#which explains why he doesn't notice Eliza (a freshman)

[milomi]

Uuuu, this is so much different from what I had imagined earlier

I'm not even sure how to feel about the end result 🫥

But, it's better than nothin'

Hey, at least now I get to say I did something while having my hair dyed

Not sure how to explain it, there was a strange feeling tugging and twisting the inside of your chest. It felt like having butterflies in your stomach, if only the butterflies were instead replaced by a swarm of bees.

Maybe it was the idea of your best friend proposing to an unknown ghost-lady. Sure, he was doing for everybody's sake; to save Idia's life. He wasn't the only doing it either. But amongst the other candidates: Heartslabyul's housewarden, Vice-Housewarden of Pomefiore and a fellow freshman from that same dorm, the thought of their proposals didn't make you feel uneasy. Maybe a bit sympathetic or worried.

Not to say you weren't worried about Ace, no, that would be an understatement. I mean, what if the plan didn't work? There are many ways in which it could fail, like what if your friends' proposals don't work and you all face the same end as the previous suitors; getting slapped and becoming 'frozen'.

But... The most prominent (and worst) failure your mission could cause, would be a proposal gone a little too well. What if, Eliza is so smittened by the dashing ginger-haired young man, that she accepts the engagement. What if the ring doesn't work, or it's put on the wrong fingers, or anything else that would be a fail.

As one of the vows states:

Till death do us part

And when one of them is already dead, what fate will await the other?

" Hey Prefect~ What do you think, am I nailing this look? "

Ace's question threw you off your train thought of disasters.

In front of you stood Ace Trappola, your best friend, in a plaid suit and his bangs clipped back.

It was... Certainly unusual to see him in a such a get-up and, you couldn't deny, there was something charming in the way he smiled, awaiting your answer.

" If I were Eliza, I..., " you started and stopped immediately after processing the words you just said.

If I were Eliza

If I were the dead ghost bride forcing one of the NRC students to marry her

Maybe given the circumstances, you could still turn this into a compliment. Buuut, that would require you to admit he looked attractive awesome.

He looked awesome.

" ...You look good, " you simply stated, ignoring the whole 'If I was a dead bride'.

The ginger boy had the audacity to snicker at your awkwardness.

" Pfft, well, I guess I HAVE to believe it now, " he reached out his hand to ruffle your hair.

But not in the 'friendly friend way' more-so in the 'lmao are you flustered 🥺/j' way.

you would rather burn from embarrassment than endure his teasing

There wasn't much time to spare, the boys were working their butts off to become the most perfect princes they could be.

...All except Ace, who was nowhere in sight. And you, being the Prefect task manager school's errand person, were tasked with the job of finding him.

Walking out of Mister Sam's Mystery Shop, you didn't have to walk much further before you spotted familiarly clipped back bangs.

Though you could only see his back, he sure seemed awkward in this moment. Fumbling with some cards in his hands. He cleared his throat before starting to read from one of the cards.

" I'm the only one for you... No. That sounds...cheesy... "

He flipped through the cards as he started walking around, somehow not noticing you.

" No, no, man these all suck, " Ace quickly his the cards into one of his pockets, " Dude... Just, calm down. "

He stopped walking and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

" It's no big deal. You can— you HAVE to do it. "

" Just imagine the Prefect. Yeah... "

[...]

" No, for the love of the Great Seven, that'd make it even worse! "

The boy was distressed.

Also, just why would he need to imagine you?

Maybe it's like the thing people do when they're on stage and imagine the whole audience naked to laugh it o-

Oh

O H

You stood there for a second, not moving until you heard–

"–marry me? " and as he popped the question, Ace turned around and spotted you. " Oh hey pref– PREFECT?! "

" Hi. "

The boy was distressed x2.

" I liked it. "

(That's a lie, you didn't hear a single word of his proposal, only the ending)

The closer you got to him, the more red his face got.

