#imagine the two transfer students arrive to the dorm and just casually walking with them is the unstable pokemon you lost 10 years ago

[sirenspells]

Im planning on revamping my one pokemon persona crossover au (yknow, the one that was basically ultra moon but persona characters) and make it more p3 but with pokemon instead.

What I’ve thought for it so far is I guess the Kirijo Group is basically the Aether Foundation, and rather than studying Shadows, they study Ultra Beasts. So they’re the ones who created Type: Full. The incident 10 years ago was, instead of an explosion of Shadows, probably the opening of a bunch of Ultra Wormholes that caused Ultra Beasts to wreak havoc and still caused the deaths of the Arisatos’ parents.

One Type: Full basically takes the role of Aigis during this part and attempts to protect the young Arisatos, but still during the course of this entire disaster it’s clear the Type: Full are unstable and ended up causing some harm, so they’re still slated to be bound and cryogenically frozen. What I’m thinking though is that the Type: Null that protected the Arisatos ends up escaping before it’s frozen and somehow ends up finding the Arisatos again, who basically adopt it as their weird robot dog friend that they name Silvally.

(See the Arisatos don’t recognize the Type: Null because 1) it has its big ol helmet on and 2) the Arisatos still ended up repressing that event so they don’t really remember it even happened. But they still feel subconsciously attached to this robot dog and decide to keep it with them)

Btw Aigis has not been replaced she’s still gonna be in the au. I miiiight make her a human, but I also like the idea of her being a Rotom possessing an android body, think that’d be neat. Koromaru’s a midday Lycanroc probably, and he’s probably still an albino one.

The final boss (so Nyx) will instead end up being Ultra Necrozma. I think Ryoji’s gonna end up being just some guy (lol) and he’ll just join SEES (or whatever they’re called here) as a normal member.

[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship: Invitation

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood | depictions of firearms/firearm handling | mentions of hunting

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

Slight revisions and full version posted on: 5/4/2021

“Here,” Sam hands you a thick envelope. “Your pay, as usual.”

 You trust Sam not to go behind your back and the mutual agreement set between you two, but you make sure to grab and stop him from walking away with all your produce just yet. You need to count the money he's handed over and ensure every last madol is where it should be. Thankfully, it is, but there are a few extra bills you know aren’t supposed to be in there.

 You remove the extra money and hand it back to him. “You gave me too much.”

 He pushes your hand back and shakes his head. “Consider this my holiday gift for you.”

 You give him an incredulous look. “You sure? Because if you come back here next week telling me I owe you money I’m going to sick the wolves on you.”

 Your threat is met with a hearty laugh from the shopkeeper. “Have I ever done you wrong, my friend?”

 “Yes, you have actually.”

 “Haha, good times indeed!” He casually waves at you as he hauls away your vegetables on a large wooden cart. “Happy holidays!”

 You have half a mind to remind him that the holiday season is over. Instead, you decide that it’s best to just turn around and walk away. The money is in your hands and your produce is in his care and that's all there is to it. This season's harvest is now officially concluded and you can start prepping for the spring. After a long-deserved rest, of course. The few extra madols give you just a little more than what was needed to put down for a brand new generator for the dorm. You have a model already picked out ahead of time. All that's left is to order and wait for it to come in.

 "Well?" Benji floats up to you as soon as you enter the front door. "Do we have enough?"

 You proudly wave the envelope in the air. "We have enough and then some!"

 Your housemates cheer and pull you into a group hug. Frankie takes the envelope from you and heads out, most likely heading to the safe you’ve hidden from Grim so he can put all the money together and deposit it at the nearest bank. Once the ghosts come down from their brief celebratory high, you excuse yourself and head to the backyard where Malleus is waiting for you.

 "I'm back!" you happily announce your arrival.

 "Welcome back," he smiles up at you. "Did you get your payment?"

 "I did!" you nod. "Frankie's taking it to the bank, so I should be able to get that new generator before sunset."

 "That's good. It'll be one less problem for you to worry about."

 "You can say that again," you sigh. "Thanks for your help today. I'm surprised we managed to pick and clean everything up before noon!"

 You situate yourself next to Malleus, who's sitting down on the low porch. Gunter's pups have been following him since breakfast and you don't think they'll be off his heels for some time. It's been like this since they were born. One might even be able to say that they like him more than they do you. Malleus doesn't show it or verbally express it, but you can tell he enjoys their attachment to him. He allows them to jump all over him and drench him in wet kisses without much of a fuss. Who knows, when they grow older they just might start following and taking orders from him rather than you. Maybe he won't need Sebek and Silver to follow him anymore if they stick around?

 You can imagine Sebek being incredibly offended that a bunch of wild wolves took his job.

 Malleus looks at you. "Have you given them names yet?"

 "The pups?" you ask for clarification. "I've been meaning to, but my head can’t think of any. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them."

 Malleus mulls over your offer. He picks up one pup at a time, trying to think of an appropriate name to give them. After about 10 minutes his shoulders go slack and he looks back over to you with disappointment. "I'm afraid I'm drawing a blank as well."

 "Well, you gave it a shot," you clap your hand on his shoulder. "Tell you what. Once we get that new generator, we can sit down and do a bit of name-brainstorming over some tea."

 "Yes, that sounds lovely," he smiles again, and you start to realize that he has a damn good smile. "When do you want to get together?"

 "Sometime next week. With the extra money Sam gave me I can get the generator in faster!"

 Malleus seems momentarily excited, but it quickly dies as he suddenly realizes something. "Can we meet the week after next? I have something important coming up."

 "Sure," you say. "What's happening next week?"

 "It's…" he hesitates. "It's my birthday next week."

 Your eyes pop wide open. "Oh shit, for real?"

 "Indeed."

 One of the pups desperately tries to jump up onto the porch, but his stubby legs and meager strength aren't enough to push him over the edge. As you reach down and help him up, you ask, "How come I'm only hearing about your birthday now?"

 Malleus carefully lifts the other pups onto the porch as well. "You never asked me."

 "No kidding", you snort. "To be honest, I thought that maybe you didn't celebrate it anymore since you're hundreds of years old. Don't birthdays lose their novelty after a few centuries?"

 "They do,” he agrees  “I haven't had a grandiose party since I was about your age."

 "Wow," your eyebrows lift in shock. "That's just rude."

 He suddenly looks so terrified. "I didn't mean it-"

 "I'm kidding!" you quickly reassure him. "Lighten up Tsunotarou! I'm not going to shoot you for poking a bit of fun at me."

 "So you say," he grumbles.

 "I'm not!" you defensively shrill. "If you're talking about the time I shot at those sea worms, I had every right to! No way in hell was I gonna be intimidated into giving my dorm up. Not now. Not ever."

 Those "sea worms" you're referring to are Jade and Floyd Leech from Octavinelle. During exams week, Ace Deuce and Grim as well as many other students who made a deal with Azul for his infamous study guides practically kissed the very ground you walked on in order to convince you to rescue them from their dubious contracts. Initially, you refused their request no matter how much they pleaded or bothered you. It wasn't until Jade and Floyd caught onto this bit of information (it’s hard to ignore a dozen students following you around like a bunch of chicks) that they began to set their sights on you. The two tried to squeeze you into a deal that would release everyone who signed a contract with Azul for his infamous cheat sheet, so long as you could keep up your end of the bargain. 

