If That's Okay Could I Request It For Epel?

If that's okay could i request it for Epel?

How to win the heart of Epel Felmier?

a/n: Thank you for requesting~~ Dear Readers, while I am not a native English speaker, I wrote this ff in the English-pronounciation (?) mindset that “Epel” and “Apple” sound very similar. If it’s not all that similar, may Reader be too obsessed with apples to have that selective hearing when it comes to Epel’s name or let’s blame it on the Harveston’s dialect, haha

Be a zealous apple lover.

You envy this boy’s name.

“Apple”? What a majestic word to be named after. The first time you’ve heard a woman calling someone like that, you remember stilling in place and whooping your head at a ten-year-old boy who yelled that he was coming.

And he… doesn’t look like an apple. Maybe you weren’t expecting a walking apple, nor a boy with red hair dressed in all browns, carrying a big basket of apples (and of course, eating one in the other hand) like a character created for a show whose audience is a tad younger than you, but none of the apples you know turn purple.

Never have you imagined someone with such a beautiful name would move so wobbly in snow, the sledge he dragged behind definitely too heavy.

The realization of how unfitting this name was makes you lose a grip on the basket of fabric you got from one of your new neighbours. Well, everyone here is “new” if you just came into this little village just three days ago.

That boy notices you. He must have heard the news because a flash of recognition paints itself on his face. You didn’t return a shy smile at the staring, even if you wanted to. You remember your cheeks prickling from the freezing wind when you bolted home as the apple boy looked like he wanted to say something.

“He doesn’t look like an apple,” you argue with your mother that night, as she kisses your temple goodnight.

“Maybe not. But I would have loved you two to be friends…” Your mother stops in her words as you roll your eyes at her and pout with all your might. She suppresses a laugh that you would take to your heart. “…But, maybe I should be glad he doesn’t resemble an apple at all? You would have fallen head over heels in love with him if he did.”

Yeah, your mother doesn’t need to look so happy as you grew agitated.

“I wouldn’t!” You protest loudly and bury yourself deeper into bed sheets even if your face grows hotter. Maybe of the embarrassment, maybe of the fury, but surely not because of the boy. “I would never fall in love with a boy like him. And I don’t want you to talk about this to anyone!”

You remember your mother’s eyes twinkling with utter amusement. “Yes, yes, all right.”

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2. Challenge Apple to a sled race.

Maybe it’s the fault of far too many action films being aired on TV, yet the idea of being able to win anything a fight was stuck in your head.

Some limited part of your brain thought that, hm, Apple might just give up his name to you if you won in this town’s most famous activity: the Harveston’s Sled Race. It seemed only appropriate for you to pick something the boy must know, even if you had only got your first sledge barely two weeks ago.

“Ya… want my name?” Apple blinks as you grow irate when you repeat your offer once again. You remember rolling your eyes ostentatiously at him, and Apple huffing loudly at you. “What does it even mean, duh?”

He crosses his arms and glared at you. He has the advantage of being just a little bit taller than you, but thankfully, his The-Great-Seven-Better-Bless-Her grandmother never ceases to dress him in fluffy, puffy clothes, always in pastel colours; the cute pompom on top of his beanie and shawl in the adorable pink shade made him much less imposing.

“Whoever wins in this sledge race will be called Apple,” you repeat. Apple squints his eyes at you. “I like this name so much, you have no idea. Please give it up to me.”

“Oh.”

You have no idea why his face slowly turned red. If you knew better, you would have used this opportunity to tease him, but little you didn’t want to mock a newly met boy, even if you just threw down a gauntlet for his name.

“It’s a normal name….” He mutters, and before you can protest, he draws his eyes to you, somehow redeeming you speechless. “…But I’ll challenge you if that’s what you wanna do.”

Huh. You weren’t expecting him to agree so easily.

…Nor were you expecting him to glide on the snow with his sledge. He looked frail enough to not care about things like rides and thought that it would give you the advantage. It did not. Apple flew or used magic, or illusions because he rode so fast the snow beneath him barely left a trace.

That was some cool skill, even if you hated how awed you were.

It seems like you challenged the wrong boy because this one wins with ease.

“Sorry,” he says with flushed cheeks, and his deep breaths create little warm clouds in freezing air. He lays on the snow, and his fringe sticks to his forehead. He has won, and it was a tough victory yet a well-earned one. “I will still be the only Epel in this town.” He shifts his gaze on you. “So. What’s your name?”

Well, he is a (treacherous) winner. You give your name to him.

He smiles slightly, he repeats it slowly and goes quiet. You look over to see him open his eyes from reverie and bright lights dance in his eyes.

“It’s nice. I think it suits you well.”

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3. Have some baking skills.

“Epel, dear. We’ll be having our little neighbour helping us this year’s festival, so please show how responsible can you be and teach [Name] how to prepare apples for the pies.”

Ugh. If only Grandma Marja wasn’t so kind, you would have been protesting more.

Apple looks at you and you frown slightly as he sighs at your sight.

“You again?”

And because Grandma Marja already left, you feel free to announce your displeasure with the situation as well. Sadly, there are no other kids your age in this village, so you are probably bound to accompany him for the rest of your whole life here as he’s your only peer.

“Unfortunately.”

Apple hands you an apron, before ordering you to wash your hands. Because the kitchen island is too occupied with other dishes and too high for any of you without a stool, you take a seat next to a coffee table that was impractically set between the salon and kitchen, leaving just enough space to create a narrow route from one room to another.

“Have you ever baked an apple pie before?” He asks and you shake your head. His brows furrow slightly as he thinks whether you will be a help here at all. “So, it will be a long day…”

He better not write you off before you can even start.

You cross your arms. “Test me first, complain later... if ever.”

“I’m not complaining. But we have a knife and a peeler. Oh, and it hurts if you get cut. You should take it slowly and be careful,” he adds and hops to the other room to grab a basket full of apples. He lays it between you two.

Apple doesn’t let you use a knife.

“I am older than you,” he says and takes an apple from you to cut it into even pieces. You don’t notice the skill he has to make careful cuts precise and clean, as you glare at him.

