Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1-A was having an interclass flight session with 1-D, and maybe Ace and Sebek sharing the same air space together should’ve been the first indication something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong.

Ace doesn’t hate the guy—they are part of the now-infamous group of first-years together after all—but the way he gets on his case all the time reminds him of his housewarden a little too much, and right now, he’s just trying to concentrate on staying in the air. And to be honest, he’s getting kind of annoyed about how Sebek keeps flying next to him and lecturing him about “not biting off more than he could chew”.

Ace tunes him out at some point. This is the highest he’s flown ever since he’d gotten his hands on a broomstick, and he is going to relish in it, damn it. 

Ace is well over 70 meters in the air when it happens, and Coach Vargas is looking at him with an almost prideful expression on his face… or at least, Ace thinks that’s what it is. It’s hard to tell all the way up here.

He can see Deuce and Yuu’s annoyed faces, though, as they look up at him from their own brooms. He leans over to the right slightly and shoots them a cocky grin that makes Yuu roll their eyes.

He should’ve seen what was coming next from a mile away.

It’s almost anticlimactic. It hardly seems real.

He completely dissociates in that moment, and it’s like he’s watching someone else lean forward, watching someone else think “Oh crap”, and watching someone else who isn’t him fall off their broom and plummet to the ground.

But “someone else” is him, and he suspects it’ll only hit him when the ground does.

He sees the split-second in which Sebek’s irritation quickly turns to abject terror, reaching out to him before Ace falls off entirely. It would be funny if he isn’t currently in the process of “about to die”.

He hears a scream he’s certain is coming from his own mouth, as well as several others that quickly follow and pierce through his ears like arrows. He feels like his skin is about to rip off of his body as the force of gravity drags him down, and Ace’s brain faintly registers he might die without ever hitting the ground.

Ace tries to call for his broom again, but his brain is too scrambled to reach for the magic he knows is there, and that makes him panic even more.

He catches a glimpse upward at the sky. He’s crying now, so it’s hard to see, but he can sort of make out a green-and-black blur speeding towards him—

Ace stops screaming as his eyes widen. His heart freezes.

For as composed as he tries to be, Sebek can be incredibly crazy or incredibly stupid or both.

Whichever one it was, it had caused the motherfucker to jump off of his broom.

Over the roar of the wind whistling past his ears, he hears Sebek’s familiar voice scream at him to grab his hand, and he doesn’t have the coherence to ask him what good that’s going to do.

Luckily, just when Ace is sure they’re both about to die, they’re caught by the familiar feel of magic encasing their figures and they slowly levitate to the ground. They both land softly on the ground—Sebek lands firmly on his feet while Ace face-plants into the grass—and take a moment or two to catch their breaths. 

Ace’s hair is sticking up, more so than usual, and between the glimpses of clarity breaking through his hazed mind, he subconsciously tries to comb it down to no avail. Sebek’s hair, on the other hand, has completely fallen apart, falling over his face and obscuring his eyes.

Between gulps of air, Sebek’s shaking legs inevitably give out and he falls down onto his knees. 

He buries his face in his hands, and Ace realizes Sebek is… crying.

Sebek is an emotional person—he knows that. This isn’t even the first time Sebek’s ever cried in front of him. But it is the first time where it stabs into Ace’s chest like a knife to the heart, twisting until it’s completely lodged itself into his heart, making it bleed all over his shirt.

Honestly, he’s crying, too—more out of the sheer velocity he was just at than actual emotion.

Sebek eventually calms down enough to lift up his head and futilely wipe his eyes with the bottom half of his palms. He holds his breath in an effort to stop his hiccups, but they break out of him one by one and he breaks down all over again, crying and shaking uncontrollably.

He calls Ace an “empty-headed human” that had no place being so reckless with his fragile physique, but it’s hard to take any of it seriously when he’s reaching out to him like a child wanting to be held after a nightmare.

(Or like when he reached out to him in a desperate attempt to grab his hand as they were hurtling towards the ground.)

Ace, deciding he can blame it on vertigo later, carefully puts a hand on the back of Sebek’s head and pulls him in closer, until Sebek’s forehead is resting on his collarbone. It’s not a hug, not exactly, but it seems to calm Sebek down all the same as his trembling slows to something less violent. 

Ace puts another hand into his soft, minty-green hair and squeezes.

I'm here, I'm okay, it's okay, he thinks. He wants to say it, too, but his tongue refuses to cooperate with him, instead choosing to lick the salty liquid going down his own pale cheeks. He’s vaguely aware it must look like he’s holding Sebek’s head hostage, but he’s too dazed to think much of it.

They both flinch when they hear Coach Vargas yelling at the two of them from across the field. Ace snaps his head in the direction of their irate-sounding coach, wincing as he marches over, still wielding his pen and looking quite mad.

Any trace of that teary affection is gone in a flash as Sebek rips away, stands up, and brushes away any dirt from his P.E. uniform. Before either of them can answer their Coach’s beyond-angry call, Deuce and Yuu run over to them, too, looking none-too-pleased themselves.

Yuu curls their fists into the front of Ace’s shirts and shrieks at him—he needs to be more careful next time, what was he possibly THINKING?!

Then they whirl their attention over to Sebek, who hardens even further under their hard glare.

Coach Vargas fumbles around with something in his back pocket, and withdraws what Ace instantly recognizes to be a detention-slip notepad. He furiously scribbles a note onto it, before ripping it off and sticking it onto Ace’s forehead in just… the most demeaning way imaginable.

One hour with Trein should help the two of them think twice before pulling a stunt like that, Coach Vargas says, with an affirmative nod of his head.

Sebek makes an affronted sound, spluttering out disconnected words about Malleus and walking him back to Diasomnia, but Yuu, Deuce, and Coach Vargas collectively glare at him.

Deuce says, in an odd moment of eloquence, it takes two to tango. 

(Ace will ask later, when Trein exits the detention room to go print a few more test papers, why Sebek would try and save him in such an obviously pointless way. Thought he was above those “humanary impulses”.

Ace will say it like a joke, even though his mind hasn’t stopped thinking about it for even a moment. 

And Sebek will say—voice clipped and rigid and indignant—it wasn’t an impulse, because he was thinking, thank you very much. His voice carries an undeniable certainty to it which leaves Ace no room to doubt his words. Then, he’ll turn back to the paper where Trein’s making him write “I will not jump off of brooms over 70 meters in the air ever again”.)

Chapter Text

Once, in December, Ace went missing for about three hours, and Deuce worried, because he’d never been gone so long. Or at least, he’d never gone anywhere where even his cell phone couldn’t reach him.

Once, in December, Riddle, Trey, and Cater volunteered to go look for him. Everyone simply nodded, because nobody defies the queen, and why would they object to this, anyway?

“No. I’ll go look for him. You stay here.”

Before anybody could stop him, Deuce brushed past everyone in the lounge and out the door.

Once, in December, when he was outside and shivering slightly despite the insulation of his uniform, he hit himself in the head and groaned. He shouldn’t have spoken in such a blunt manner to his upperclassmen. They were just trying to help, after all. Didn’t he trust them to know better than he did?

(If they were really so wise, then they wouldn’t have banned him and Ace from the dorm, or at least had enough care for their well-being to direct them towards a hotel. If Yuu hadn’t been around to take them into Ramshackle, they would’ve practically been forced to sleep out on the streets. 

And how exactly did Riddle expect people to sleep without choking with those collars on? How exactly did Riddle expect anyone to do anything at a mage academy with those collars on? If he hadn’t overblotted in September, what did he expect to happen to somebody he’d tossed out on the road in December? 

Unless he knew they’d freeze to death and didn’t care, because apparently one piddly rule is worth more than somebody’s life.

And Trey and Cater just didn’t care. Didn’t raise a complaint when Ace was kicked out of the dorm, or when Deuce was kicked out alongside him, or when Yuu was being ridiculed in front of hundreds of people for being the first person to outright tell Riddle he was being irrational.

It would have been one thing to tell Yuu they were magicless. As much as Deuce hates to admit it, it is true.

It had been another thing to tell Yuu they didn’t have a place at Night Raven College. Without even knowing a single thing about them, Riddle had decided they were unworthy of his time then and there, because obviously, he’s always in the right.

If Ace hadn’t punched Riddle first, Deuce most definitely would have.

Deuce knows there were more at play. He knows, just like he knows it's slowly getting better. These things take time—expecting Heartslabyul to get better right away would be unreasonable.

It's everything he tries to remind himself of everytime his hands start to shake, everytime he's painting the roses and he has to beat his head with a hand everytime he sees the rose brambles shoot off the trees and snake around Ace’s body.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

Nobody has been held back or dropped out ever since Housewarden Rosehearts took charge.

Yeah, because those that might have are probably dead.)

Once, in December, Deuce found Ace stuck in an apple tree in the courtyard. He was practicing his teleportation for class tomorrow and miscalculated, alright, don’t— don’t laugh.

So Deuce allowed himself a single snort before grabbing a ladder from the cafeteria and helping him down.

Once his feet hit the frozen grass with a satisfying crunch, Ace, the perceptive bastard he was, looked up and took note of the grave expression on Deuce’s face.

“Did something happen?” he asks.

Deuce froze like the icicle on the tree branches.

Once, in December, the words went tumbling out.

Chapter Text

In an aging town like Harveston, Epel often found himself taking up more responsibilities than just his chores on the farm. More often than not, neighbors threw their backs out or broke a bone or simply just caught a cold, and Epel was more than happy to help them pick their crops or watch their pets for a few days. Even during winter break, Epel was just as busy as ever.

So, as Epel was walking down the vast, winding road to the town square after his parents got a call from someone who needed help setting up shop, he wasted no time in striding right on over when he saw his brand-new neighbor, Mr Smith, standing near a tractor leaking smoke.

(Of course, part of the reason he was so quick to help was because there weren’t a lot of new people in Harveston, so he wanted to give any who came by a reason to stay.

But that was neither here nor there.)

“Why, howdy there! You must be Epel!” Mr Smith called out, his green eyes shining brightly. 

Epel faltered a bit. “You… know me?”

“Sure do!” he replied, with a crooked grin and a shrug of his shoulders. “Yer granny never stops talkin’ ‘bout you. What brings a young’un like you over to an old coot like me?”

Epel laughed. “Ah noticed you were havin’ some trouble with that there tractor. Was wonderin’ if ah could lend a hand?”

“Please do. Ah should have a box o’ tools underneath the seat.” Mr Smith grumbled. “This darn thing keeps bustin’ on me. Ah’ve been meanin’ to get a new one, but the move to Harveston was more expensive than ah thought it’d be. And ah don’t have enough hours in a day to mosey it up to one of the repair shops in the—”

Mr Smith hadn’t even finished his sentence before Epel patted the rusty red metal with a bright smile and said, “She’s ready to go!”

Mr Smith’s eyes bulged. “Gracious, boy! Now where did yer hands learn to fix like that?”

Epel opened his mouth…

…before closing it shut with an audible click, as he realized just how weird it would sound if he said his friend at magic school taught him how to fix a broken blastcycle one time after they got beat up on a beach—and the blastcycle wasn’t even broken.

“My… brother taught me,” he said instead.

Mr Smith made a curious sound. “Huh. Ah didn’t know you had a brother.” Then he laughed—a joyous, bell-like sound. “He must be a smart one, eh?”

Smart?

He averaged a C+ on his best days, and every alchemy assignment he’d ever been given blew up in his face.

“...Yeah,” Epel agreed with a smile. “He is.”

Chapter Text

Sebek knows he should be grateful to be one of the lucky few that has a big family.

His mom, dad, and older siblings are the first people that come to mind, but there’s also Silver, Lilia, Malleus—all members of his family as far as he’s concerned. No matter what sort of qualms he might have with any of them, that will never change.

He’s aware of this simple fact. He’s never questioned it for even a second.

(Sebek’s mother has a saying: “If humans are irritatingly fickle, then fae are frustratingly stagnant.”

When he was four-years-old, his mother had tried to dress him in traditional fae garb for a ball the Queen had begrudgingly invited them to. And him, being the ungrateful boy he was, refused to change out of the infinitely more comfortable tux his father had put him in.

His father had done all of the buttons and tied the emerald-green bow around his neck, before cooing and taking a photo with his phone. He’d laughed, patted Sebek on the head, and told him he looked very sophisticated indeed, and Sebek had never felt prouder.

He was brought back down to Twisted Wonderland when his mother walked into the room.

Sebek sat on the couch, cheeks puffed out and arms crossed, asking over and over why he couldn’t just go in what he was wearing. His father seemed to think it was fine, why couldn’t she?

Sebek’s mother, bless her heart, had done her best to explain that fae held an irrational steadfastness to their traditions, and even the slightest deviation could cause massive uproar. The fae were already barely tolerating them living there—to not abide by their customs, at a royal festival no less, would essentially be treason.

But to Sebek, they were all just words with no substance.

And, feeling backed into a corner by his mother’s repeated insistence, his siblings’ continued silence, and his father’s absence, he’d clasped his hands around his ears and yelled out: “Then I don’t WANT to be fae!”

Sebek’s memory of twelve years ago is faint. Most of what he remembers never feels quite right.

But the one thing he will always remember—with the sort of crystal-clear clarity he wishes he didn’t have—is the heartbroken look on his mother’s face.)

[“Dude,” Ace says incredulously, his eyes flicking up and down Sebek’s whole person, “Are you still wearing your school uniform?”

Sebek’s defenses instantly rise. “Yes,” he said, voice hardening. “Is that a problem?”

Ace puts his hands up in mock self-defense. “Just sayin’, it’s a little weird. But hey, do whatever you want, man.”

Epel subtly rolls his eyes, but other than that, everybody brushes off the interaction.

Yuu scoots a few inches to the left of the guest room couch, and pats the now-vacant spot in a clear invitation to sit down.

Sebek wears a sweater to their next study session, and besides a small “Maybe I should’ve worn a sweater” from Deuce, nobody bothers to comment on it.]

(When Sebek was around six, he and Silver were coming back to Silver’s little cottage house after a full day of looking for frogs, spurned on by Lilia’s tales of the sorcerer who had turned a prince into an amphibian to teach him a lesson.

Lilia had smiled at them when they walked through the door, giggling as they held an assortment of flowers and mushrooms in their arms. He came over and kissed Silver on the forehead, telling him to go get some rest for the next day.

He patted Sebek on the head and told him it was getting late. He should head home.

It was such a small thing. 

And yet— )

[“Are you going somewhere, Sebek Zigvolt?”

Sebek looks over his shoulder to see Ortho lingering at Ramshackle’s doorstep.

He raises an eyebrow. “We’re done with our study session, are we not? I’m heading back to Diasomnia.”

Despite 50% of his face being covered by that odd mask of his, Ortho manages to look very disappointed. HIs whole body physically droops, his hair flickers, and even the fissures below his feet keeping him afloat falter for a brief moment. “Oh…”

Sebek furrows his brow. “Is something the matter?”

“I was… hoping you’d stay overnight with the rest of us.” Ortho mumbles, fingers interlocked and thumbs working against each other anxiously.

“I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome.” Sebek says, but he feels the uncertainty crawling into his voice.

“But I want you to be a part of it!” Otho says brightly, before abruptly deflating once again. “But if you really don’t want to stay, then—”

“No.”

Ortho lifts his head up. “Huh?”

Sebek cleared his throat, ignoring the heat creeping over his face. “I… suppose Silver can look after Malleus by himself for another 11 hours. And it is already quite dark out, so… staying overnight would only be the sensible thing to do.”

Ortho’s eyes light up. For not the first time and certainly not the last, despite his metal plating and many wires, Ortho looked remarkably human.

Sometimes, privately, Sebek wishes he could be like that, too.)

Sebek has a family—an amazing one, even. Doesn't doubt they love him for a minute, doesn't question them for a second, and would never trade any of them for all of the material things in the world.

But no family of his, in all these years, has ever made him feel like he was right at home.

Chapter Text

[NOTE 0: Ortho Shroud loves having friends.]

He gets to do things like having them over, having them sleep over, watching movies with them, going places with them, introducing them to his favorite video games (even if he is sort of regretting lending Deuce and Epel his copies of “Blastcycle Racing: Grand Prix IV”), and every other little thing he’s ever missed out on.

But sometimes, they just don’t make any sense.

[NOTE 3 * AMENDMENT: That’s a bit harsh. They’re just awfully forgetful.]

One time, on a Friday evening, Sebek Zigvolt had taken them all to his favorite bookstore on Sage Island, “Prince in Disguise”. 

Ace Trappola asked if it was secretly a store for trashy romance novels, to which Epel Felmier snickered. Sebek had yelled at them both for precisely seven seconds before walking inside with a huff, with the rest of them following suit.

It was a charmingly picturesque building, all things considered. The absurdly tall bookshelves were shoved up against the walls and were divided alphabetically by title. In the center lay a small coffee table with two couches on either side of it, and a tiny teaset placed on top. Deuce Spade instantly strode over to it and poured himself a cup, muttering to himself about needing to get better for the next unbirthday party. Ortho himself floated over as well, and smiled down at the flowers painted onto the teapot’s creamy surface.

“Do you want some, Ortho?” Deuce asked.

Ortho looked up, only to see Deuce had poured an extra cup that was now sitting on the table right in front of him.

He blinked. “I appreciate it, Deuce Spade, but I don’t drink.”

Ortho watches as Deuce’s face shifts from mild shock to deep confusion to burning embarrassment. 

“O-Oh,” he stammers out after a few seconds. “Right. I’m really sorry, Ortho, I’m not great at remembering these things.”

Ortho beamed, though he knew Deuce likely couldn’t see it under his mask. “It’s okay! Everyone makes mistakes.”

[NOTE 32: It’s a little odd Deuce would forget something like that.]

Ortho floated away and found himself perusing the bookshelf on the right wall. As he was passing by the D-F section, a single book spine caught his visual sensors. After cross-referencing with the internet, he determined it to be the third volume of the “Dads of Fashion” manga series. Idia was looking for this—or rather, he insisted he could just download it digitally, but Ortho really didn’t want to give him another reason to stare at his tablet all day.

Ortho must’ve been staring too long, though, as someone else plucked the book right off the shelf.

“You needed this?” Jack Howl asked gruffly.

Ortho blinked as Jack handed it to him. “Thank you, Jack Howl, but I could’ve gotten it down myself.”

Jack raised an eyebrow and looked back up at the shelf. “That’s exactly what Yuu said, too. But these bookshelves are WAY too high for a little guy like you—no offense.” Jack turned back toward him. “‘S not your fault these shelves are so damn—”

Jack cut himself off as he noticed Ortho was no longer there. He whipped his head up and his eyes widened when he saw Ortho had elevated a meter off the ground.

“They are unreasonably tall,” Ortho admitted, “so it’s a good thing I can fly!”

It took Jack approximately 2.73 seconds to get over his shock, quite literally shaking himself out of it. He sheepishly scratched the back of his head. “Right… Forgot you could do that.”

[NOTE 32 * ADDENDUM: Very odd.]

Ortho nodded, putting the manga under his arm and flying off. 

Scanning the area, he noticed Yuu staring rather frustratedly down at a book. Doing another cross-reference, he deduced it was a book about interdimensional travel, which made sense. It sent a painfully sharp pang shooting through his chestplate, though he wasn’t entirely sure where it had come from.

[NOTE 33: Possible glitch; consult Idia later.]

“Hello, Yuu!” he greeted.

Yuu jumped out of their own skin and snapped their head towards him. As soon as they saw Ortho sitting there on the couch next to them, their shoulders relaxed.

“Ortho,” they acknowledged, sounding out of breath despite not undergoing any intense physical exertion, “it’s just you. Don’t sneak up on me, okay?”

[NOTE 34: Avoid sneaking up on Yuu.]

[NOTE 35: Consult the Headmage about getting Yuu some serious counseling.]

[NOTE 35 * ADDENDUM: If passive tactics fail, ostentatious acts of violence are always a viable option.]

Ortho tilted his head to the left at a 67-degree angle to read the cover of the book, only to find its gold lettering completely unreadable.

Yuu, taking note of the perplexed look on his face, merely sighed. “Yeah. Just my luck, the entire thing’s written in Old Shaftlandian, the one language unavailable in the Ancient Lingustics section of the school library.”

“Maybe I could help!” Ortho offered, despite him really not wanting to for some reason, which was weird, since finding Yuu a way home was still at the top of his “To-Do” list.

[NOTE 33 * AMENDMENT: Definite glitch; consult Idia later.]

Yuu chuckled half-heartedly. “That’s very nice of you, Ortho, but I don’t think they taught this on the Isle of Woe, either.”

Ortho raised an eyebrow. “No, they didn’t—”

“Yeah, there’s not many people who—”

“—but I can scan several textbooks and download 97 videos on it!”

“What.”

“I do it all the time when we’re all studying together. That's how we learned how to do quadratics, remember?” Ortho giggled. “Or did you forget?”

