Not then.â
They keep gathering in silence for another few moments. Grim tries to help, but his paws canât grasp the pens. Finally they gesture for him to head back to Ramshackle. He shoots Malleus a wary look before he obeys.
When their hands and their breathing have steadied, they donât look up. But they speak.
âYouâre going to overblot,â they say. âIâm scared.â
Malleus thinks he canât breathe.
âIâm sorry?â
âEveryone -â they heave a shaking breath â- everyone is overblotting. The Housewardens are overblotting. Jamil overblotted. Diasomnia is the only dorm left. Youâre the only one left.â
Malleus feels the pit in his stomach grow.
âYou donât know that for certain,â he says. He wants to plead with them to listen, to look at him, to change their mind. He canât. Malleus Draconia, Prince of Briar Valley, does not beg.
Yuu rolls the pens in their hands. They still donât look up. âEither way, youâre - youâre Malleus Draconia, Prince of Briar Valley. I hadnât really realized.â
Malleus almost chokes at the title.
âNothing has changed about me,â he tells them. âI am still the same Malleus youâve come to know, Prince of Briar Valley or not.â
Yuu shakes their head. âNo, youâre just⊠so much more powerful than I thought. And I only know this version of you, but itâs not the real you, and the real you could - could do anything to me. And I just - I canât. I canât.â
They risk a glance up at him like theyâre scared of his response. Their startled gaze locks onto the remnants of pen in his fist before it can reach his eyes.
âThat was my favorite pen,â they murmur, mostly to themselves, but Malleus hears it like a knife to the chest.
That was their favorite pen, he thinks, and I destroyed it without even thinking. I could level this campus in the blink of an eye. In a single breath. I could do anything to them.
I donât deserve to be friends with someone like them.
He opens his clenched fist, letting flecks of pen and crimson liquid drip to the floor. His hand throbs.
âCertainly,â he says, voice calm and full of every princely lesson heâs ever had. âI wonât be by again.â
Yuu bites their lip but doesnât protest, the silence searing Malleusâ very core.
He teleports away before he has a moment to think about it, before he drowns in the silence of them letting him leave. His room is dark and he doesnât care to open the curtains, or take off his shoes, or clean off his hand. He sits on his bed and feels the blood drip onto his sheets.
Sebek is going to insist on cleaning those for me, Malleus thinks, and the thought sickens him.
Yuu is sitting in Ramshackle, relieved theyâll never have to see me again, Malleus thinks. That thought sickens him too.
He turns to more well-worn paths of pain.
They didnât invite me. Again. Why didnât they invite me?
He drums the fingers of his other hand on the bed.
You know why, Malleus Draconia, Prince of Briar Valley.
Whenever Idia looked at her, he felt his heart skip a beat.
Which was totally lame, of course, and such a boring normie thing to say, but it was the literal truth. Which he knew because Ortho would not stop bringing it up, and so loudly too -
He furrowed his little mechanical eyebrows. âThere it is again. A missing heartbeat. I wonder what could be causing that. What do you think, brother?â
Idia buried himself in his hood and tried to disappear. It didnât work.
Ugh, he thought, whyâs his voice so loud! Now people are looking at me, and judging me, like âoh, that Idiaâs so weird. Even his heart doesnât work right. What a loser.â
But, although of course it would be rather embarrassing for people to think those things about him (which they were not), he was mostly worried about her. Y/N.
She was standing there, just across the plaza, chatting with her friends. Some kids from her homeroom class. Idia would be lying if he said he wasnât a little bit jealous of them, but in the end, she would always come back to him. He glanced up at her.
âOh! It happened again!â Ortho exclaimed.
Idia snapped his gaze back down to the floor, struggling to keep the color from rising in his cheeks and hair. Worst case scenario, sheâd hear Ortho exclaiming about something being wrong with his heart and come over to see what was going on. Ugh, and heâd seem like such loser, and sheâd probably figure out why it was happening and then sheâd know and then sheâd hate him, and sheâd be so creeped out that a total social failure like him had a thing for her, and then sheâd never talk to him again and heâd die alone, without any girlfriend (obviously, he didnât have any hope in that field) and without any friends (because Ortho was just too! dang! loud!). So yeah, thatâd be the worst case scenario. The absolute worst -
âHey, whatâs going on?â
Crap. That was her. Heâd recognize that deliciously clever voice anywhere.
He risked a glance at her basic black shoes. Maybe since it was just that snippet of her it wouldnât - ?