 It was clearly too good to be true or fair. Nevertheless, you decided to at least listen and attempt to negotiate some sort of proposal that would make both sides happy, if only to have your intruded space restored to normal. Unfortunately, Azul wouldn't settle for anything less than your dorm, which you refused to hand over despite Grim's OK to put it up for grabs. Jade and Floyd insisted you agree to the terms for the sake of your friends and fellow schoolmates, but you bluntly told them something that, to this day, never fails to make Malleus giggle even when he's in a foul mood.

  "You're not getting my fucking dorm! Not now! Not ever!"

 Unfortunately, Jade and Floyd began to follow you around too and even went as far as to visit your dorm during unconventional hours, on a regular basis. Their insistent arguments began to turn into veiled threats, and you aren't the type of person to take them all too well. Malleus remembers visiting you one day only to find you out on the roof, your hunting rifle in hand, keeping a vigilant eye out towards the gates for the Leech twins to make their expected visit. Malleus knew that your weapon is a dangerous one when used correctly, but he did not expect as much power behind it as it had until you shot a couple of live rounds near the merfolk's feet.

 His ears still ring thinking about that powerful discharge.

 "Where is your rifle?" he asks. "Also, where is your falcon?"

 "Twilight? She's still upstairs in her cage." You make a vague gesture towards the second floor.

 Twilight is a falcon that you found during one of your hunting trips, having suffered a nasty injury to her wing. You have some experience with falconry so you immediately recognized her mannerism as that of a hunting falcon as well as her breed, an Aplomado. You tried to find her original handler while you nursed her back to health, but unfortunately, no one came forward to claim her and you decided to keep her. You and her bonded very easily, so rehabilitating and training her to take commands from you was a breeze. While you expected her to maybe leave your side once she was able to properly fly again, she remains determined to stick with you.

 You stand up and turn towards the back door. "I should probably wake her up before she gets mad at me.”

 "I'll watch over these while you do that," Malleus grabs one of the pups who topples over another and refuses to get off of them.

 "Thanks!" You bend down and give him a quick one-armed hug from behind. "You're the best!"

 As you're about to head back into your home, you stop at the door and turn back around. "Are you sure you want me to bring my rifle?"

 "Do you not want to bring it out?"

 "I don't mind bringing it. It's just, not everyone likes to be around guns."

 Malleus nods in understanding. "Well, I'm not like everyone," he playfully remarks.

 "No, you're not," you smile. "I'll be right back then."

 "Take your time," he assures you.

"Rise and shine pretty bird!"

 You lift the dark sheet off of her cage so she can bask in the morning light. Twilight was busy preening herself, but now that you're in her sight she begins to happily screech and shuffles closer to the door, eagerly awaiting for you to open it so she can jump on you.

 You quickly slip on your handling gloves and help her transfer from her perch to your hand. Her sharp talons tightly grip around the sides of your fingers, but the thick leather prevents them from piercing your raw flesh. You snap your fingers a couple of times to get her attention focused solely on you. When she maintains steady eye contact with you, you reach into your pocket and present your other gloved palm to her. In it are some bacon bits you managed to snag from the leftovers of this morning's breakfast. She eagerly pecks and munches down the small meal.

 "It still isn't the best time to go hunting, but how's about I let you out anyways and you can stretch your wings for a bit?"

 She expands her wings and flaps them a few times, a sign that she's eager to take you up on your offer. You haven't taken her out to hunt for about a month, mainly because you were gone half of the time. The winters here are especially harsh, even with a bunch of fire faeries keeping the campus somewhat warmer. The pickings are also dry since most of the wildlife on the island are sticking close to their burrows to stay warm and wait out the season.

 You've been itching to head out into the forest recently, but winter is usually a bad hunting season for you. Luckily, you've met and befriended a few of the locals on the island who live off the bounty of the land as you do. They tend to look out for one another and offer help during difficult times, and the barren winter is no exception. You make a mental reminder to reach out and ask where some of the best hunting spots on the island are once this generator fiasco is all taken care of.

 "Now, you wouldn't happen to know where my rifle is, do you?" you ask her. When she goes to nibble a piece of your hair, you know that she has no clue.

 As you're about to head down to the foyer (you often leave it there), a sudden squeaking noise catches both Twilight and your attention. There, at the other end of the hall, a beady-eyed Jerboa bounces up and down in a steady rhythm in an attempt to grab your attention.

 Scarabia wasn't entirely traumatizing. You met Gizmo, the Jerboa before you, during one of the exhausting desert marches, nearly dead from severe dehydration. The little guy brought you a bit of comfort throughout the entire ordeal. He also was able to bring you the enchanted envelope Malleus gave you before he went back home for the winter break. It immediately sends any letter you place inside it to him once you set it on fire. How else could you have contacted him after your phone was conveniently confiscated after your first escape attempt?

 "Good morning, little guy," you smile down at him. "You wouldn't happen to know where my gun is, do you?"

 It seems he does, as he turns and begins to race down the adjacent hall. He stops every so often to look back at you, making sure you're still keeping up with him. Eventually, he stops in front of a door to one of several lounging areas. This one, in particular, is more the ghosts' lounge than anyone else's. It's filled with all sorts of memorabilia and photos from the dorm's heyday. The ghosts have shared a few stories about the shenanigans they got in when they were both alive and students at NRC. Interestingly enough, the dorm was a sort of "halfway home" for students undergoing the difficult process that is switching to another dorm. The idea was to separate the student from those of their originally assigned dorm so they can better learn and adopt the characteristics of the dorm they wish to transfer into.

 Soon enough, the dorm began to house more and more people. A common feeling amongst the residents of the past was a feeling of displacement or disconnection towards the other formal dorms and the ideals they upheld. While not approved by the headmaster, the residents began to form a sort of pseudo dorm with its own set of principles as well as assigning a dorm leader and vice leader just as the others did. Nothing was ever written in stone, but the ghosts vouched that the main “characteristics” amongst Ramshackle’s past residents was a desire to establish camaraderie with those around them, no matter their background or origins.

 Listening and learning what the Ramshackle once meant to them and so many others hit home for you. You lived near a small rural town, surrounded by people who were willing to share their resources with their neighbors and even the occasional stranger simply because it was a kind thing to do for one another. The students of NRC are willing to put their heads together, sure, but there almost always has to be some sort of catch that benefits the individual.

 Living with students like that is stressful as hell. Somedays you just skip school entirely, having already gone through the many woes and few wonders of high school back in your world. You have zero patience to deal with people who only view each other (and subsequently you) as inferior or a mere stepping stone to trample over. Ace and Deuce are your friends and have proven that they are "exceptions" so to speak. However, they're still just a couple of kids. No matter how well you three communicate and work well with each other, there's just a natural disconnection you feel with them that not even magic can fix. 

 It makes your close connection with Malleus, someone who's centuries older than you, incredibly ironic. You've essentially had your life figured out back home, and in some strange serendipitous way, so does Malleus. He's going to become king of his home country immediately after or sometime after he graduates, while you were going to continue living that nice rural lifestyle you lived back home, alongside your 3 aunts and many cousins. At least, once Crowley finds a way to send you back.

 Maybe that's why his confession felt so much more confusing and intensely when it happened. Everything seemed so linear before he uttered those three words to you. Now, it feels like the clear and concise timeline you've had pictured in your head for months is just one big blob of scribbles and nonsense.

  "Am I doing something wrong?" you desperately ask Frankie. "Because it feels like I made some huge mistake and now it's coming back to bite me in the ass right now."

  "Of course you haven't done anything wrong," he rubs your shoulder reassuringly.

  "Then why does it feel like everything around me is slowly falling apart?" You're sobbing at this point. The cigar you took from him earlier is now abandoned, snuffed out in the ashtray. "Why does it feel like  I'm  falling apart?"

