Miscellaneous Fellow Honest Headcanons

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

Unique Kisses: Rollo, Che'nya, Neige

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Rollo F. (no kisses)

“May I have a kiss, please? A kind word? Any form of attention?”

“Rather not.” 

Rollo does not lift his gaze from his book. He sits too far away for you to read the title — you're separated by the whole length of the coffee table on which the service with the steaming tea stands — but you wouldn't be surprised if he was reading something religious.

You have no desire to return to the Victorian romance, a heavy volume that spreads across your lap. Yet, there are twenty-five minutes left until the end of your reading hour, a meeting you arrange every day because books are cool. You feel like you will die of boredom in three.

Maybe not from boredom, but because of something that makes you unable to focus on the present moment. You feel bad about tearing your lover away from his reading, but finally, with a heavy heart, you get up, walk around the table and sit next to him.

Your thighs touch and you let your head fall against Rollo's warm shoulder.

Immediately, you feel a little better.

“What are you doing?” Rollo doesn't seem to share your enthusiasm. He tilts his head so he can measure you with his eyes. If you looked at him even briefly, you would notice that his eyebrows have dropped slightly in an expression of concern, and his gaze has become investigative, piercing.

You sigh slightly in response, too listless to lift your eyelids, and unwittingly play with the soft tassels of his outfit.

“Please, let's do something else. The weather is so nice today...!” Your plea resembles the lament of a preschooler, especially when you bury your face in his shoulder. By that, some tension from Rollo escapes. He takes his eyes off you.

“I'd rather finish the book.”

“Then at least let me stay here, by your side. I feel extremely lonely today.”

You squeeze even more into his shoulder, warming yourself a little. His rochet-styled uniform wears the distinctive scent of incense, honey and disappointment, a perfume that is even more charming in a room that smells of tea and books. You let yourself inhale it until Rollo puts his hand on your head.

And now, you are distracted.

“Did something happen today?” He asks in a quiet, noticeably caring voice. You often hear a similar tone at night when you two return from evening prayer — whether you go there for God or for him — and Rollo is more inclined to care about everyone. Now all his attention is on you. You are a tad too intimidated and tired to respond. You only shake your head. “Well. Then let's go for a walk.”

That instantly enlivens you.

“Re... Really? You're not joking?!” You need confirmation because Rollo Flamm seldom changes his plans. You've already spent so much time with him that you can't imagine him missing a lesson for no more important reason than a bad morning attitude. And you considered yourself to be a rather imaginative person.

“You should already be aware of my lack of humour.”

You are. The little threads of romance in his body must have awakened, and you feel almost guilty for labelling him as the stiffest student in NBC. And since Rollo is being so gracious today...

“Then, can we hold hands?”

Your question throws him off balance, and you are ready to call off your request when he suddenly starts correcting the folds of his outfit to distract you and focus on staying carefree.

“...I apologize, but I might need some more time. I need to get accustomed to all that… romantic...” He starts, but then you grab his hand. The words of protest die on his tongue. He swallows the remnants of them as he grunts. “Alright. At least you won't get lost.”

(...No kissing before the wedding, though). /hj

Che'nya (insufficient kisses)

“Strawberry.”

“No.”

“Raspberry then.”

“Also no. But you're almost there.”

Che'nya presses his lips to yours for the eighth time, and you cover the label of the drink you're holding in your hands even more tightly.

Your boyfriend has decided he can guess the taste of the orangeade you're drinking. You think he knew exactly what you were drinking from the third kiss: you shared a favourite range of fizzy drinks, and there was never any indication that you intended to change it. Che'nya would have forced you to convert back if such a thing ever happened.

“Hm~” Your boyfriend hums under his breath as he moves away from your face. When you look at him unmoved, he smiles broadly. “Cher- Chestnut”.

“Duh, you already know the answer.”

“So it's a Cherchestnut?”

You sigh, and Che'nya’s smile spreads even further across his face. His white teeth flash softly as if he hasn't eaten the entire basket of cakes you baked for him and his friends' first thing in the morning.

“Now you're just being mean,” you cross your arms to have Che'nya feel accused. He leans back in his seat, and his smile does not disappear from his face.

“Am I?”

“Aren't you?”

“If I were so sweetened by your presence that my senses were going mad, would my mistakes be ‘mean’ too?” When he says this, he sits up straight and leans beside you. He takes two steps onto the bench and sinks down into your lap, facing up — and by that — facing you.

He reaches out to touch the locks of your hair falling towards him.

“Are you a madman yet?” You ask, leaning towards him with your lips pressed together in a line.

“Am I? Or am I not? Who are we all anyway?”

“I know you're an annoying boyfriend. I don't like you from now on. Oh from now on, I don't like you,” you snap your fingers, and Che'nya smiles broadly. You try to push him off your lap, but he gracefully turns before you manage to do so and then wraps his arms tightly around you.

“My love will cover the two of us,” here he places his hands on both your cheeks and kisses the corner of your mouth. You try to swat him, but then he starts to disappear. His lips and words remain last with you. “But now it is time to withdraw. I feel a strong antagonism towards me here, and I shall take my leave.”

Neige L. (the most common in a world of uncommon kisses)

Neige loves kisses.

For this reason, you find it hard to believe that he can't write a few sentences about them on his Magicam. You don't know how to prove it, though, because Neige has photos — beautiful footage from a recent photo shoot revolving around the theme of picnic and spring — that he needed to publish soon. They were now lingering in his gallery on his phone, waiting for Neige’s inspiration to strike.

“If I wasn't here, would you also have such a problem with a short description?” Your question sounded like an insincere accusation, to which Neige replied with a smile.

He had long since put his phone away in his bag. He always put it away when he wanted to give you one hundred per cent of his attention, but the subject of the photo kept hovering over the two of you because your boyfriend said he needed inspiration.

Every inspiration follows experience.

You're ready to help him any time, but not joshing with him first.

“I wouldn't write about them then. I would come up with something about spring or beauty...” He says, peering out of the wide window of his room. The view is lovely, full of greenery. Spring is coming. “But now that I have you, I can write about something as beautiful as love.”

“...Poser.”