Yuu laughed. If Ortho had a tier list, it would be at the very top as the prettiest laugh he'd ever heard. “You don’t exactly make it easy to remember.”

The burning sensation Ortho got when he heard that reminded him of how Idia’s hair curled around his body everytime Ortho put his arms around him. Or maybe it just reminded him of how he felt every time he was next to Idia at all. He would need to look into the difference later.

It helped him to be certain of one thing, though.

[NOTE 0 * AMENDMENT: Ortho Shroud loves his friends.]

Chapter Text

Jack never thought he'd have to say this, but he’s done some rather… shameful things since coming to Night Raven College, all of which he will take straight to his grave. If his parents ever find out he stole from a national museum in the Coral Sea, knocking out several guards in the process, and got into multiple unsupervised magic duels, even if it was in an attempt to save people from indentured servitude, they will skin him alive.

But… you know. 

Other things, too. 

Embarrassing things.

Like when Yuu texted the group chat they had a nightmare, and he then took painstaking precautions to sneak out of his dorm filled with the best ears on the planet.

Or when he saved up two months’ worth of allowance and then blew it all by buying Epel front-row seats to a Spelldrive exhibition for his birthday.

Or when Deuce was only 15 minutes late to Track and Field Club, and Jack still told Coach Vargas to fuck off so he could go look for him.

Or all of the other times. All the many other times.

And, to be perfectly honest, probably all of the times that haven’t even happened yet.

All things nobody else needs to know about, if he has any say in it.

Chapter Text

Jack has done some shameful things since coming to Night Raven College. Most of it is fairly harmless and tame—from an NRC perspective, anyway—if a bit embarrassing.

But sometimes, every so often, they’re not really embarrassing, per se, so much as they are things he just doesn’t want to think about.

Like when someone decided to pull a “prank” on the Spelldrive Club, cursing their brooms to suddenly crash when they were in the thick of practice. Jack considers it dumb luck that Deuce asked him to grab his water bottle from the gymnasium at around the same time. 

He doesn’t remember much after his eardrums were shattered by the screams of several people falling from the sky, and seeing their bodies nosedive towards the ground (he’d prefer it if it stayed that way, honestly, if for nothing else than to keep himself from going crazy), but he does remember catching Epel.

Of course he caught Epel, even though Epel only had about 5 meters to fall. 

Epel had naturally groused—Jack didn’t need to do that, he’d had it handled—and Jack was right in the middle of his apology when they both heard a sickening crunch on the other side of the field.

Jack’s memory has another gap here. At some point during it, he found out Ruggie ended up with a concussion, bruised ribs, and two shattered clavicles after falling 25 meters and colliding with somebody else along the way. The only reason it hadn't been worse was the safety net the club had finally remembered to bring outside.

Leona, predictably, went on a rampage against the Pomefiore student who cursed their brooms in the first place.

Neither of them spoke to him for about two weeks after that incident.

Jack wishes he could say he didn’t deserve that.

And there were other times. Many other times.

And there will be many more.

All things nobody else needs to know about, if he has any say in it.

Chapter Text

Ace is a cheater. Everyone knows this.

He picks up on concepts and lessons and skills incredibly fast, so he knows every single cheat code in the book just by watching his brother test them out on their dad.

It’s probably the reason nobody wants to play cards with him anymore. Sometimes he’ll convince Deuce to play a round of Go Fish, and Ortho’s freaky observational skills make him an almost-worthy opponent, but even his friends find his proclivity for “tricking out” the game extremely annoying on the whole—though, Ace is preeeeetty sure it’s because they’re sore losers.

But you know what; that’s alright. 

There are some cards Ace would prefer to keep up his sleeve, anyhow.

In terms of grades, Jack is #15 in the whole school. It might not seem very impressive at first, but when taking into account he’s the only first-year in the entire top fifty, it’s nothing to scoff at. Even Sebek, who studies his ass off every night and has never failed a single assignment in his life, only settles at around #61.

And as any person who's taken even one “History of the King of Beasts” course in their lifetime knows, there will always be people who want to steal your crown.

Or in this case, he supposes, sabotage your grades so you fall to #219 on the chart, knowing full-well such a dramatic drop would instantly take away your chance at a decent scholarship, or even invitations for internships.

Ace heard about the plot from three Octavinelle students when he was still providing the Mostro Lounge free labor. He didn’t know their names, still doesn’t, doesn’t care either way, but that doesn’t really matter now.

He hadn’t known Jack for very long by that point, and they didn't go on their friendship-carving field trip until a little bit later, but he still figured he owed him one for helping take down Leona.

He couldn’t just beat them up, though—he was still in the midst of serving time to his fishy overlords, and fighting one of their staff members wasn’t going to fly at all. Besides, it wouldn’t be a very sustainable model when they inevitably healed up and did it all over again, this time with Ace on their hit list as well. 

And sure, Ace was willing to do Jack a solid, but he wasn’t some self-sacrificial saint.

So here’s what happened instead:

Octavinelle’s staff is actually pretty decent at keeping a tight leash on the new “rookies”, but Ace quickly finds they’re not perfect.

Every bribe they ever took, every mistake they swept under the rug, every cent they “lost”, every lie they told to Jade, Floyd, Azul— everything, and it’s all his in a matter of days.

He picks up on concepts and lessons and skills incredibly fast. Riddle even thinks he’d make it to the top 20 if he actually tried, which is high praise. 

It really doesn’t take him long to figure out basic hacking after paying an Ignihyde student to teach him, and it takes even less time to hack into Night Raven College’s official news site. 

The school’s online newspaper is usually littered with extreme bias and outrageous headlines that are in no way true—courtesy of the Headmage’s influence—but hundreds of people still go onto it everyday to see what kind of gossip’s going around these days.

It’s the right combination of shitty factors that ensure Ace feels no shame in simply replacing one of the headlines for a week.

And he uploads every video, picture, and statement he took for all to see.

There’s no big school outrage or scandal. Most of the student body probably thinks it’s another bit of fake news for the sake of some stupid drama and they look the other way.

But not Azul.

Definitely not Azul.

Because, for all of his many faults, Azul knows a two-faced bitch when he sees one, and he has the Headmage wrapped around his pretty little finger.

Ace feels an overwhelming sense of satisfaction when he’s in charge of the books, and sees three Octavinelle students have been removed from the attendance sheet entirely.

Chapter Text

“Guys, we have a problem.” Ace said as soon as he walked up to their usual cafeteria table.

Now, Ace could’ve very well been referring to a number of different things; their current hangovers, their fuzzy memories of last night, that odd soapy “soda” Ortho had bought at Sam’s shop (which they were still trying to determine the legality of), those clothes none of them remembered ever owning strewn over the Ramshackle couch, as well as just the fact Sebek woke up with a very jacked-up ankle but pushed through it because “a little pain is nothing to a retainer of the great Malleus Draconia”, to which Jack basically went "for the love of the seven PLEASE go see a doctor", but there was no changing Sebek's mind, and they were already late for their morning classes, so kidnapping him off to the hospital was a no-go.

But no. Apparently, the universe could never tire of fucking with our little huddle of first-years, because Ace wasn’t talking about any of those things.

He slammed a newspaper onto the table with so much brute force it rattled all of their plates. Epel and Deuce startled, while Sebek made a hissing sound as he put a hand on his left foot. Jack, currently very over-sensitive to every little thing, folded his ears down and made a slight guttural growl. 

The beastman leaned over despite himself to read the headline on the frontpage. Night Raven College had their own school newspaper, but Headmage Crowley still had a regular subscription from the official of Sage’s Island. “For perspective”, he’d said, but Jack was pretty sure it was just because the Headmage, as well as a lot of other students, just liked catching up on all the drama.

“Mysterious vigilantes spotted at Baker’s Confectionary…” Jack mumbled to himself. 

Vigilantes? Okay, well, that was a little concerning. 

There hadn’t been any serious vigilante work ever since the Arcane Response Unit put the profession on their hit-list. Given that most vigilantes usually a) overblotted or b) let the power go to their heads, it made sense.

All-in-all, it definitely was kind of worrying they were popping up on Sage Island of all places, but…

He looked up at Ace and raised an eyebrow. “What’s this gotta do with us?”

Ace groaned. “Look at the picture. Carefully.”

Jack looked down at the photo below the screaming headline. It was clear whoever had taken it had done the smart thing and stayed as far away from the scene as possible, since the picture of these “vigilantes” was rather small and hard to make out. The building in the center—Baker’s Confectionary, he assumed—was completely up in flames, with smoke billowing from the windows.

In front of it stood five shadowy figures, one of which was tying three people to a pole.

It was certainly dramatic, but Jack still didn’t see how this pertained to them.

…Until he looked at one of the taller ones, who appeared to have messy mint-green hair, and saw he was limping on his left foot.

Slowly, Jack turned to Sebek who appeared to have made the connection around the same time Jack did. Epel made it soon after, and then whispered it to Deuce, and soon everybody was staring at their very bombastic schoolmate.

Sebek spluttered. “A-A PROUD GUARDSMEN OF THE YOUNG MASTER WOULD NEVER DREAM OF BEING CAUGHT UP IN SUCH ACTIVITIES!”

“Shhhh!” Epel shushed panickedly. “D’ya want the whole apple-pickin’ school to hear you?!”

“S-Sebek’s right,” Deuce said. “Just because this guy has suspicious-looking hair and a broken ankle doesn’t mean it’s him.” Or us, he didn’t say.

“SUSPICIOUS-LOOKING—?!”

“Oh, it’s you guys, alright!” chirped a digital voice from behind them.

They all swirled around to see Ortho hovering there, who gave them a little wave.

“Hello, Ortho,” Epel said. “Where’s Yuu?”

“Off helping Professor Crewel sort some herbs,” he replied, floating himself down to his usual spot in between Epel and Ace. He looked at the newspaper in the middle of the table and tilted his head curiously. “Huh. I didn’t realize you guys were already getting media coverage!”

Everyone stared at the robot, who remained blissfully unaware as he marveled down at the page.

“Wait, so…” Deuce trailed off, his eyes widening at Ortho’s very sudden admission. “The people in the photo are us?”

“Mhm!” Ortho hummed brightly. “Honestly, I was kind of surprised when I came back from fixing the Ramshackle internet, only to see you guys were hungering for great justice!”

“...And you didn’t stop us?” Epel paled.

Ortho shook his head. “You looked like you were having fun. Besides! I got to be your man in the chair and help you guys avoid danger, which was really exciting!”

Deuce let out a breath. "I guess that explains why the rest of us weren't injured that badly…"

"You all realize we could go to prison if this ever gets out, right?" Epel piped up, addressing the elephant in the room. "And we'd probably get expelled for giving the school a bad rep."

"Trust me, the only thing keeping my sanity together is knowing we at least didn't kill anybody." Ace remarked dryly.

He turned to Ortho. "We didn't kill anybody, right?"

"Nope!”

"Okay, good."

Jack growled. "I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but… we're gonna have to make sure nobody else finds out about this.”

"I agree!" Sebek interjected. "I, for one, cannot risk my scholarship here, in the interest of protecting Malleus."

"Great, perfect, let's all just chalk this up to a crazy night where something crazy happened. Deal?" Ace said, and they all shook hands in an unbreakable vow, because like Underworld were they ever doing that again. 

Epel peered back down at the newspaper. “It’s really weird seeing Sebek with his hair down,” he muttered.

Ace nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it really is. Hey, Sebek, do you mind if we—”

“TOUCH MY HAIR AND YOU SHALL FEEL THE WRATH OF SEBEK ZIGVOLT!”

Sebek had never been good at hiding things.

He wore his emotions on his sleeve for everybody to see, and he didn’t hesitate to shout his opinions for everybody to hear. He believed nearly everything he was told wholeheartedly, which everybody agreed was a bit adorable, in a sad sort of way. 

Secrets? 

Ha.

“Sebek?” Lilia asked curiously, as Sebek limped determinedly down the hallway back to his room. “What happened to your foot?”

Sebek jolted slightly as he snapped his head around. “M-Master Lilia! I—” His pupils narrowed, just like they always did when he was panicked for any reason. His eyes darted around, as if the hallway would give him an answer. 

“I fell down the stairs.” he said eventually.

Lilia raised his eyebrows. “You fell down the stairs.”

Sebek seemed to realize how odd that sounded, as he began to blush a deep red that reached all the way to his ears. “I ASSURE YOU IT WILL NEVER—”

“Nevermind that Sebek.” Lilia found it hard to believe Sebek suddenly lost all of his eye-foot coordination he gained in training at the worst possible moment, but even if he did… “If you simply fell, why didn’t you go to the infirmary?”

Sebek opened his mouth, then closed it with an audible click. “I… forgot.”

“You forgot.”

“...Yes?”

"...The worst part is; I'm not even certain if this is out-of-character for you."

“I don’t normally care about this sort of thing,” Epel sighed, “but it honestly looks like we dug these costumes out of a garbage bin.”

Epel turned the toxic green hoodie over in his hands, feeling through all its rips and tears and… scorch marks? Okay, that was undeniably cool, but still.

Deuce squinted at the price tag still attached to his fingerless gloves. “It says here we got them 85% off at Oaken’s Trading Post.”

“Oh, good,” Ace breathed out. “I was worried we’d wasted all our money on these ugly things.”

“We didn’t exactly pool our resources,” Jack interjected gruffly. “I’m missin’ about half of my allowance.”

“We all have to make sacrifices, Jack.”

“Wait, wait. I’m still taking all of this in.” Yuu groaned, massaging the bridge of their nose with their signature I-am-so-done expression. “So you’re telling me that while Grim and I were out helping Professor Trein, you guys were out being illegal vigilantes? How drunk were you?”

“Drunk enough that even Jack thought it was a good idea.” Ace smirked, as if that was something to be proud of. Based on Jack’s glower, he didn’t share the same sentiments.

“Crime has been increasing on Sage’s Island lately.” Deuce spoke up hesitantly, fidgeting with the white gloves in his hands. “So maybe what we did wasn’t so… bad?”

“Except it was entirely illegal.” Sebek retorted, as he was busy trying to figure out how to fold his smithereens-sweater whilst balancing on his uncasted foot.

Deuce winced. “Except for that…”

“Deuce Spade is right!” Ortho said brightly, projecting several articles on one of his blue holographic screens. Each one had a headline of a different disaster occuring on Sage’s Island. Yuu almost thought he could see a whole article on NRC’s overblots in the mix somewhere. “There isn’t an official form of law enforcement on the island, so in the past ten years, crime has risen 21%!”

“I guess that’s why a bunch of guys thought stealing a kid’s blastcycle was a good idea.” Deuce sighed, shaking his head.

“Well, whatever, you guys aren’t going to do it again, right?”

“No.”

“We ain’t idiots.”

“Duh.”

“Absolutely not.”

Yuu sighed. “Great, ‘cause the last thing I need is for my dorm to become the secret hub for a bunch of vigilantes.”

“Yeah, so, Sebek broke both of his wrists. No, it doesn’t matter whose phone I’m calling from, please just come pick us up before Riddle realizes we’re missing.”

Chapter Text

It occured to Yuu—rather suddenly, as it happened—that people at Night Raven College didn’t tend to have any “real” conversations.

Unfortunately for Yuu and their sanity, the people at Night Raven College were a bit too prideful for that. They’d rather dance around their feelings, skirting the edges of the actual problem, rather than actually talk about any of it. The closest Yuu ever got was with Azul in the Atlantica Memorial Museum, but even that was fleeting. Fragile. It fell apart the moment Yuu opened their mouth.

At this point, unless it was Kalim, Silver, Ortho and Rook (who tended to be major exceptions when it came to just about everything, anyway), Yuu had resigned themself to a life of reading in between the lines and watching teenagers have mental breakdowns because they just refuse to see a counselor.

Yuu wasn’t expecting it all when they were drinking some delicious Felmier apple juice, and Deuce said out of the blue, “I’m really glad I came on this trip with all of you.”

It was such a moment of blunt honesty they nearly choked. “Oh yeah?”

Sebek and Ortho had other things to attend to (regarding Malleus and Idia, most likely) and couldn’t join them for their little Ramshackle excursion. It was a shame in hindsight, really.

“Yeah,” he said, with an almost dopey smile. “I… honestly wasn't expecting to make any friends at Night Raven College, so this is nice."

Hard to make friends when you're an ex-delinquent in an environment like NRC, I guess, Yuu thought.

Ace let out a one-noted laugh. “Bet you weren’t expecting to make one after throwing a whole-ass cauldron on him.”

Jack bristled, eyes widening comically. “A whole-ass—?!”

“I definitely wasn’t expecting to make one after committing grand larceny with him.”

Epel blinked. “What?”

Jack sighed and scratched the back of his head. “Long story.”

“Actually, I became friends with Ortho a few weeks later when I protected him from some bullies.”

“Finally, a normal—”

“And then he shot a technomantic cannon and destroyed part of the hallway.”

“What the actual fuck.”

Epel stared at the burning embers of the Ramshackle fireplace and took a sip of his juice. “Deuce and I became friends after we popped sick wheelies on a blastcycle and screamed at the ocean.”

“Screamed at the—” Yuu shook his head and looked at an even more bashful-looking Deuce. “You just can’t make friends normally, can you?”

Deuce shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, but I’m glad it happened. Sometimes… ” Deuce looked down at his feet. “Sometimes I don’t think I would’ve even survived this long without all of you.”

A silence hung in the air as everyone let Deuce’s words sink in. There was a literal meaning there nobody wanted to acknowledge out loud, but it was there all the same.

“I have nightmares about it, sometimes,” Jack said, sounding uncharacteristically earnest for the first time, though the sudden squeeze of his fist made it obvious he was no more happy about it than he normally was.

“Yeah.” Ace laughed, the sound completely without humor. “If I look hard enough, I can still see a red ring around my neck. Sleeping on that thing was not easy. And Azul’s tentacles left some pretty nasty bruises on my ankles.”

Jack grimaced and shifted around uncomfortably. “I still feel the ones we got when we snuck into the museum.”

“My legs still can’t handle it everytime I try to push them too hard,” Epel admitted with a shrug of his shoulders, as if what he’d just said were completely meaningless. “I guess it’s good we don’t have to do a lot of running in Pomefiore, but Coach Vargas can be pretty merciless.”

Yuu gulped as they pushed the memories of their own night terrors to the back of their head. “All of that was… pretty messed up, huh?”

“Yeah…” Deuce sighed. “I know our upperclassmen try, but… I just feel so much more comfortable around all of you. You make me happy. There’s no serious baggage I have to think about."

“Except all of this.” Epel muttered.

“Yeah. Messed up stuff." Ace took another swig of his drink and wiped it off with the back of his hand. "So Deuce, how’d you meet Sebek?”

The way Night Raven College students were able to bounce back so quickly scared them a little, honestly.

Chapter Text

Epel has a few plastic tubs of green onions stashed away in his room. 

He likes to sprinkle them on the bird food Vil gives him to eat at lunch when nobody’s looking. Vil would probably object to the use of that term, but it’s really the only one he can think of.

His supply is hidden underneath his bed where most of his luggage from home is. He keeps his supply in the center and surrounds it with all of the crates of apples his grandmother sends to him, creating an artificial hiding spot.

After their lesson on magic locks in Professor Trein’s class, Epel immediately came back to his room and cast the strongest enchant he knew on the crates, ensuring only his magic could move them out of the way.

No matter how careful he's been, though, there are at least six other people on campus who know about it—seven, if he counts Rook.

Jack’s definitely aware of it, based on the way his face crumpled up in disgust when they walked into Epel’s room to grab his eraser after he forgot to bring it. Vil and Jack go way back, so Epel half-expects his secret to be out by the end of the week. He doesn’t know how to feel, knowing that hasn’t happened yet.

Ace had come into his room for joint-class homework assignments a few times. He was hardly subtle about his knowledge, sometimes coming into Epel’s room just to ask him for a few tubs to sprinkle on Riddle’s tart as a prank. Epel doesn’t know how he knows, but honestly, he probably just guessed. And he most definitely told Deuce and Yuu about it.

Ortho had only been to his room once, and only for a few seconds. Epel can’t even remember why. But as they were leaving, Ortho tilted his head and looked at him in a way that reminded Epel of Vil, right when he was about to tell him to fix his collar or pick a piece of lettuce out of his teeth. When Epel asked what was wrong, Ortho merely shrugged and looked the other way.

Epel’s not too certain about Sebek. He's going with a hard "probably not", but even if Sebek did somehow find out, he wouldn’t just out him to Vil. Epel doesn’t know why he’s so certain of it. He just is.

He could say the same about all of them, really.

It’s so small. So stupid.

Small, stupid, and it makes something in his chest ache.

Chapter Text

It was around 2 AM on a Wednesday, Ortho was watching his brother fight the final boss in “Superb Bario Siblings: Superstars”. Ortho was the one who had been playing it initially, but the sudden difficulty spike halfway through the last world made it nigh-on impossible to progress. Idia, however, seemed to relish in it, and he was more than content to watch Idia replay the levels over and over until he made it to the last one.