“Barely.”

The few-month gap in your age isn’t enough to stop you from insisting that you can do more complicated things than just peeling apples. That’s some arduous work, especially when the peeler doesn’t cooperate and the thin fruit’s skin gets stuck between the blades.

So, Apple, who couldn’t contain that last annoyed sigh, finally lends you a knife. He instructs you, but after several times that you tell him you know what are you doing, he hesitantly goes back to his work. You could feel a worried gaze at you nonetheless, and at one time you looked over your shoulder to see him staring at you.

And that’s when the knife slips from your hands.

You don’t scream, but a gasp and a sudden flinch gives you away.

“Aaaand that’s what I was saying,” he immediately drops the apple he was taking care of, and stands next to you, scrutinizing the cut. It’s not bigger than a paper cut, yet it’s a bit deeper and stings as much. You quickly hide your hands from him. “Go take your hand under the cold water. I will get some bandages.”

He gets some. He then orders you—” I am the older one here and I was right before, so I am in charge between us two,” as you were told—to sit on the sofa as he carefully wraps one bandage around your finger. The gesture it’s almost cute from him, but it doesn’t lift your foul mood at all.

“I made more trouble than I’ve helped,” you say quietly. Epel looks at you, a bit surprised.

“You sayin’ that this little cut is making you quit?” And now he has that stupid smile on his lips that makes your blood not boil, but warm up at least five degrees. “Awh, poor thing.”

You get up in a hurry.

“…I didn’t say that.”

“Then don’t give up like that,” he chastises you, but he can’t hide a (still very stupid) smile when you pass him to get to the kitchen counter. “But be more careful from now. No one wants to eat a bloody apple pie.”

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4. Get into NRC and survive a shock.

Over the years, you’ve become friends, close enough to plan to go to college together, if the opportunity arises. It did.

“Cheers!”

The perfect way to celebrate getting into NRC is with a soft drink, sparkling soda and a big plate of snacks. Although you bought chips for the occasion, your and Apple’s parents prepared a pile of homemade goodies and they couldn’t compare to those store-bought.

Your can clinks against Apple’s and you take a sip.

“It’s not like I ever thought of Night Raven Collage rejecting the best candidates ever,” Apple says with a sigh. Only today you can notice how stiff he was before; although he’d been playing it cool, he was tense all the time. “But that’s one burden off your chest.”

You nod in agreement and look at the acceptance papers once again. When a time will come, carriages with Gates will come for you two… And that’s a thrilling thought.

“This document looks so official,” you say. “What a pretty paper. It looks so elegant.”

Apple empties his can and briefly glances at you.

“Nothin’ special about it…”

And because you want to see the comparison (maybe there are hidden hints where you might be allocated to by the Dark Mirror?), you take his document. The first thing that crosses your mind, is that there is something wrong with his name.

“Wait,” you shriek loudly, and Apple shudders from surprise. He would chastise you for screaming so loud if you didn’t look so worried. “They spelled your name wrong!”

“Huh?” Apple feels a pang of horror, the same you feel when you tap your pockets in search of your phone. As if he found it, once he reads the top of the document again, he relaxes. His lips form into a thin line: he thinks you are pranking him. “No way. Everything is correct.”

“No, look here. Your name, Apple!”

“It’s… Correct.”

“E- P- E- L. And your name is A- P- P- L- E, no?”

“…What?” Epel, not Apple, looks surprised but not as surprised as you. “You thought my name was ‘Apple’ for all those years?!”

You bite your lip to not question it. Is it not? Your cheeks burn from embarrassment, and your heart feels heavy as if you have just betrayed your best friend. It never crossed your mind to have him write down his name, and there wasn’t a reason for him to do so: in this small town there is no school, neither are there the tests you need to sign.

“…I’m sorry.” You stutter, and Epel brushes the crumbs off from his blouse and gets up.

“Goodbye,” he says, making his way towards the door. He doesn’t seem that upset over the whole thing, as much as confused. Tomorrow everything will return to normality, but Epel will have a top-tier teasing material for years. “That’s too many revelations for today.”

“Wait, Epel!”

“Go to ya Apple boy.”

“No!! I said I’m sorry!”

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5. Get sorted into any dorm but Pomefiore.

“Stop laughing.”

“I can’t…! Ha…”

You take a big breath to calm yourself down, but once you look up at Epel and his grimace, it’s impossible to not burst out laughing so loud and so breath-taking you drop to the floor. Epel nudges you. You might be in his room, yet he knows if he’ll be too loud, someone will come to shush you two.

And maybe they will punish him, but Epel isn’t familiar with Pomefiore’s customs, so he doesn’t know what to expect.

“How come you got sorted into another dorm, while we are practically the same?” Epel mumbles, lying down on his bed. The sheets are heavy yet comfortable, luxurious like the whole room. It feels like a museum here, where each item is more valuable than your life and you need permission to rearrange the interior.

To Epel, Pomefiore is the worst dorm. He remembers you teasing him about getting sorted to Pomefiore, but neither of you thought it would come true. It’s too stiff, too restrictive and cares too much about appearances. Epel’s heart feels heavy at the thought of the next four years here.

“Maybe Dark Mirror doesn’t sort the dorm judging by the alikeness of two last brain cells but the shape and colour of the soul,” you nudge him back, waking him up from his reverie.

“Or maybe it didn’t get any input of brain cells from you.”

“Well, your desire to be the prettiest boy in the town got to it, so I think it functions well.”

You chuckle at the dead glare he throws you.

Epel finally sighs.

“…I would like to change the dorms.”

“I don't know whether the Dark Mirror accepts complaints,” you tease him. The gloom is abruptly replaced by irritation, and that’s nice. An angry Epel is better than a devastated Epel. “But if you ever want to escape for a while, you are welcome in my room. We can have a sleepover whenever you want.”

“…Thank you.”

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5.5. Sorted into Pomefiore exception.

“You ain’t elegant at all, though.”

“It seems like my elegance bleaks in comparison to yours, pretty boy.”