Although that's the title you hail him with, Neige no longer responds. He cannot divide his attention, and what occupies him now is you, your face, your beautiful sparkling eyes, the shape of your ears, the lobes of which he runs his fingers over until they reach your jawline. There they stop as his attention shifts again: to your lips, the soft, smooth lips that he loves to kiss so much. And he kisses them, and everything around him loses meaning.

...

“How did it feel?” He asks, pulling you back onto the sofa. You sigh lightly.

“Is that survey to create an ideal description for the photo?”

“That's for me too. For contemplation.”

Neige looks at you with anticipation. When he sees that you need to think, he takes his eyes off you and pours fruit tea into the two cups in front of you, on the coffee table bordering a sofa.

“I don't know how to describe them. Either way, it's your job to think of something, so don't dump it on me,” you finally state, picking up the cup you've been given. You take a sip and decide to deflect the question. “And how do you feel, Neige?”

“Indescribably,” he says as he can't describe it either. Neige puts his hand over his heart and when he looks you straight in the eye, you are perfectly able to pinpoint why his fans love him so much - he looks princely. Neige sighs quietly. “I think I'm going to have to go with this spring because I don't know how to describe all the things that are bubbling up in my chest. I'll have to think about it longer.”

You pat him on the shoulder.

“Good luck with that. If you don't come up with any ideas, I can link you some fanfictions with nice descriptions.”

“Thank you, they will come in handy.”

“...They can be works with you, right?”

“...Ah.”

I KNOW I DON'T OFTEN POST MY THOUGHTS HERE

BUT I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT IDIA'S CARD GIVES ME SOOO MUCH BRAINRIOT. AGAIN. EVERY TIME I THINK I FOUND NEW LOVE, TWST JUST DROPS HIS CARD OR EVENT HE'S IN.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

Unique Kisses: Heartslabyul!

Hearslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Riddle R. (strawberry kisses)

If it wasn’t for this situation, Riddle would consider removing strawberries from a cake a blasphemy.

Fortunately for you, and also his joy, which he could not admit to if it wasn’t the last resort, Riddle isn't sure if his judgement would be a fair one. He is drunk on the taste of strawberries and fluffy cream, but also your fragrance, which has been his favourite aroma even before he thought he would dare to confess his feelings to you.

Riddle knows he doesn’t think soberly, but also believes that Trey didn’t change a recipe for his favourite dessert.

So, it is your fault.

“You should have taken yourself a piece of cake if you crave strawberries so much,” he says, regarding how you stab a little strawberry from his tart on a silver fork. It shimmers softly with honey or frosting or whatever Trey had added. Right now, Riddle can’t remember what his favourite dessert tastes like, and it was your fault as well.

“Kitchen is too far away,” you almost sigh, but don’t do that because it’s not a reason to be disappointed. “And, by the way, you are the one eating your tart. The greater part is still yours.”

“I have an irresistible impression that my serving disappears too fast.”

“You’re such a gourmet then. You will have to take bigger pieces next time.”

You chuckle at his stern facade, face fully covered with blushes, not matching the crossed arms that were probably meant to give his figure a more serious tone.

The strawberry on the fork you put against his lips, and he - used to this, after your multiple pleas - swallows his dignity and bites the fruit enough, not to cut it in half. He blinks a little faster, a little more nervous, and can’t bear to hold your stare when you smile and put the fork aside.

And then, you bite a strawberry held by his lips. A soft crunch attends the moment where your lips brush against each other. You feel how a sweet juice fills your lips and you have to move away to not let it drain over a corner of your mouth.

Satisfied, now less frustrated with your idea, you lick your wet, slightly sticky lips.

You glance at Riddle.

It… was a surprise that he went with your idea. It was a plan to soften him up a bit and have another reason to laugh when he would scold you again for your “preposterous suggestions”.

Surely not for you to stand in bewilderment and quick-paced heartbeat when Riddle pulls out a strawberry on a fork towards you. And as his face is red, crimson almost, his gaze is tainted with warm grey.

“Now it’s your turn.”

And that was an order.

Trey C. (hand kisses)

Trey Clover is a gentleman.

He opens the door whenever you go with him. Helps to carry supplies to the alchemy room at the far end of the school. Forbids you to prepare snacks for yourself, just to serve you beautiful little tarts during a break, that can be eaten in one bite.

His love is elegant and attentive. He likes to hold you in his arms while reading books. By highlighting the most important things in notes he helps you prepare for exams. He doesn’t even complain when you rob his wardrobe and usurp his clothes. He collects - by following all the Queen's rules or while avoiding Riddle's eyesight -- and offers you roses for every greater or lesser success.

A dreamy gentleman.

The only thing that mystifies you every time, is his touch.

You always quiver slightly as he takes your hand in his and entwines your fingers. He turns it over and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand. You don't know what is more delicate: the way his fingers slide over yours, or your heart, which will probably quickly tear apart itself, not able to bear the darting beat.

It would definitely be a nice death, but more than choosing that, you'd still rather live through this moment.

Trey's lips brush against your skin and move towards your fingers. There, he places another kiss and when he finally releases your hand, he still holds you. A grip slightly tightens when you look at him bashfully.

It was a gentleman's kiss.

Or maybe not gentleman’s, but from a man who pretends. You are not sure if a gentleman would do something like that to his lady: watch her lose her mind with each kiss as she becomes more and more addicted to her gentleman who smiles with a subtle but private smile.

Even as he pulls away, you feel that the spot on your skin where he kissed you tickles you lightly.

"Good morning to you, too, I should say”, you exclaim with a big smile. But you already like that greeting very much, and you're sure Trey knows it as well, as he repeats the gesture every day.

"Ah, and that's not the reaction I was expecting," he snorted as you rolled your eyes. “You got used to this trick already. Should I stop or…” now he smiles, mischievously. Certainly not like a gentleman. “...change the offensive?”

Cater D. (kisses on the eyes)

“Smile!” and snap! With a soft sound, another photo saves itself on Cater’s phone. He immediately enlarges it with his fingers, brings the image closer to your faces and clicks his tongue with dissatisfaction, but doesn’t remove the photo. “No, that’s not it. We look lovely, but- Sweetie, come closer!”