" If I were Eliza... I'd certainly say 'yes'. "

[the-everqueen]

Lams 20?

20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

things to know:

1) John and Laf are in choir, which is the same time as Alex’s tutoring sessions, Mondays 5-7:30

2) this is spring semester, sophomore year

3) Alex won the university’s concerto competition in the fall and is scheduled to play with their orchestra this semester

Alex is late.

He was supposed to meet John and Laf for dinner half an hour ago, and he feels the excess time  churning in his stomach as he runs through dim halls toward the auditorium. He’s never late, John knows that, he just took longer than usual explaining secondary dominants to Caroline, he needs her to ace the midterm so Lee will acknowledge he’s a good tutor, he can handle a few students on top of his coursework and practice schedule, he needs the money, Washington looked askance at his scuffed shoes during dress rehearsal, he just needs survive the performance, they have to understand…

The lights to the auditorium are still on. The tightness in his chest loosens. Maybe choir ran over? Maybe he’s not that late.

He cracks open the side door.

John and Lafayette are stretched out on the empty stage, talking just loud enough that they don’t hear him. Alex has never acted with restraint in his life, but something makes him hold back, linger in the dark space between the door and the stage.

“… and then he fell asleep on me,” John is saying. “What do I do with that?”

Laf makes a noise of disapproval. “You need to talk to him.”

“But - you see the problem - I can’t decide whether it means anything. What if he thinks we’re just friends and I make it awkward? Besides, even if it did mean something, he’s going out with Kitty - they are still together, right, she hasn’t broken up with him yet? - and he wouldn’t do that, he has those stupid puppy eyes for her.”

Alex swallows. They’re talking about him, of course they’re talking about him. The scene is a high school cliche, except he never went to a normal high school so he doesn’t really know.

He’s not stupid. He sees the fond looks John gives him during their study sessions, feels him go tense whenever Alex jumps into his lap, hears the soft note in his voice when he says Alex’s name. They met last year because he thought the saxophonist at the jazz concert Burr dragged him to was talented and hot, and what harm could a little banter do?

But John is his best friend. He’s smart and passionate and reckless and an utter asshole. And Alex - well. Alex has never had friends before. The kids at Julliard hated him, called him loud and abrasive, and before that he was too busy practicing or doing homework to socialize. What he has with John is precious - they get each other like no one else at Kings. Alex doesn’t want to ruin that with his issues, or whatever it was about him that drove away his dad, killed his mom, and made Jaime hate him. It hurts, to imagine John looking at him like Maggie did last week, like Kitty did today, tired and frustrated.

People always leave, but he doesn’t want John to go.

He walks out, swings his messenger bag and then himself onto the stage, talking all the while. “Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe how many Mozart sonatas I had to pull for examples. If she fails the theory midterm, it’s Wolfie’s fault, not mine.”

John and Laf exchange glances. Not subtle at all.

Alex scoots over so he can rest his head on John’s stomach. Like usual, as if he didn’t overhear their conversation about his mixed signals. He plays with the hem of John’s sweatshirt until Laurens relaxes under him, runs a hand over his hair.

“You still on for dinner? Or did you guys order a pizza while I was out?”

“We should have,” John muses.

Laf rolls his eyes. “No, because you like pineapple and that is wrong.”

“So, I’m hearing pancakes.” Alex pushes onto his elbows, making John grunt. “Unless one of you is craving fries.”

“Pancakes sound good. Laf can get the kids meal, they make a smiley face with whipped cream and chocolate chips.”

“Or the red white and blue stack.”

Laf gasps, puts a hand to his heart. “You are mocking me!”

“Like we don’t all the time.” Alex stands. “Drive us to pancakes and we’ll let you blast your Callas albums on the way.”

John and Laf argue on the walk to the parking lot about whether Callas or Norman is a better singer, which somehow devolves into a commentary on Laf’s inability to dance. Alex launches into an imitation of the tenor in last year’s opera. It feels good, it feels safe.

He isn’t going to ruin this.