“You are blind.”

Epel tries to push you away, but you sidestep while giggling. He glares at you, and thankfully, his eyes don’t seem that sad. When he returned to his seat after getting sorted to Pomefiore, he looked bewildered, as if he suddenly wasn’t in the NRC he dreamed of but some other, less-dreamlike school.

You remember him blinking back tears, but maybe not from sadness—thankfully, Epel doesn’t pity himself—but melancholy, as if he just lost something he didn’t even have. Maybe also fury and confusion.

“It will be fun to stay here together,” you prompt, and Epel sighs but a trace of a smile appears on his lips. Thank Great Sevens for the little lights that brighten the azure tones in his eyes.

“Guess I’m stuck being your neighbour forever.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“No?”

“Of course not. You already know how great friend I can be.”

“…I guess you’re right,” he sticks out his tongue. Vil will have a lot of work if he wants to make him a fine gentleman. Well. You will take any version of Epel, even the pettiest and most teasing one, so it’s Vil’s burden to bear. “Kind of.”

You pout at him, but a quiet smile breaks your coolness. “So petty.

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6. Listen to your manly man complain about Vil.

After several weeks in NRC, you could tell Epel still hasn’t gotten used to Pomefiore, and especially its leader.

“I can’t handle him pointing out each… well, everything!” He hides his face in his hands and sluggishly rubs his eyes; he looks tired enough even if Pomefiore must have those eight hours of sleep every night mandatory. “He would find wrongdoings in the way I breathe.”

“I would too. You don’t breathe as much through your nose as you think you do. That’s so very unhealthy, Epel. Your skin will be ruined in the next week of running.”

Epel throws you a warning look as if you had hit the nail with your talk. “Stop or I will strangle you with a pillow in your sleep. I already have Ace on my list.”

You chuckle at a threat, and Epel rolls his eyes. “How dramatic.”

“I have enough drama in my life,” he continues, and you can feel from his tone that he either suppresses the sigh. No apathy or fury anymore, though. Pomefiore must be slowly growing on him, and you take it as a good sign. “My two upperclassmen are going to be a death of me. I don’t know how could I end up in Pomefiore. This kind of lifestyle doesn’t suit me.”

“You complain about them a lot, but, in reality, you look up to him, no?” You tease. “Even you can say the beauty he possesses is influential and somewhat powerful.”

“He might look majestically but it doesn’t make him any less annoying. Now, let’s stop talking about him.”

“Why not? I might become Vil Schoenheit’s fan.”

He clasps his hands on your mouth, so you have to fully focus on his glaring.

“You can’t. You are my fan.”

You pout but after he takes his hands off you, a lopsided smile cracks your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

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7. Argue, duh.

That’s a hobby of you two, although a risky one. It always leaves a weight on your heart, because you cannot not care for Epel. While jokes and sarcasm are never intended to hurt any of you, and you can almost always distance yourself from teasing comments, his every word is precious to you.

“Don’t be a killjoy,” would make you roll your eyes if Epel didn’t look so serious. Your smile falters, and something in your stomach twists. You know this conversation was going to end in an argument even before he glowered at you.

“Hey, don’t say it like that,” you stutter the words, placing a hand on his arm. It would come as a reassuring gesture, yet Epel made an effort to move a seat away, and your arm fell aimlessly, sadly. “I am just worried about our grades. That have. Uh. Dropped marginally.”

You stare at your shoes because listening to your best friend being displeased with you so greatly is heartbreaking.

“We have the whole weekend ahead of us to study,” he argued. “Be serious. You don’t want me to go, because you weren’t invited, isn’t that so?”

You sigh. You’ve never expected to be invited to each of their meetings: they are Epel’s friends, and you have yours.

While you knew Ace and Deuce were delightful company, you always thought Epel would choose you over them, even if you suggested something as unentertaining as studying because you would do the same.

You were wrong, after all. Maybe that’s the difference of willpower between a just-a-friends mindset and having a crush on him. Do you really have a crush on him, though? Or maybe you’ve expected too much from a childhood friendship.

“Well, no. I mean, I would love to be invited, but—”

“We don’t need to hang out together every time we have a spare afternoon,” he said, and while it was a true statement, it hurt. If you weren’t able to somehow steel your nerves, you would know you wouldn’t be able to bear the prickling in your eyes. Epel’s next suggestion comes as a whisper. “Sometimes… We should take a break from each other, ya know? And I need to figure, uh, something out.”

The news shocks you so much, that you don’t notice how he visibly abstains from lifting a hand to his chest.

Well. You always knew you were a hopeless romantic.

“Breaks from each other, huh…”

You take in the phrase in silence. Epel takes this chance as an opportunity to gather his things and pack them.

“…I’ll be leaving. Good luck studying or whatever.”

“…Alright. Have—” fun, you wanted to say, but the door shut and Epel left you alone.

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8. Go through the silent treatment phase.

After a week of awkward conversations, Epel has forgotten about that talk. The pain in your chest dulled and you were growing indifferent as if you were watching a show—your life—that started to bore you, not engaging you at all.

You stared blankly at the screen of your phone.

— today —

Epel: Hey

Epel: are u free todya?? you’ve been so absent last weeks >:((

Epel: Grim and prefect invited us for gaming night

Epel: dont ya DARE do skip it again

— seen: now —

…Yeah. You feel nothing, maybe only a little sad at the memory when you felt so vivid and happy when you got a message from Epel.

“No, sorry, I am busy with studying lol,” you type, and while you know that excuse will wear out in the next few days, for as much as you’ve been using it for the last week to avoid hanging out with Epel, your (ex-?) best friend starts to type something. He will protest and argue and try to convince you, but you don’t want to talk today. “Maybe next time.”

So you turn off your phone, sinking deeper into the pillows on your bed.

You don’t have the energy to confront Epel right now.

And that’s it.

…

You fell into a slumber deep enough to not hear the hesitant-turned-frantic knocking to your room.

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9. Let Epel hear the advice of unreliable gurus of love.