“Yes, yes.”

You take another step towards Cater. He instantly places his arm over yours, drawing you a little closer, as he holds the phone in the other hand. He observes the preview of the photo. And then, he directs you to turn a little to the west, so the sun would colour your faces even more.

An artistic wind begins to blow and ruffles the leaves of the trees behind your back. They form your main background, which Cater wanted to expose as they were famous for their multicoloured flowers. It was the main reason to choose this park as the next place for your date. The strands of your hair began to wave, and you gently brushed a few away from your eyes.

But before Cater can snap that hundredth picture, you lower your head and put hand to your face.

“Ah, I think something is in my eye,” you murmur, with all your will trying not to rub your eyes. “Probably sand, ewh.”

“Oh, oh, wait, wait, wait,” Cater quickly tucks the phone into the pocket of his jacket and with one movement unbuckles his backpack. He pulls out a bottle of water -which he immediately hands to you - and then finds a package of tissues. “Here. Try to wash it out. And blink. You're supposed to blink a lot at times like this, right?” … Luckily for you, you don’t have to vex with it for long, because after a short while you manage to get the sand out of your eye. Cater’s phone is used as a mirror, and he checked himself if there might be any irritation visible in your eye.

You crumple a wet tissue and throw it in the trash can near your bench.

“It’s all right now, I think.”

Cater puts his stuff in his bag and gets up. With a short wave, he says that he wants you to stay where you are.

"I will cast a healing spell on your eyes," he announces and crouches in front of you. He smiles. “Metaphorical one. Please don't trust me when it comes to healing magic.”

And then he moves closer to you, and his hands are on your cheeks. They hold you in place as he gets closer and closer until he completely fills your view and asks you to close your eyes. You don’t have to look at him to know his gaze is trailing your face. And when he stops, it’s because he wanted to turn your attention to the touch as he places warm kisses on your eyelids.

These are some of the softer kisses Cater gave you. They are almost imperceptible and uncharacteristic of him, but you can feel the care in each one... and have a scent of his cologne – jasmine scent, slightly spicy in smell - that he put on himself surround you.

He steps back only when each eye receives at least three kisses.

“I think I feel better now...” You say with a smile which he reciprocates. He pulls out his phone, once again, and points its lens at you. He hums with pleasure, as he finds the perfect angle.

“So~? Will you smile for me once more?”

You can’t say no after such a satisfying spell.

Ace T. (feigned kisses)

“Hey, hey, come here, I want to tell you something...”

You tear your gaze away from your notebook, where the next line of your essay on the history of magic is now cut halfway. Ace's whisper snapped you out of the monologue you've arranged in your head, and you know you won’t recollect it soon. Not even a passive focus spell applied to the library could help, as Ace acted as a truly sterling distraction.

“Come here yourself.”

“It's important”

It’s probably not.

You sigh and shake your head. Ace does the same, but rises from his untouched textbooks. "I lack the motivation to study today," he tells you every time you drag him along to prepare for your next exam together.

He stops in front of you and turns your chair around so that you can directly face him. He smiles mischievously. Almost malevolently, but warm enough.

He places his hands on both sides of your chair and—oh, since when is he so close to you?

It's not that Ace isn’t in the habit of kissing you—he likes it as much as you do, although he never fails to roll his eyes when you ask for a kiss, or tease you ("ah, so you need more of my attention, hm? Heh~") before pressing his lips to yours.

And you are expecting the latter option until Ace stops inches from your face and snarls.

“Heh. You wish”.

He tries to whisper something more, but you don’t give him an opportunity to do so, as you throw your head back. And then he greets you with a look, you could describe as mean.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, genuinely disappointed. You turn your chair around and quickly tuck your books into your bag. Maybe you'll find Riddle or someone who can chase Ace away a bit with their presence, so you will have some peace. “But I'm feeling less and less sorry that it didn't happen. See you later, I'm off to class…”

...

Huh.

He didn’t expect that. Did you have a bad day today? Did he do something wrong or- Did you really care about getting a good grade on that essay? He couldn't guess, but he knew that if he doesn’t make a move now, you will try getting back at him.

“Hey—!” He wheezes, grabbing your hand. “You can't give up so easily. Fight for what you want!”

“Too much work.”

Ace sighs and tilts his head. He pulls you towards him by the strap of the bag you carry, almost knocking you off balance. And then, he presses your lips to his—they are unexpectedly soft and you start to wonder if it was because of the honey he added to his tea at almost every unbirthday party (to break another rule of his dorm)—and then... And then you both lost the air in your lungs that you hadn't managed to take in before kissing.

You look at him from under your lashes as you take a deep breath. “To quote, "Ah, so you need more of my attention?””

“Ughh,” Ace breathes out, and you feel that quiet sigh on the skin of your neck. He is still incredibly close, but for that moment you can’t bring yourself to push him away. “You're lucky I like you. …And, by the way, you choose very wise man’s quotes.”

Deuce S. (forehead kisses)

“…”

“...”

“...Are you asleep?”

“...No. Not yet.”

The quilt rustles quietly as you sat up on the bed. You feel tired, your head aches, and your eyes seem too heavy. You are sure you've already yawned about five times since you said “goodnight”, but even after forty—you counted each one with agony—minutes of lying down, sleep wasn't taking you away.

Neither did Deuce, and that was your current greatest comfort.

“I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight,” you whisper, trying to make out his features in the darkness that merge into a dark room. But you are sure that that darker patch of shadow—Deuce—is looking at you as intently as you are looking at it. “Not after the movie that Ace picked out.”

Deuce slowly gets up and you can finally tell where his face is.

“He picked the wrong title,” Deuce agrees, sighing heavily. “I don't know if I can-... Erm, I mean, I'm not a fan of horror movies, but it's not that, that, I-.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” you interrupt him gently and squeeze the duvet lightly in your fingers. You turn your gaze to a window where a hint of light shines through the gaps between the curtains. The moon must be very visible tonight. “I didn't like that film. You know what, Deuce? We can't let Ace choose movies ever again.”