  "Nu-uh," he shakes his head and gives you a stern look. "We're not gonna do none of that. Do you hear me? None."

  "Then what the hell do I need to do?!" you shriek. "Frankie, I'm fucking losing it here. I'm one more backhanded dismissal away from kicking Crowley's teeth in. I swear, if one more overblot happens, so help me. I can't deal with someone else's problems when I can't even get a full night of rest anymore!"

  "You've done nothing wrong, you hear me?" he reaffirms. "I get it, I do. Right now, life is handing you a bad hand and you don't have the people you usually rely on for support. I've been there kiddo. We all have. We may not be like your aunts or your loud-ass cousins,"

  A smile finally cracks on your face. He's using your own words you've used to describe your younger family members. You love the little tykes, but they can be a handful sometimes. 

  Damn, you miss them, your aunts too. They're all that you have left after a messy custody battle with your parents. This garden. Your rifle. Hell, even your insistence at taking over many of the household chores have all been your desperate attempts of finding some sort of familiarity in this new and strange world. 

  "But remember, those in Ramshackle stick together and help each other out when they're in a pinch. We'll handle all the little stuff, the cooking, the cleaning, the occasional clogged pipe," he scoffs, annoyed just thinking about the pipes clogging up again. They've been doing it a lot lately and everyone in the house is incredibly over it. "Right now, your only priority is yourself. Okay?"

  It takes you a moment to really take in his words, but eventually, you nod in understanding. "Alright," you affirm out loud.

  He squeezes your shoulder. "Good."

  A sharp and muffled whistle pulls your attention away. Johnny's voice is a little hard to make out, but you're able to make out "generator working" and "warm coffee".

  "C'mon," Frankie holds open the glass door and ushers you outside. "I don't know about you, but I could use a cup of coffee."

  "I could use two," you sigh.

  He gives one last squeeze around your shoulder. For a moment, it feels like you're back home. You feel a little better too. A little bit more secure.

 As you enter the room, you see that Benji, and Johnny are gathered for the usual late morning/early afternoon poker matches. 

 "Hey, prefect," Benji, the first one to notice your entrance, greets. "Need something?"

 "Have you seen my rifle?" you look around the room for any immediate sign of it. "It's been a while since I used it and I've completely lost track of it."

 "Should be under one of the floorboards here," Johnny, who is playing busy rearranging his cards, says. "If not, try the floorboards in the living room."

 You thank him and begin carefully stepping and tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards, trying to find and search one of many secret spaces made back in Ramshackle's glory days. Nothing dangerous (you hope) was ever hidden. It was mainly used by the students who lived here during its heyday to hide bottles of alcohol and cigarettes. You know, the typical items a bunch of teenage outcasts would keep around.

 There was actually a bottle of some rare and expensive wine that was left behind as the number of residents began to dwindle. You and the ghosts are waiting for the right occasion to crack it open and enjoy the vintage-like a bunch of fiends. Grim won't be having any. Hell no.

 Twilight has temporarily detached herself from your side and perches comfortably on Benji's shoulder. Her talons dig into his white spectral body, but he doesn't wince or show any sign that he's in any pain. She nibbles on his worn scarf to pass the time until you call her. Gizmo busies himself by helping you find all the secret spaces. He finds one and begins jumping over it more enthusiastically. When you pry the wooden slat up, you perk up as the familiar scent of old gunpowder fills your nose.

 "There you are!" you practically sing when you lift the board and see your trusty gun. "And here I was thinking Benji lost you."

 "I heard that!" he shouts, deeply offended.

 "I know," you reply. "Glad to know that your hearing hasn't gone out yet. Had me worried for a while, gramps."

 Johnny erupts in a symphony of loud laughter. While community and mutual respect were a value shared between Ramshackle residents, a bit of teasing and the occasional prank is always welcomed. It's a great way to keep morale up. It's also satisfying to say a remark that makes everyone laugh or have a prank go as planned. So long as no one got hurt, it's all fair game between you all.

 You lift the heavy rifle out of the space and do a routine check. The internal magazine is empty and when you probe the back of the chamber with your pinky you don't feel a loaded round inside. You flip the safety on and off and pull the trigger a few times to make sure the mechanisms are working correctly. You also do a quick count of your ammunition. While guns do exist in this world, coming across bullets is much harder than it is in your world. This is mainly due to the reliance on magically sourced bullets that help reduce the use of resources. Their rarity makes them expensive, and the few blacksmiths who do make them usually don't sell to anyone unless they feel the buyer is a genuine enthusiast of their craft. The buyer also needs to have a license to own them, which you thankfully earned after a few safety lessons and a short exam.

 Lucky for you, the one and only smith on the island who makes bullets was more than happy to provide you with some bullets at an affordable price after you allowed him to ogle your rifle for a few hours. It's an old model, supposedly used by your great grandfather after he was enlisted into the army. When the war ended and he was sent back home, he customized it so it can be used for hunting deers instead of people. Your first aunt Gia was always handling it. Whether she was taking it apart and putting it back together or out in the backyard doing some recreational target practice. 

 She always looked strong yet elegant carrying it around, not that she isn’t without it. During your first year living with her, you tried to imitate her, slinging some large stick you found out in the woods to try to exude the same energy she did. When your second aunt Lucia moved in with your cousins after her divorce, she was quick to reprimand you and confiscate any of the newly found branches you brought back home and waved around as an imaginary rifle. Your aunt Gia eventually began to teach you how to properly and safely handle her firearm. By the time your third aunt Marisol moved in after graduating from university, you were one hell of a sharpshooter and a damn good hunter.

 With the rifle now deemed safe to take to Malleus, you sling it over your shoulder and make your way out of the room. You whistle the signal for Twilight to return to your side and she immediately heeds your command. Her obedience earns her a few more bits of bacon. Gizmo also wishes for some compensation for helping you locate your rifle. You make a quick trip to the kitchen and give him a few raisins to snack on. He's the only one who eats raisins in the dorm, so you don't skimp out on him.

 Blossom does try to snag a few for himself, but a threatening screech from Twilight scares the gluttonous fawn away. That deer sure loves to eat.

"I'm back, again!" you announce as you reclose the back door behind you.

 "Welcome back, again," Malleus regreets you. "And a good morning to you, Twilight."

 Twilight also loves Malleus. She eagerly shifts her feet, desperately wanting to fly onto his arm and properly say hello. You let her transfer onto him once he slips on the safety glove you provide. After a few minutes of giving her loving neck scratches and trying to stop her from nipping at Malleus's ears (she likes them a lot and, now that you’re thinking about it, you do too), you take her back and help send her off into the air for some much needed soaring time. 

 "I see you brought your weapon," Malleus looks at your rifle with an examining eye.

 "I did," you bring it around and into your arms. "Now, why did you want me to bring it again?"

 "No reason in particular," he admits. "I just...I'm quite used to seeing you with it. You're never without it unless you're attending classes."

 A proud smirk finds its way onto your face no matter how hard you try to hide it. "I'll take that as a compliment."

 A potentially stupid idea pops up in your head. "Do you want me to teach you how it works?"

 "Truly?" Malleus looks extremely shocked at your offer. "You dislike it greatly when another person touches it."

 "I dislike it when people who don't know the first thing about gun safety touch my gun," you correct. "But count yourself lucky, because I know everything there is to know about this one right here!"

 "Very well,” he gives a conceding nod. “Have at it."