They are really unreliable, look messy, and they judge you. The worst kind of people to go for (love?) advice, but Epel assures himself that he needs honesty, not a pat on his back or a shoulder to cry on. He also is out of other options.

Moreover, he would like to cry nowhere near Ace, who would obviously mock him. Even now it’s hard to have a heart-to-heart conversation when he and Deuce chomp on some type of dessert and some awfully happy music from videogame plays in the back of the room. “So? What did you do?”

“Ace,” Deuce is kind enough to elbow Ace in the stomach when Epel’s stoic expression falters.

His shoulders drop. “No, he… He is kinda right.”

Ace throws a winning smile but moves too far away from Deuce to have him punch him for the cheekiness. “’ Kinda’?”

“…Totally right,” Epel finally admits. “[Name] has been avoiding me and I have no idea what should I do,” He throws his arms on the table, and almost hides his face in the palms of his hands. Instead, he moves away the strands of his unruly hair. “Ugh. Why I am even asking you guys to help me? You’re even worse at this kind of thing.”

“Speak for yourself. And Deuce,” Ace cuts him off. And before Deuce can do anything else than glare at him, Ace shifts closer to Epel and throws an arm over his shoulder so he has to hunch. “Epel, question: what is “this kind of thing”. You mean… as in friendships or dating?”

Deuce looks shocked, even so more than Epel. “Dating?!”

“Why are you even so shocked?” Ace asks him, furrowing his eyebrows. When Deuce starts to ponder over his words, he rolls his eyes. “[Name] probably have had a crush on this imbecile”— he points his fork at Epel—” for damn years now, if I had to guess”.

“Years?!”

“Thank you for the dramatic echo effect again, Deuce,” Ace snarls and finally focuses on Epel. Too distracted with a bickering between his friends, his spirits lift up a little. “And you, Epel. Pull yourself together. Do you want to sever the relationship? Do nothing. Do you want to be friends? Apologize to [Name] and try to patch the bond. Do you want to be in a relationship? …Welp, figure out that for yourself.”

…

“Amazing advice, Ace,” Deuce claps his hands theatrically.

He sticks out his tongue and winks. “You could never give a better one.”

Epel gets up from his seat.

“Thanks, you two. I… will do something.”

“Good luck,” Ace waves at him as Epel makes his way over to the door. “If it works out, you owe us a free drink. Especially me.”

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10. Have Epel fight for your love!!

It’s hard to find someone when the person knows your schedule and actively tries to avoid you. Choosing more roundabout corridors and sacrificing your wallet to have most of your meals in Monstro Longue instead of the cafeteria are only some of the things you did to avoid encountering Epel.

But he didn’t give up, and maybe his tenacity is what makes you oblige Epel once he finds you.

You don’t question him when he grabs your hand and asks you to skip the last lesson with him that feels almost unimportant as his intertwined fingers warm yours. You don’t comment on how his grip is stronger than usual and how he doesn’t let it go when your hands begin to sweat.

But as you leave the main building of NRC, the curiosity gets the better of you.

“Where are we heading to?”

Epel looks over his shoulder to blink at you. “I…,” he stammers, as confused enough to leave you wondering what is your final destination. Or what was your final destination, Epel seems to have forgotten whatever plan he had in mind. “I guess it can be here.”

He ushers you into one of the side alleys, a bit distanced from the main street and sits you down on a bench. You eye him curiously as he slowly lifts his hands to your face—and that is the first time he let go of your hand—and cupped your cheeks.

“Let me be clear. I- really like you,” he said loudly, gazing into your eyes. “And I know I… overreacted earlier. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to avoid me.”

You breathe out slowly. The heat from the “I really like you” moment prickles and makes your face hotter. It doesn’t help that Epel doesn’t shift his gaze from you nor that he has his hands firmly on your cheekbones as he awaits your answer.

“I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have been getting between you and your friends.”

Epel eyes you, bewildered. “Why are you focusing on that part?”

“Huh?”

“Ah. Maybe… I will phrase it differently,” He hesitates and his tone wavers, but he says the words without a stutter, as if he’s been practising them in front of the mirror, effectively. “I love you.”

“And I- I want to be friends even if you don’t feel the same.” He rushes with an explanation when you don’t answer as your mind goes blank. “Because. I don’t want you to… avoid me anymore. A-actually, you don’t have to rush with your answer. Just, decide, someday, in the near future, haha? I will wait.”

He glances at you and you know he won’t be able to bear long without hearing your answer. As he rushes past you, you think you heard a hushed whisper.

“Dear Sevens, I said it…!”

Malleus drabble, because the idea has been haunting my head. Chapter 7 part 3 spoilers!! Please don't look if you hadn't read the latest update yet, you will spoil your fun :(

Malleus Draconia would like to say that everyone is equal in his eyes, the eyes of a king akin to a god if you consider the amount of magic power he could drain from his surroundings with a mere flick of his hand.

They are not, and Malleus has no lying talent to convince himself otherwise.

A good ruler watches over everyone, but as his lover, you are granted more attention and, by that, a better-tailored dream. He knows you well and knows what will keep you on the dreamers' side, not even bothering to think that your life is going too well. No one is very concerned when lady luck finally blesses your life, right?

He starts by making the moment you fell asleep blur. You don’t remember when you went to sleep, but when you “wake up” in your dream, Malleus is here to reassure you that you were tired “yesterday” and have gone to sleep sooner. If you will mention a “dream” of Malleus going overblot, he might discuss it with it but won’t own up to any of his actions.

Malleus is fond of your dream. As your lover, he can spend any amount of time with you, and you are still seeking him. In your dreams, time isn’t bounded by the clocks. After “a year” Malleus returns to Valley of Thorns, and “three years later” you are living there too. After “two more” you get engaged.

Your dream will be unbothered. Malleus will have it in utter control.

When he sees your sleeping features in dormant reality, how calm you look, he knows you will be heartbroken when you wake up from that dream. 

He glides his finger over your skin with a reassuring smile, which he also has on his face in your dream. 

"Don't worry," he says to your sleeping form, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I won't have you waking up anytime soon."