“Right,” he put his hands through the strands of his hair. And then laughs at the memory he proceeds to describe you. “...When I was younger, my mother would often kiss me on the forehead whenever I felt I was too upset to sleep. I often tried to watch horror movies on my own so I could talk about them later at school, but... Haha. Anyway, somehow it always worked because I would go back to bed later and then—I think—I would fall asleep…”

“...Do you want to kiss me goodnight?”

“Ah-! N-no! That's not what I meant!” he protests. And then tries to look at you but finds it impossible. “Ah... Was that a request or a question?”

“An offer of a lifetime.”

Deuce remains in his bed for a few more moments but finally gets up. He pushes the curtains a little more and the room becomes much brighter. You could now see the games scattered on the floor that you had vowed to clean up in the morning, the outline of your beds and finally, and most importantly, yourselves.

He approaches you, quietly and carefully. You wait with a smile that you try to hide. You straighten up, put your feet on the floor, but still sit on the bed as Deuce brings his fingers to your face, and touches it with care as if you were a porcelain doll. Or a dream and Deuce was willing to believe in both cases.

He brushes your hair from your forehead and holds loose strands with one hand; the other is placed on the back of your head. He leans in. You hear him hold his breath and feel warmer as he presses his lips to the top of your head. You are sure he must have sensed the scent of his shampoo (you had a good reason for that: you had forgotten to take your own with you) because he quivers subtly as he inhales the smell bashfully.

And he must also be glad that it was still dark in here because, when you raise your gaze, his head is titled, as he often does when conscious of his blushes.

“…Are you calmer?” He whispers the question.

You nod slowly. Deuce carefully, almost reluctantly, steps away from you and sits down on his bed. Although he is no longer beside you, you can still feel the memory of how warm his skin and lips were. You gently touch the spot on your head where he had placed his kiss.

“If we don't fall asleep in the next half hour, we're going to go get some late-night snacks,” you decide, as you lay down, and you even notice Deuce smiling.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “And we can watch a better movie. But now try to fall asleep.”

“If I fall asleep now, I'll regret it.”

“You will say something else in the morning, tired.”

Unique Kisses: Octavinelle!

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Azul A. (butterfly kisses)

„That's a very unfair deal,” you mutter, wrapping yourself more around Azul's arm. You are stopping him from writing down your potential contract and he is remarkably eager to delay everything when you are trying to persuade him so hard, despite the pen in his hand. “All I ask is that you quiz me before the test. Does it require such a formal agreement?”

Azul's chair cracks softly as he straightens up. You don't loosen your grip, but you are sure that if Azul ever wanted to, he could manage to get out of your arms. Apparently, he doesn't want to—or he doesn't care or mind—and with this small gesture, he is making you hope.

“Everything has a price,” he says before you can come up with something like 'good deeds of a good boyfriend' to throw at him. “You already get a discount because of our relationship... And another fifteen per cent for those kisses, which are also a form of contract, [Name].”

...And maybe that is the reason why he doesn't want you to leave. The kisses are the only ones of their kind, something Azul would always want to get for helping you. When you press your lips to his neck or the corners of his mouth, that touch always makes him feel that it's still insufficient. It is only a foretaste and Azul feels as if a ghost has fallen in love with him, but worse because this one is lovely and warm and has already learned to tease Azul with its pranks.

“What if there was more?” Another kiss lands on his cheek, which has acquired a bit of colour over the past several minutes. Azul doesn't flinch, even when you deliberately delay moving away from him. “Can you manage to bring it down by a hundred per cent? I'm poor this month.”

Azul sighs, and the air escapes his lungs completely.

He is losing the façade of the carefree businessman, an act he started putting up since he knew what are you up to.

“Their value decreases with each use,” he says, shaking his head. He adds: “ There would have to be a thousand of them.”

“Better to start sooner than later, no?” You smile. “Come on... I'll pay my debt.”

Another three kisses come by. One—at his temple, near the grey eyes that glitter in the elegant lighting in Azul's study—and another—at the corner of his mouth, which trembles—and a third, almost on his lower lip. All these points suddenly seem to burn on Azul's skin and he has to restrain from touching them.

Your next kiss has been already blocked by Azul's gloved hand, as he presses his index finger to your lips. You look at him with surprise, and although his face turns even redder, he manages to utter his next sentence without his voice breaking down.

“Do you think it will be so easy to bribe me?”

You smile even wider.

“Yes,” you embrace his face with your hands. His skin is soft and kind of warm, but you are sure he is melting as much as you are just by that touch. “Because something like that would definitely work for me.”

Jade L. (stopping kisses)

“Hello!” Your smile makes you stand out very much from the crowd of other passing students, even more so than the hands you raise to wave to your boyfriend. You shine with your charm and Jade wonders why no one else notices that brightness. “And bye-bye!”

He smiles amiably, watching you disappear around the next corner. Another ringing of the bell fills the school corridors and Jade decides it's time to hurry to his classroom. On the way he passes Floyd, throwing him a quick smile. Then, he starts to wonder what the next lesson is going to be. Or whether it will be more important than Monstro Lounge duties. Or mushrooms.

Probably not. But he is going to pay attention anyway.

This is what all your mornings would be like until Jade decided to put some more effort into it. Dramatic effects, one could say.

“He-”

...?

Your greeting is muffled when Jade grabs you gently by the collar of your uniform and, in a fluid but powerful motion pulls you closer.

You bump into him, and he enhances the accident; he leans in, lifts your chin and kisses you.

You feel his hand going down your back and stopping at your waist, but the centre of your attention gravitates toward his other hand, which roams and teases your skin near your neck, leaving such a gentle touch. Under Jade's fingers, you shiver.

Then, his lips claim yours.

…

Red isn't Jade's favourite colour, but he likes some of its shades on you.

Red skin at the corner of your mouth, crimson blushes all over your face and scarlet lips decorated with glossy cosmetics.

Jade moves away. He smiles his everyday smile and it pains you so much that he is so quick to recover after something that knocked you completely out of balance.

“Could I have a change of greeting, please?” He asks, intertwining your fingers with his. He pulls a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, which he leaned into. “The sight of you is always lovely, of course, but I feel a little distant when we pass each other so quickly in the corridor...”

…

You are still in the corridor.