 This is the most excited you've ever been since waking up in the floating coffin all those months ago. While you aren't the biggest gun enthusiast out there (you only ever use it for hunting), you do like it when people show interest to learn about your hobbies. Ace and Deuce are teenagers, so it's no surprise that they don't exactly find the long and grueling labor that goes into gardening all that exciting. Your firearm is nothing more than a toy in their minds, though Deuce is a bit more serious than Ace is when it comes to safety.

 Speaking of gun safety. "Now, I don't mean to nag but it's important to remember that, under no circumstances, are you to ever point a gun at anyone. Loaded or unloaded."

 Malleus makes a face of confusion. "Then how come you pointed and shot at the Leech twins?"

 "Hey," you put your hands up in defense. "I wasn't shooting at them. I shot at the ground and it just so happens that their feet were near my line of shot."

 "Ah, I see," he chuckles at your convenient excuse. "So shooting near an individual is ok, so long as the bullet doesn't hit them."

 "Exactly," you wink at him. "But seriously, don't point it at or near anyone. And don't look down the barrel. Lilia nearly gave me a heart attack when I caught him doing just that."

 He closes his eyes and gives a deep nod like you just bestowed upon him a great piece of wisdom. "Duly noted."

 "Next is the magazine," you turn and pull back the bolt handle to show him the empty magazine hidden underneath the bolt itself. "This is where you put the bullets. The magazine holds up to 4 bullets, 5 if you keep one loaded in the chamber. Since my gun is an older model, you can’t pop in an external magazine. Unless you're in a desperate situation, it's best to"

 You look up to make sure Malleus is following along with your explanation. Maybe he is, but it's hard to tell when his eyes completely ignore the rifle you have set between the two of you and instead keeps his eyes focused solely on you. Your throat immediately dries up and you feel your heart begin to beat just a bit faster after it skips a beat. The look he's giving you is the same one he gave you at Scarabia, a content, and dazed smile. There's a hint of melancholy in his expression, evident by how the inner corners of his eyebrows turn upward. 

 He looks so at peace, yet so sad.

 "What's wrong?" you ask, though you know full well what's making him feel that way he does.

 He shakes his head in denial. The visual sadness goes away once he settles. "Nevermind me. Keep talking, please."

 "R-Right," you stutter. "Where was I again?"

 "You said your gun is an older model."

 "Right," you remember. "Since the model is old, it's best not to reload too quickly, otherwise you risk jamming the gun and in some cases, you might break a mechanism."

 You feel a faint vibration underneath your leg. Thinking it's your phone (now set back to vibration mode) you start to pat down your clothes to try and find the device. Surprisingly, it actually came from Malleus's phone. It keeps pulsing in fixed intervals, likely from someone calling him. He quickly pulls it out and clicks on the red reticle, sending the caller to voicemail without batting an eyelash. You couldn't see who was calling, but you swear their name started with an 'S'. Could it be Silver or Sebek calling? You hope it's not Sebek because once Malleus starts to manually decline his calls, the next person he usually rings up is-

 You feel another vibration, this time it's coming from your phone that you apparently left in your back pocket. Lo and behold, it's Sebek that's calling you. You show your screen to Malleus, who makes a dramatically loud sigh of exhaustion. Sebek...While he's well-intentioned and has his charming points, he can be a bit of a handful...

 Ok, that's too nice a way of putting it. Really, as passionate as he is, he can be a bit annoying to deal with sometimes. You're trying to be polite as you can be with him because you've been told that Faes offended easily and you're not going to be that asshole. Though, you’ll be the first to admit that he’s such an easy and fun target to joke around with. Blame the ghosts, their behavior is gradually rubbing off on you.

 His protectiveness and the deep admiration he has towards Malleus is a little quirky, even cute at times. It reminded you of a child vehemently protecting their parent from their lover, not that you and Malleus are dating or anything. 

 Why did that last part feel weird to say in your head?

 "Go ahead and answer," Malleus concedes. "I’m not entirely in the mood to listen to his shouting in the middle of the day."

 "Oh, his heart would break if he heard you," you place a hand over your fake-pained heart. "You are such a cruel man, Great and Benevolent Malleus!"

 The two of you erupt into a brief fit of laughter. After calming yourself down, you answer the phone. "Hello, you've reached the Ramshackle dormitory." 

 You have to turn away and cup your free hand around your mouth so the phone doesn't pick up Malleus's uncontrollable giggles.

  "Human!”  he shouts into the phone and you have to pull it back to alleviate your overwhelmed eardrum. “  If you would kindly put Lord Malleus on the phone, I would greatly appreciate it."

 You look over to Malleus, but Sebek was loud enough that you don’t have to mouth anything to him. He gestures for you to hand the phone over to him, but you put your hand up to tell him to give you a moment.

 "If you want to talk to Malleus, press two,” you blankly say. “Those are the rules."

  "Human! I don’t have time for your terrible jokes!"

 Malleus then gestures for you to hand over your phone. "Do as they say, Sebek," he calmly commands.

 Your hands slap against your mouth to cover the loud and ugly screech you make when you hear the loud dial noise come right after. 

 The two talk for a while. It’s mainly Malleus listening to whatever Sebek is passionately rambling about while giving the occasional hum and idle acknowledgments. At one point during the call, he looks over to you and frowns. You mouth “what’s wrong?” but he shakes his head and looks away. Once he hangs up, he lets out a very stressful sigh and slumps a bit. He’s upset.

 “Hey,” you move your rifle and scoot closer to him, giving him a gentle shoulder bump once you’re near. “Talk to me. What did Sebek say?”

 “It’s nothing important,” he continues to dismiss. “Just a trivial matter.”

 “ Malleus,” your voice becomes stern. “C’mon, talk to me.”

 He tends to downplay his troubles since he thinks they pale in comparison to the many other aspects going on in his life (being royalty can’t be easy). When it was clear that you were more than just an acquaintance, Lilia gave you a bit of advice about Fae behavior so you can better communicate with Malleus and get him to open up to you. Faes cannot lie, but they can give half-truths, and, depending on how powerful one is, they can tell white lies. It took a bit of work, but eventually, you gained enough of Malleus' trust as well as reassured him that you won't up and abandon him for simply voicing his opinions or feelings, even if you might disagree with him.

 “You first,” he says insistently.

 Also by the advice\of Lilia, you have a bit of an ongoing exchange with Malleus. For every instance he bears his inner thoughts and feelings to you, you have to tell him something about yourself that others don’t know about. 

 Have all your facts been embarrassing admittances? Yes, they have.

  “No offense, but aren’t Fae notorious for being a bit...y’know?”

  “Mischievous?” Lilia snickers.

  “Right,” you cross your arms in an attempt to provide yourself with a bit of comfort. Lilia’s casual demeanor surely isn’t helping you. “Telling Malleus all my innermost secrets is surely going to come back and bite me in the future.”

  “Well, in most circumstances you wouldn’t be wrong.” Suddenly his playful voice becomes firm and actually assuring for once. “However, there is no need for concern. I can say with certainty that whatever you tell Malleus, no matter how embarrassing or incriminating it is, will forever remain with him and him alone.”

  The old Fae pats you on the head, despite being taller than him. “He cares deeply about, truly.”

 That fuzzy feeling in your chest returns. Your hands have an itch to fidget with something to try and distract yourself. It ends up being a strand of your hair that gets blown in your face after an especially chilly gust of wind dishevels it. That’s when a small bulb lights up in your head.

 “I hate the winter,” you admit. “The long nights throw me off and I have terrible luck running into wild game when I head out into the field. Really, it's cold weather that I hate in general.”