Hey! I really love your "how to win the heart of." Can you do one for Vil? If not that's totally fine I'm just curious.

How to win the heart of Vil Schoenheit?

Be a fan.

You like to think that the oldest memory you can recall is how you became Vil’s fan.

Until then, the recitals your school took you on were boring. Only in fifth grade, the teachers realise that, hm, maybe ancient plays might be a bit too much for those little brains, and in a spark of determination to change something, your class was taken to watch a staged version of a fairy tale, played by youngsters for youngsters.

The memory of Vil, the villain of the story, entering the scene is much more vivid. Even as a child, he was inarguably elegant and strikingly beautiful, it left you agape and your curious heart beating loudly in your chest.

“It’s better than having a completely fictional crush,” your classmate said after you confessed how much endeared you were by Vil and his acting. You listened as you typed a password to a newly-created Magicam account, solely for following him there. “There is a chance that you and him will be together.”

“A big chance?”

“Uh, like this?” She tries to show how big your chance is with her fingers. She wants to leave a gap between her fingers, but ultimately, they touch, and she puts her hands down. “I mean, we are almost the same age, so maybe you can go to the same high school as him? In a very long future…”

“I am not delusional…”

Nonetheless, the thought did make you hope.

After you reached the age of sixteen, the invitation came. For a whole year — since you saw Vil’s post on his new college choice — you’ve been pondering whether you’ve possessed enough magic talent to get into Night Raven College, the school of chosen. In good dreams, the Magic Mirror deemed your soul to be solely fit for Pomefiore. In nightmares, you were doomed to… well, any other dorm, if you were a student at NRC at all.

And maybe dreams really come true because the future you’ve anticipating has turned into a reality.

“Alright, is everyone from Pomefiore here?” Your heart stops when you hear that wonderful voice, this time not from your phone nor from 100 meters away from the speakers. You turn around, and there he is, Vil Schoenheit in all his glory stands and guides the students to the hall of mirrors. He looks like a portrait, and even if you saw his face thousands of times, the glint in his eyes redeems you speechless. “Congratulations, everyone. We will hold the welcoming introductions at our dorm. Follow me!”

Yes, Vil Schoenheit is your idol. And in the first seconds of meeting him, you were ready to follow him to the end of the world.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Get rejected. Have your heart broken.

“I apologize,” Vil says slowly, and you notice how his voice is a little monotonous. Just a bit, as if he had repeated these words countless times like the lines before a recital. “And while I wholeheartedly appreciate your feelings, [Name], I want to focus on my studies and career. It’s a bad time for me to think about dating. Nonetheless, thank you for being brave and sincere enough to tell me all of this.”

You nod. The pain in your chest gives you goosebumps. It makes your head spin so fast your legs feel unstable as if there is some shift in gravity. You bow with curtsy because every Pomefiore student should be able to do so elegantly even on a space station. “Thank you for listening to my confession.”

“Of course,” he says and looks down at the letter he got from you. It’s neat, somehow cute with how carefully his name is written on it. He holds it gently so as to not crinkle the delicate paper. “I will read the contents tonight.”

“Thank you. No need to write a response,” you force a little chuckle and excuse yourself. You will be overthinking how could you say something like that after you get over your stupid letter and even dumber confession.

Vil doesn’t say anything as you walk a little too fast to keep the step elegant. He sighs at this view and mindfully tucks your letter amid the pages of the book. Now’s the time for history class. He shouldn’t get distracted—

—and soon enough, you’re out of his mind.

That is until he reads your letter.

It's a beautifully crafted confession, put into elegant lettering and a pale pink envelope. It's sealed with red wax in the shape of a perfect heart; if you haven't used magic, it must've taken several evenings to get the precision you wanted.

You’re his fan. He knows it even if you hadn’t pointed it out; the well-tailored sentences betrayed your utter attention on him in the last several years. You’re his fan, but you don’t cheapen yourself. He is the idol you admire and love, but you don’t degrade yourself to a servant or a worshiper. And that is, unexpectedly, uncommon.

The letter is—also—a challenge to yourself. “If you were to reciprocate those feelings, I will prove myself worthy to stand by your side,” it reads.

He likes that letter. Once he finishes it, he skims over the text one last time and puts it between many other letters he has gotten. Between them, another envelope seems unremarkable, yet the words there…

Unforgotten.

He sighs. Maybe he will pay more attention to you from now on.

‏‏‎ ‎

3. Don’t remember all the etiquette rules.

“You wrote in your letter that I've inspired you to learn. Go on, then. Show me how motivated you are.”

So, now Vil bullies you over your letter.

He can’t be satisfied with your scarce etiquette knowledge—he wouldn’t be content if it was decent, as it would be a dishonour to Pomefiore—but amusement crinkles in his eyes at your utter confusion over the numerous forks, knives, spoons and glasses. They’ve been spread out in several rows and columns varying from the oyster forks to champagne flute.

You hesitate. Maybe you could point out which one is the butter knife or sugar spoon, but you never cared enough to discover which fickle knife is a fish knife. Should you be looking for the one with grooves or an extremely thin one? Would it hurt to use a normal knife to eat the salmon?

Oftentimes you’re thankful there is no awkward silence between you and Vil after your confession, but you can’t shake off the impression he’s been harder on you.

“On second thought, maybe I wasn't motivated enough to learn all the names of cutlery,” you say, not daring to try your luck in labelling each piece.

To your surprise, Vil smiles and uses a teasing tone that leaves you stunned and wide-eyed. “Is that so?”

You take a breath and huff, lowering your eyes. “Yes. The power of—,” unrequired, you bite your tongue on that bitter word, “—love ends here.”

Vil cracks another delighted smile. You start suspecting that someone drugged him with a smiling potion, as you should have received a severe scolding by now. You don’t have anything against the change, so the mention of Vil’s (relative) laid-backness goes unmentioned.

“I will have you seated next to me on tomorrow's dinner, so don't even think of slacking off,” he says, putting a hand on your lower back and gently pushing you towards the next table where the heavy textbooks look so very uninviting. “I won't have any student under my wing not know the basic etiquette. Especially if it’s my fan.”