Idia had just gotten past the first face when a notification from Ace went off in Ortho's head. Finding it odd Ace was still up at this time but not too perturbed, he opened it in the background of his vision absentmindedly.

ACE TRAPPOLA

cant believe m sayin this

but i cant sleepe

hadanightmare

deucey’s already at sebeks

jackandepel have a test tomorrow so i dont wanna wake em

yuu just needs sleep man

so im alone lol

n i need someone to play cards with so i can fall asleep again

or if not we can watch that reverse harem anime you wanted me to get into whatevs

dont tell anyone pls

Ill never live it down

“Ortho?” Idia called out, pausing the game. “Where are you going?”

All of Ortho’s servers immediately froze, keeping him from crossing the threshold that was Idia's door. From the frozen mass of his database, Ortho thought about the primary reason why he would ever leave to go anywhere without Idia, besides going to hang out with his friends.

“I need to retrieve my alchemy textbook from Professor Trein’s room.” he said, proud of himself for letting the line go without buffering even slightly, but Ortho knew right away Idia was way too smart for such an excuse.

“Don’t you have those downloaded?” he asked, brows furrowing in the way they were prone to do whenever he got his hands on another “Miles Edgeworth: Perfect Prosecutor” installment.

If Ortho could, he’d gulp. “This is a special one Professor Crewel wrote for me. He’s not going to like it if I forget it.”

Predictably, Idia only looked more suspicious. “Ortho, you are literally incapable of forgetting. You have more storage in you than I do on all of my tabs combined.” Idia said slowly, before his own words seemed to catch up to him as his eyes widened. “Wait, Ortho, y-y-you didn’t crash in the middle of class, did you?”

Agh, Vil had made lying seem so easy during club. Ortho would like to chalk that up to Vil being a world-class actor whose performances had brought him to digital tears on multiple occasions, but then again, Ace existed, so…

“Ortho, if something’s going on, you need to tell me.” Idia said, looking thoroughly worried—he always was when it came to Ortho, it seemed. On the one hand, Ortho hated to worry his big brother, but on the other hand…

“I did crash, kind of,” Ortho ‘admitted’, “but I reaaaaally need to get my textbook. Surely a maintenance check can wait until—”

Ortho cut himself off when Idia practically teleported over to Ortho maintenance hub and began booting it up.

“Come on, Ortho,” Idia said. “This will only take about 20 minutes if we speedrun this.”

20 minutes?

Ortho scrolled through the messages again.

Ace being genuinely willing to admit he had a nightmare meant… well, Ortho didn’t know what it meant. All he knew was it didn't make him feel very good.

His maintenance check would take 20 minutes, and only if Idia worked as fast as he possibly could.

Ortho didn’t know if he could stand waiting 20 minutes.

“Can’t it wait until I get back?” Ortho all-but pleads.

Idia stops typing on the monitor and looks back at Ortho, one eyebrow raised. “It’s not like you’re gonna trigger a chase sequence if you don’t get to your textbook in time.”

Then, Idia tilts his head just right, just enough for Ortho to flinch back from how much Idia peers into his very soul. “Ortho, is there something else you’re not telling me?”

“Idia—”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me everything, but could you at least tell me where you’re actually going?”

“I—”

“The last thing I want is for you to go missing half the night and—”

Ding!

ACE TRAPPOLA

Dude u there

is cool if u cant makeit

The next thing he registers, Ortho’s already zipping through the Ignihyde dorm at lightning speeds.

He makes a note to apologize to Idia later.

Chapter Text

Ortho is nervous. 

It's not incredibly easy to tell, but Jack happens to be one of the most observant creatures on the planet. What big eyes you have, what big ears you have, and whatnot. So he still sees the signs.

The holographic blue screen Ortho and his brother always use flicker red for a half second when he's looking up the cafeteria menu. Even when he's chattering excitedly about the new taste and digestive features Idia installed in him, his pitch is higher than normal. Jack puts a hand on a shoulder as the school day draws to a close, then instantly has to rip it away because Ortho's metal plating is scalding hot.

Jack doesn't think much of it at first, to be honest. Ortho's hard to rattle, but most of the things he tends to be disturbed by usually aren't anything world-shattering.

This doesn’t turn out to be the exception, but it is… interesting.

Ortho's talking to his brother the next day while the latter is getting a soda from the vending machine. Jack himself is just hanging up posters around the halls at Professor Crewel's request when he overhears their conversation. He doesn't condone eavesdropping himself, but with ears like his, sometimes it's an impossibility not to hear some things, even if you'd really prefer not to. (His "Talk" was a lot different than everybody else's.)

"Ortho," Idia starts, "Mom sent me a text telling me to thank you for something… But, uh… What did you do exactly?"

Ortho laughs. "There was a phantom in the mine near the school as it turns out. So I subdued it, and gave it to Mom!"

"A-A phantom?!" Idia squeaks. "Y-You didn't try to fight it by yourself, did you?"

"Eeyup!"

"Oh Seven… Wait, how did you even know there was a phantom in the mine?"

Jack pauses, just as he's about to put the last strip of tape on the corner of the cardstock paper. He's not sure why, since he already knows the answer. 

"Oh, just a hunch." Ortho replies innocently.

Jack is very good at noticing things. It's both a blessing and a curse. 

He could've sworn he heard Ortho chuckle at the end there.

Chapter Text

“You didn’t have to do that for me, Sebek,” Epel said, as he continued to apply blush to Sebek’s cheek. If there was one thing about Vil’s insane Pomefiore training regiment Epel could appreciate, it was his dress and makeup routines. The right clothes could distract people from staring too hard at the scrapes on your arms, and a little bit of makeup went a long way to hiding bruises from fights in the hallway.

Epel daydreamed through most of Vil’s lessons, admittedly, but he retained enough to know that once the bruises all over Sebek’s body fully developed, even the heaviest makeup in the world wasn’t going to hide it. But he promised Sebek he would at least try , and so here they were.

Sebek scowled. “That’s not what you say to someone who saved you from a falling tree.”

“And I’m telling you, you didn’t need to do anything like that.” Epel sighed irritably, pushing down the innate desire to slap Sebek across the face.

“Pish-posh!” Sebek shouted, crossing his arms and straightening his posture. Epel was just glad they weren’t doing lipstick, or else Epel would’ve really slapped him. “You look out for me, I look out for you! Remember?”

Epel glared. He crushed down the pity he felt when Sebek flinched as Epel pressed too hard against the bruising, digging the brush's tendrils deep into the small cuts along it.

“For the last time ,” he gritted out, “I don’t want you doing anything like that for me. Ever.”

Chapter Text

Yuu is sweeping the Ramshackle dorm floor when someone comes knocking. 

It’s cleaning day, an infamous time in which the haughty Grim is at his most ornery, and Yuu is already in no mood to deal with whatever this is. But through some hellish second sight, they realize whoever’s at the door isn’t going to leave unless they answer. Yuu just hopes it’s not Crowley with another mission for them they absolutely do not have the time nor the patience for.

“Hello, Yuu,” Riddle greets cordially. He seems calm enough, which is a lot more than Yuu normally gets when Riddle comes to his door, but his pinched brows and crossed arms indicate he’s still near the end of his rope. 

“Hey, Riddle,” they reply, with a polite enough nod. “Do you need something?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Ace and Deuce are, would you?”

Yuu feigns mulling it over before shaking their head. “Sorry, they don’t drop by on Wednesdays. Why?”

Riddle’s face hardens. In contrast, though, his voice is dripping with distress when he opens his mouth. “They didn’t check in for roll call this morning, their clubmates have confirmed they never showed up for club yesterday, and nobody can reach them.”

Riddle’s almost robotic speech pattern makes it obvious he’s already said this numerous times over. It worries Yuu just a little, especially considering it’s only 9 AM.

The red-head takes a deep breath before continuing. “No fellow housewarden I’ve spoken with has seen neither heads nor tails of them, and you have been no exception. To be frank, I’m… starting to worry.”

The response and Riddle’s forlorn expression causes some irritation to slowly leak out of Yuu. Exhausting as he can be, Yuu doesn’t know what they’d do if Grim suddenly up-and-disappeared one night.

“School policy states we cannot start an official hunt for them until after the third day, but this…” Riddle pauses as he balls his hands into fists, his eyes flashing with frustration. Yuu doesn’t think they’ve ever seen Riddle so annoyed with a rule before. “...Ace and Deuce are vexatious and bothersome, but they wouldn’t just vanish without telling me, I know they wouldn’t.”

Yuu sighs, leaning their broom against the wall. 

They gingerly put their hand on Riddle’s shoulder and give him their most neighborly smile. “I’m sure nothing bad happened. Ace probably just botched another teleportation spell again and Deuce is losing his mind looking for him. You know how it is.”

Riddle takes in another breath, even deeper than the last. “Yes, you’re… probably right.” he says, despite the fact Yuu’s words have clearly done nothing to alleviate the weight from his shoulders.

A few more attempts at sympathy and good wishes follow, before Riddle is leaving to go do a sweep of Savanaclaw… without doing one of Ramshackle.

It’s a perk of being a magicless prefect everybody trusts. Whether it be due to their perceived harmlessness because of their lack of magic ability, or their genuinely pacifist nature, people tend to trust them more than most of their peers.

At times like these, Yuu is glad for it.

Yuu sighs again and pick their broom back up. Instead of going back to sweep, they pass the lounge and head straight down one of the halls. They wave to the ghosts who are currently trying to decide whether or not to get new wallpaper, before they walk into the guest room and over to the wardrobe nestled in the corner.

Yuu swings the door open and stares unimpressed as a sheepish Ace and Deuce awkwardly step out.

“Next time you guys get into a fight with Diasomnia and Savanaclaw students, maybe try talking to Riddle.” they sigh, for what feels like the thousandth time today. “Who knows, he might just be glad you’re alive.”

“So he can kill us himself, maybe.” Ace laughs, rubbing a hand on his nape.

"We'll just ask Ortho to hide us next time," Deuce says, in a cursory attempt to reassure them.

Yuu turns away so they don’t see the disapproving look on their face.

Chapter Text

Yuu does all of their laundry by hand. This is known only to the first-years, since they're the only ones who are around often enough to know.

Ramshackle Dorm doesn’t have too many modern amenities on account of it being abandoned for the past 50 or so years. It’s sincerely astonishing to Sebek that Ramshackle has a somewhat passable kitchen—it's functional a good 80% of the time, or at least if you’re Deuce who knows how to give the stove a good-enough kick to get it working again. If not, then the ability to boil eggs stabilizes to around 30%, as Ortho so helpfully calculated after they all spent two hours scrubbing the walls free of egg yolk.

Unfortunately, none of these statistics apply to Yuu’s laundry room on account of the complete nonexistence of Yuu's laundry room, much less a working washing machine or even an ironing board.

T he best Yuu has (and the best Yuu can afford, candidly speaking) is a wooden bucket, some rainwater, and a few of Vil’s handmade cleaning products he gave them for free. When they need to dry them, they string it up on the makeshift clothesline they fashioned out of some yarn, clothespins they found on the ground, and their fence.

There isn't a laundromat conveniently on campus, and the paperwork to leave school grounds is far too lengthy for Yuu’s ridiculously busy schedule. Sebek would offer to let Yuu to use the public washroom in Diasomnia if he weren’t so concerned about the whites of their clothes turning green—or, no less likely, getting even messier.

The one saving grace is Yuu only has around three or four sets of clothes, so it takes maybe a night to wash and dry them all—but it also means they have to do the laundry pretty much every other day without missing a beat even once. It’s a vicious cycle that doesn’t leave a whole lot of room for error.

Twisting a wrist in flight class after your technomantic broom breaks down is one such error.

Idia, who had made the mechanical abomination in the first place, had been immensely apologetic about the whole thing, but Yuu had naturally waved him off.

Still, Yuu wasn’t going to be on their hands and knees kneading their clothes in a bucket of water if he had any say. Yuu probably planned to do it, anyway, knowing them, but Sebek Zigvolt would absolutely not stand for it.

He had stormed inside their dorm without so much as a “hello”, brushing past Yuu and Grim, and then ripped all of their clothes off the closet hangers and then marched over to the room where they kept the bucket. He’d rolled his sleeves up and plunged his hands into the ( cold! Really, really cold— )  water.

When he finally finished hanging them up on the fence, he walked back inside, fully prepared to force the idiot to LIE DOWN and STAY THERE until their foot was healed. He was disappointed, but not terribly surprised, to walk into their room only to see them trying to annotate their notes from Alchemy, and most absolutely not resting as they ought to.

Sebek yanked the notebook away from their hands, ignoring their splutters as he tossed a blanket over their head.

“Now, you will rest and let your tired human bones heal.” he said, closing his eyes, crossing his arms and nodding mostly to himself. “I will attend to your meals and anything else you may need. It will not do for the young master’s fabled friend to be in anything less but perfect condition when he sees them next, understood?”

When Yuu didn’t respond, Sebek cracked one eye open to see what the holdup was. If Yuu’s ankle was acting up, he needed to take care of it right away.

His unworthy eyes were blessed with the softest smile in the entire universe. 

“Of course, Sebek.” Yuu laughed breathily, though Sebek failed to see what was so funny. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Things Deuce Spade can’t do:

• remember the Pythagorean Theorem at the top of his head.
• bake a decent tart by himself.
• memorize multiplication tables.
• know what happens when a priest, a doctor, and a captain walk into a bar.
• finish a puzzle game.
• run from his past.
• remember if he’s supposed to mix shoe glass shards or a dash of pink powder into an invisibility potion.
• stand it when someone calls Yuu the “magicless prefect”, no matter how many times they tell him to let it go, even though it’s true.
• stand it when someone calls Ortho a “machine”, even though it’s true and Ortho doesn’t seem too bothered by it, either way.
• stand it when someone calls Jack a “filthy mutt”, even if they’re a canine themselves, even though it’s true.
• stand it when someone calls Ace a “lying, little piece of shit” if they’re not Deuce himself, even though it’s true.
• stand it when someone calls Epel “weak and scrawny”, even though it’s true, but Vil and Rook can usually handle any hecklers Epel comes across themselves, anyway.
• stand it when a fairy comes to give a letter to Malleus from the Queen and calls Sebek “dirty blood” while the first-years were still in the room, even though Sebek says it’s true.

Things Deuce Spade can do:

• win an arm wrestling competition.
• fix a blastcycle.
• deck anybody across the face, knocking their teeth out and dislocating their nose.
• go toe-to-toe with a Savanaclaw 3rd-year.
• almost start an international incident.
• regret not a single second of it.

Chapter Text

[Howd — Um, I mean, hello, this is Epel Felmier. If you’re hearing this, then that probably means I’m really busy. So if you could just leave me a message, that would be great. Thank you.]

“Epel, I know you told me not to call, but I just wanted to inform you Professor Crewel has just announced a test on magical theory set for Monday morning, so make sure to study—there’s always room for a bit of work in play, you know. 

Also, when you get back, could you please tell me what that awfully strong smell is coming from your room? I’m afraid the scent is going to stick to me, so I can’t go anywhere near it myself. I’d tell Rook to check it out for me, but he told me he was going to be busy this week filling out his… collection.

That is all. Don’t do anything stupid now.”

[Recorded Friday, 21:12]

[Hi, this is Deuce Spade. I’m sorry I’m not there to take your call, but I promise I’ll get back to you when I can!]

“Hey Deucey!

We just had the #craziestunbirthdaypartyever! Okay, so first off, you know how the flamingos… Actually, y’know what? I’ll just wait until you get back to tell you! It’s better to do it in person, yeah?

Later, gator! Cay-Cay out!”

[Recorded Saturday, 19:12]

[You’ve reached Unit ORTHO. Please leave your message after the tone.]

“I can’t find your technosignature anywhere. Even if you went to… IDK, Briar Valley where they have, like, zero Wi-Fi and cell phone service, you should still be showing up on my monitors. Did something happen at Ramshackle? Did you guys finally snap and burn the place down so now it doesn’t show up on Twisted Maps, lol.

…Maybe it’s just a bug in the system. I’ll have to do some maintenance later when you come back today.”

[Recorded Sunday, 3:13]

“Hey, Deuce. 

I know I said I’d leave you alone until you called me, but nobody’s… uh, seen you today? 

I mean, you didn’t show up for the morning roll call, and Riddle’s really upset because we can’t legally go looking for you until Thursday because of some… “three-day policy”, I don’t know. I talked with Professor Crewel, and he said you didn’t show up for your Magical Theory test, and you don’t really skip out on tests, so I was wondering if something was going on?

Um… Just wanted to let you know everyone’s kind of, heh, freaking out over here, so if you could please gimme a call? It’s… kind of my job to know how you’re doing, you know?

Oh, also, there’s some leftover chocolates in the fridge from Saturday’s unbirthday party. We put a sticky note on the plate so you can find it. Riddle wanted to save them specifically for you and Ace, so make sure to share them, okay?

[Recorded Monday, 17:43]

[This is Jack Howl. Leave a message.]

“Hey Jack! It’s Ruggie, your favorite upperclassmen! Shishishishi~!

Um, so, you were supposed to be back yesterday, but nobody’s picked up on your scent recently? Leona talked to Vil and he says you didn’t show up for your daily run, and Epel didn’t show up for Spelldrive Club today. Seriously, he came even after he sprained his ankle after VDC, which, to be honest, I dunno how that even happens. He seemed fine on stage.

Look, I can’t believe I’m saying this since it is you we’re talking about, but… if you guys need a few more days off, at least send me a text or somethin’, yeah? I already have a lazy lion to look after, I don’t need the teachers askin’ me about a litter of lost puppies and a hatchling, too.

Aaaannnnd I need to get back to my shift or else Azul will dock my pay, sooooo…”

[Recorded Monday, 19:24]

[Hey, hey, hey! This is Ace Trappola speaking! If you’re the Housewarden, it wasn’t me, I swear to the Queen.]

“ACE TRAPPOLA!

It has been four days since you and Deuce left for Ramshackle, and nobody’s seen heads nor tails of you! And before you make the obvious pun, no, Che’nya says you haven’t been loitering around Royal Sword Academy, either. Your already abysmal grades are going to sink down to the very depths of the Underworld if you keep up with this negligence. You weren’t sorted into Heartslabyul for no reason, you know!

When you return, you and Deuce will be mowing the lawn for a month AND writing me a 2000-word essay on why extended breaks without proper notice is a horrible idea!”

[Recorded Tuesday, 7:26]

“Monsieur Pomme~! How are you this fine afternoon?

It’s been quite a while since you and your friends have graced us with your presence. You’ve certainly found yourselves a hiding spot not even I can find! But I do believe this has gone on for too long, yes?

I can’t be there for every call containing you and your lovely voice, unfortunately, but you haven’t called my cell phone at all.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is: the dorm just isn’t the same without your tenacious beauty flowing through the halls!”

[Recorded Tuesday, 11:11]

[This is Yuu. Sorry, the cellphone the Headmage gave me is kind of old, so it doesn’t always get calls. I’ll… try to get back to you, but I can’t guarantee anything. Sorry, and thanks.]

“Puppy, this is Professor Crewel.

I know you’re quite logical for a teenager, so I’m a little concerned about you not showing up to class. I can convince myself you simply got sick and forgot to tell me, but I can’t speak for the rest of your little friends except for perhaps Jack.

If you could give me a call, that would be wonderful.”

[Recorded Tuesday, 12:34]

"Epel, you are getting an earful when you return, young man.”

[Recorded Tuesday, 15:45]

“I admit, I’m getting quite worried about you. Lucius is unusually anxious about your absence, and the longer you’re gone, the harder it is to convince him to eat something.

Please inform me where you are. If not for me, then do it for Lucius. I don’t think he can keep going on like this for much longer.”

[Recorded Wednesday, 9:23]

[THIS IS SEBEK ZIGVOLT, PROUD RETAINER OF THE GREAT MALLEUS DRACONIA! I have better things to do with my time than answer trivial calls, but I suppose if it is truly of great urgency, you may leave me a message. I will, perhaps, get back to you after I’ve fulfilled my duties.]

“Hello, Sebek. I was in town today and I bought a pillow that looked like you. It’s very soft and easy to sleep on. Like you.

You can come see it if you come back.

…Please come back.”

[Recorded Wednesday, 18:39]

“Jack, it’s Vil.

Considering not even you have picked up the phone in the past three days, and Epel's phone number has been mysteriously disconnected without the courtesy of an explanation, you leave me no choice but to envoke Night Raven College's "Pleasure Island" alert. The missing-persons wait policy expires tomorrow, and I plan to exercise it to its full extent.

I can’t believe I’m telling you of all the people, but if you don’t want this school to pause all classes, go on immediate lockdown and become the location of a manhunt, you will contact me within the next two hours. I don’t care if it’s by snail mail, email, texting, calls, or carrier pigeon, because rest assured: I will check it all.

Good day.”