âOh! There it went again! You see that, there in this heart rate monitor?â
Crap. That idea hadnât worked, and Idia felt like a total noob for thinking it might. Of course it would, because it was more so the thought of her presence than actually seeing her be present that got him all flustered and stammery and irregular-heart-rate-y. But present she was, and she was looking at all the little blips in his heart rate from the past few minutes that Ortho was pointing out to her.
âWhat do you think could be causing it?â she asked the little robot.
He shrugged. âI donât know, itâs very peculiar, but itâs been happening a lot. Do you have any ideas, brother? Any common threads you noticed?â
Idia tore his gaze from the floor and looked over at where they stood, his little brother and his crush and best friend, the two most important people in his life.
âNo, I donât,â he muttered (which was a lie, of course, for obvious reasons).
âAnother!â Ortho cried, and squinted at the monitor he was projecting. âWhatever could have caused thatâŠâ
Meanwhile Idia kept his gaze fixed on Y/N. Her hair, her hands, her uniform jacket. But not her face, not unless he wanted to risk his face growing hot and his hair changing colors. It was fine sometimes, when they were hanging out in his room, or when it was bright out and he didnât think anyone could tell, or sometimes when they were playing a game or talking about anime he forgot to be nervous around her, about his hair and his stupid heart. But not here, not now, not with Ortho poring over his vital signs looking for any other irregularities. If he didnât look away, his heart couldnât skip the tell-tale beat when he looked back at her, because he wouldnât.
âHmm,â Ortho said, Y/N peering at the data over his shoulder. âWell, now your heart rateâs gone up, brother.â
Oh, of course. That was the other symptom that came from looking at her, and that one Idia could feel in his bones, thudding through every inch of his body.
She looked at him, suddenly, dead-on, right in the eyes, and Idia found himself paralyzed under her gaze, unable to look away.
âMaybe heâs uncomfortable around all these people?â she suggested, and she was talking to Ortho but she was looking at him. And hey, why was she talking about him like he wasnât even here?
âMaybeâŠâ Ortho said. âDo you want to go back to your room, brother?â
Idia scoffed. Who did they think they were talking about?
âOf course I want to go back to my room. This is like playing on hard mode, plus my skills are way too underleveled for all this social interaction.â He shuddered.
Y/N giggled. âThatâs our Idia. But itâs good to go outside sometimes, yâknow. Some things just arenât the same if you donât experience them for yourself.â
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. âYeah, like what?â
âOh, you know. Like cons and concerts and themed cafes. Arenât you so sad we couldnât go to that one last week?â
âIâm perfectly happy watching the videos they posted. Only a total newb doesnât understand how to enjoy things from their room.â
âThe videos are fine,â she insisted, âbut they donât compare to being there in person.â
Idia sighed. âYou can insist all you want, but youâre still not gonna get me to go.â
She grinned at him. âIâll do it someday. Maybe it wonât be until weâre old and gray - or whatever color youâre gonna turn - but Iâll get you to go to a cafe with me.â
Idia grimaced, but inside his heart was humming. Did she really mean it? That sheâll stick with me until weâre old and gray, and she wonât let me die alone?
If thatâs not love, what is?
But no, he was getting ahead of himself. There were many kinds of love in this world, and it was way too big of a leap to think she felt the same way about him.
But heâd taken much bigger leaps before.
The day he - he, Idia Shroud - approached her and said hi, all because he saw the charm on her phone and knew - knew, absolutely, positively, somewhere deep down - that she was a nerd like him. The day he timidly got her number, the day he tentatively asked her to come play games with him in his room. It almost seemed like their whole relationship was nothing but Idia taking chances. Taking leaps, closer and closer to her.
Ortho exclaimed again, snapping Idia out of his thoughts. âAnother heart rate increase? Brother, I think itâs time for you to go back to your room.â
Idia sighed. Finally back to where he felt most comfortable, but away from her. He looked back at Y/N, taking all of her in.
She smiled back at him. âIâll probably come by later, after class, if thatâs okay with you.â
âYeah, thatâs fine.â It was more than fine, but it wouldnât do to seem too excited.
Ortho was tugging on his arm, trying to get his brother to go rest and return his vital signs to normal, but Idia knew it would take a while for his heart rate to calm down. He let Ortho pull him along anyway, glancing back at her once.
Y/N waved and shouted, âIâll see you after school!â
Idia raised a timid hand back. As long as it would feel until then, their time hanging out together would feel even shorter. He didnât know much about social interactions, heâd admit that much, but he never felt inadequate when he was with her, and he knew she wouldnât judge him. He was certain of it. As certain as his heart skipping a beat when he saw her outside his door.