You are reminded of that when some random student whistles in your direction. Jade smiles mockingly at the student, who could have been a phantom, quickly disappearing into a crowd with an equally mischievous grin.

“Yes... Yes,” you answer. You put your hand to your chest and rest your head against Jade's chest. His heartbeat isn't as fast as yours, and you confirm it once more Jade puts his arms around you. “Wait, give me a minute. My heart's about to jump out...”

The cruel man laughs warmly.

“Hm. You'll have to get used to a different pace of living, don't you think?”

Floyd L. (stolen kisses)

“I'm hungry, Floyd,” you knock his hand off, and it once again began to wander over your shoulder. “Let me eat my breakfast, please.”

“Awh...!”

Floyd whines. His wordless lament is filled with clear disappointment and stubbornness. You don't believe that only eight attempts to push him away is going to change anything though—Floyd Leech hasn't even considered leaving you alone, still sitting next to you.

You wouldn't have used such a method if his company didn't equate to an inability to eat anything during the meal break; either your food was the one vanishing or it was you, disappearing from a canteen, while dragged behind your favourite, but a little overbearing sea boy.

You shift your attention to your plate again. You haven't managed to get any school-legendary sandwiches, but you had got your hands on some fruits and crackers, and Floyd (graciously) has shared with you some of the jam he had taken himself. You promised him you'd spend the whole afternoon with him in exchange for it, but apparently, it still isn't enough.

Or he just likes annoying you.

You grab the first cracker, and it isn't until you bite into it that you realize how hungry you are. You thought that skipping last night's dinner was a good idea, but the quiet (loud, in your ears) rumbling of your stomach for the first few hours of the class made you rethink your choices.

You reach for another handful of crackers, biting into them along with a cut piece of an apple.

Floyd watches you in surprising silence until you eat half of the food you have.

Your hand, along with the cracker you've been about to put in your mouth, meets a wall in the shape of Floyd's head. His face is right in front of yours, a wide smile on it, even though you had almost crushed the cracker on his cheek.

Whenever Floyd kisses you, you are aware of the unusual facial proportions, not ordinary between humans, but more common in sea creatures. His tongue is long and his teeth sharp. His lips are slippery, but that is more due to the sweet soda he drank earlier because you sense the vivid taste of oranges in his kiss.

Oranges...

Ah, now you remember. You are supposed to have breakfast. 

You scold yourself for being distracted. Floyd may have an uncanny ability to monopolize your attention, but you still want to believe that in your relationship, both of you have equally similar power.

Floyd doesn't let you move away—the hands on your back and shoulder are there to prevent that—but you manage to turn your head just enough to catch your breath and try to push yourself away from him. Floyd is very fond of sabotaging you with his lung capacity, using every opportunity to take your breath away, but right now you are too focused on the clock, which shows that the break will be over in seven minutes.

“Not now!” You would have apologized to him for your dryness, has it not been for the fact that he started it, is now starving you, and is still smiling with amusement. You snort, clasping your hands over the fruit on your table. “I must have energy for our afternoon. And if these breaks don't convince you, give me a pass or food vouchers to Monstro Longue and I promise to comply.”

How to win the heart of jack how?

How to win a heart of Jack Howl?

a/n: Dearest Anon, I hope you are still here. I tried my best to write a good story. I hope you and every other reader will enjoy it!!

1. Get him to act as your boyfriend.

You don't know who that boy from Savanaclaw is, but at the moment, you can't care.

Your step hastens unwittingly, and you find yourself running towards the white-haired boy in a gymnastics shirt. He must be returning from daily training because even Mr Vargas doesn't torture his students so early in the morning. You glance at him once more, and you're sure that he will be a perfect fit for a plan you got into.

His ears twitch at the sound of your resilient steps, and he sharply turns your way before you bump into him. Of course, you would have slowed your pace and avoided any accident, but he catches your arms and stops you abruptly. You wonder how strong he may be if he didn't even budge.

"Uh... [Last Name]-senpai...?"

He looks at you with a slightly concerned look.

Oh, so he does know you? Wonderful.

"Hello there," you breathe out, gently getting out of his arms. You hope that being so winded doesn't leave a terribly unfortunate impression. "I… I know that we hadn't really talked with each other—yet—but I would… really, really appreciate it if you could help me with something."

A boy glances at you with vary.

You consider yourself lucky that he doesn't brush you off.

"…What do you need me for?"

You put on the most charming smile you can afford.

"It will sound really stupid, but… could you please act as my boyfriend? Be my fake date?"

…

"What?" A boy stutters the question. Before you can answer, he scrutinizes your surroundings. "Is someone stalking you?"

You shake your head energetically.

"No, no. I… just got into a bet with my cousin. And, well, to summarize the two-hour talk I may have told her that I will bring my boyfriend to a family dinner…" You watch how his expression changes slightly. Falls. "…But, obviously, I wouldn't drag anyone to my house. So, I was thinking about going with someone there and ' breaking up' in a few days. Oh, and I- I can pay you for your help!"

Your hands link in a plea.

"I-" Jack can't find any words he could offer you. Should he help you or just leave…? "[Last Name]-senpai, I really don't know what to say…" He trails off. "…Why me?"

His question animated you. You throw your hands in the air and wave in his general direction.

"I mean, look at you!" You exclaim, hoping a great amount of enthusiasm in your voice will work in your favour. "You seem like a hot, reliable guy. Kind. Charismatic."

Jack looks stunned. "Ah? W… What…?"

"You look exactly like the person I described to my parents!" You don't stop talking. His sudden bashfulness makes you speak even more confidently. "Please, if you aren't dating anyone right now, help me!"

…

Jack's eyes are avoiding yours as he scratches his nape. The silence stretches between you two, and you feel your heart sinking with regret each quiet second.

But then he coughs.

"…I don't like this idea," he mumbles, and his gaze meets yours. You notice the rosiness on his cheeks. The blush probably appeared because of the awkwardness of this situation and not because of a sudden crush on you, though. A pity. "But you look… desperate. You've got the spirit, and I will have you in debt. So… I will try helping you."

"Ah!"

You can't hide the smile that spreads on your face. You jump to Jack and pull him into a tight hug. He tenses under your sudden touch and lightly tries to push you off.