‏‏‎ ‎

4. Have opinions and the courage to voice them.

Because standing for your own makes you flourish in your own colours and not blend into the monotony of the mainstream. Seek truth, good, and beauty and you will bestow the brilliance upon yourself.

‏‏‎

5. Try to have a healthy lifestyle.

You’ve never imagined Vil barging into your room with a tray of food. Why would he? But here you are, sitting in front of an aesthetically pleasing breakfast, mouth-watering pancakes with cream and a bit of honey, and the deep green shake in question that suits the colour palette but probably tastes awfully, like all good stuff packed with vitamins.

“You should never starve yourself if you want to live healthy.”

It’s hard to swallow anything as your dorm leader glares at you, but Vil refuses to leave you before he sees you eating the stuff he brought. You wondered if he prepared the breakfast himself. Probably not.

“No? I thought that keeping a diet is good.”

“If you are dieting you eat,” Vil hisses and sinks a little more into the couch. He brings a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as if he suddenly got struck with a headache. “Oh, heavens. What am I going to do with you?”

“Maybe—”

“Quiet,” it apparently was a rhetorical question. Maybe Vil would be mad at any answer from you as he considers you a fool. He waits until you take another bite of the pancake. “A dinner break will be in two hours, and I expect you to be there.”

“I think I will still be full by that time,” you admit, glancing at a pancake and a half. “These pancakes are savoury but so very filling.”

“Savor them as much as you like,” Vil says somewhat proudly. …Maybe he did make those pancakes? No. He wouldn’t bother this much. The satisfied note in his voice makes you ponder nonetheless. “But you have no excuse for yourself not to sit with us on the meals. Also—”

His gaze grows unexpectedly impish as his eye catches something.

“I will reeducate you on the topic of a healthy lifestyle,” he glances at the bowl of bland lettuce you prepared for yourself. He smiles, either in amusement or light pity. “It should have a little more… spice.”

‏‏‎ ‎

6. Take an interest in high culture.

“It feels like the hellish lessons of Heartslabyul…”

“The Queens’ 810 rules?” Vil’s smile is lopsided and his eyes render into a knowing look once they meet your gaze. “They are nothing compared to a number of customs in etiquette.”

You take a turn. The classes for today might have ended, but if hearing all that useful stuff meant you would walk with Vil back to Pomefiore, you could bear another few minutes of a lecture. You know that everything he tells you about, he already mastered. He wouldn’t teach you anything half-heartily.

“The etiquette of speaking, the dress code, the knowledge of dinner manners (well, you’ve mastered some part of it already, with the cutlery lessons), the control of body language, the indication of voice, the honorifics, the art of writing letters and emails… You don’t want me to list all of the things I expect from you?”

You would like to, because Vil’s voice is beautiful, but the student part of you takes over control and shakes your head. Just like Riddle, who has a reputation for demanding impossible care and inquiring rules, your dorm leader is not much better — maybe even worse, because while Heartslabyul has to oblige the absurd in chosen hours or circumstances, you are on your toes in every moment.

“So much to master in just four years in the NRC…”

“It’s a lot,” Vil says, and he’s the only person you would doubt if he speaks the truth in that matter. Especially if through your walk his strides seemed perfectly calculated and hand gestures finely planned. “But if you put a mind and heart into it, you will learn all of this in no time.”

You hum. It’s hard to think of having any more motivation than from where you were a zealous Vil fan.

You ask (ponder) and he delivers.

“Actually, I have an offer: if you’ll learn it all in ahead of time, I will teach you a dating etiquette.”

…

What?

“…Dating etiquette?!” You shriek so loudly, that several students turn their heads. You cover your mouth as if it would do something, and ignoring Vil’s delighted gaze, and lower your voice to a whisper. “There is such a thing?”

“Of course. Who should invite who on the first date and where, what gifts can you give and what can you accept, and how to behave with your loved one, like,” he pauses a little, and you almost know he bites the sides of his cheeks to contain himself from smiling, “How to kiss someone in particular situations.”

You want to die. How else should you react? How can he tease you so much when he rejects you? (Not like you were expecting much at the time, yet…)

“There is no kissing etiquette. You tease me…”

“Just a little,” Vil laughs, and you slowly relax. “But take my proposal seriously. If I can give you another motivation to engage in your studies, then I will by all means do so.”

‏‏‎ ‎

7. Get an access to his private Magicam account.

“Do you have Magicam? If you want to, you can add me.”

Vil asks the question. He should have chastised you for mindlessly scrolling through social media because you can probably put your mind and hands to better use. The casual tone surprises you, but the inquiry gets you defensive as if it questioned you being Vil’s fan.

“I’ve already been following you for years,” you declare and pull up your phone.

Before you get to his profile, Vil sighs.

“Not the promotional account,” he says. “Mine.”

You frown. Many times you’ve seen Vil posting the photos on the “promotional account” with his personal thoughts. Maybe because you've been blinded by the elegance and harmony of every post, the idea that he would operate the Magicam profile solely for business purposes has never occurred to you.

“You have another account?” You ask, flabbergasted.

Vil rolls his eyes at the surprise in your tone and sits next to you. Your phone beeps as you get a notification about a new user following you. In a heartbeat, you follow the account back. You almost gape at the pictures there; they are beautiful, elegant, and all in Vil’s manner, but he looks like… a common student. Not ethereally, not otherworldly, but still enchantingly.

“It’s a private profile, so I ask you for discretion. I would like to keep this one for my close friends and family,” Vil says, and you hastily nod, your heartbeat sounding like a drumbeat in your ears. Having access to his personal account felt… personal, ironically.

I would like to keep this one for my close friends — he said that, didn’t he? Does he consider you a close friend?

That’s more than you ever imagined.

And yet you dare to dream for more.

You pull your phone close to your chest. “I feel honoured.”

Vil smiles at the statement. “Of course. As you should.”