 “Interesting,” Malleus clearly takes in and files away this new fact he’s learned in his head. “This likely isn’t a surprise, but I enjoy this time of the year.”

 “What's winter in the Valley of Thorns like?”

 Malleus, shocked at hearing your sudden interest in his home, begins to paint as detailed a picture as he can about the kingdom during the colder seasons. Greenery is a bit sparse given the Valley’s more mountainous terrain, but he insists that the thorn bushes you can find in nearly every corner of the land are beautiful in their own right. No matter the season, there’s always some amount of fog that dilutes the rays of the sun, so a day without one is often seen as a sign of good fortune by the people. Modern machinery is all but nonexistent as well, so there are no buildings, pollution, or lights to obscure the starry sky at night.

 “Now it just sounds like I’m back home,” you let out a sad reminiscent sigh.

 “What about your home? What is it like?”

 “About the same as yours, except we got plenty of sunlight and we had lush forests instead of rocky cliffs. There was a small town about half an hour out, but most of the businesses there have been around since the ’50s.” You notice his confusion as your terminology, but a brief explanation of your world’s calendar clears it up.

 “It sounds charming,” he says. “I’d love to visit it one day, should the opportunity present itself.”

 “There’s an ice cream shop down the main avenue,” you mention, knowing how much he enjoys the cold treat. “The owners even change their selections every other day, but the rainbow sherbet is the best one they have!”

 “Is that so?” he chuckles at your enthusiasm. 

 A sharp screech cuts your conversation into an abrupt close. That was without a doubt a signal from Twilight, letting you know that someone is walking up the pathway to the dorm. You aren’t expecting anyone, and Frankie is likely just arriving in town by now. You remember how Malleus seemed dejected after his call with Sebek.

 Just as you connect the dots, Malleus stands up, brushing off any dirt and debris from his clothes. “I apologize, but I must head out now.”

 “Already?” you ask with playful sadness. The fuzz in your chest dissipates into a dull ache. Weird.

 “I need to go over my guest list for my birthday once more. Lilia insisted I send out handwritten invitations to immerse myself into the festivities.”

 “That sounds about right.” After standing up yourself and insisting you’ll walk him out, you ask, “So when can I expect my invitation to come in?”

 “You want to come? Even after,” he immediately stops himself from speaking.

 Does he really think he messed up that badly with you?

 “I do want to go,” you firmly tell him. “Even after everything that’s happened.”

 There’s a brief silence between you two before he says, “You don’t have to force yourself.”

 “I’m not,” you reassure him.

 “So you say.”

 “Malleus,” you sigh. “If there’s anyone scared about our friendship dissolving because of what happened, it’s me. I’m the one that’s keeping you in suspense, even now.”

 The truth hurts, but no amount of shared laughs and the occasional antics between the two of you is going to magically dissolve the damage present. You’ve hurt him, and in a way, it’s hurting you as well. Life isn’t as linear as it was, but sulking and bringing the people around you down is a terribly selfish thing to do, especially towards someone you care a great deal about. You weren’t raised like that. You were taught to appreciate the little things and watch out for those around you. Not for personal gain, but because it was simply a kind thing to do.

 This feeling of insecurity came before the winter break. Being around so many people whose ideals and actions clash with yours often succeeds at making you think that you’re the one in wrong, that you’re the helpless and naive one. That’s far from the truth. The community you’ve built with the ghost trio and the natives on Sage’s Island is proof that your values are shared with others. 

 It’s just like Frankie said, life is just serving you a bad hand right now. You can prevail and return to the better days. The better days when you and Malleus were the best of friends. But why does your heart hurt when you think about his confession for the umpteenth time? What’s making you so hesitant? More importantly, why couldn’t you tell him “yes”, yet you also knew you couldn’t tell him “no”?

 As you watch Malleus and Sebek depart from your front door, making their way down the steps towards the front gates, you hastily announce that you’ll be back and begin running towards them.

 You need to make things right. 

Malleus noticed the way your hands sought something out to fidget with when you were feeling...he doesn’t know what that was. You weren’t feeling uncomfortable as far as he could tell. 

 Were you perhaps...flustered? 

 No, that can’t be it. You don’t think of him that way, he’s sure of now. When he quickly reassesses his behavior, he didn’t do anything that would warrant you to become nervous, other than look at you with a far too amorous gaze while you explained the ins and outs of your firearm. He couldn't help himself. Seeing you so passionate and animated, even if it's over something he has no knowledge or a particular interest in, made his heart flutter as well as ache yet again.

 They fidget with the nearest object when they feel uncomfortable. Remember that.

 “What was that, Lord Malleus?” 

 Sebek’s booming voice catches him off guard a bit, but he quickly recovers as if nothing disturbed him at all. “It’s nothing, just thinking aloud.”

 “I see. In any case,” he quickly changes the subject. “The materials needed to write and send the invitation letters are all ready. Sir Lilia insists that you write each one on your own, but I am more than capable and willing to offer my assistance should you need it!”

 “That’s quite alright. There aren’t a great many I need to send anyways,” Malleus gracefully rejects Sebek’s eager offer. 

 There really aren’t that many people who will be attending, just the residents of Diasomnia and that’s it. He initially had plans to invite you, but he’s caught between a rock and a hard place. You’ve expressed your desire to come, but he can’t help but feel that it’s only out of pity.

 He doesn’t want that from you. At this point, he just wants things to return to how they once were before he opened his mouth and began to spew a bunch of one-sided nonsense. He just wants your friendship, pure and untainted like before.

 Perhaps he’s destined to never have a friend after all.

 “Malleus!” your distant voice calls out to him, causing him to stop in his tracks and turn around to search for you.

 He doesn’t understand how you do it, but just hearing you call his name utterly burns away all the muddled thoughts circulating within his head. He is exceptional when it comes to defensive magic, yet whatever spell you manage to cast on him that makes him so taken by you, it exceeds even his own magical prowess.

 But you don’t have any magic. Not even a speck courses through your veins. You’re just an average human. His nearly crippling infatuation is entirely his own doing.

 "Oh, thank goodness you haven't made it past the front gates yet," you heaved out. Did you run all the way here? Did he forget something? He quickly pats his front pocket and feels a hard lump, his phone. It’s the only personal item he brought.

 "Human," Sebek's voice sounds annoyed at your sudden presence. "What do you need from- AH!"

 Sebek's scream hurts Malleus's ear, but the slight and momentary ring means little when you've wrapped your arms over his shoulders and pull him into a tight embrace. He immediately melts into your arms, smothering his face against the crook of your neck and taking in your scent like a desperate man. Despite the sweat you and he worked up from hours of labor, you still smell so nice, like fresh cotton and assorted herbs. It's unique. It's comforting. 

 It's you.

 "One week," you whisper in his ear. "Give me one week. I'll have an answer for you then."

 He pulls back and looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. "Pardon?"

 "I've hurt you, badly." you look down in shame. "I still am, but I'm going to make it up to you. I promise"

 "A promise made with a Fae is a dangerous thing, especially when you don't uphold your end of the deal," he says with a warning tone. "One week. Are you sure that's enough time?"

 "It is," you say with certainty.

 You're not one to lie or bite off more than you can stomach. You know when you've been beaten, that's why you called for his help over the break. His interpretation of trust differs greatly from yours, and it's not given to many, Fae or not. 

 "Very well,” he yields. “I will trust you to keep to your oath.”

 “Thank you,” you squeeze him closer against you. “And I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just please, don't break my heart any further," he whispers pleadingly into your ear.