[Recorded Wednesday, 22:01]

“Ortho, none of my texts to your system have been sent and your backup communications are unresponsive. Where are you?”

[Recorded Thursday, 1:56]

“I’m going to keep calling until you answer me.”

[Recorded Thursday, 2:01]

"Deuce, I tried contacting Ace’s phone and it claimed his number was… “disconnected”. Based on my research, that can only occur when it’s disconnected manually or the phone is… d-destroyed.

The police have completely ransacked Ramshackle. T-They found your backpacks and duffle bags with most of your things, but they couldn’t find your pens or your phones… or you.

Please— Please come back. You won't get in trouble, just— e-even— even if you all never want to come back, I-I-I want to hear your voice, just to know you’re alright, and you’re all somewhere safe where people are taking good care of you, and you’re not hungry or thirsty or bleeding o-or— 

…Oh Great Seven, I hope you’re not somewhere cold. Sebek doesn’t like the cold. And if it’s somewhere hot, make sure Jack drinks plenty of water, okay?

Just call. That’s it. You don’t have to do anything else, just call. If… If you don’t want to call me, that’s fine, just… call somebody. Trey, Cater, the police, your mother, I don’t care.

Please. I’m begging.”

[Recorded Thursday, 2:41]

[Hello, I’m Lilia Vanrouge~! I’m not too well-versed with technology, so you’ll have to be patient with me! But I’ll be sure to contact you~!]

“Father, it’s Silver. I thought I’d let you know I found Riddle crying in the hallway. Apparently Sebek’s phone number was disconnected.

…I’m scared.”

[Recorded Thursday, 3:22]

[Hi. ‘S Leona.]

“ I’m coming back to Savanaclaw, and if I find you still sleeping, I’m— I will burn this whole dorm down to the ground with the both of us and everyone else still inside it."

[Recorded Thursday, 4:31]

“Jack, I never thought you’d be this year’s most insufferable misfit, but here we are. First you disappear on Friday without telling me where you were going, and then come Sunday, you don’t show back up, and now your phone number just disappeared.

There are police everywhere, Ruggie’s turned the whole school upside down, everyone’s upset and they’re taking it out on each other, I have to do all this paperwork, Rook’s been creepin’ around more than usual, and the only good thing about it is that he’s only looking for YOU specifically, and when I finally get the chance, I can’t sleep.

You are so fucked when you come back.”

[Recorded Thursday, 23:30]

“Does the low din mean it’s on? …Alright then.

Sebek, this joke, if you can even call it that, is no longer amusing. It has been one full week to the day that you and your companions left for your recreational jaunt to Ramshackle, and all of you have not been seen since. In fact, nobody’s certain you’re even in Ramshackle anymore. This infraction cannot and will not be overlooked.

Return with your playfellows at once. And be hasty.”

[Recorded Friday, 7:00]

“Sebek, it’s Lilia. Please don’t mind Malleus, he’s just worried about you. You’re not actually in trouble.

But he still has a point. If you can’t make it back anytime soon for any reason, then you can just tell us. I, for one, am not mad.

Call me back as soon as you can, alright? 

I love you. Remember that.”

[Recorded Friday, 16:52]

[Uh… Hi, I’m Idi— Okay, no, Ortho, this is so awkward, f in the chat, epic fail, why are you making me do thi—]

“Iiiiiddddiiiaaaa!!! HehehHEHhehe… We juMPed off A cliffFFFfff…”

[Recorded Friday, 23:01]

[You have reached Riddle Rosehearts. I am preoccupied at the moment, but I promise I will call you back in a timely manner. Terribly sorry, mother.]

“Housewarden Rosehearts, it’s Deuce— Ortho, stop, I’m calling Riddle.

Uh, I know I said we’d come back on Sunday, but I think we're actually coming back home tomorrow. I-It’s a bit early, but, um… we went to the library so we could borrow a movie, and we ended up finding this weird DVD. It had Vil in it, so we got it, but…

…Actually, this would be better to explain in person, just not right away. Please, please don't be mad... 

We’re going to sleep over at Ramshackle and come home tomorrow. We’re kind of out of it right now. Good news is, we’ll make it to the unbirthday party tomorrow after all, but we're probably not going to be able to do much except lay out the dishes and silverware. I'm really, really sorry, but our legs are pretty sore right now.

[Recorded Friday, 23:06]

[Hey, it’s Ruggie! I’m trying to save battery power, so if you wanna tell me something, just talk to me, okay? If it has to do with food, I’m all ears!]

“Hey Ruggie. It's Jack.

I’d call Leona about this, but you know how he gets at night. And I know you have an early shift at the Mostro Lounge on Saturdays, so I really hate to wake you, but…

…Yuu, why are we even doin’ this? I don’t think he’s goin’ to care that I’m comin’ back a day early.

…No, look, all I’m sayin’ is, I don’t want to bother ‘im — Ortho, put that down, you don’t know where it’s been. No, no, Ortho, DROP IT — ”

[Recorded Friday, 23:11]

[Deleted.]

[Hello, this is Vil Schoenheit’s number. If you’re looking to hire my services, please refer to my manager instead, but be warned: I’m currently taking a break from acting.]

“Howd— I mean, hi, Vil. It’s Epel.

We found one of your old action movies in the library, but Yuu didn’t have a television, so we decided to use the one in the janitor’s closet. Tell Mr Wolly we said “thanks”, by the way.

But, uh, we didn’t realize it was one of those films that sucked you in, though. Those movies are expensive. I’m surprised Headmage Crowley got his hands on a copy— Ortho, no, hands off the TV, we were just in there.

I know I said I’d come back on Sunday, but I think I’ll return tomorrow. That movie was just as crazy as you said it was. 

It was fun, but all our phones got destroyed and we need to take a break from using our pens. Yuu was the only one who didn't put their phone in their pocket, so we’re all calling from that one now, even if it is a bit old… It can’t even tell us the time or the day of the month, so for all I know, it’s been exactly one week from when we first got sucked in.

Heh. That’s a funny thought, but it’s probably only been a few hours.

I’m a little… banged up, but I promise it’s not too ugly. I’ll hide the bruises with some makeup before coming back, I promise.

Okay, that’s all. Please don’t come looking for me— Alright, can someone keep that whippersnapper’s hands off the set? I ain’t goin’ back in there.”

[Recorded Friday, 23:19]

[Hello. My name is Silver. A thousand apologies I’m not there to pick up your call, but I will get back to you.]

“SILVER! IT IS SEBEK!

Could you check on Malleus for me?! HE’S NOT PICKING UP! I fear he may have wandered off again!

Also, expect me to spar with you tomorrow! Ortho ran out of battery and is now acting… strange, so it is of the utmost importance he returns to Ignihyde as quickly as possible. And since it would be wrong to continue without him, my companions and I have all agreed to regroup another day.

Anyhow, I will return in the morning— EVERYONE, RESTRAIN THE CHILD!”

[Recorded Friday, 23:24]

Chapter Text

[ACE TRAPPOLA — Police Interview Transcript]

JJ: This is Officer Justy Jumps doing an interview with Ace Trappola, a student of the Heartslabyul dorm on the Night Raven College campus, to consult him about his disappearance. It is Saturday, 1:30. I’m currently inside the lounge right now, and all other dorm members are in their rooms. Mr Trappola, if you don’t mind, I’m going to be recording this interview, okay?

AT: Yeah, okay.

JJ: You and your friends went to Ramshackle Dorm on Friday at around 6:30 in the afternoon, is that right?

AT: I think so.

JJ: Where was the last time anybody else saw you?

AT: Uh… Here.

JJ: Here? In this dorm?

AT: Yeah. Deuce and I were going out the door, and Trey was in the kitchen. I think Cater was there, too, but I’m not sure.

JJ: Did you tell anybody about where you were going?

AT: I told Riddle. I can’t go anywhere without telling my housewarden, so… and I also told my other two roommates, I think Deuce told Trey and Cater, and I also told Jamil and Floyd.

JJ: Jamil and Floyd? Are they your friends?

AT: Uh, no, but they’re in my basketball club. They’re upperclassmen from Scarabia and Octavinelle.

JJ: Okay. So you went to Ramshackle. What did you do there?

AT: Ah… Well, we talked for a bit about stuff, then Ortho said he wanted to watch a movie. And well, we don’t really know how to say “no” to him, y’know? But we didn’t bring a movie, so we went to the library to borrow one.

JJ: You have movies in your library?

AT: Yeah, there’s, like, this big shelf in the back. It’s mostly empty, but every week, the ghosts working there switch out the movies available. 

JJ: Were you supposed to be on campus after classes were out?

AT: We’re allowed to be anywhere as long as it’s approved by a staff member. Lucky for us, Ortho really likes helping this other robot campus… the janitor, Mr Wolly, so he approved our trip. Yeah.

JJ: Mr Wolly let you back on campus?

AT: Yeah.

JJ: Do you go back on campus after classes often?

AT: Usually to study, but yeah.

JJ: Who picked out the movie you guys watched? 

AT: …

JJ: Who picked out the movie, Mr Trappola?

AT: He’s, uh, not gonna get in trouble if I tell you, will he?

[DEUCE SPADE — Police Interview Transcript]

JJ: This is Officer Justy Jumps doing an interview with Deuce Spade, a student of the Heartslabyul dorm on the Night Raven College campus, to consult him about his disappearance. It is Saturday, 1:55. I’m currently inside the lounge right now, and all dorm members are in their rooms. Mr Spade, I’m going to be recording this interview.

DS: Um, I hate to interrupt, but are we in trouble?

JJ: Why do you ask?

DS: It’s just… Whenever a police officer came to interview me, it usually wasn’t about anything good.

JJ: I’m sorry, Mr Spade, do you have a police record?

DS: Ah, well, I… Just... forget I said that.

JJ: …Okay. So, on Friday, you and your friends went to the Ramshackle dorm?

DS: Yes.

JJ: Any reason you chose that dorm in particular?

DS: Um… Sorry, I’m having a hard time remembering.

JJ: Take your time.

DS: I think it’s because if you stay in a dorm that’s not yours for too long, you’re eventually kicked out. But Ramshackle doesn’t have any magic, so it was okay. Plus, we’ve been doing it for a long time.

JJ: How long?

DS: Um… I’m not sure. A few months, I guess.

JJ: How often do you have these sleepovers?

DS: Ah… Almost every weekend.

JJ: That’s quite frequent.

DS: It is?

JJ: Well, you see most of these people everyday and now you’re saying you also see them every weekend.

DS: Not every weekend, just… most of them.

JJ: You all seem awfully close.

DS: You think so?

JJ: Any reason why?

DS: What do you mean?

JJ: Well, Mr Spade, from my experience, any kid who spends more time outside than at home is usually running from something: cruel parents, cruel siblings, parents who don’t get along, siblings who don’t get along with parents, that sort of thing.

DS: …What does that have to do with me?

JJ: …Thank you very much for your time and cooperation, Mr Spade. And please, try not to get into trouble with law enforcement anymore, okay?

[JACK HOWL — Police Interview Transcript]

JJ: This is Officer Justy Jumps doing an interview with Jack Howl, a student of the Savanaclaw dorm on NRC, to consult him about his disappearance. It is Saturday, 2:35. I’m currently inside the lounge right now. All other dorm members are in their rooms. Very early morning, Mr Howl.

JH: Mornin’, officer.

JJ: So, Mr Howl, according to our interviews with your fellow dorm members, nobody except your first-year friends saw you from the time classes ended on Friday to today. Did you not see anybody else before you left?

JH: No. I packed my things, and then I went. I didn’t talk to anybody.

JJ: Mr Bucchi apparently knew where you were going, though.

JH: I told Ruggie last Wednesday. Or I guess that would be the Wednesday before last Wednesday, yeah?

JJ: Yes. So, you told Mr Bucchi?

JH: Well, I didn’t tell ‘im, but he knew, anyway. It’s part of my weekly routine at this point.

JJ: You didn’t tell him. Were you ever going to?

JH: To be honest, not before he brought it up himself, no.

JJ: I notice you didn’t tell Housewarden Kingscholar, either.

JH: Nah. I didn’t.

JJ: Why not?

JH: I guess it didn’t cross my mind.

JJ: It didn’t cross your mind?

JH: No.

JJ: That’s not very prudent of you.

JH: I didn’t think we’d go missin’ for a week.

JJ: All of your friends told their upperclassmen, and from what I hear, you’re usually one of the more practical ones, so why didn’t you think about it?

JH: Because… I thought it wouldn’t matter?

JJ: Okay. On that note, you were one of the only people in your friend group not to inform somebody you were coming back early. Can you explain to me why that is?

JH: I made a voicemail telling me upperclassman Ruggie, but I deleted it.

JJ: Why didn’t you make another one, then?

JH: I was… I didn’t want to bother anybody.

JJ: Didn't want to bother anybody? Mr Howl, you’re an underclassmen under their jurisdiction. Even if they didn’t think something was going to happen to you, I imagine they’d like to know where you were, at least. 

JH: …They wouldn't.

JJ: Really? Do you just assume they wouldn't care, even if something did happen?

JH: ...I don't really want to talk about it.

JJ: I see.

JH: I’m sorry, Officer, but I have to ask: are they gonna hear this interview?

JJ: Well, your housewarden is a prince so he can practically do whatever he likes, and Mr Bucchi is quite… crafty. It’s not an impossibility they’ll get their paws on this. Or the transcript, for that matter.

JH: In that case... can you omit that last part? Stray or not, I don’t want ‘em hearin’ that. It's... kind of embarrassin', now that somebody says it out loud.

JJ: I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr Howl. Protocol states that it all must remain on record.

JH: Then… Can I make a request?

JJ: Of course.

JH: Can the record stay private?

JJ: Of course.

[EPEL FELMIER — Police Interview Transcript]

JJ: This is Officer Justy Jumps doing an interview with Epel Felmier, a student of the Pomefiore dorm on NRC, to consult him about his disappearance. It is Saturday, 3:20. I’m currently inside the lounge. All dorm members have been cleared from the room. How are you, Ms— Mr Felmier?

EF: …I’m good.

JJ: That’s nice to hear. Do you know why you’re being interviewed?

EF: Because I was missing for a week without contact?

JJ: That’s right. According to your friend Ace, you yourself willingly picked out a movie that sucked you into it, and didn’t come out until yesterday night.

EF: Yes. I did.

JJ: Didn’t it have a warning label?

EF: It must have, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.

JJ: Most isekai labels are about 2 centimeters long, and 2 centimeters high, and they’re stuck onto the back. Why didn’t you see it?

EF: My housewarden was on the DVD cover. I was paying more attention to that.

JJ: I see.

EF: Are we done? I’m kind of sleepy.

JJ: I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to hold on for a little longer. We still have to wait for your medical examination. We all were very worried when we found you all in Mr Wolly’s closet, you know.

EF: Meh. It wasn't that bad,

JJ: Mr Felmier, you were sporting sizable bruises on your rib cage and arms and multiple lacerations across your face.

EF: I’ve been through worse.

JJ: Uh-huh. Your voicemail to your housewarden indicates you were planning to conceal your injuries with… makeup.

EF: I know how. I usually have a case of blush in my backpack. I’ve done it plenty of times.

JJ: That’s not the reassurance you think it is, Mr Felmier. In fact, that just makes it worse. The more I talk to you all, the less of a pretty picture I’m getting.

EF: …What are you talking about?

JJ: Epel, I need you to be transparent with me: does that happen a lot?

EF: …Does what happen a lot?

JJ: Do you get… hurt a lot? In this dorm?

EF: Do ah… No. No, no, Seven, no, it’s— it’s not like that. It ain’t anythin’ like that. I mean, Vil's naggy and tough and annoying, but he's— he's good to me. He and Rook would never let anybody treat me that way. AH would never let anybody treat me that way. They'd catch these fists before they could try anything.

JJ: Are you certain?

EF: No. Never. Not in this dorm. 

JJ: I see. What about anywhere else?

EF: Well, Night Raven College ain't no walk to grandma's house, ah'll tell you that much, but it's not that serious. 

JJ: Are you sure?

EF: Ah'm as sure as the sun that rises every mornin'. There ain't nothing in this place ah can't handle. 

JJ: What about the overblots?

EF: The... overblots?

JJ: I read the reports on those before I was assigned this case. Six overblots all in under a year is quite concerning. You were at Vil's overblot, correct?

EF: Yeah.

JJ: But Vil's interview from that time also states that you went on stage to perform, anyhow. You ALL went on stage despite suffering such a physically and mentally traumatic experience a few minutes prior.

EF: Jus' spit it out, already. 

JJ: Mr Felmier, can I assume that's where you learned—or rather, internalized— your "makeup-over-the-bruises" trick?

EF: Vil did it. Ah don't see why ah can't.

JJ: You're 16, for a start. And for another, NOBODY should be doing that, no matter how old they are.

[ORTHO SHROUD — Police Interview Transcript]

JJ: This is Officer Justy Jumps doing an interview with a student of the Ignihyde dorm, Ortho Shroud, to consult him about his disappearance. It is Saturday, 4:00. I’m currently inside his room. Nobody else is inside.

His brother says that his thought processes and answers will not be overly complex to help him save battery power while he charges, but I will conduct this interview to the best of my abilities. 

How are you feeling, Mr Shroud?

OS: Good.

JJ: That's nice to hear. Okay, sweetie. I'm going to ask you a few questions, alright?

OS: Okay.

JJ: You watched an isekai action movie with your friends, right?

OS: Right. 

JJ: Do you remember what the movie was called?

OS: Yes.

JJ: What was it, then?

OS: Can't. 

JJ: You can't say?

OS: No.

JJ: Fair enough. What was it about?

OS: Island. Donkeys. Evil.

JJ: (silence)

OS: What?

JJ: Mr Shroud, the movie you watched wouldn't happen to be the "Pleasure Island" film from [redacted date], would it?

OS: Yes.

JJ: …Mr Shroud, excuse me if this is presumptuous, but do you record everything you see?

OS: Yes.

JJ: Do you ever delete those recordings?

OS: Yes.

JJ: Did you delete the ones of the movie?

OS: No.

JJ: May I have copies of them?

OS: No.

JJ: No? Why not?

OS: Can't.

JJ: You… can't?

OS: No.

JJ: Physically, or you don't want to?

OS: Promise.

JJ: You… promised someone not to give them away?

OS: Yes.

JJ: Is this the same reason you couldn't tell me the name of the movie?

OS: Yes.

JJ: But they never made you promise not to say what it was about.

OS: No.

JJ: Can you tell me the name of the person you made the promise with?

OS: No.

JJ: Can you tell me what they look like?

OS: Green.

JJ: Green?

OS: Green.

[SEBEK ZIGVOLT — Police Interview Transcript]

JJ: This is Officer Justy Jumps doing an interview with a student of the Diasomnia dorm, Sebek Zigvolt, to consult him about his disappearance. It is Saturday, 4:35. I’m currently in the lounge. Nobody else is around… or awake. Greetings, Mr Zigvolt.

SZ: Greetings, rabbit.

JJ: Mr Zigvolt, how old are you?

SZ: 16. Why do you ask?

JJ: Just wanted to have it stated for the record. Just to be clear, nobody but law enforcement and Mr Idia Shroud knows you've all returned. Not even your housewarden. 

SZ: Understood. I would not want to trouble him over such insignificant matters, anyhow.

JJ: I'm sorry, but did you just call your week-long disappearance an "insignificant matter"?

SZ: Is there a problem?

JJ: No. It’s… It’s nothing.

SZ: Hmph. I thought so.

JJ: (sigh) Mr Zigvolt, I want you to elaborate on what exactly happened in the week you all went missing.

SZ: What is there to elaborate on? We went inside a movie, spent a few hours there, and when we came back, we had actually been gone for one week. We didn’t have our phones or a calendar handy. All we knew was that it was a Friday, so we assumed it was the same day as when we left. That is all.

JJ: …Mr Zigvolt, do you know how isekai movies work?

SZ: I never had a reason to.

JJ: Can you tell me how many “days” passed in the movie?

SZ: Six or seven. Mayhaps eight. They were all awfully short, though.

JJ: So you were in there for seven in-movie days, and so the world around you moved seven days in real time. Does that make sense?

SZ: Ah… I see. Enlightening.

JJ: What I want to know is why you would even have a movie like that at your mage academy. It doesn’t seem very practical.

SZ: Headmage Crowley tends to make some… questionable decisions.

JJ: I’m starting to get that feeling, yeah. Can you tell me what you all did inside the movie?

SZ: …No.

JJ: No?

SZ: Absolutely not. I have read up on Sage Island law policy, and I know I have a right to refuse questioning. I was under the impression this interview would concern only to the core of our disappearance, but since it clearly doesn’t, I will ask you to take your leave.

JJ: Okay, okay. I can see you don’t want to talk about it. Okay. But before I go, may I ask you one last thing?

SZ: …Make it swift. I promised Silver I would spar him tomorrow, and I can't do that without the proper amount of sleep.