"Thank you so much…!" You cry out. After wiping a dramatic tear, you step back from him. You lower your head when you feel your face heating slightly in shame. "So… What is your name?"

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. He's still not convinced. Do something.

The bright screen of his phone has his undivided attention. A beautiful moon in the sky is already forgotten even as it's dazzling in its full beauty tonight.

His eyes skim through the chat. The last message you sent was dated five hours ago, and he hasn't been able to push it to the back of his mind. It still clung to him when he listened to lectures and exercised. Now, when he had done everything he had planned for today, and it was getting dark, he can't stop from pondering.

He scrolled to a top of a chat and began going over the conversation for the tenth time.

Chat: [Name] sent you an invitation. Accept to friends?

Chat: Jack accepted an invitation. You're friends now!

[Name]: Hi Jack!!

[Name]: Thank you so much again for agreeing to such a weird deal hahaha

[Name]: Can we meet tomorrow during lunch break to talk about it?

[Jack]: Sure

[Name]: [happy sticker sent]

…Should he regret his decision? But, if he was to turn down your offer, you would have a serious problem, no? Maybe that's what you should get for lying—a lie always has short legs—but…

Jack can't bring himself up to call the whole thing off.

It's not because he is too shy to walk away from that situation. Maybe he doesn't want to leave you by yourself since you picked him from over three hundred students in NRC. And maybe he likes helping people. And your help - he has you in debt, hm - in his studies might be crucial in the future.

Or so he hopes.

Ping!

His heart skips a surprised beat when a sudden message appears after the sticker message.

[Name]: …I see you are still online

[Name]: Can't stop thinking about that chat? Hehe

Jack's fingers hover over the screen before he types a reply.

Jack: I can.

He lied.

Jack: That all just happened so quickly

[Name]: After sleeping, you might feel easier with that idea

[Name]: Tbh I doubt I will be able to sleep right now

[Name]: Soooo

[Name]: Wanna play something?

He doesn't even have a short moment to consider your offer before another notification pops up.

Chat: [Name] invited you to play a game of UNO CARD. Click here to join in!

…

Jack sighs.

And taps the link.

He will go to sleep soon. He can't miss his morning training, after all.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Be a helpful upperclassman.

"Ah. It's that vending machine."

"[Name]-senpai…"

You lean against the cold metal, and Jack slowly looks at you. He heard your steps but didn't react until you made your presence too obvious to ignore. You smile cheerfully at him, not minding the stiffness he treats you with.

"Just [Name], Jack-kouhai," you tease and take two steps to stand next to him, facing the front of a vending machine. Behind the glass, colourful cans reflect the bright lights of corridors' chandeliers. "I see you have a problem here."

There is a bottle of pear-flavoured water trapped between the glass and a lower shelf, where lay packs of biscuit cookies. It doesn't seem to be stuck too hard to give up hope of getting it out, but neither are the other items on the machine. Everything is attached too loosely.

You believe that if you tried to tilt the whole thing, a bottle wouldn't be the only thing that would fall down.

"There are three ways you can get out your precious water, Jack," you hold three fingers in front of him. "You can buy something from a higher shelf—but both things can get stuck—you can punch the machine (gently, Jack, gently), or try reaching that bottle from below… Although it will hurt when you try to squeeze your arm through the window you usually take your drink from," you count solutions on your hand as you talk and then smile at Jack with anticipation.

"…I will go with buying something else, then." He looks like he'd rather give up on the water but still pats his pockets and takes another coin from his pocket. "…I don't have enough to buy anything more right now... Can you wait here while I go for my wallet?"

"No! …Can I have your change?"

…Well. With a grunt that resembles a resigned sigh, he hands you a coin.

You put it in the machine, along with several more you had on yourself, and tap a button next to the big pack of jellies on the highest shelf. With a soft clack! candy lands on a bottle, and with a hard crash, it makes it to the end. With a bottle.

It feels like a big victory when you squat to take both items out.

"We won!" You announce, throwing him his water, and then spare no time to open the jellies. "You can take half of them," As you shift the pack toward him, Jack hesitatingly takes a handful. You grin. "See? Having such a great upperclassman as me is an ultimate investment in life."

"Is that so," Jack ponders. ...Somehow, he feels entertained by your show. If you 'asked out' Ace Trappola instead of him, he would be your perfect partner in this kind of antics. "By the way, senpai, could you check an essay I've done? I need to turn it in tomorrow. That would be even more helpful than help with a vending machine."

The look he gives you says that he doesn't think you can correct his work to make it score top marks. You know you can't do that too.

"……..Heh."

So much for trying to be a helpful senpai.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Get to know him.

"Do I really need to answer these questions?" Jack sounds concerned, and you can't help but chuckle at the hesitance in his voice. "They are weird…"

You take a sip of your drink. It is sour but in a very pleasant way. Well, you couldn't really expect less from the special item on a Monstro Lounge's menu. Even the occasional, time-limited and experimental dishes are quite tasteful here.

Jack sits across you, with his arms crossed as he studies the two-paged paper quiz you handed him. At his left, there is a glass of refreshing lemonade you insisted on paying for. Your fake-and-still-unsure boyfriend in question hasn't left yet, so you guess that treating him was a great idea.

"It's an instant way to know someone. I came up with the idea."

"That's the matter…"

He almost scowls, and you grin at the statement.

"We need to know some basics about ourselves. I wrote my questions for you on this sheet of paper," you point at a thin file in front of him, and shift another one in his direction. "And you can write anything you want to ask me here."

Hm.

Jack isn't sure if he wants to know anything particular about you. Anything more.

"…Okay," he replies, eyeing you carefully. Then, with a pen in his hand, he begins to write his questions for you.

It takes him several minutes to fill the page. When he hands it to you, his firm, right-slanting handwriting flashes at you. Your lips curve as you note that it fits him very much.

But then you start reading the questions.

And your smile drops.

"I can't answer these questions, Jack," you protest, and Jack squints his eyes at you in confusion. "I have no clue about the names of the muscles I focused on when we had a Vargas Camp," At your comment, he starts deflating, and you pause in a second. And then, after rereading the questions again, you pout sulkily. "…Couldn't you ask anything about my great personality?"