Apologies are dangerous words to say to a Fae, even a bit demeaning to some. The same with words of thanks, which you often say to him regularly. Malleus has developed a habit of accepting them out of courtesy. It's an aspect of his culture that you struggle to adjust to since it's interpreted differently in human society. You've also told him something he finds humorous, how your aunts constantly enforced you (in your words “beat it into you”) to say "please", "thank you", and “sorry”, as they didn't want others to think they were living in a crude household. It's incredibly ironic considering you tend to swear every other sentence.

 You explained that "Thank you"s are acknowledgments of the efforts one makes for another, no matter how small or grandiose the gesture is. Apologies are acknowledgments that one has wronged another and wishes to make amends.

 It sounds like common sense, but he understands now what you mean when you tell him "It's the little things that matter most". His heart was hurt when you couldn’t tell him “yes” or even a simple “no”. He's still suffering from the aftermath of his confession, even as he signs off on the last of the invitations for his birthday party, his mind failing to commit to the enthusiastically written words. You've acknowledged that you see his pain and that you recognize that you're its source. Despite having other troubles of your own, you've made it clear that he's now been pushed up your long to-do list and that he's now your main priority.

 It brings much-needed relief to his pained heart, though just a bit.

 He waits until Sebek is gone before he rummages around his desk for a beige-colored envelope, the one he enchanted and gave to you so you can speak to him over the break (he preferred this method over text messages). It still has your SOS letter in it, written with your now aged and darkened blood.

  Malleus. I'm sorry for the smell, but it's all I have on hand. I'm in Scarabia's dorm and they're not letting me leave. I've been here for a few days to help the vice dorm leader with some sort of internal affair, but I think he did something to me that's making it impossible to refuse him anymore. I tried to bail, but they caught me and now they're locking me up and keeping a close eye on me.

  If I may be a bit bold, I'm fucking scared out of my mind. I know it's rude of me to make demands without proper compensation, but I think I need some help. I don't want to cause a big fuss, so if you can could you come alone? If you can't that's fine. I'm sure I can pull through until the break ends.

  I hope you're doing well. Again, sorry for the smell.

 He makes a few more creases in the paper due to gripping it so harshly. He remembers opening it the first time and nearly ripping it in half because of how utterly livid he was. Your fresh blood also didn't help at the time. You didn't state what your current condition was when you drafted the letter and his mind immediately thought of you being injured and that was the reason you wrote it in your blood.

 The time between him sneaking past his castle's security once he received your letter to arriving on Sage's Island via his own magic (curse the dark mirror for being inactive during the winter) is a bit of a blur. All he can remember is that he was just so worried for you, a magicless human against an entire dorm of wizards in training. Even someone with subpar control over their magic can do you a great deal of damage.

 If sneaking out of his home without telling a soul, potentially causing one of the largest search hunts to commence had someone noticed and reported to his grandmother, doesn't prove how much you mean to him, he doesn't know what will.

 One week. If it takes you one more week for you to realize this, then he will wait.

 He trusts you, just as you trusted him when you sent him that letter.

 He grabs his quill and dips the tip into a jar of ink, writing something quick and straightforward on a spare piece of parchment.

  "Please come to my party. It would mean the world to me."

 After the ink dries, he folds it and places it in the envelope, sealing it with wax bearing the crest of his family. He needs not utter a single incantation to have it erupt in a blaze of green fire. He waits. One minute. Two. Suddenly, a spark of blue fire erupts on his desk before dissipating, leaving behind the same envelope he burned minus a wax seal.

 He opens it.

  "Of course I will!"

[serenlyss]

For the Sake of a Smile Chapter 3

Rating: G Relationships: terumob, ritsu&shigeo Chapter Summary: The welcoming committee sends someone to help out Teru, but their representative doesn't seem to like him very much. Crossposted to AO3: Chapter 3

Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

"Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers." — William Shakespeare

---

Teru wakes up early the next morning to give himself ample time to prepare for the upcoming school day. He’d ironed his uniform the night before to make sure it’s crisp and ready for him, and he fiddles with the navy blue tie he wears over his white shirt until it lays just right. Navy slacks and polished black shoes come next, and while the outfit is overall much plainer than he would prefer, he finds he doesn’t much mind it.

There’s a knock at his door right as he’s scooping up his book bag to head to his homeroom class--he’d been hoping to get there early so he could easily find his new seat and familiarize himself with the classroom, or maybe even get a chance to socialize--and Teru’s suddenly thankful he’d decided to get up so early. His classes don’t start for another half hour, which is more than enough time to walk across the campus and locate his homeroom with time to spare, but it seems the school has other plans for him.

When he cracks open the door, he’s met by another student, dressed in the same crisp uniform, his only distinguishable feature being the student council armband secured around his left bicep. He’s a few inches taller than Teru, not that it’s all that hard to be taller than Teru is, and his hair is long and seems to stick up in all directions. Teru can’t tell if it’s on purpose or just what his hair naturally does, but he doesn’t have much time to ponder on it.

“Good morning, Hanazawa. My name is Kageyama Ritsu, I’m here on behalf of the student council,” he greets, reiterating Teru’s earlier assumption. “Our welcoming committee is dedicated to making sure your transition here goes as smoothly as possible, so if you like, I can show you to your homeroom.”

He’s so stiff, Teru thinks to himself, regarding the boy’s squared shoulders and ramrod posture. The name Kageyama is familiar on his tongue, too, though he can’t quite place where he’s heard it before. Well, it’s not exactly an uncommon name, so he quickly brushes off the thought. “Ah, of course. Thank you,” he replies, an easy smile coming to his face. “You’re just in time, I was getting ready to leave. Wouldn’t want to be late for my first day, after all.” He steps outside and pulls the door closed behind him, listening to the electronic lock click into place. “Shall we?”

Ritsu just nods his head, turning to head down the hall. Even the way he walks is stiff, coordinated, like he’s expecting someone to jump out and criticize him. He looks down at his clipboard once more as they walk down the hall. “You’re in class 2-A?” he confirms, and Teru sees his eyebrows lift in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were transferring into the special class.”

Teru frowns at this. “Surprised? That seems to be the general reaction whenever I tell someone what class I’m in. I still have no idea what “special class” is supposed to mean, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. What class are you in?”

Ritsu lets the pages of his clipboard flutter back into place, gaze straight ahead as he walks. “I’m from class 1-A, the special class for first years,” he replies, his voice a little clipped now. His brow is furrowed ever-so-slightly, as though this revelation is somehow troubling to him.

“Wait, you’re a first year and already on the student council?” Teru asks in surprise. He hadn’t realized first years were even allowed on the council here. “What is the special class, anyway? Everyone keeps saying that, but no one’s bothered to explain it.”

Ritsu pushes open the front door of the dorm and leads them out into the cool morning air. “I’m the treasurer,” he replies, and Teru can’t help but wonder how a first year managed to get so high up after only a single semester. “There’s a special class for each year, but it’s incredibly hard to get in without-”

“A recommendation from the President,” Teru interrupts, impatient. “Yes, that’s what I keep hearing, but I’ve never spoken directly with the President, I don’t think he even knows my name beyond maybe looking over my transcripts, so why the special class?”

Ritsu flashes him an odd look, something between curious scrutinization and an almost indignant glare, and says, “Everyone in the special class has some sort of talent that sets them apart from everyone else, so there has to be something you’re known for that would have caught the President’s attention. What did you apply here for?”