‏‏‎ ‎

8. Let yourself be pampered.

“Don’t move,” Vil asks for impossible because you want to bolt as he leans to you once again and only the glare he staggers you with as you push away the urge to close your eyes. You hope the foundation is thick enough to cover a blush that creeps on your face. “You will ruin my work.”

You give up and glance down, earning another heavy sigh from your superior.

“Maybe I should finish the eye makeup myself?” You offer. “I am unused to anyone doing my makeup, so it’s hard not to flinch.”

Your good intentions get ruined as the question aggravates Vil even more because he frowns at you. Staying put and keeping quiet about that whole ordeal would seem like a lovely idea, you question whether your heart could manage another hour in this setup.

“Don’t be absurd,” he says. “We need to handle your sensitivity to the touch or you will struggle in the future if you decide to be a model.”

“I am not—”

“Stop.”

“I—”

“Silence. Be quiet, potato,” he presses his finger to your lips to seal them shut. You feel something sticky, and as his finger traces your lips, you realize it’s the lip gloss, and it’s a very good-smelling one like a strawberry; you didn’t expect something so sweet-tasting to be in Vil’s liked products. “You are under my care now. It also brings me satisfaction to see my skills used on someone.”

“Vil—”

“Shut up,” it’s hard to get offended at him, as he uses such a gentle tone. He takes a good look at your lips and as he glances up at you, probably to see if the colours of the whole makeup are consistent, your mouth goes dry. “Before I tell you to do so, don’t speak. You will mess up with the lip gloss and it’s… difficult to apply one on you.”

What? It’s difficult to apply the lipgloss on you?

Alright**,** you nod, pondering if the lip makeup is really that difficult. Do you have an unusual shape of lips (it’s probably not that?), or is this balm so hard to spread? You sit still, as Vil moves closer to you.

Yeah, except for the touch you need a way to ignore the beating of your heart.

‏‏‎ ‎

9. Move on from your heartbreak.

“Would you like to go out with me today?”

A kind smile convinced you to agree, although you barely recognize the name of the boy standing in front of you. His voice was hopeful, and you were reminded of the time you bore the same expectant expression.

You had no heart to let it fall, not right now, not so quickly, so you paint a delighted smile over your face. “Thank you. I would love to.”

…

You should’ve done this a long time ago.

For the sake of your friendship with Vil, you decide to stop hoping that the man of your dreams might change his mind after getting to know you better. He found a friend in you, and you would hate to disappoint him with your longing for him.

So, you should distract yourself from him and fall in love with someone else.

Today’s date will be a perfect opportunity.

You dress quite stylishly, not enough to steal all the attention, but enough to impress your date. You put more effort into the makeup this evening and spend some time picking the most fitting jewellery. The perfume you picked is subtle but alluring and chic, an excellent concoction, but you could’ve expected nothing less from Vil’s recommendation.

…It feels kind of wrong to use everything he taught you to prepare for a date, but you would’ve used this knowledge one day either way, no? It’s not like he is your first… and last love.

“I heard a boy from Scarabia have confessed to you,” the familiar voice you love but don’t want to hear like now spooks you. Vil leans on your door frame, and you wonder how much he has stayed here.

“I just agreed on a date,” you say, standing up and adjusting the folds of your outfit. You look him in the eye. “How do I look?”

Vil snorts, and his lips stretch into a mean, devilish smile. “Are you expecting an approving comment from me?”

Asking the fashion icon to rate your outfit might’ve been a wrong move. You shake your head.

“Nevermind. He’ll have to deal with however I am if he doesn’t want me to be late,” after glancing the last time into the mirror and receiving a smile from your reflection, you pick up your phone. “Well then. I shall get going.”

Vil is still, as if he hasn’t been blocking the exit or as if he wanted to keep you here. You would have loved for him to stop you here. It’s hard to stop the disappointment from flooding over your composure when Vil moves away.

“Alright. Your look is satisfactory so that Scarabia boy better be grateful for being able to go out with you,” he says something ambiguous again, and you feel bad for your date who will have to deal with such a lovesick fool as you. “Enjoy your date.”

The pang of pain pierces your heart. You smile slowly and leave the room.

The heartbreak better goes away as soon as possible, or you’ll go crazy if the thought of dating anyone else hurts that much.

‏‏‎ ‎

10. Look kissable.

“You’re late.”

Maybe you are, but you haven’t been expecting Vil waiting for you. He sits on a sofa, a book is in his hand and the tea that was served in front of him looks cold. You can guess he’s been sitting here for a while.

“How did it go?”

“It went well, I think,” you say. The date went well. Yet, you couldn’t have enjoyed it. The throbbing pain in your heart strained each of your smiles, and it surged when the Scarabian student started to be flirty. You felt as if you were cheating. “He is a kind guy. He has some hobbies and is quite charismatic, so… He’s alright.”

Vil hums. “Will you settle on ‘alright’?”

You stare at him wide-eyed, but he doesn’t look bothered at all. He didn’t lift his gaze from his book, and his tone was nonchalant, so he almost seemed not interested. He was. He is because Vil never asks the question to whose answers he doesn’t want to hear.

“Pardon?”

He spares you a glance.

“I thought your resolution was stronger. What happened to the person who confessed to me and was so willing to determine their worth to me?”

“Are you jealous?”

“I am furious,” he lifts from the sofa, the book forgotten. The air around suddenly grows warmer, and the shiver you didn’t mind that much runs down your spine. Vil’s strides are slower than usual, creating an imposing image of himself before he stands just before you. “If you want to set the bar so low, go on. But let me give you a taste of ambition.”

He twists his head so his eyes meet directly yours. He doesn’t touch you — not yet — but you can feel a warm breath on your cheek, and the scent of his light perfume envelops you. You have the urge to move away and cling to him at the same time. They balance, and you stay still.

A taste…

Vil puts a hand on your cheek. The gesture is much softer and more benevolent than when he was putting makeup on you. His eyes lock with yours, your heart stops, and then they drop to your lips. He moves a thumb over them.

And he kisses you.