JJ: You promised? You mean, in the voicemail you sent him?

SZ: …You heard that?

JJ: The police were given permission to scour their devices for any clue that might lead to your discovery. Your dorm friends were some of the more particularly desperate ones. Rest assured, nobody else has heard them except for the Sage Island PD.

SZ: You didn’t go onto Malleus’ phone, did you?

JJ: We did, but his phone was… very barren.

SZ: Hmph. As expected. His knowledge cannot be contained in a mere metallic device.

JJ: Sure. Anyway, my question?

SZ: I suppose.

JJ: Okay, alright. In the voicemail you sent your brother—

SZ: He’s not my—

JJ: —you made absolutely no mention of the movie. You just said that Ortho was running out of battery, and so you were coming back early. My question is this: was that a conscious decision?

SZ: What—What sort of question is that?!

JJ: Mr Zigvolt, keep your voice down. You came out of that horrific experience under the assumption that only a few hours had passed. Were you planning on simply never telling anybody about it?

SZ: You—

JJ: Mr Zigvolt.

SZ: …Yes.

JJ: Okay. Why did you do it?

SZ: Silver has more important things to worry about, such as protecting Malleus in my absence. I simply didn’t think it was significant. 

JJ: And once again, Mr Zigvolt: did you just call disappearing for a week "insignificant"?

SZ: Officer, I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.

JJ: What would you say if I called Mx Yuu vanishing for a week “insignificant”? Or if I said it wouldn’t have mattered if Mr Howl never came back because nobody cares about him, anyway?

SZ: Don’t.

JJ: Mr Zigvolt?

SZ: You don’t get to say that. Nobody gets to say that about them. Ever.

[YUU (no surname given) — Police Interview Transcript]

JJ: This is Officer Justy Jumps doing an interview with a student of the Ramshackle dorm, Yuu, to consult them about their disappearance. It is Saturday, 5:10. I’m currently in the lounge. Hello, Mx Yuu. How are you feeling?

Y: Okay. Could be better, but I feel fine.

JJ: That’s good to hear. I know you’d rather be sleeping, but I need to ask you a few questions.

Y: I’ve got nothing better to do. Shoot.

JJ: To my understanding, you all entered into the “Pleasure Island” movie on Friday at around 8 PM, correct?

Y: Mhm.

JJ: I spoke with your friend Sebek and he wasn’t very… forthcoming about any details. 

Y: Yeah, he’s, uh… like that. Doesn’t want to seem weak for any reason, y’know.

JJ: It’s a little concerning. He’s only 16.

Y: It’s pretty normal around here, actually. He just takes it to a higher extreme than a lot of other people do.

JJ: You know, your friends didn’t seem very well when the medical examiners saw them, but you seem relatively fine.

Y: Yeah… They protected me the whole time they were in there, so all I’ve got is a few scrapes. I can't really... pull my own weight, so they're usually protecting me a lot of the time.

JJ: …Right. Would you say the experience was fun?

Y: Once Epel explained it to me, I knew I wasn’t in any real danger, so yeah. It was pretty fun.

JJ: “Real danger”? And yet, your friends’ injuries translated to real life.

Y: Trust me, it was way worse in the movie. Most of their worst injuries actually healed when we came out.

JJ: Mx Yuu, did you know that the mandated audience rating on “Pleasure Island” is “Certified Combat Mages only”?

Y: Oh… Oops.

JJ: “Oops”, indeed.

Y: Uh… We’re not going to prison, are we?

JJ: No, but I am concerned why your school has a movie like that available to teenagers.

Y: Yeah, that’s a good question. You should ask Crowley. He buys all the movies. Or I guess, he makes the list and then tells me to buy them.

JJ: Rest assured, the Sage Island Police Department has some strong words for your Headmage.

Y: It’s nothing too bad. Honestly, it was all pretty tame by comparison.

JJ: …By comparison?

Y: Yeah? Something wrong with that?

JJ: …It’s nothing, Mx Yuu. You seem fine for the most part, so you can go back to class on Monday. But I may need to suggest you and your friends find a way to regain a more proportional sense of worry over yourselves.

Y: That's oddly specific. Why?

JJ: Consider it a concerned observation from an outsider.

Chapter Text

Nobody touches anybody else in Night Raven College. Not in a way that matters. That’s a one-way ticket to becoming a social pariah, and that’s just how it’s been for centuries.

It’s more enforced in some parts of the school than others, of course. The dorms take pride in being unique, even if their core elements are still the same.

In Pomefiore, all of the makeup application practice and waltz lessons make it practically unavoidable, but any arms over shoulders or hands on backs is too casual and laid-back for the tenacity they’re supposed to be showing. Anything that messes up with your makeup or ruffles your uniform is completely unacceptable.

In Savanaclaw, decking someone across the face or ripping open their flesh with your teeth is the only way to get your way with anything. Nobody would be caught dead speaking softly or snuggling up to somebody else when the weather gets cold. 

In Octavinelle, no fraternizing with the guests or each other, and no, Floyd Leech’s antics don’t count as “fraternizing”.

And that’s just how it works.

But outside of the dorms, you can get away with quite a bit. It’s hard to know when or where, but you can.

Jack and Deuce are at Track-and-Field Club and Deuce almost puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder before he yanks it away as if he were toxic. Jack’s ear twitches as it picks up on the sound of sudden air darting away, and he turns to look at the Heartslabyul student incredulously. Deuce bites the corner of his bottom lip, glancing over toward Coach Vargas talking to some other students on the other side of the track. 

He looks back at Jack and, with a hesitance Jack isn’t used to hearing, he asks, “Can I…?”

He trails off, but he knows what he’s trying to ask.

The correct answer would have to be “No”. It’s probably the answer Deuce is expecting, based on the way his hand is already drifting away, his fingers curling into his palm. It’s no surprise—he’s built himself a reputation as a lone wolf, and Savanaclaw students aren’t well-known for their ability to act all-too friendly with other people. If he knew what was good for him, he would say ‘no’.

But Jack finds himself nodding, anyway, staring at nothing in particular as if Deuce were merely asking about the weather. He pretends his lack of verbal response is because of indifference, not because of the lump that has inexplicably formed in his throat.

Deuce slowly puts his hand on Jack’s shoulder blade—lightly, of course, fully prepared to yank itself away at any moment, but it’s there. It’s present.

Jack feels like it’s burning into his skin.

Chapter Text

Yuu’s not sure what they did to end up like this; in another world where they literally didn’t know anyone or anything, and were forced to trust the magic people who could very well kill them in an instant and hope it worked out for the best.

And you know what? It did.

It certainly didn’t feel like it at first, when they were living in a house that only had ghosts living inside of it with how dead and decaying it was, or when they nearly got kicked out of said house on the second day due to a combination of happenstance and comically bad choices. 

It certainly didn’t feel like it at first, when they got into that fight in the cafeteria, and the cuts from the plant spells and the burns from the fire spells still ache whenever they get out of bed in the morning.

It certainly didn’t feel like it at first, when they had nothing and no one to turn to, except a headmage who didn’t act like a headmage, and an eerily cryptic horned entity who stood outside of their house sometimes and enjoyed looking at gargoyles.

But y’know, things are actually pretty nice now. They’ve got a decent living arrangement now, a pet cat (even if he sasses them every chance he gets), teachers who give them passes when it comes to practical exams, and some friends.

Friends who will always ensure that the “at firsts” don’t happen again. Or at least, they’ll try, because at the end of the day, they’re stupid teenage boys doing stupid teenage boy things, and Y uu wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s as nice as it gets in Night Raven College.

It’s nice.

Chapter Text

Deuce doesn’t know how he got here. He doesn’t know why he would even come back to these awful mines, where he’s had nothing but bad memories. He doesn’t know why this cave seems so much darker and so much bigger than it used to the last time he was here, but the housewarden does like to say that proper distance can make something seem a lot smaller. He was talking about his mother, but Deuce thinks it applies here, too.

He’s breathing hard as he collapses against a rocky wall, but he can’t feel his chest ache. He looks behind him, and for a fleeting second, he thinks he might’ve actually outrun it.

“MY STOOOOONE!”

Spoke too soon.

With a groan, Deuce forces himself up and keeps running. He’s been following these broken train tracks for what feels like forever, and he’s completely forgotten why he thought it would be a good idea. They lead absolutely nowhere, and there aren’t any lights on them, either. The only things lighting his way through the mine are the slight gleams of the gems embedded into the walls and the aura of his pen, and he has no idea how much blot he can accumulate before he has to stop.

He leaps over minecarts and ducks cobwebs. Every passageway is suffocatingly small, but the monster seems to have no trouble squeezing its way through. He can hear it behind him, feel it at his heels as it swings its pickaxe at him.

Suddenly, before he realizes it, Deuce has made it to a small cavern buried into one of the walls of the cave, his back pressed all the way against it. He hears the monster approach, snarling and growling, and he holds his breath. It passes him without incident, wailing all the while.

Deuce allows himself to crumple down to the ground and catch his breath. Tears threaten to break out of his eyes, but he holds them back as best he can. His legs are numb, his arms are sore, he feels the blot rising in the back of his throat, and he’s never felt so desperately alone his whole life.

(For not the first time since coming to Night Raven College, Deuce wishes his mother was here so he could hold her hand.)

He shifts to get up once more, but stops when he feels something shift in the back pocket of his pants. He carefully draws it out, only to realize his phone had somehow magically materialized into it. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t there before… It’s in perfect condition—with all the rumbling, tumbling, and crashing into walls that he’s done, it should probably be broken—and it’s fully charged when he turns it on. He pulls up his “Call” app and scrolls through his unusually lengthy contact list.

It’s sorted in alphabetical order, like all phone contact lists are, but somehow, he ends up on Housewarden Rosehearts’ contact first. He has no doubt he’ll pick up, but it’ll likely just be to yell at him for calling so late. Even if Deuce tells him about the monster in the mines, there’s no guarantee he’ll believe him—he certainly didn’t believe him or Ace at Vargas Camp, and the thought of him thinking this is all some elaborate joke makes something in his stomach twist unpleasantly.

He keeps scrolling before ending on Trey’s number. He seriously considers it for a few seconds, except that Trey keeps his phone off during the night, and he has an unbirthday party tomorrow. It would be selfish of Deuce to ask him to come save him when he’s already so busy, and Trey would probably say “no” for the same reason. So, no dice there, either.

He finds Cater’s name, but he passes by it fast. Deuce likes Cater, and his ringtone is on at all hours of the day, but the likelihood of him just ignoring it is too high for Deuce to take any chances. And besides—nobody’s close enough to Cater for him to come running to their rescue in the middle of the night. Deuce might try to think the best of his upperclassman when he can, but he’s not that idealistic.

Deuce continues scrolling, with nothing but the sound of dripping water to keep him company. He contemplates simply waiting it out until morning, but then he remembers that there’ll be nobody looking for him even if he does. Of course, he doesn’t doubt his friends will bend the rules for him if it comes to that, but the truth is, they're still only seven first-years in an academy of thousands . There’s not much they can do.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he finds Ace’s number amongst the hundreds.

I’m going to be okay, Deuce thinks, I’m going to be okay.

Ace picks up on the third ring, and Deuce nearly cries with relief.

Deuce shoots out of bed like an arrow, blankets pinned to his chest with his fists.

Chapter Text

One day, Professor Trein had told Deuce’s class a story one cold autumn day.

The austere Professor didn’t usually talk about himself, so when he did, it, ironically, made more of an impact than most of the things he was trying to teach his students. He couldn’t recall exactly what spurred it on, but half-way through the lesson, Professor Trein began telling them a tale about him and his youngest daughter when she was 4-years-old. As rowdy as the students of Night Raven College were prone to be, they knew the topic of Professor Trein’s  daughters was not something to disrespect.

They were walking by the seaside when they both spotted a small little shell in the sand, and something compelled them to reach for it at the same time. Deuce thought it was little vague, but he wasn’t one to question his teachers—not anymore, anyway.

When their hands touched, that was when he knew he loved her.

(A heavy weight formed in his chest when he said that, and whispers of his mother calling herself a failure started echoing around in his head.)

“So you know it's love when you touch someone’s hand?” Deuce asked after class.

The Professor had given him an almost-exasperated look, and for a moment Deuce thought he might not answer. But then he schooled his stern expression into something much softer, petted Lucius’ ears, and said softly, “That’s how it works for me.” He paused, and his expression became even softer. “I know it sounds completely ridiculous, but… there’s no more powerful force in the world than true love.”

Deuce had nodded and thanked him for the explanation, feeling a bit guilty he still didn’t quite understand as he walked away. 

A few days later, he and Ace reached for the same tart on a plate at the Unbirthday Party. It was the last one left on the plate, and there was nothing stopping them from simply getting one from another dish. But when the sides of their hands grazed, they inevitably began bickering over the last baked good. It was an easy thing to fall into, completely unchanged from nearly every other time before.

But that time, in fact, had been just a little different.

Chapter Text

Deuce isn’t good with metaphors, but when he’s talking to his mother, sometimes they just spill out of him.

Cards remind Deuce of Ace.

They’re a lot like Ace, he thinks—no matter how many cards Deuce thinks are laid out before him on the table, Ace always manages to have just one more up his sleeve. But Ace always knows his cards before he’s even presented one. It frustates him not knowing what Ace is going to pull out next, but maybe that’s the point of a shuffled deck of cards.

The moon reminds Deuce of Jack. 

Deuce isn’t good with metaphors, but this one is handed to him on a silver platter. He’s certain the students of Savanaclaw treat each other much better, but Jack’s the only person from the dorm who bothers to be nice to him, no matter how much he may try to hide it. The one truly bright, guiding light in an inky black sky full of stars. The only one he can see, even when he’s stuck at the bottom of the ocean.

Beaches remind Deuce of Epel.

Standing next to him makes Deuce swear that he feels a coastal breeze blowing by his face, and his light violet hair reminds him of when the sun meets the ocean. They don’t talk about that moment on the beach, or at least not in front of anybody else. It feels nice to have this shred of understanding between just the two of them, kept in a little glass bottle, preserved for all time.

Fire reminds Deuce of Ortho.

It starts off small, as all fires do, but given time, it grows. It doesn’t need anything but itself to spread and cast its brilliant light on everything it touches. It’s dangerous and unpredictable, but it still gives out warmth and protection, and it’s not hard to call upon it if you know what you’re doing. 

Lightning reminds Deuce of Sebek.

He’s loud, crackling, bright, and a little bit annoying, in a way that seems completely unnecessary at times. But night or day, he’ll be there. When it’s raining, he’ll be there. When it’s dark, he’ll flash a light. Maybe not always, maybe not forever, but he’ll be there to jolt you awake and get you to stand up one more time.

Mirrors remind Deuce of Yuu.

Mirrors don’t lie. If you’re horrible, they’ll tell you. If you’re nice, they’ll tell you. They won’t come out and say it, not until their breaking point where they go straight for the jugular, but you’ll see the words written on their face plain as day.

Deuce reminds himself of his friends.

He’s not sure why—maybe he just likes the person they’ve built him into.

Chapter Text

If Jack had known what was going to happen beforehand, he’d have sooner decked Leona across the face and asked to transfer to Octavinelle effective immediately. Unfortunately, it hadn't occurred to him to do either of those things at the time for a couple of reasons.

First off, he’d been here long enough to know how things around here worked. If this were any other occasion, in any other school, or even if he’d been sorted into any other dorm, Jack wouldn’t have entertained the idea at all. However, this wasn’t just any other occasion, in any other school, where he’d had the fortune to be sorted into any other dorm—this was Spelldrive season at Night Raven College, and Savanaclaw was itching to defeat Diasomnia once and for all.

So, unless he wanted to have a huge target painted onto his back for the rest of the year—if he didn’t already, after the stunt he pulled the first time they had a Spelldrive exhibition this year—he had to go along with… how did Leona put it? “Breaking up with Sebek”? 

…That still sounded so wrong. And to be perfectly honest, Ruggie’s suggestion of “taking a mutual break” didn’t sound much better.

Whatever—all he had to do was tell Sebek they couldn’t be seen in the same room for a couple of weeks. He doubted the Diasomnian would actually mind. It wasn’t as if they spent much time together outside of their little first-year get-togethers at Ramshackle Dorm, anyway—mind you, that was due to a lack of convenience more than a lack of desire. They talked a bit in the cafeteria, maybe, but nothing overt. They could last three or so weeks without seeing each other.

Speaking of the cafeteria, that was where he ultimately decided to break the news. On the off-chance one of his fellow freshmen were going to make a scene of it, at least there would be too many people around for it to blow up into a whole thing. The last thing he needed was for this to become public knowledge, considering the infamy of the “first-year gang”—as he’d overheard some people lovingly (read; frightenedly) dubbing it—wasn’t exactly on the down-low.

Jack stood in the center, scanning his eyes for the table the others were seated at.

He found it when he saw Yuu standing up and flailing their arms to get his attention. Once they were certain he saw them, they started frantically pointing at Sebek, who was sitting next to them.

Jack steeled himself. 

He was an idiot to think this would be easy.

Jack reluctantly walked over to the table, where he took notice of everybody’s faces.

Epel’s blush reached all the way to his ears with a very irritated expression on his face, and Ace was currently face-planted into the table and banging his fist lightly against it. Deuce was covering his face with his hands, and Yuu’s entire being could only be described as red. Ortho’s hair had lit a very nice crimson, but he seemed more pleasantly embarrassed than anything else, giggling as he patted Epel on the back.

Sebek, however, looked exactly the same as he always did, just with closed eyes and a smug grin, and Jack resisted the urge to instantly come out with What did you do.

Sebek opened his eyes and took notice of Jack’s presence there. 

Before Jack could get a single thing out his mouth, Sebek said, not-at-all subtly, “Jack Howl, your spirit of nobility nearly outranks that of Malleus Draconia himself, and I’ve always found you and your muscles very attractive!”

Jack stared at him.

“...No.”

“No?”

Jack raised his hands up, turned on his heel, and walked right out of the cafeteria, deciding then and there that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with this, Spelldrive tournmanet be damned. “Nope.”

Chapter Text

—feather

Despite being in the same class, and even eating lunch together a couple of times, Epel and Jack don't really talk much. They're both relatively quiet people, and Epel seems pretty shy (and maybe even a little intimidated by Jack, based on the way he's constantly staring), so it makes sense.

So, Jack's not expecting it when they're outside in Flight, and Epel looks up at the sky and abruptly asks, in a tone that's a bit louder than he's used to, "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be able to actually fly?"

Jack's ears twitch. "What?"

Epel glances at him out of the corner of his eye. For a moment, Jack worries that he wasn't supposed to hear that. Just as he’s about to apologize, Epel turns his head to him and asks, clear as day, "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be able to actually fly?"

—velvet

Deuce’s favorite color has always been blue. 

His mom used to joke that it was their “family color”, and Deuce liked that. There weren’t many kids who had blue hair, and he liked the feeling of being unique. Of course, when he started hanging out with bullies, skipping class, and other things she absolutely wouldn’t approve of, he dyed it blonde.

He’s gone back to blue ever since, though. Maybe it’s nothing, maybe it’s symbolic, or maybe it doesn’t matter.

But when Ace Trappola—smart, snarky, and sharper than Deuce will ever be—rushes into his line of sight, then later picks him out of the rest of the crowd to be his friend (even if neither of them will ever admit it aloud), Deuce has a thought.

Blue will always be his favorite color; it reminds him of his mom, and she’ll always be his favorite person.

But maybe, just maybe, he can learn to appreciate the witty tones of red.

—fix

Yuu’s new living space is a lot like them; weary, torn, dismal, gloomy, run-down, and lonely.

It’s hard to sleep that second night for a lot of reasons. The cracks in the wooden walls and the peeling wallpaper make it easy for the cool fall air to seep in and chill the room. There’s no wood in the fireplace underneath the mirror, and even though it does have a bit of coal, there’s absolutely nothing for Yuu to light it with. The blanket on Yuu’s new bed is less like a blanket and more like an oversized rag, and they can’t even fetch a glass of water because none of the sinks work. 

But most of all, it’s only now sinking in that this isn’t even their bed. This isn’t their room. This isn’t their house, their neighborhood, their town, their city, their country, their continent, not even their universe. They’ve made a total of three acquaintances here, and all of them are rude, impulsive, egotistical, or some unholy combination of all three. 

They want their old friends back. They want their bed, their room, their anime posters, their superhero figurines, their game consoles, their unicorn pajamas, their place in their car in the front seat, next to Dad.

But that’s not the kind of thing you say to people who won’t listen, anyway, so they don’t.

…

A trickle of water drips through the ceiling and lands on their face. They sigh quietly, so as not to wake up Grim.

They really need to get this place fixed.

—rally

After Grim hits them in the head with a Spelldrive disk going 90 kilometers per hour, Yuu is carried to the infirmary.

They don’t ask who carried them there—God knows Crowley wouldn’t have spent a single thaumark hiring a genuine medical field squad—but they have a pretty good idea.