Teru glances away, feeling suddenly defensive and a little bit sheepish. “I’m… looking for someone,” he answers vaguely, “and I didn’t apply to show off any particular talent, I only took the entrance exam.” He hadn’t submitted any sort of formal audition, and there was really only one thing he could do that would warrant any sort of special consideration. “I can cook, but there’s no reason the President would know that, I didn’t even mention it in my application. You’re in the special class though, what’s your talent?” He bounces the question back onto Ritsu, if only because the conversation is starting to make him feel just a little self-conscious.

Ritsu lets out a little sigh and appears to drop the subject for now. “I play piano,” he replies, though he doesn’t sound all that passionate about it. “I won a few awards and competitions in middle school, and my parents are members of the school board. I likely would have ended up going to school here even if I hadn’t joined the special class.”

Well, isn’t he lucky, Teru thinks to himself, knowing that he himself would never be able to attend this kind of school without the scholarship so generously offered to him. “Your parents must be proud,” he supplies.

Rather than the smile he’s expecting, or some sort of modest response, Ritsu’s lips press together almost in annoyance. “Yes,” he says, the response coming out clipped and forced. He leads Teru into the main building and down one of the halls, falling quiet.

Teru can’t figure Ritsu out. Had he made a bad impression or something? None of this made any sense to him. What a buzzkill, he thinks dejectedly when Ritsu pauses outside a door labeled “2-A”. He’d seemed to be at least friendly at first, but maybe he’s just a hardass.

Still, he pretends not to notice Ritsu’s stiffness as his escort pushes open the classroom door and walks inside. Teru follows him, his book bag slung casually over his shoulder as he orients himself in what will quickly become a familiar space to him. It’s not so different from all the other schools he’s been to in his life, just a little sturdier, cleaner, and nicer than his school back in his hometown. Polished plastic desks sit in rows in front of a blackboard that takes up nearly the entire wall, and the teacher’s desk is taken up partly by stacks of textbooks for various topics. It’s still early, a little too early for most students to have already arrived, but Teru does spot a familiar head of black, bowl-cut hair sitting in the center row, reviewing a propped-open workbook.

Shigeo looks up as the two of them enter, a small smile coming to his face. He offers them a little wave. “Ritsu! I’m surprised to see you,” he greets, before turning to Teru. “Good morning, Teru. Did you run into my brother on the way here?”

Brother, of course! That’s where he knows Ritsu’s surname from. Now that he has a better look of the two of them, they really do look a little similar, although Ritsu’s noticeably taller than Shigeo is, and Shigeo seems rather comfortable at his desk as opposed to Ritsu’s incomparable stiffness. “Ah, he came to me, actually. Welcoming committee, you know the deal,” he replies breezily, waving a hand as though it’s no big deal.

Ritsu smiles, the first smile Teru’s seen on the boy’s stoney face. “Yes, I’m just here to drop Hanazawa off,” he explains, casting Teru a curious sideways glance. “Did you two meet already?”

Shigeo nods, offering Ritsu a smile in return. “Oh yes, we met yesterday! Ritsu, Teru is the guy I was talking about yesterday, the one who cooks. He’s very talented, it’s no surprise that he ended up in the special class,” he replies enthusiastically, or at least as enthusiastically as Teru imagines he can with such a deadpan expression.

Teru can’t pretend that the praise doesn’t go to his head just a little. He reaches up a hand to flick his hair behind his ear, tucking the bleached strands away with one smooth motion. “Thank you, I’ve been practicing ever since I was a kid,” he replies graciously, allowing himself to preen just a bit in the face of an earnest compliment.

Ritsu, on the other hand, is giving Teru that look again, somewhere between scorn and confusion, and if Shigeo notices his brother’s odd behavior he doesn’t comment on it. “...Right,” Ritsu replies hesitantly, adjusting the strap of his book bag over his shoulder. “Anyway, I should head back to my own class before my teacher shows up, he tends to be early. I’ll see you at home, Shige.” He offers his brother another little smile and a wave goodbye before he turns and heads out of the classroom once more.

Teru watches him go, somewhat perplexed. “Is he always like that?” He asks, leaning over Shigeo’s desk slightly.

“Ritsu?” Shigeo echoes. “Hmm, I guess so. He did look a little stiff, but I figured he was just a little stressed out or something. He just joined the student council recently, so he’s a bit busier than usual.” He offers up a little shrug in response, glancing out the door after his brother. “Why, did he seem strange?”

“No, not strange,” Teru says quickly. The last thing he wants is for the one potential new friend he’s found to think he finds his brother weird. “I guess he just seemed like something was bothering him,” he adds, a correction to his original statement. “Anyway, I’m sure it’s no big deal.” He glances down, catching the glint of a little metal nameplate stuck to the corner of his desk with velcro. Engraved on its surface in the school’s navy blue is Kageyama Shigeo, a placeholder that matches the ones stuck to ever desk in the room. How fancy, Teru thinks to himself blithely. “Shigeo, did you happen to see where my seat is?” he asks, glancing around at the nearby desks curiously.

Shigeo nods, brightening a bit at this. “Oh, yes, I did! One of my classmates moved away over the break, so they’ve given you her desk,” he explains, gesturing to the desk directly behind his own.

Well, isn’t that lucky? Teru can’t help but muse to himself, thanking Shigeo quietly and moving to observe his new desk. Sure enough, there’s a shiny new placard with his name on it stuck to the upper-right corner, beside what must be the one leftover from whoever had previously used the desk. He casts it a cursory glance as he slides into the chair: Takane Tsubomi, it reads, though Teru supposes it doesn’t really matter who had used it before. “Was this classmate someone you were friends with?” he asks Shigeo, who’s turned around somewhat in his seat to continue the conversation.

To Teru’s surprise, Shigeo’s face goes pink, and he glances down in a poor attempt at hiding his blush. “Ah, yes, she was--still is, actually,” he replies. “We were friends when we were younger, but we were never very close. We text occasionally, just to keep up.” Ah, so that’s how it is. Teru knows a crush when he sees one, but Shigeo gives off less of a fumbling middle schooler vibe and more that of someone who’s given it a chance and has accepted that friends is as far as he’ll get.

“It’s nice that you can still keep in touch,” Teru comments, just as his homeroom teacher makes his appearance. All around him, other students have begun to fill the room, chatting amongst themselves and casting him curious glances. No one bothers to approach him just yet, but Teru doesn’t blame them. He’ll have time to properly meet everyone during the break.

[arrogvnces]

     it wasn’t always easy, being them. or rather, it wasn’t easy being them within the other’s space. when mina and sinclair first met, she couldn’t stand the sight of him. he, on the other hand, was thoroughly amused at how explicit she was in her disgust and hatred for him. there was no one in their grade that didn’t know every one of her thoughts on the spoiled, capitalist, overrated brat that sat behind her in math class. and if said brat happened to get a higher grade than hers, and not so subtly bragged about it to hear what new curse word she could come up with, well. . . that was just one of the many days at st. emilia’s. one can imagine what a delightful surprise it was for the tired faculty, when one afternoon of studying in an empty classroom ended in a kiss sinclair hasn’t managed to wipe from his memory. 