"…Then, is there anything I need to know before 'dating' you?" Jack scratches his neck, dropping his gaze at a lemonade before him.

"Now you make it sound as if I was dangerous," you laugh, but you can feel how your voice is a little strained. Just a little bit. "Either way, I won't tell you! You're getting me in a two-in-one special: you get precious me and my darkest secrets. It's a great deal."

"It's not."

You wave your hand as his response is as if it was physically brushed away. "The real question is: do I need to know anything about you?"

Jack huffs, but when he closes his eyes, you know he thinks about it seriously. It doesn't take a long while for him to speak up again.

"I think… I'm a pretty normal guy," he says and looks at you as if he wanted your reassurance. Your mouth 'no', and by the glance he sends you, you know how unimpressed he is. "I might not reach high standards if you or your family have any."

If he was sitting next to you, you would pat his arm, but you can only playfully step on his shoe under the table. You tap it twice, and when Jack looks up at you, a full grin plasters on your face.

You laugh. "You're good to go. I think you are more than living up to my parents' unfounded low expectations of my boyfriend."

"…Now I wonder why so."

"And you will keep on wondering. You won't ever hear this story~." You hum. "Well. Maybe one day."

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5. Have faith in yourself. (It doesn't need to be justified).

"Now we turn left…"

"It's on the right."

"It's left."

"Right!"

"It's left."

"It can't be left! On the left we have mandragoras..."

"We just passed the alley where they were, [Name]."

Jack sighs. Moving around the botanical garden shouldn't be this hard. You two have been there many times, but now the corridors stopped looking familiar as new roots started taking over the paths. It was a time for flowers to blossom.

Going there was a mistake. You can't even remember what were you going to search for here, but if you asked Jack, he would probably remember.

You don't want to ask him, though.

"Well, you can go right, and I will go left," you huff, crossing your arms. "We will see who will get out of here before the lunch break ends."

You turn around on your heel, and as you step to the left aisle, Jack catches you by the back of your shirt's collar and quickly jumps next to you. Then, by standing back to you, he grabs your arms from behind and pushes you forward. You began taking shaky steps towards the right alley.

"No," says Jack. "We will have a joint PE lesson. Both of us need to eat something before that. Let me guide, [Name]."

"I don't have a choice anyway," you note that although his grip on your arms is steady and would be hard to break out from, it isn't painful. It's almost gentle as he forces you to go ahead. "And don't assume I don't know the way…!"

"I hear the voices of others. I will find an exit faster," he says. "Bear with me, and we'll get out of there."

"…If we don't, you will have to admit publically that your sense of orientation sucks."

"Then, shouldn't you do the same if my lead is correct?"

You slowly start to recognize the plants and where you two were.

He is guiding you correctly.

"…No."

Jack hums, and you can tell he's amused by the disappointment in your voice.

"Then I will keep it a secret to myself."

"I have a great sense of orientation, just- not today!" You protest as you tug on his sleeve. He doesn't stop pushing you so slightly to guide you two to the exit. "Don't remember this kind of lies, Jack."

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Cheer on him.

"Here's water."

"Thanks."

Jack takes cold water and sits down next to you. A bench is sturdy enough that it doesn't squeak, even as you sit in the middle of it. With no problem, he takes off a cap you struggled with—he doesn't need to know this, however—and quenches his thirst.

He also accepts the towel your hand him with "thanks".

"You are going to have a match with RSA in two weeks, right?" Your question sounds more like a statement. Jack wonders if you would show up at his training if it wasn't for it.

"Yeah."

"Our school will have a whole day without lessons just to watch it."

Jack nods.

Maybe if it wasn't RSA, it wouldn't be the deal it is now. But you can count only on one hand the NRC students who don't feel competitive when the academy is mentioned. Even the people who aren't going to play, behave as if they were going to, with their cheering and hyping each other.

Cheering… NRC students will have to prepare some banners to support their team. And practice the cheer itself. Probably Pomefiore students will have to engage. They might not be very interested in sports events, but they won't let RSA beat them in terms of aesthetics.

Maybe the strong rivalry isn't that bad at all.

"By the way…" You trail off and don't speak again until Jack looks at you. "Even though we will be cheering on your team, all of my cheers are dedicated to you."

"Khe-"

Oops.

Jack chokes on his water in surprise, but when you move with concern to pat his back, he moves away, coughing into the crook of his elbow, and putting up his other hand to stop you. He eventually stops choking and sighs deeply.

When he looks up, and when you get to see his face, you notice a faint blush on his cheeks. His eyes crinkle wary. "…Are you trying out a pick-up line?"

And you tried being encouraging.

"No! I wanted to be supportive!" You protest. "Would you like it to be a pick-up li-?"

"No thanks," he says curtly. Then, clears his throat, and after making sure he can hold your gaze, he starts paying attention to his voice, to not have the next words come out as a mutter. "…But thank you for being here."

…

You smile softly and can feel your heart warm up.

But you ruin the atmosphere as the mischievous grin spreads up your face and meets your eyes. "Are you trying out a pick-up line, hehe? Don't look at me like that. I would very much like it to be."

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Have fake dates.

"Did you know that couples usually post some photos from their dates?"

You don't look up from your screen when you say it. Jack glances at you, who has been coming to his room whenever you had a chance. You started taking his bed as yours. He always grunts as you do so, but you noticed that a blanket you brought with you on a colder day is always folded and overhanging the headboard.

"What do you mean?" He asks, not stopping flexing his arm with the dumbbell. You turn the screen of your phone towards him, showing a Magicam profile of a girl he doesn't know.

"Like, uh. We should get some material to convince everyone that our relationship is very entertaining," you say, scrolling through the posts.

There are lots of pictures of said girl and her boyfriend. From amusement parks, oceanariums, festivals, bookstores, restaurants… You look at Jack as you got to the last image. "They look happy. And enamoured with each other."

Jack thinks about something.

"Do you think just posting photos is enough to prove the 'trueness' of our relationship?"

You grin. "That will convince introverts. All the people who didn't see us."