—quarrel

At first, they fight. They fight a lot. They’re young, dumb, and most of all, they’re Night Raven College students, and “letting things slide” isn’t really their strong suit, unless their name happens to be Rook, Kalim, or Silver.

It’s silly, admittedly. Unlike their upperclassmen who have vendettas and grudges that run months, maybe even years, deep, the things they fight about are extremely stupid in comparison—like Ace using Deuce’s shampoo without asking, or Epel and Jack arguing if pear compote or apple compote is better, or Sebek chewing them out for being too loud whilst he’s screaming at max volume.

But on the other hand, it’s almost… nice, in a way?

In a school life of nearly dying at every corner, it’s nice to just slow down and remember the tinier, birdbrained stuff that gets lost in the meantime.

—scent

Being in Pomefiore must truly be making Epel lose his mind, because he’s starting to notice that though people who don’t wear perfume smell generally the same, they’re still tiny variances in their odor. And once you start noticing something like that, you don’t really stop. At this point, Epel’s nose is better than some beastmen, and he can identify who’s in the room with him just by sniffing the air.

He doesn’t have this power—if you can even call it that—when he bumps into Ace on orientation day, nor when he’s unceremoniously shoved into his chest as they’re hiding from Riddle.

But he does when the VDC auditions come about, and he runs into him at the wishing well. Even before they interrupt him trying to practice his singing in the well, Epel knows.

Until Vil’s overblot, he thinks nothing of it, and when Ace is chosen to be in the performance, Epel just puts up with the smell of cherry pie and soda for the next few weeks.

—compartment

Ortho and the rest of the first-years aren’t really friends when they all go to Ramshackle to watch Ace’s epic entrance after the ghost marriage fiasco is over. Sure, it feels suspiciously like “hanging out”, but the only things Ortho knows about that is from anime, manga, and the internet, so he takes it with a grain of salt. Ortho’s not even self-aware yet, still bound to his ORTHO artificial intelligence, so the thought of them being his friends barely crosses his mind.

…Sort of.

Ace has a pillow squeezed over his ears, as everyone is making fun of him on the screen, and Ortho finds himself laughing, too. It’s not that he enjoys tormenting the normally boastful boy, but at the same time, he’s not saying that he isn’t.

And then Ortho takes in the bigger picture.

While Ace is dying in the corner of the couch, Deuce sits next to him, trying to muffle his chortling with a hand. Jack and Yuu are perched on the other end of the sofa, and while they’re not as open with it, it’s pretty easy to tell that they’re smugly amused. Sebek and Epel are full on cackling as they sit on the floor, and Ortho is floating beside all of them, projecting his recording on the wall.

Before he can even process it, he takes a screenshot.

At this point in time, Idia still has access to all of his data and memories and thoughts. He’d never pry, obviously, but he’s usually perusing it when they’re doing routine maintenance.

But while Idia is talented with technology, Ortho is pretty handy with it, too.

He creates a folder in his systems and hides it behind a firewall, five different passwords, and hides it in another folder that’s usually just filled with random stuff. Idia would be able to hack into it no problem, so Ortho's only hope is that he never finds it, and if he does, he hopes Idia will decide it's not worth his time.

He sorts the screenshot into the folder.

He doesn’t know why.

—violation

When Sebek catches Ace and Grim running in the hall and gives him a lecture about rule-breaking, Ace’s first thought is “Man, what a snob.”

Mind you, this is three weeks after Riddle’s overblot, so he’s really in no mood for any of this. But after he shakes him off, he takes some comfort in knowing that there are 900 students in this school—the chances of him running into that green-haired bastard again is slim to none.

—uncertainty

Deuce doesn’t know where he stands with Jack.

They’re in the same club together, sure, but for the most part, he mostly thinks of Jack as the lone wolf who prefers to run at his own speed. He didn’t even know his name for the first few weeks, not that he ever asked.

When he sees him running laps around the Savanaclaw dorm, his first thought is “Wow, he’s tall.” Deuce always knew he was tall, obviously, but he hadn’t really taken in just how massive he was until then. His very next thought is “Wow, he’s not very nice” after he blows off all their concerns.

They beat each other up in the courtyard later, then they team up to take down Leona—twice.

Even after all of that, Deuce doesn’t consider them allies, or even friends. They still don’t talk in Track and Field club, and they don’t acknowledge each other anywhere else, either. Deuce is left to assume that it was a one time thing that’ll never happen again, and for a while, that’s exactly what it is.

Then Jack puts himself on the line to save Deuce from indentured servitude, and all of that is thrown out the window.

—ribbon

“Sebek?” Silver asks, one eyebrow raised. “What are you doing?”

Sebek sighs as he undoes the ribbon and tries again. “I’m attempting to wrap this box. What does it look like?”

Silver circles around and looks at the clunky wrapping paper curiously. “Is that a present?”

“Don’t be so presumptuous, Silver.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I know it’s Ortho’s birthday, and…”

Sebek pauses in his attempt to tie the ribbon once more. He sighs. “This was stupid.”

“The bow is looking good, though.”

“No,” Sebek says harshly. “I mean the present.”

Chapter Text

Periodically, one of Ortho’s friends will turn to him and ask him a question when nobody else is around—a question Ortho always says “yes” too. 

The words are always different depending on who it is, but the meaning behind them never changes.

Hey, they say. Can I tell you a secret?

Surprisingly—and somehow not—Sebek was the first one to ask.

“I have something I must confess,” he whispered on a Saturday night, interlocking his fingers and staring up at the ceiling.

They were all lying on the Ramshackle lounge floor in the middle of the night on their sleeping bags. Yuu had brought one out for Ortho, too, and he appreciated it, even if it was sort of difficult to plug himself in to charge in a laying down position.

Usually at these sleepovers, Ortho’s the only one awake until midnight, at which he shuts down to allow for maximum rechargeability.

“Usually” being the key word.

And with Sebek being Sebek, it’s very peculiar to see him awake at 11:45 PM.

Based on Ortho’s calculations, he thought it would be something about Malleus. Something small, like accidentally putting too much whipped cream on Malleus’ pancakes, or ripping a page from a book he borrowed from him. Sure, it was odd he was trying to be so secretive about it when he would ordinarily storm into Ramshackle wailing, and everyone would subtly roll their eyes and sit him in front of the television to watch a movie while eating ice cream.

But even then, he knew this was different—this feels like a line of unused dialogue forgotten in the game code nobody was supposed to see. It feels like sensitive information that was never meant to pass through his systems, and he doesn’t even know what it is yet.

Ortho is caught off guard, but he replies, “Okay.”

Sebek fists the fabric of his sleeping bag and digs his fang into his bottom lip, as if he’s trying to salvage his resolve before he breaks. He gets the same expression right when he’s about to ask Lilia for a day off from training so he can go to Ramshackle, or when Jack took them all ice skating out on the pond in the woods after someone messed with the weather-regulating magestone and gave them an incidental snow day. “I wish I were just… human, sometimes.”

Ortho should probably be more confused by that. It goes against everything he’s ever heard from Sebek, but for some odd reason, the sentiment makes sense to him. “Aren’t you?”

“Not like that.” Sebek asserts. “I mean fully. Without the narrowed pupils and the fangs and… everything else.”

Ortho quite likes Sebek’s narrowed pupils and his fangs. He quite likes his smooth hands and his round ears. He quite likes everything about Sebek, really, so he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

“That’s a shame” is his first instinct, but it feels too detached, and the very last thing he wants is for Sebek to think he doesn’t care.

“I’m sorry” is what comes to him next, but can he be sorry for something that’s not under his control?

“I understand” rolls through his databases next, and…

(Ortho is Idia’s little brother, and Idia loves him just the way he is. But Ortho’s not ignorant that the rest of the world isn’t so kind, and intrusively—even if he did change their destinies of being stuck at STYX, studying frightening creatures welded from the ashes of someone else’s hate—he sometimes wonders if he even has a future in the outside world.)

“I understand.”

Sebek turns his head to him, and Ortho doesn’t know what hurts more: the sympathetic look on Sebek’s face, or that he isn’t the least bit surprised about Ortho’s understanding. “I figured you might.”

Ortho has never felt naked in his life. He likely never will, but he thinks it probably feels something like this. “Oh.”

“Yes. ‘Oh’.”

Ortho shifts around in his sleeping bag and makes a note to himself to ask Yuu for a smaller, less dusty one next time. Or perhaps he should simply make one himself. “Why?”

Sebek takes one look at him, and instantly knows what he’s talking about without asking him to elaborate. “No matter where I go, there’s always a part of me that no one’s going to like.” The half-fae snorts, and Ortho wonders if Ace wrote his next sentence, because it doesn’t sound at all like something Sebek would say. “Having two different halves means there’s more of you to reject, I suppose.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Ortho snaps, before he can think about it.

Sebek furrows his eyebrows and sits up a little. “Did I bring you discomfort?"

“I don't feel uncomfortable,” Ortho says. “Just… bad.”

“Oh.”

“Yep. ‘Oh’.”

Sebek huffs indignantly as he lies back down. 

The time is 11:55 PM, and Ortho considers letting the conversation die right here.

There’s something else he has to say first. 

“I don’t like it when you talk about yourself like that.” 

Sebek sighs and rubs his eyelids with his fingers. “And nobody likes it when I lie. When it comes to this, those two factors simply cannot coexist.”

They’re at a traveling carnival the next time it comes up.

The others are going through “Professor Rat’s Nasty Escape Room”. He and Ace, however, had to be left behind since the attraction only had enough room for five other people before it was shut down for maintenance for the next few hours. Ortho volunteered to stay behind since he didn’t think it would be very fair if he went into an escape room, whilst Ace lost miserably to a game of rock-paper-scissors with Epel.

To make him feel better, Ortho led him over to where they were playing poker and bartering on tickets. Ace, of course, won every single round, though Ortho could’ve sworn he cheated somewhere along the way. Then, with their rolls of tickets in tow, Ace bought the robot boy a plush of a white-and-blue pegasus. While his friends aren’t afraid to expose him to war movies and haunted houses and dangerous situations, sometimes it feels as if they baby him a little bit—and he can’t deny he sort of likes it. 

Ace bought himself a slice of apple pie, finished it in under five minutes to win even more tickets, then instantly bought another slice. With their winnings in hand, they found a relatively clean bench near the Tunnel of Love and sat down.

Ace turns to him.

“Hey, dude.”

“Yes, Ace Trappola?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Okay.”

Ace takes a bite out of the 200-ticket pie slice. Even now, even though everyone else is currently opening drawers trying to find a key to the next room, Ortho is still expecting Epel to pop up, slap the plate out of Ace’s hand, and then decry him for consuming any apple-related product that wasn’t Harveston made.

“Are you sure? It’s kind of personal.”

You tell me a lot of personal things, he thinks, as he fiddles with the ears of the pegasus doll. “Sure.”

Ace shrugs his shoulders back, and Ortho watches the movement travel through his whole body. “I kinda wanna hang out with the rest of Heartslabyul like this more often. You know?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Ortho responds, squeezing the doll to his chestplate. “Could you elaborate?”

He gulps down his bite and wipes the residue off with his sleeve. “I don’t wanna sound spoiled or anything, but I just miss how my brother used to take me to the amusement park near our house every weekend.”

Ortho’s eyebrows rose. “Every weekend?” 

(He loved his brother, and he would never strongarm him into changing if he didn’t want to, but sometimes, he had this fantasy where he and Idia could go to a park together and eat hot dogs. Or the movies to watch the new horror flick. Or an anime con. Or anywhere, instead of being confined to Idia’s room.

He could go to those places on his own, do those activities on his own, but was it so wrong to want to do those things with the person who meant more to him than anybody else in the world?)

Perhaps noticing Ortho’s wonderment over the thought of being able to go out for fun so often, Ace gave him a smirk. “Well, after he graduated and got a nice job, he could afford things like that.”

Ortho squeezes the pegasus plush even tighter, and he feels stars in his eyes. “Wow…”

“Yep.” Ace smacked his lips. “But even if I could afford it, I couldn’t do that with my dorm.”

“Why do you want to?” he asks.

“A lot of reasons.” Ace shrugs. “Mostly, though, I just like them, and I think it’d be fun to introduce the housewarden to rollercoasters.”

“That’s nice!” Ortho replies cheerfully, bereft of anything else to say. Ignihyde students mostly just keep to themselves, so they're not exactly the most well-connected dorm, despite a good chunk of them spending 99% of their time on their phones. For the most part, Ortho wouldn’t say he particularly likes any of them, in the same way he wouldn’t say he particularly dis likes any of them, so he can’t really relate. “Why can’t you, then?”

“Well, uh…” Ace scratches the back of his neck. “Honestly, I dunno, man. It’s like a metal pole.”

The Heartslabyul student must have sensed the confusion on Ortho’s face without even having to look. He runs a hand through his hair and, with a smile on his face, he explains, “People from my dad’s business used to come over for dinner parties all the time, so obviously he wanted me and my brother to look good, right?”

“Right,” he nods. Idia’s parents—or, well, his parents, too, he supposes, but that never sounded quite right—always wanted him to look good in front of their best researchers and programmers whenever they came for their bimonthly reports, even though it often took a lot to get Idia to go out and meet them in the first place.

“Yeah, except I was a little shit who didn’t put my napkin in my lap and I would cry if I had to eat something I didn’t like.” Ace said with a sly grin, in a way that stated clearly he didn’t regret it at all. “The only thing that got me through them was my little rubix cube toy that I’d fidget with whenever I started to get too antsy just sitting there.”

Ace huffs in wistful nostalgia and amusement.“But the thing my dad hated the most was that I never sat up straight, and my brother used to joke he was gonna tie a metal pole to my back one day.”

Ortho makes a noise and rears his head back. “That sounds really uncomfortable!”

Ace chuckles. “My brother actually did it to me for real as a joke once, and yeah. It was awful. By the end of the day, my back was so friggin’ sore.”

Ortho lets himself a second to giggle as he imagines baby Ace stiffly walking around with a pole on his back, before he reels himself back in. “But what does that have to do with Heartslabyul?”

Ace clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and it rings out in its faulty indifference. “If the rest of the world is my dad’s stuffy dinner parties, and you guys are my rubix cube, then Heartslabyul is the metal pole strapped to my back.”

The next time it happens, Epel’s teaching him how to play Spelldrive out on the field.

Ortho’s never gotten to play before. He’s seen it a couple of times on television, but that was back when he was still attached to Idia by the hip, and Idia wasn’t interested in sports, so he never watched professional games to their conclusion. He didn’t watch the exhibitions at Night Raven College, either, for about the same reason. He still can’t play in any sports clubs due to his… unique circumstances, but he’s always wanted to learn for the experience.

So, Epel is teaching him how to play after school on a Wednesday, the one day of the week where Epel doesn’t have any commitments to attend to back at Pomefiore. It’s a little difficult, admittedly, especially since Ortho’s never learned to ride a broom, and they’ve already had to stop four times just to readjust the power level of Ortho’s boosters. Take it back a little, no, no, too low, crank it up, okay that’s too powerful, why don’t you try…

Eventually, Ortho reaches a decent replication of Epel’s speed on a broom, but it takes a lot of trial and error. They’re two hours into their lesson, and he’s only just starting to learn how to grab and throw a Spelldrive disk… which he’s also failing miserably at.

“It’s okay, Ortho,” Epel reassures, nursing his head with an ice pack after Ortho accidentally threw the disk at his head. “I wasn’t exactly a flying wonder when I first played, either. It… didn’t help I had nobody my age to play with back in Harveston.”

(Ortho didn't have anybody to play with back on the Isle of Woe. He had Idia, and his brother's great, but it just wasn't the same. Idia built him—he was supposed to love him, no matter what. Companionship just feels different from people who have no reason to.)

Ortho pouts, even though he knows Epel can’t see it underneath his mask. “How did you get so good, then?”

Epel smiles. “If you think I’m good, you should see Leona play… if you can catch him on the field at all, that is. He’s incredible.”

Ortho taps his chin, a motion he picked up from Vil. “Do you think they have the Spelldrive tournaments recorded? Maybe I can see him in action there!”

“I don’t know. But if you do find some, make sure to send them to me, okay?”

“Okay!” The Ignihyde student floats down onto the bench. 

The sports field can get very quiet after hours. There’s nothing except the sound of the breeze rustling the grass and the trees that stand on the outside. Epel admitted once that he likes to sit here sometimes when he needs to “get away”, as it were, which Ortho is a little confused by, since they’re still on Night Raven College soil. But it is very nice and calming here.

Then, in this ship-in-a-bottle moment, when nothing is going on yet the world is still turning, Epel says it.

“Ortho,” he says, softer than he’s ever said anything before, “can you… keep a secret?”

Ortho blinks up at him. “Of course, Epel Felmier. What is it?”

Epel awkwardly adjusts the collar of his PE uniform and he says, just as awkwardly, “Vil’s always saying I should be more delicate and dainty, and… and sometimes, I wish I were more delicate and dainty.”

Epel pauses. “That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“No, no!” Ortho shakes his head and his hands wildly. “It’s just… surprising, that’s all!”

“Yeah, it definitely sounds stupid.” Epel groans, as he lets himself slide down the bench and onto the ground. “I don’t know, I just can’t help thinking about it. Do you think Vil would stop taking away my free time if I was?”

“I…” Ortho takes a few seconds to drink in the question. He doesn’t know Vil as well as Epel does, but he is in the same club as him, and he’s seen the way Vil sometimes holds people back after hours to go through a few scenes. He does that to Ortho, too, sometimes, and then he’ll end up going back to Ignihyde at 9:52 PM. 

“There’s a 98.34% chance,” is the answer Ortho settles upon.

Epel grumbles. “I really did want to go to that fighting game tournament thingy with you last Tuesday, you know.”

Ortho remembers that. He remembers calculating the likelihood of each of his friends’ enjoyment levels, and he remembers settling on Epel being the one who would like it the most. He also remembers being disappointed when Epel apologized and told him he had to take up room-cleaning duty for Pomefiore after Epel ate a bowl of ice cream when he wasn’t supposed to.

“I didn’t mind.” he lies. “I know you have other responsibilities.”

“I just wish I had more time for the rest of you, that’s all.” Epel mutters, drawing his knees to his chest. “The only time I can spend time with any of you is on the weekends… if I don’t screw up and Vil makes me clean the ballroom floor until my hands bleed the entire weekend first.”

“Well—”

“I just feel like I’d have more time for that if I weren’t so me.” he spits out, face scrunching up as if it’s physically painful for him to say these words aloud.

(In his darkest moments, Ortho wonders if Idia would want the real Ortho around, rather than a carbon copy.

In a world, where he lived, is Ortho even a speck in anyone's mind?)

Ortho feels a pit growing in his systems. “But I like you.”

That actually seems to make Epel smile—except after all that time in Film Research Club, Ortho can recognize that it’s the most bitter thing he’s ever seen. “Vil doesn’t."

All in all, it's good that Ortho knows how to cover his tracks.

Chapter Text

“So, are we friends, then?” Ortho asks.

The table—filled with playful banter, talk of their next Magical Theory quiz, and discussion of the latest trend on Magicam just moments ago—falls completely silent, with the void being quickly swallowed up by the regular cacophony of the cafeteria.

Ace freezes in place, Deuce chokes on his carton of orange juice, Epel accidentally smacks Jack in the face, but the wolf is too shell-shocked to react, and Sebek bites down on his bottom lip so hard, he has to use a napkin to stop the bleeding.

Yuu swallows down their bite of a cheese sandwich with a hard gulp, as they look over at Ortho’s barely-concealed hope, yellow eyes wide and eager. His metallic fingers tightly grip the edge of the wooden table, as if letting go might actually cause him to float up into the air with sheer optimism alone.

Ironic, since Yuu’s shoulders have never felt heavier, as the familiar weight of responsibility falls on them like a weighted blanket. 

They know, and corruption had known, too—known just how much the word “friend” meant to Ortho Shroud.

Such a simple question shouldn’t inspire this much fear in them, but it does.

So, they do what they’ve always done when faced with the unknown, when facing down seven figures bathed in black goop while their mind reels with the impossibility of it all, and they sit down on their bed later that night and wonder if the god that sent them here just likes to see them suffer… or if perhaps they only think that to give themselves a reason for it all.

They shut down their feelings, and lie right through a clean smile.

“Of course we are, Ortho,” they laugh. “How could you ever think otherwise?”

(The scary part is that Yuu’s not certain if it’s even a lie.)

Chapter Text

They had been at the mall when it happened. The first-years had all agreed to meet in the food court in two hours, and then they all split up to attend to their own shopping needs.

Ortho had just been so excited to be here with all of them, he hadn’t given much thought about what he was actually going to do while he was here. So when Jack offered to bring him over to the plant shop to browse, he happily agreed.

About half an hour later, he found himself awkwardly levitating next to Jack as he paid for a potted cactus near the cash register. The woman manning it was pointedly trying not to stare at Ortho, and Ortho could appreciate the effort she was making.