     everything leading up to that moment was fuzy, except for when the frown she often wore in his presence was replaced by a dark and foreign gaze, his body trapping her against the wall. he hadn’t meant to get so close, but her familiar tirade about how his life was much easier than hers, when the phonecall from his father still burned in his pocket with words of yale and engagement and you have a year, set him on edge. he’d felt like being careless. when his lips had crashed on hers, he’d waited for the push. maybe a slap, or a scream. but then her soft delicate mouth had moved against his, and hatred turned to something else entirely. he doesn’t recall how the rest of it went, but when he’d come to it, mrs. hawtridge stared at them beet red before marching off to the headmaster’s office. him and his messy hair, tie lying on the ground and chest exposed. mina and her skirt hiked up, buttons undone and face flushed. they got a deserved two weeks of punishment, though nothing could wipe off the grin on both their faces. in retrospective, sinclair knows it would’ve never lasted as much as they wanted it to, arranged marriage or not. but back then, all he saw was her. all he wanted to see was her, the only good thing in his miserable life. 

     what came after was a time that can only be described as the first time sinclair park felt happiness. it was in the afternoons spent studying for their college entrance exams, the eager make-out sessions in utility closets that always went too far, helping her sneak out of her host family’s house to drive around in the dark, trying to keep their distance but failing as if nothing made sense when the other wasn’t around. 

     he remembers the first time she was privy to a discussion with his father, the man raising his voice about sinclair’s choice of major. when he’d hung up, spent from listening to the verbal abuse, she’d stood up and promptly kicked a chair. “who does he think he is to talk to you like that?” she’d practically spit venom, cheeks red and canines showing. it was a comical, and freeing all at once. while she raged, he watched in contemplative silence. he’d forgotten what it was like to see someone be angry at his father. his mother had grown apathetic years ago, and everyone else was too scared. but here was an eighteen-year old girl who couldn’t even begin to imagine the power leonard park held, calling him the world’s biggest cunt. sinclair had laughed uncontrollably, stopping her in her tracks, when the laughter turned to quiet sobs. it was the most honest moment they’d ever had, and the one he hated the most. that day, something changed between them. the teenage carelessness, the casualty of their intense relationship --- it was gone, replaced with a truth he was hoping to keep from her forever. the truth that sinclair was not a spoiled brat with the world at his fingers, but a bird in a cage he’d given up trying to escape. 

     piece by piece, she put him back together, without covering the cracks or painting over the mold. in return, he dragged her out of the world inside her head, of the anger and hatred she harbored towards anything that went against her. for a moment in time, shortly after their arrival at oxford, he believed he could open the cage. she made him believe as much. 

“you don’t owe your father anything, sinclair,” she would repeat, laying next to him. “if you’re scared about the money---”

     “i’m not,” he’d assure her, having built enough plans in case he’d stepped too far out of line. he knew, without a doubt, that he could live without leonard’s money. “i’m going to fix this.” at the time, she hadn’t know what he needed to fix. but the weight of the finality of his engagement kept dragging him down, until it exploded the first time he met henrietta huang. 

     she isn’t anything special, is what he first thought. if anything, the more he looked at henrietta, the more he missed mina. how many times during that dinner did he have to stop himself from getting up and catching the first flight back?  how many days after it did he live with that secret knocking on his chest, making mina stare at him, as if she’d already guessed what was happening?

     “so, are you cheating on me?” she’d asked casually, sitting on his bed while he stared at his fingers in contemplation. the question drew out a long sigh from his lips, legs carrying him to the space next to her.

     “of course not,” he’d replied, hesitantly taking her smaller hand in between his two.

     “then what’s wrong?”

     he’d entertwined their fingers together, making a mental capture of the moment that they could never return to. “what i’m about to tell you might sound crazy, outdated and perhaps a little illegal, but it’s a truth about my life you deserve to know.” he’d stared into those deep dark eyes, already brimming with unshed tears, always too smart for their own good. “you know my family’s company?”

     he remembers when realization hit her, a startled laugh resonating in the air, hand withdrawing from his touch as if it was contaminated. they’d argued about his omission for what felt like the entire night. he had no excuses, nothing that could make the tears stop falling. 

     “that’s fucking great sinclair, pretending like we had a plan when you knew deep down it was never going to come true,” she said, still full of energy while he felt his dwindling down by the second. 

     “i did believe in those plans, i was trying to figure out a way to make my dad give up but he doesn’t give up, okay? even if he knows it’s gonna’ end in deep shit he’s too proud to back out.” he’d sighed while she cried, both in their own corners of the dorm room. he’d expected her to get up and leave, but instead, she’d wiped away the tears and sat once again by his side.

     “do you like this girl?” was her first question.

     “i’ve met her once, mina,” he’d answered, unable to even conjure anything about henrietta that was memorable. 

     “she’s going to be your future wife,” she’d declared, a last nail in the coffin of sinclair park. he didn’t respond because there was no use. she likely would. “does that mean we’re over?” 

     “i don’t want us to be. i don’t think we should be. i know it’s selfish to ask you this but, i don’t have to go back yet. i still have some time left to live the life i want.” he’d kissed her then, passionately, and she’d kissed back with just as much strength. it felt like their first kiss, maybe because they knew it would be the first of the lasts. he’d draw back long enough to whisper the truth of his heart. “i love you.” and she’d kissed him with all she had, as if the world would end the moment they stopped. that night, it was skin against skin, breaths mixing together, fingers and mouths in places that made them lose all sanity, that made him silence the noises slipping past her lips with his own. it was messy, passionate and melancholic all at once. it wasn’t the last time, but if it had to be, what a way to go out. 

------

     standing where he stands, knowing what he knows, sinclair wouldn’t trade the time he shared with mina for anything. it was a time of growth, of first love, of understanding their places in this world. he could’ve never kept up with her --- she was meant for much more than he ever was, and she would get there someday, he had no doubt about it. there was no more resentment towards her for breaking up with him before their time, for confusing him with the calls after he got to new haven. no resentment as his phone lights up with her name, though there is a small jolt of surprise. mina kang. no picture. 

     “hello?”

     “sinclair, hey,” her voice feels foreign, although entirely the same. has it been five months since they last spoke? “am i interrupting you?”

     he looks back towards where henri, charlotte and jinhao happily chat away on the rooftop restaurant. henri catches his gaze and waves, an eyebrow raised. he shakes his head, turning back towards the view. he’ll tell her later. “no, is something wrong?”

     “not at all, i know it’s been some time since we’ve talked, but i’m calling as a courtesy.” 

     he frowns a little, but keeps it off his voice. “for what?” 

     “i don’t want you to see me walking around your campus and think i’m stalking you,” there’s a lighter gait to her voice, almost as if she’s grinning on the other side. 

     “what do you mean, walking around campus?” he turns once more, henri rising from her seat as charlotte looks at him quizzically. “are you visiting?” 

     “wow, you’ve gotten slow. i mean, i’m going to be a student at yale, i got the scholarship to transfer !” nothing is wrong per se, and yet he feels a rock dropping at the bottom of his stomach, his girlfriend approaching, a half-smile on scarlet lips. 

     “. . . congratulations, you deserve it,” he means every word, and yet he knows the way they come out of him, almost as if forced. why does he feel so wrong?

     “jeez, i’m going to excuse your last of enthusiasm on the chinese standard time.” she giggles, and he wonders how do you know where i am, before remembering they still follow each other on instagram. 

     “i guess, i’ll see you around then,” he tries to keep his tone neutral, suddenly hit with memories he wasn’t willing to remember about mina. how it was always her way or the highway, how he couldn’t talk to any girl without sparking an explosion of jealousy, how she seemed almost angry when he granted her wish to break things off. 

     “i’ll hold you to it, i need someone to show me around,” she replies on the other side, and he’s about to hang up on one of the weirdest calls of his life, when she calls back. “oh, and sinclair?” 

     “what?” he says, letting henri takes his hand as she mouths ‘who is it?’ 

     “tell henrietta i said hi,” and the line goes dead.