In your dreams, you had him kiss your hand, the top of your head. The corner of your mouth. In your boldest wishes, you wanted him to kiss you like that, so lovingly, with so much care. It makes you want to push away for more air, but it makes you worry Vil will disappear if you break the kiss, as all the dreams shatter upon the morning.

He moves away, not breathless, yet not unaffected either. His cheeks burn slowly into a red shade, and his eyes look somehow glassy. “I told you, I will give you just a taste.”

How disappointing.

Before you can say something, he pushes a letter between your fingers. Its envelope matches the one you gave him several months ago. “Read it. I want an answer by midnight.”

The big clock on the wall shows you have over three hours. So much time, and you already know the answer. “You will wait this long?”

“I am giving you a chance and hope,” he says with a subtle smile. The blush on his face makes him more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him. “It’s my duty of your idol to do so.”

Thank you for reading the "Unique Kisses" series!! I loved writing it (although some scenarios, mostly Diasomnia ones, are too messily written), and I might write a part with Neige, Che'nya and Rollo (oh, how much I like him ahh) as well! If I get an idea maybe I will do a little series again. 💙

I will continue working on the "how to win a heart of" series now! :D

Unique Kisses: Scarabia!

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

Kalim A. A. (shut-up kisses)

You lost the thread ten minutes ago.

You are on the decorative veranda of the Scarabia. You occupy large pillows with hand-embroidered floral embroidery. In front of you is a tray with refreshing, sour drinks and plates of sliced fruit prepared by Jamil. Kalim scarcely touched them, for his story takes all his attention.

There is a chessboard with pawns on it. You were supposed to play another game with Kalim, but he had made his last move a good ten minutes ago. You want to finish this round. You are winning, but to beat your boyfriend again in this game you need his attention. And return his focus to very, very good placement of your pawns.

It is hard to stop him from talking. Kalim is too excited about today's event for you to easily shift the conversation to your board game.

You love listening to him chatter. He has an emphatic and effusive voice and describes everyday life with a happy, optimistic perspective.

Aside from his stubbornly focused attention on the conversation, the problem is that Kalim keeps changing the subject. His sentences are clusters of basic slogans, quotes, and exclamations, and that's...

Well, you'd like to learn how to read minds just to be more involved in his story.

When you try to get his attention, he apologizes and paraphrases the last part of his speech in no better form. After two sentences, he forgets about your note. The beam on his face makes you only nod at him as he gloats about the next part of his story.

“Kalim…”

“I didn't know what he was going to say then. But then he surprised me. Because, you know, they say that Octavinelle students are very hard to deal with, but that one seemed nice! I met him... when? Oh, I remember! Because the day before, Jamil and I went to get a cake on their new menu! It was wonderful! We can go there tonight so you can try it too. It tasted very much like the shortcake Jamil had prepared... like, two weeks ago, maybe?”

“Kalim.”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Back to the topic. After that meeting, I mean, the next day, when I asked Mr Crewell for help on this project, we went to the library to learn about this effect... what was the name...? De... De... Dea...? I don't remember! Ah! And on the way to the library, we met Rook, who-”

“Kalim.”

“Yes? Just listen to what he told me! He-”

You bite your cheek to keep yourself from sighing. If you want to finish your game, you must get his attention the other way.

You reached him, needing to come closer on two pillows. You touch his shoulder, and he pauses for one second. It takes two more before you press your lips to his. You can almost feel the words die on his tongue as he gasps softly.

He wants to say something. He opens his mouth, but you are the one in control. You silence him again by moving closer to him to occupy him with a kiss.

It only lasts three seconds.

Kalim lost the thread.

You drift away from him. And just before you is a rare sight of a wordless Kalim. A cheery smile slowly spreads across his face.

You tap the chessboard, and for the first time in an hour, you're sure that Kalim's attention is solely on you.

“Let's finish this round first, okay?”

Jamil V. (movie-like kisses)

“It's a truly beautiful sunset…”

The sky is already orange, with shades of red - and finally warm navy blue – that are beginning to appear in the further stripes of clouds. The colourful ombre of the sky pleased not only artists but also passers-by…

“There's no one here but us…”

…Two passers-by. Jamil tried to create such an atmosphere by putting Kalim in the hands of his family. As expected, he immediately suggested that Jamil should take a vacation, because the next party was being held in his large house and created for Al-Asim's closest family.

When Jamil knew he will be free for at least one night, he decided to go somewhere with you. One of the choices was the beach you are currently on, which you have strolled around for almost all day.

Time flies when talking to a loved one.

“The sea is heaving in the wind...” you add, squeezing his hand a little more. You feel Jamil's grip on your fingers tighten in response. You take a deep breath, taking in a lot of sea air in your lungs. "It seems too good to be true. Should we suspect that Floyd is about to jump out of the water or...?”

Jamil shakes his head. His other hand touches your cheek, and the tips of his fingers draw subtle, invisible marks on your skin. "Don't think about it. Focus on me. On us.”

He doesn't need to use hypnosis, and his wish gets granted anyway.

It was hard to think about that when his gaze and the way he covers your mouth are filled with attention and greed.

The purpose of this whole spectacle of emotions, which rage even more as his hand slowly trails down your back, is to make you want to take another step. And to make sure that he is in control and that he doesn't even need to use his magic on you. If you were hypnotized, you wouldn't know what command he uttered, but now you are fully aware of his every move. You don't even have the willpower to prevent it.

So you give in to it, even though you tell yourself that next time you will be the one in control of that kiss. You don't like the wicked smile on Jamil's face as you gas for air.

The Prince Charming's spell breaks as the corners of his mouth twist mischievously, though, in a few minutes, Jamil will still be playing nice guy when you will walk across the beach again... No, he won't be playing—he will put into the moment everything that he can give himself.

“Ach, weren't going to take pictures of the horizon?” Jamil asks and you wonder how he could change his tone of voice to this... normal tone, in seconds. You narrow your eyes at him. "Why are you looking at me like that? Should I help you take it? Your hands seem a little shaky... Ah, or would you rather admit that I've thrown you off balance, hm?”

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."