After they had paid for everything, with no fanfare, preamble, or any kind of indication whatsoever, Jack suddenly grasped his hand and led them both outside. “Come on, Lucas.”

Jack’s hand was ginormous , swallowing his own in its entirety. His palms were rough to the touch, and he could feel some sort of sandy residue on them. They were incredibly warm, which he supposed was to be expected. His grip wasn’t at all tight, though—Ortho supposed it was like that so he could pull away at any time.

“My name’s not Lucas.” he remarked as they passed by the music shop—a bit later than he should’ve, perhaps.

Jack looked down at him, confused. “I know tha…”

The weight of Ortho’s words suddenly hit him then, his cheeks flaring up scarlet. He jerked back a little, his plastic bag hitting against the glass of the display window, but he didn’t pull away.

He recuperated quickly, though he avoided making eye contact with Ortho. “Y-Yeah, I knew that. Sorry. Big brother instinct.”

“No need to apologize!” Ortho reassured brightly, laying his head on Jack’s arm contently.

If anybody noticed that Ortho started holding Jack’s hand a lot more often from then on, or if anybody noticed that Jack seemed oddly comfortable with it, they didn’t say anything about it.

Chapter Text

Everyone stared in Yuu’s general direction as they smiled bashfully, embarrassedly rubbing up and down one of their arms. They hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but now that they had, they only just realized how awkward it sounded.

Ace was the first one to speak up, pinching the bridge of his nose and uttering out, “Let me get this straight. You’ve been skipping lunch and dinner daily for the past two weeks now? Because, what, you don’t have the time ?”

“W-Well—” Yuu stuttered out. “I just get so busy that I don’t remember to eat, sometimes, and sometimes I forget to set an alarm, too, but I mean, it’s not really that—”

“Yuu, I swear to the stars, if you try to tell me that “it’s not really that bad” , I will harm you.” Jack interrupted threateningly, as Epel calmly stood up from his seat and marched down the hallway.

Yuu was tempted to reply with a somewhat snarky, “Actually, I was going to say that ‘it’s not really that big of a deal’, but you were close,” but after looking at Ace—who currently held the expression of someone who was either ready to sleep forever or kill a man—they figured an attempt to lighten the mood wouldn’t exactly be appreciated right now.

Instead, Yuu looked behind them as they heard Epel slam a door somewhere down the hallway. “W-Where are you going?”

“To the kitchen,” was all the response they got.

A feeling of unease proceeded to settle nicely into Yuu’s stomach.

Yuu had never eaten so many apples in their life.

Chapter Text

Yuu glanced at the Diasomnian sitting on the couch, staring down harshly at the cup of tea he’d been given.

Their eyes lingering just a moment longer on him, they turned back toward the little group huddle they’d all made. “Alright guys, so… what do we do?”

“Well, we can’t just kick him out.” Deuce said, nervously fiddling with the ends of his sleeves.

“Should we ask why he ended up here of all places?” Ace suggested, rubbing the back of his head. He honestly couldn’t think of a reason Sebek would ever be here. He never really talked to any of them, if at all, and well, he kind of assumed Sebek hated him.

“I just wanted somewhere to go,” was the quiet and, in all honesty, unwarranted response he got.

Sebek brought the tea to his lips, hands determinedly steady. He looked a lot more approachable and less likely to bite now that he wasn’t in his dorm uniform, instead dressed up in a sweater and a pair of sweatpants—both of which were admittedly a little small for him.

He brought the cup back down, and traced its heated rim with a finger. His eyes narrowed, and all of them could practically hear the gears whirring in his head as he tried to figure out how to structure his next few words.

“I… heard all of you had been spending a lot of time together to get away.’

Jack’s ears involuntarily folded back. “You… have?”

Sebek scoffed. “You tried to hide it, but I found out.”

Epel noticeably froze at that, while the others managed to bite back their surprise. True, it was the main reason they’d all decided to form this little group of theirs in the first place, but… they never really talked about it, to each other or otherwise, so there was no way he could have known that unless—

Sebek’s gaze softened. “I thought I could…” He gripped the poor ceramic mug so hard that Deuce was almost certain the material would break. And if not in his grip, then under his dagger-like gaze. “...I thought there might be a place for me here.”

Ace hesitantly smacked his lips, and looked down at the empty plate of tarts on the table (that Epel had prepared and that Ace and Yuu had devoured in the span of a few minutes).

“Well,” Ortho piped up abruptly, brightening up, “since you’re going to be here a lot more often, I guess Epel needs to start making a lot more tarts!”

Ortho turned to Sebek with a smile, who looked shocked.

Then, he turned towards the crumb-laden dish, eyeing it for a moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, though they all heard it all the same.

Chapter Text

I'm getting better at this.

The thought is unwanted.

Yuu supposes they knew it was coming regardless. Knew they couldn’t forget about it for more than an hour or two if they tried, because it was always there, lurking in the background.

I’m getting better at this, they think, as they subconsciously tune out the movie that they’re all watching together. It’s sudden. They don't like thinking like this when they’re supposed to be having fun (one of the only times they ever are, they know), but they can’t help it.

I’m getting better at this, and they don’t mean pretending everything’s fine, even if it’s true.

They’re getting better at accepting they’ll never go home.

They’re getting better at accepting that their life is just going to be a never-ending hill of struggle from here on out.

They’re getting better at accepting that they’re not sure they want to go home, even knowing all of that. Because if they left, they wouldn’t just be leaving behind a magical, mystical world most people only dream of.

They look to their left. Jack and Deuce are already asleep after a long day of track practice, laying on top of each other in an oddly sweet scene. Ortho has one arm around Ace’s, and the other linked around Sebek’s, as they all hold each other in frightened anticipation of the next jumpscare—though Sebek and Ace would never admit it.

They’re getting better at accepting that even if they’d never actually hurt them, their friends will be in pain, and it would've all their fault.

And some sadomasochistic part of them wants to hurt them, if only so they might be able to feel a little of the hurt themselves. To remember that they’re real, in some way—a person whose only reason for existing goes beyond not being able to fight back, not knowing where they’re going to go after high school, not having an identity.

They’re getting better at accepting that, too.

Chapter Text

1) new phone, who dis?

When Riddle gave his phone number to Silver, it was under the impression that his fellow Equestrian Club member would only use the privilege to inform him of Equestrian Club-related news. 

So, naturally, whenever Riddle received a notification from his sleepy schoolmate, he expected it to be a message informing that Chestnut had fallen ill, or that Rosie had gotten in over her head (again) and fractured her knee (again). He had a 10-minute block in his schedule specifically preserved for checking the texts that had been sent to him throughout the day, and within that 10-minute block was a full 7-minute block dedicated for checking Silver’s.

Unfortunately, Riddle’s hopes that Silver would take this incredible sign of trust even semi-seriously was proven false every single time.

Silver was prone to sending him a variety of things, like birds, puns he didn’t understand, a video of some of Riddle’s students brawling in the middle of the cafeteria (oh Seven no), and even photos of Prince Malleus of Briar Valley. But he was  especially partial to snapping and sending Riddle photographs of roses, cardinals, strawberries — anything small and red, basically — and always along with the wholly unnecessary comment of “This reminded me of you” .

(Riddle was certain this was all Lilia’s fault, but if he ever had to speak to the fae again, he may actually explode.)

Occasionally, Silver would even call Riddle. Texting was tolerable, but trying to interrupt Riddle post-lunch was utterly egregious — especially since Rule 271 dictated that he had to be gone from the table within 15 minutes. He would always let it go to voicemail, of course, but in moments of weakness, he would take a few minutes to listen to them. They ranged from simple, 5-second “I think I’m allergic to peanuts” to long-winded stories about the time he and his little brother had to run away from a swarm of angry bees while riding a bear.

(These little clips were very endearing, admittedly, but that was not the point.)

Unfortunately, everytime Riddle tried to confront Silver about it, the Diasomnian would look at him with this mildly perplexed expression, as if he genuinely didn’t know what he was doing wrong. In fact, the first time he tried, Silver had simply answered, with a completely straight face: “My father says I should try to be honest with people.”

There was no actual rule against massive waves of unrelated messages, unless Riddle was supposed to believe Cater’s “Totally-Factual-and-Agreed-Upon-Internet-Rules-Trust-Me-Babe” were real. Please believe, though — if Riddle had it his way, Silver would be toting a red-and-gold collar right about now.

Pained as he was to admit it, Riddle would just have to put up with this childish nonsense and hope Silver grew out of it.

Childish, trifling, and oh-so trivial.

(It didn’t make him smile. It did not.)

(It couldn’t last, either way. Nothing in Riddle’s life even resembling friendship ever does.)

2) i told you so

“Jamil’s not very nice to you.” Ruggie snorts, remembering all of Jamil’s none-too-subtle complaints about Kalim before the heir arrived at Night Raven College.

Kalim giggles, because he thinks Ruggie is telling an ironic joke.

| | | | |

“Leona’s not very nice to you.” Kalim states matter-of-factly, after hearing how Ruggie spilled his cafeteria food all over Prince Kingscholar’s school uniform… The one day he bothered putting it on, too.

Ruggie grumbles, because he is so not looking forward to having to clean a literal prince’s laundry after school today.

| | | | |

“Jamil’s not very nice to you.” Ruggie snickers, taking a bite out of the frosted strawberry donut Kalim bought for him.

Kalim laughs, because the idea of Jamil ever being mean to him is ludicrous.

| | | | |

“Leona’s not very nice to you.” Kalim laughs, as he helps Ruggie pick up all of Leona’s graded essays off of the floor.

Ruggie snickers, because the idea of Leona ever being nice to him is unfathomable.

| | | | |

“Jamil’s not very nice to you.” Ruggie mutters, as Kalim helps him raid the cafeteria kitchen for leftovers to bring back to his neighborhood for winter break.

Kalim looks at him with a bewildered expression, because he doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean.

| | | | |

“Leona’s not very nice to you.” Kalim pouts, as Ruggie shows up late to their dinner date after having to take over Spelldrive Club again.

Ruggie shrugs, because it makes him money, and he’s honestly pretty numb to it at this point.

| | | | |

“Jamil’s not very nice to you.” Ruggie says, grinning with all his teeth when he sees Kalim on the first day of their second year.

Kalim shoves him in the shoulder good-naturedly, because it’s their own private little joke at this point.

| | | | |

“Leona’s not very nice to you.” Kalim says, but the hidden plea underneath it falls on deaf hyena ears.

Ruggie shrugs, minutes before Jamil “accidentally” cuts his left hand in the kitchen and gets kicked off the Scarabian Spelldrive team.

| | | | |

“Jamil’s not very nice to you.” Ruggie muses, folding his arms underneath his head. “Why do you care so much?”

Kalim opens his mouth, but the boiling steam of anger lodges in his throat. He uses that steam to storm off instead.

| | | | |

“Leona’s not very nice to you.” Kalim says tenderly, wrapping his arms around Ruggie’s stomach and holding him close against him — because really, what else can he do?

Ruggie says nothing. He lets Kalim hold him like a fragile china doll while he idly picks sand out of the cracks of his dry skin and tries not to cry.

| | | | |

“Jamil’s not very nice to you.” Ruggie says. The I told you so goes unsaid, as it always does, but Ruggie’s sure Kalim hears it all the same — now that he knows better, of course.

Kalim says nothing. He lets Ruggie skip class with him in the Botanical Garden while he draws his knees to his chest and quietly bursts into tears.

3) sleepy hollow

Silver fell asleep next to Jade once.

Only once.

It was September, just as the leaves were turning brown, and Jade needed someone who knew how to ride a horse to help him navigate through the difficult terrain of his next expedition for the Mountain Lover Club. Riddle had obviously said no (actually, it would’ve been a lot more polite if he had just said no), and the other members of the Equestrian Club fled the scene in terror as soon as they saw Jade’s towering figure walk onto the field. So for lack of better options, Silver was the one who ended up accompanying him.

They had hiked on horseback through the woods behind the school for quite a bit — stopping multiple times so Jade could forage some mushrooms they spotted along the way — before they made it to a small pond. 

Jade got off the saddle and sat on a log next to the pond, before eagerly taking off his satchel and examining the mushrooms they had gathered so far. Silver, not knowing what else to do, also got off Chestnut’s back, and led the both of them over to where Jade was sitting.

Chestnut shook his head irritably, before laying himself down on the green grass below. Silver patted him on the head before awkwardly sitting next to Jade on the log. 

The next few hours don’t pass by in a blur.

For Silver, they pass by in a blink.

He woke up to see that the crystal blue pond had turned a dreamlike shade of pink. The wind had picked up, and red leaves were skipping across the surface of the water in a bid to get to the other side. He turned his head slightly to see that Chestnut had fallen asleep near the pond, his soft snores creating little waves in the water.

It took a few seconds for Silver to process that there was something unusually soft pressing against his ear. With bleary eyes still blinking out the sleep, he turned his neck to see whose lap he was laying on.

Jade was looking down at him, with the softest eyes he’d ever seen. His smile, too, didn’t have its usual conniving edge, and it crinkled with amusement once he noticed Silver was looking up at him.

He patted Silver on the head. “Don’t mind me. You go back to sleep.”

Like a light switch, that’s exactly what he did.

Silver wakes up a few hours later in Diasomnia, buried in his blankets.

When Jade saw him in the hallways, he smiled, waved, said he had a great time with him, but nothing more.

They never talked about it again.

4) on your marks

“Ruggie, where are you taking me?” Jamil asks irritably, as he follows the hyena down the darkened hallway. “This better be good. I was in the middle of making lunch tomorrow—”

“Shh!” Ruggie presses a finger to his shit-eating grin. “Just trust me!”

Jamil casts a wary glance behind him. At the shadows that cover Night Raven College in an eerie blanket.

Shadows are where assassins like to hide the most, and if Jamil were someone important like Kalim, he’d already be dead by now. Honestly, if there were hitmen somewhere around here, they’d probably kill him, anyway, just to get to the heir — it’s not as if they hadn’t attempted that before.

Stupid. This whole idea of following Ruggie — stupid. It was Kalim’s idea, so that makes sense, but the idiot should really stop signing Jamil up for things without his consent, and then making him pay for the inevitable consequences.

Like always. As if Jamil isn’t his own person with his own things to do.

(But of course he’s not.)

“You comin'?” Ruggie calls out from beyond the darkness.

Jamil grumbles as he walks blindly into the shadowy void.

He uses the light of his fountain pen as a makeshift flashlight, stepping precariously over cobwebs and dodging dust, and makes it a point to look out of every window. Mostly he sees nothing but trees and evening moonlight, but you can never be too careful when you’re the bodyguard of the Asim heir.

Finally, Ruggie takes him to the very end of the hallway. To a door with no label like all the others.

Jamil scrunches his nose in as he places his still-alight pen in his uniform pocket. “Is this a storage closet?”

Ruggie snickers. “Shishishi~! I guess that would explain why Leona knows about it! He loves sleeping in places like this.”

The hyena opens the door, and with fake flourish, bows, as if he’s a coachman opening a carriage door for a princess.

Jamil flicks him in the head and walks inside.

The room is very spacious, first of all. Dusty. Empty, save for a stepstool, the giant shelf at the back of the room, and everything on it. There are a few dustpans here and there, a busted-up computer made before Jamil was even a twinkle in his mother’s mind, and some outdated history textbooks on the Queendom of Roses. The strangest thing is the pink paint can on the top shelf — shiny and clean despite all the grime — but other than that, there’s nothing too peculiar in here.

Jamil raises an eyebrow at Ruggie.

Ruggie rolls his eyes.

He strides over to the shelf, and with a surprising amount of ease, maneuvers the whole thing to the next wall over.

Jamil looks down, brows furrowed.

Ah. Wheels. That explains it.

He looks back up.

Gray eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

Behind the shelf, the wall is covered in hundreds upon hundreds of words all in pink. Every single one of them is so very small, barely taking up any space. They start from the bottom, and crawl their way up to the middle of the wall, crowding around each other as if trying desperately to make space even if there’s still plenty of it. Some are old and faded, while some look as if they could’ve been made a couple of hours ago.

“Leona told me about this place.” Ruggie explains, going back to stand beside him. “Only the upperclassmen know it exists. Even then, not that many.”

“Why are they here?” he asks, bereft of anything else to say.

Ruggie shrugs all-knowingly. “See for yourself.”

Jamil steps closer, squints, and actually reads the words written on the wall.

I exist.

As if struck, Jamil flinches backward.

Hundreds, thousands, countless students of Night Raven College, in different handwriting but all echoing the same sentiment, all combining to create a scream that says, I exist.

The pink paint can from the shelf is suddenly thrust in his face, along with the tiniest, thinnest paint brush Jamil has ever seen in his life.

Jamil looks at Ruggie, who’s still wearing that snarky smile of his. 

“We’re small-fry, Jamil. Practically invisible,” the hyena says, as if Jamil doesn’t already know that. As if he doesn’t already know that Jamil knows that, because that’s just how it was when you’re on the lowest rung of society. “We should make our mark while we still can, yeah? I’d’ve done it myself by now, but I figured it’d be more fun to do it with a pal, shishishi~!”

Jamil takes the brush. Lightly dips into the bright pink.

Writes I exist on the wall.

(Though he will never quite know how much those words mean, this is the memory that sticks with Ruggie Bucchi for the rest of his life: Jamil’s hands, shaking as they write.)

5) i know a guy

Azul knows the power of a good connection.

That’s the main rule of social survival in any place, really. You don’t have to be anybody to get somewhere, as long as you know whose coattail to grab onto as they ascend to the top. It’s a little dubious and more than a little self-centered, but Azul didn’t get this far in life by playing fair.

So, for as unsafe and deadly as the environment is, Azul feels oddly at home in Night Raven College. These people certainly know the rules of the game, that’s for sure. The hyena trails behind a lion and picks up all the stuff he leaves on the ground, hoping one day he’ll leave gold behind. The diamond walks behind the queen, as if that’ll exempt him from his wrath, which it often does. And two moray eels with a thirst for blood who swim after an octopus, who always leaves someone hurt in his wake.

So when he sees Jamil Viper for the first time — gray eyes always observing, analyzing, always one step ahead of the game even if he always pretended not to be — Azul sees a great opportunity in the making.

He’s poised and collected at all times, never giving away more or less than strictly necessary. Even before Kalim transferred into Night Raven College and Jamil locked his genius away in a dusty cupboard in the back of his head, the viper guarded his secrets like they were pure gold. His mindfulness borders on full-blown hyperintelligence most of the time, being able to see solutions before problems have space to breathe. 

In Potionology, he goes through potions like they’re nothing, hands fluttering through dicing, mixing, and pouring with dexterity. Most times, he doesn’t even touch his textbook, crafting perfect potions with little more than memory and good intuition.

In Gym, the others fumble and fall on their broomsticks. Others still only manage to hover and float. Azul peers up at the sky, squinting through rays of light, up at the clouds he could never hope to reach. But Jamil Viper? He doesn’t have to hope for anything—not when he’s already soaring through.

In Protection, no spell is able to cross Jamil’s magic-made barrier. And when in a situation where he can’t use magic, he dodges every blow with practiced grace, built from years of having to protect himself from others. And still, he never loses focus on his target, and strikes down Coach Vargas before Azul can even blink.

With someone like that, what else is there for Azul to do but to cozy up to him?

Azul gets rebuffed everytime he advances on his slithery classmate, but little by little, he’s breaking him down. In potionology, in gym, in protection, even when Jamil is studying with Kalim in the library. The best way to break a wall is to keep going at it with all you have, as Floyd often says.

This will all pay off one day.

He’s sure of it.

(It pays off a year later, in the middle of the night.

Right after Jamil’s overblot, Azul visits him in his bedroom. He rips a piece of paper out of his accounting book, and scribbles down a phone number on it with his fountain pen. Jamil looks at him suspiciously when he hands it to him, but Azul doesn’t bother explaining what it’s for.

Jamil’s smart enough to figure it out by himself, anyhow.

For an overblot is never easy — the aftermath, even harder. But if Jamil ever wants to talk about it, he knows who he can go to. One of the only people he can go to, and that would make Azul very happy if it weren’t such a depressing realization.

More than anyone else, Azul knows the power of a good connection.)

6) hold my hand, because nobody else will

Anybody can tell you that Silver and Kalim aren’t very clever. In fact, they’re so unclever, they don’t ever seem to be aware of their own foolishness. 

It’s not even that they’re stupid, really, because they’re not — Silver can spot a physical weakness in any opponent he sees, and Kalim knows his way around money like he knows the back of his hand. They’re not dumb.

It’s just that they’re frightfully, frightfully oblivious.

Sometimes this fact earns them pity. Most times it earns them mockery.

The first time Kalim and Silver walked to class together, they were holding hands and standing so close, their shoulders bumped with every step they took. People gaped at them as they walked by, so casual and flippant in their affection, as if they weren’t committing social suicide. They were like two fishes out of water — except that they looked so comfortable, so at peace, they made everyone else feel like waterless fish.