Jack actually laughs. "Right," he says, and as his voice steadies, he returns to doing his exercises. As you think the topic is ended, Jack speaks up so quietly that he almost mouths his words. "Then we can get… a few."

His eyes are intensely glued to the floor when you look at him.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Talk about the rules. (Find out whether you can fake a kiss. (Fake kiss?)

"Are we ready?"

Jack asks, for the last time correcting the cuffs of his shirt. A suit he picked fits him; it's similar to the uniform he wears every day, but it's even more elegant. He leaves it unbuttoned, and whether he was wearing a tie, it would cover the little buttons of a white shirt he wears underneath.

He doesn't, though, but you don't say anything. You can't really say anything, because he looks so astonishing that something similar to awe grips your throat. Jack looks gorgeous. Not only in very classic clothes but also freshened up. His hair is puffier than usual, and you would love to play with it if it would ruin its tidiness.

You also dressed yourself up. You thought you were unusually pretty tonight, more than ever.

Jack doesn't agree but doesn't deny it either. He just stares at you, and by the way, his chest expands and stops, you start to wonder if he stopped breathing.

But he finally breathes out, and you don't dare to check if he has a desired blush on his cheeks or not.

You start walking toward the hall of mirrors, where one could take you back to your family home. Your home.

"Once again, leave all the questions related to romance up to me," you say, winking at him. "I read so much fanfiction I can come up with a realistic, heartwarming backstory of our relationship immediately."

"Don't tell them anything weird."

He says so, and you chuckle.

"They will probably tease us, so don't be shy to ignore them," you continue. By the time, you are standing before a big mirror. Its surface shines brightly, and in a brief moment, an image of your hometown is already displayed. Your house is close, very close. "And… just be yourself, you're charming."

"…If you say so," Jack says. He looks as if he wanted to say something, and you wait before he speaks up with hesitation. "Shall we hold hands?"

…

You didn't expect that.

But you aren't going to refuse.

You intertwine your fingers with his and grin. Your heartbeat rises once more again, and you know, that it won't slow down until you return back. Jack squeezes your hand back.

"Next step in our relationship, I see," you say with a smile. "You have warm hands."

You stand there for just a little while, stopping Jack from going through the mirror, but it's too long as another thought crosses your mind.

"Wait. Do you think they will ask us to kiss?" Stupid you, stupid you, stupid you, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, laugh to cover the awkwardness and throw the topic away. You laugh. "No. They wouldn't. Never mind, don't think about that."

Now you try to go through the mirror. Jack's hand, which still holds yours, stops you midway. You have no choice but to look up at him and confront the gaze he wishes you didn't see.

"…If the situation will be tragic enough, we can do it," he says and coughs. "But it might be awkward, but I don't think I could fake a kiss."

"Neither could I," my chest will explode in a moment, you note. Somehow, you grin with mischief, but it isn't as malicious as you wished it to be. "So our very unfakeable kiss would convince everyone."

"Stop wishing for it to happen."

"I haven't been wishing! But well, maybe I might start doing so. Someday. Sometimes. Ah, let's just go!"

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Lose the previous reason to date.

The dinner went well.

You never once regretted choosing Jack as your partner in crime, but now you were so proud of yourself, as your mother talked happily with Jack, and dad listened to their conversation, sometimes commenting.

Your cousin was actually convinced about your relationship with Jack. She even offered to have a double date and recommended places interesting enough to have memorable dates. She felt happy for you, and it was warming your heart but also freezing it by turns.

You had to politely brush all her offers off because… Well, Jack agreed to be your date until today.

You've been painfully aware of it, as Jack's hand holds yours since you left your house.

Even when you got to the mirror, where no one from your family could see you anymore… Even when you got back to school, your hands were still linked, but you didn't want to point it out. Jack could have backed out and it was the last thing you wanted.

But everything must have an end.

"Thank you," you breathe and smile slightly at him. Looking him straight into the eyes beyond your strength. You part your hands very slowly before you turn to get to your dormitory. "Goodnight, Jack."

…

As Jack turns and walks back to his dormitory, he can't help but think about a single thing. Even the dinner he was stressing about him the whole day has been already forgotten.

The next morning you will wake up, and you two "won't be together".

Jack scowls.

If you ever have been.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. End the play.

"Thank you for your hard work~," you smile cheerfully when getting to his room. For the last time as a "partner", if you still hold that title. You put a glass bottle on his desk. "I've got you a pear compote, so you won't have the heart to throw it out."

"I… wouldn't do anything like that even if it wasn't it," Jack says, and doesn't move away when you sit on the bed next to him. He can smell the light perfumes you wore today and almost feels the warmth of your body, sitting so close to him.

There is a silence between you before you decide to break it.

"So… that's it, huh?"

You smile, and something in Jack breaks again. He feels as if was falling, but expected the fall itself… Since he met you properly, he knew you will part your days in a few weeks.

But if he could lengthen the time…

Even if it meant sacrificing the part of his pride…

He would try anything.

His face is covered with blushes, and his mouth twists with embarrassment when he notices how lame is the only excuse he can come up with now.

"Can-" He doesn't stutter but fights with his words. How can he say what he wants so you will understand? "Can we pretend for a little more? I'm sorry, but I told my mother that I have a partner, and she's excited to see you."

…

"So a next dinner!" Your hands clasp with enthusiasm, but you know you need to hold them to stop them from shaking. You need to keep calm and be a cool senpai. "Then, we are continuing our fake dating, hehe?"

Jack purses his lips, and to your surprise, he aggressively shakes his head.

"We can't. She will know if it's fake," he says in a dead-serious tone. Your mouth curls in a smile you try to cover with your hand.

"So we should be serious," you conclude, imitating the voice Jack used just before. And then you stand up from bed and make your way so that you are just before him. You put your hands on your sides. "But I am waiting for a proper confession."

Jack sighs softly.

"…You're making this hard for me," he says, but stands up. The morning rays of sunlight come through the window and enlighten his figure. His eyes shine with gold, and somehow you can't look away from them."…And it's weird because I wouldn't like it if you stopped complicating things." He puts his hand over his heart. "I simply want to stay by your side, now and… in the future… That's the only thing I wish now."