They took naps together, more often than not. Or more accurately, Silver would fall asleep, and somehow, some way, Kalim would find him and lay down next to him. By the time anybody else found them, Kalim would have his arms firmly wrapped around Silver’s stomach, and Silver would have his face buried in Kalim’s shock white hair. 

Sometimes, when they were feeling spontaneous, Kalim would launch himself at Silver, and Silver would drop everything he was carrying to catch him. The Diasomnian rarely ever seemed annoyed — most times, he looked solemnly content. They tried it the other way around once, and that ended with them both colliding to the cafeteria floor with a comically loud thud. But even that beyond-embarrassing display wasn’t enough to keep them from laughing, laughing, laughing about it.

But the worst part, somehow, is when they’re in lectures together. 

Because they don’t. Stop. Touching each other.

It hadn’t been so bad at first. Every now and then, Silver would tap Kalim on the shoulder to borrow a pencil, and Kalim would shake Silver’s shoulder to wake him up before the teacher noticed. Perfectly normal, acceptable behavior.

But it had escalated from there, as things with them always seem to.

Kalim started playing with Silver’s fingers whenever Professor Trein droned on for too long, light and gentle, tracing out the creases and scars with a thumb. A few of the students stared at him at first, bewildered that Kalim would do such a thing in such a public setting — even more so that Silver was letting it happen without complaint — but that quickly fizzled out after a few pointed stares from the rickety old professor.

Then Silver began squeezing Kalim’s hand, playing with his hair, and messing with the golden charms on his bracelet — partially in a bid to keep himself awake, but mostly because he just liked doing it. Oh, he was quiet enough about it, with only a light jingle here and there to indicate he was even doing it. But it was strange enough that even Professor Crewel found himself staring more often than not, unsure of the proper protocol for this sort of behavior — if it even existed at all.

Then the embraces. Pulling each other in with a hand, resting their heads on top of each other’s shoulders, sitting so close they might as well have been cuddling at that point. They fit together so easily, like puzzle pieces, as if they were just waiting for each other all this time.

It’s not love. Of that, the other students are almost sure. But then again, for most students, “true love” feels more like a concept than anything. If asked, Silver and Kalim would probably hesitate to call it “love”, either.

But then again, it’s so foreign to everybody else, nobody knows what to make of it.

(Not that Silver and Kalim know about any of this, of course. They just like doing it.)

7) blocked

Riddle expected a little more resistance, honestly.

“You need to stop calling me, Silver.”

Silver looked up from where he was cleaning Chestnut’s stable, startled, but Riddle turned away the moment their eyes met. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this if he had to look in those ethereal violet eyes, no matter how much it stung his pride to admit that.

“I… What?”

Riddle sighed. “It’s obvious to me you’re not using my number for its intended purpose. Therefore, I must put a stop to these… trivialities you insist upon.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Silver blink once. Twice.

Whatever guilt tried to stain his hands, he buried it down with the roses he’d burned for not being red enough. Not perfect enough, and Riddle Rosehearts wouldn't accept anything less than the best.

Silver’s shoulder slumped, and he lowered his head. 

“Okay.” he said, without an ounce of complaint in his voice. The voice of someone used to following commands. “I understand.”

And that was the end of it.

If Riddle thought Silver sounded a little disappointed, he buried that thought, too.

8) casual fling

Jade, Azul, Riddle, Jamil, Kalim, Ruggie, Silver.

That’s always been the order Floyd thinks of them in, anyway.

Jade is first for obvious reasons. He’s the first in a lot of things in Floyd’s life. He was the first person Floyd ever saw, the first thing Floyd ever sunk his teeth into, and the first person to look into his eyes and smile with all of his teeth. Floyd’s always sort of liked that—liked the idea that Jade is first-place in almost all things, because if anybody deserved to have the honor it was him.

Azul is second — also for obvious reasons. He doesn’t quite ever let Floyd bite him. He hardly ever makes eye contact, and when he smiles, it’s with this tight-lipped smile that reeks of falsehoods. But Azul lets Floyd circle around him as much as he wants. Lets him mess around in his room, mess with his things, even lets him mess with Azul himself when he’s not too cranky. He lets Floyd do whatever he wants, basically, and whenever Azul does tell him to do something, it’s always fun.

There is no third — not for a long time. For a while, all that exists is Jade and Azul, and Floyd doesn’t need anybody else. Except that when he’s standing in line for his freshmen orientation, admiring the sparkly gold bits on his ceremonial robes, he catches a glimpse of a vibrant red out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t need it, but when his hands run through that striking crimson, and then the goldfish’s skin lights up with a red almost equally as deep, he can’t help but want it, all the same.

Floyd doesn’t think much of the snake for a while — so much so, Sea Snake isn’t even Sea Snake yet. He earns that title when they’re in Basketball Club together. Basketball is a hit-or-miss sport for Floyd — as much as he likes the adrenaline of running around with a ball in his hands, throwing it for the sake of having something to throw, it gets really, really boring when you’re so tall that nobody can stop you. But the fun thing about Sea Snake is that he doesn’t need advantages to be a threat — whenever he grabs the ball, it’s almost impossible to get it away from him. On the court, Sea Snake is the most exciting person to look at.

Sea Otter is a lot like basketball — hit-or-miss. It’s part of the reason why Floyd tries not to think about him too much, if he can help it. He’s cute, playful, down to do pretty much whatever, and he matches Floyd’s energy in a way others never seem to be able to. Sure, he’s a bit overly friendly, sometimes, and his tea is so sweet it nearly makes Floyd’s teeth disintegrate,  Basically, on his own, Floyd likes him a whole bunch. When he’s cramping Sea Snake’s style, not so much.

Shark Sucker’s a weird case. They have no classes together, they don’t share a club, and the hyena’s usually too busy trailing after Sea Lion to pay attention to anybody outside of Savanaclaw. Floyd doesn’t see him too much, on the whole. The only time that sticks out in his mind is when they first saw each other during an interclass alchemy lesson. Shark Sucker was looking at the professor with lazy, half-lidded eyes—eyes that soon turned to Floyd with enough boredom. Floyd locked eyes with him, and Shark Sucker gave him a smile. The second person, ever, to look into his eyes and smile with all his teeth.

Jellyfish is last. Jellyfish is always last, in everything, not least because he’s always asleep. Floyd notices him only because he finds it really funny—Jellyfish falls asleep anywhere and everywhere , even when he was flying on a broom mid-air that one time, and Azul and Jade scrambled to catch him before he died. He even fell asleep on Floyd’s shoulder once, and it was pretty fun carrying him around on his back and watching everyone look at the two of them with wide eyes.

Jade, Azul, Riddle, Jamil, Kalim, Ruggie, Silver.

That’s always been the order Floyd thinks of them in, anyway.

Chapter Text

The first words Silver speaks in the aftermath of Malleus’s overblot is: “Please stop crying, Kalim.”

The words only seem to make Kalim cry harder, as the Scarabian buries his head in the crook of Silver’s neck.

It’s an odd thing to reminisce on later, that his first words were to someone he hasn’t actually seen in a while. In the moment, though, he can’t help the exhausted affection and gratitude he feels at seeing a familiar face. One that doesn’t have the weight of centuries’ worth of pain and secrets and lies dragging down his wobbly smile.

Is that selfish? Certainly. 

(But Silver is bound for Hell, anyway, so really, what does it matter?)

It helps, of course, that Silver is only half-coherent at the moment, drugged from sleeping for too long and drunk on the ashy taste of Malleus’s blot in his mouth. The waking world is hazy and misty and it’s like he never woke up at all. Any motor controls he has over his mouth is a distant dream at the moment.

Kalim’s fingers dig into Silver’s dorm uniform. 

Silver feels Kalim’s mouth move against his chest. But his voice is far away, and as much as he tries to strain his ears and reach it, the fog stuck in his brain doesn’t want to cooperate with him.

Silver slants his eyebrows. “What did you say?” he asks.

Kalim takes in a sharp, shaky breath. He says it again, louder this time, but Silver still can’t hear.

Silver puts a hand on Kalim’s back, drawing a circle on it with the feather-light tips of his fingers. “I didn’t hear that.”

Again. Another noise, different pitch, higher volume, same cotton stuck between his ears.

But Silver doesn’t want to inconvenience Kalim. He wants to respond. So, even if it’s not entirely relevant, he opens his mouth and says the first thought that comes to mind:

“They hate me.”

Kalim’s sobs abruptly stop. He quickly removes himself from Silver’s chest and looks at him with confused, teary eyes. “W-What?”

It doesn’t register at all that his hearing’s returned. Not when the trade-off is a clog getting stuck in Silver’s windpipe. 

His mouth fills to the brim with cinders, but Kalim is looking at him with those concerned eyes, reaching out to him with tender hands, and so Silver forces himself to keep talking.

“They hate me.” he repeats, choking the words out against the wet block in his throat. 

When the words refuse to go out any further, he puts a hand on his neck and tries to squeeze it out. “My family—”

“Sil,” Kalim puts out two wary hands up, “maybe you shouldn’t—”

Silver shakes his head, even as he gags on the gargle in his throat. “I can—”

He can’t.

He doubles over, clutching his stirring stomach with his arms, and starts coughing like there’s no tomorrow. He’s coughing so much he can’t breathe. Whatever air he manages to breathe in gets caught up in the congestion stuck in his throat, like flies in a spiderweb.

Kalim says something in alarm, but Silver’s ears have gone below the surface again. An open water bottle is shoved in his face, and before he can even reject the offer (“I'm not an existence that is worthy of your love!”) , Kalim helps him tilt his chin up so the water can go down.

The water stills in the back of his mouth for a few seconds.

Then he throws all of it up on the floor.

Silver punches a hand against his chest, which makes a violent pool of ink spurt out from between his teeth like a leaky tap. The dam in his throat comes loose and black waterfalls come rushing out of his mouth.

…Black?

Triggered by the realization, he starts choking again. He smacks his hands over his mouth. The liquid oozes out from between his fingers, and sullies his hands with a slimy, wet squelch.

Stop…

The tar is starting to pour down his nostrils, but he can only sniff so much of it back up before there’s no more space for it and it, too, joins the twisted cesspool dripping down his hands.

Silver squeezes his eyes shut.

As the world starts to spin, it occurs to Silver that maybe having two people on this bed wasn’t such a good idea after all. He’s barely keeping balance with the whirling in his brain as it is, but with someone else tilting the bed…

Please… stop…

A sharp pain pierces right through his skull.

(It hurts.)

(“Stop it! Stop crying!”)

(It hurts it hurts it hurts ithurtsithurtsithurts ithurtsITHURTS— )

(“YOU DON'T HAVE ANY RIGHT TO CRY!”)

Kalim’s sky-shattering scream accompanies him as he collapses to the floor.

For the first few days after Malleus’s overblot, Kalim is the only person Silver lets into his bedroom. 

Silver could prattle off a number of more practical reasons for why that is. He could decorate it with as many pretty, pretentious little words as he liked, make it sound more profound or more deep than it actually was. But that would be lying to himself, and Silver already has had enough of other people lying to him as it is.

The real reason is plain, shallow, and hard to defend himself from.

Kalim loves him, and Silver just really wants someone to love him right now.

It’s not as if he has better options — his trust in his father has been reduced to being shakier than a burning bridge, if he never sees another Draconia again it’ll have been too soon, and Sebek is always off gallivanting with his new friends these days, so it’s not like he’s around enough to want to go into Silver’s room in the first place.

(Silver wishes he could do that. But alas, all of his comforts have abandoned him already.)

Kalim came over to Diasomnia every single day for the next two weeks without Silver asking. He’d come in, tidy up Silver’s bed a little, talk about a funny picture he saw on the internet, and whatever else he could think of to fill the space. 

He always brings a gift with him for every visit — usually an uncharacteristically useful item, like dry shampoo in case Silver didn’t feel like going to the shower, or packs of instant ramen Silver could easily make during the night, when he was least likely to be bothered. He even brought a very thick pair of earmuffs over once, when the lightning outside became rowdy and impossible to sleep through.

“I was going to get you noise-canceling Bluedust earbuds,” Kalim had said, nervously fiddling with the gold bracelet around his wrist, “but someone told me you wouldn’t really know how to use those, so… I, uh, hope you like the earmuffs!”

Honestly, if it weren’t for Kalim, Silver would’ve rotted away by now.

Still, Silver can’t help but wonder why Kalim’s gifts have all been so… helpful. Kalim is a great friend, but not the type of person who’s good at making care packages. Frankly, Silver half-expected Kalim to give him a dozen expensive combs he’d never use or a lifetime supply of pillows. And don’t get him started on the earbuds — he can barely use a computer, much less wireless audio transporters. 

He much prefers the earmuffs — simple, uncomplicated, and good.

And those three adjectives are exactly why it’s suspicious.

Silver doesn’t want to bring it up, if only because he’s afraid of the answer. But through some masochistic need to have it confirmed anyway, he makes the decision to quench it on a Saturday.

“Kalim…” he pipes up, as he sits up in bed.

Kalim turns around from where he’s trying to feed crackers to a bird on Silver’s windowsill. He smiles brightly, like he always does when Silver has something to say.

Silver’s breath catches in his throat.

Silver is choked, terrified, undeserving of all that excited attention, everytime, but he can’t turn away. Because then Kalim will wilt like a flower in winter, like he did something wrong, even if it’s not his fault, could never be, because it’s Silver’s fault, just like it always is, and Silver doesn’t think he could take being the source of someone else’s unhappiness again—

“Silver?”

Kalim.

Get a grip, Silver, he berates. You’re not a child, and this is not a nightmare.

Silver shakes his head, putting a hand to his temple. “Sorry. I got distracted.”

“It’s okay, no worries.” Kalim forgives, before coming over to sit next to Silver on the bed, their shoulders bumping together and his earrings glinting in the sunlight. “So what’s up?”

Silver looks him square in the eyes. “Kalim, who gave you the idea to give me earmuffs instead of earbuds?”

“Hm?”

“You said someone told you I wouldn’t know how to use earbuds. Who told you that?”

“Jamil.” he answers easily, as if it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I told him if he wanted to give you a gift, he should just come to you, but he, uh… didn’t seem to like that idea a lot?”

For Silver, hearing the answer feels very much like swallowing a rock. “Ah.”

“I don’t know why he didn’t want to come.” Kalim shrugs. “He’s probably just busy.”

“Probably.” he mutters.

Knock, knock, knock.

Silver cracks an eye open. 

He grunts as he tries to get his tired, aching body off of the mattress, but Kalim pouts and pushes him back down. Silver gives in to the touch, and closes his eyes. 

Kalim pats Silver’s head a few times for good measure, before fluidly making his way towards the door.

Creaaaak…!

“Kalim?” says a voice that rings of tea, red roses, and unhidden surprise. “What are you doing in—”

“Shhh!” Kalim shushes loudly. “He’s resting right now, Riddle. Don’t be too loud, okay?”

“ You’re being the loudest one right now.” Riddle grumbles, the stone flooring echoing as he starts tapping his foot against it. “I wished to speak to Silver. I have here a formal letter of request to meet me at Heartslabyul as soon as he can. It would be wonderful if you could pass this onto him when he wakes. There’s a concern I need to discuss with him, although I understand if he needs longer to rest first.”

“Really?” It’s Kalim who’s surprised this time, and Silver can’t blame him — Silver can’t break any rules if he’s shut up in his room all day, and classes are still being postponed. Whatever has the crimson ruler’s bow in a twist is anyone’s guess. “What do you want to talk to him about?”

Riddle doesn’t answer right away. For Riddle, it’s as close to hesitating as he gets.

He clears his throat. “A… personal matter. Nothing involving you, before you start getting ideas.”

Silver squints his eyes in skepticism. Anybody who spends more than five minutes with Riddle Rosehearts knows he’s not one for ”personal matters”. The closest he ever gets is walking around school halls with Trey and Cater, or the achingly fond way he looks at Ace and Deuce when they’re not looking. 

(And, well, Silver’s not Ace and Deuce.)

It would be nice to think he’s checking up on him, but is Silver honestly supposed to believe Riddle would take an hour out of his busy schedule just for a courtesy call? 

Silver’s not worth the inconvenience. Not as a baby sleeping its lazy little days away in the woods, not as a swordsman sworn to defend the very liege he’s robbed of a happy life, and certainly not as someone who’s spent the better half of the past school year relying on Kalim for notes.

…Now that he thinks about it, Riddle’s probably here to tell him Malleus’s overblot is no excuse for slacking off on his schoolwork.

Silver is in no mood, but he probably deserves it.

(He deserves a lot more than a stern talking-to, but that’s besides the point.)

Kalim lets out a low whine of sympathy. “Riddle, there’s no need to make this so formal! You can just talk to him in his room, y’know? Silver and I do it all the time, even before… all of this.”

“You and Silver are you and Silver.” Riddle says, dead-panned. “You are anomalies in the system. In all my days at Night Raven College, I have never seen two people hug, hold hands, and Seven forbid, cuddle as much as you do.”

“I thought all friends did that?”

“...Of course you did.”

“Well, even if you two aren’t friends, I don’t see why you can’t just talk to him.”

“I am not deserving of such an easy-sounding solution when it comes to him. I am sure you can agree that between the two of us, he is the one who deserves to make the final decision.” Riddle explains. 

He looks away. “I… doubt he would want to see me in such a private fashion, anyway.”

Kalim cocks his head to the side. “Why? Did you guys have a fight?”

“No, Kalim, we did not fight. Silver is a most agreeable person.” Under his breath, he adds, “Perhaps too much for his own good.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Riddle hardens in an instant. “Once again, it absolutely does not concern you. So I would appreciate it if you would stop prying.”

“Agh, right!” The Scarabian yelps. “Right, right… Sorry, Riddle. I-I’ll make sure Silver gets this letter…”

Kalim trails off expectantly, but Riddle says not a word. 

A moment of silence passes in the awkward space between them. The wind chimes Kalim hung outside Silver’s window cling together, unbothered by the knot of tension inside Silver’s bedroom.

“How…” Riddle pauses, his commanding tone starting to tremble and fizzle out. “How is he anyhow?” 

“Um…” Kalim smacks his lips. “Pretty okay, actually. Sleeping a lot. Eating a lot, too, so that’s good.”

“I see.” he murmurs, as if Kalim’s barebones descriptions were somehow sufficient. “Well, I shan’t keep you any longer. Do keep me updated on his condition, will you?”

Without another word, Riddle’s dress shoes start clicking their way back down the hall.

Kalim waves after him, and then closes the door. 

“Riddle seemed a little upset.” he says off-handedly.

Silver hums and buries his face in his pillow.

Ding!

The sudden sound of Kalim’s phone going off startles the both of them — Silver from sleep, and Kalim away from the flower he’s giving way too much water.

The housewarden furrows his brows, and withdraws his phone from his pocket.

His face goes blank.

“What is it?” Silver asks, sitting up worriedly. “Did something happen?”

“Uh…” Kalim bites his bottom lip as his fingers fly across the keyboard. “Not exactly? But Azul’s calling for a housewarden meeting right away. After everything that happened, I don’t think I can skip this one….”

He looks at Silver, worried. “I’ll come back as soon as I can, but… are you gonna be okay, Sil?”

Classic Kalim.

Silver puts a reassuring hand on Kalim’s arm. “It’s just a few hours. I’ll be fine.”

Kalim looks at him as if he doesn’t quite believe him, but then looks at his phone with a guilty look in his eyes. “If you say so.”

The Scarabian leans over and presses a feather-light kiss against Silver’s forehead, before he’s out the door like a spring breeze, leaving a deafening silence in his wake. 

Silver stares out the window, fully prepared to let himself disassociate and stop feeling for a little while.

But Silver doesn’t even have the time to adjust to the sudden silence before—

Knock, knock, knock.

“Greetings from Octavinelle.”

…

…Shit. 

“Silver?” Another few knocks. “Are you awake?”

Silver’s heart drums against his chest mercilessly, reverberating through his ears like a cry for help in a cave—a twisted countdown to total combustion. He grips his blanket so tight, his nails tear holes in them.

Silver takes in a deep breath through his nose, ignoring the sudden congestion he feels.

Silver can protect himself from this—he can fight his own battles. Worry is wasted on him, because he doesn’t need it.

It’s just one conversation.

Silver removes himself from his blankets, letting the cold air of Diasomnia leach through his skin. His socked feet hit the stone floor with a loud thump, and he walks over to the door—shoulders squared and his chin held high.

(An unnecessary display, maybe — but it makes him feel better.)

“Silver!” comes the saccharinely sweet tones of one Jade Leech. “It’s so good to see you after so long. You’ve been well, I trust?”

“I’ve been alright.” Silver responds politely. 

He looks down at the box in between Jade’s hands—a black cardboard present with a green bow on top to complete the look. He tilts his head curiously. “Have you… brought me something?”

“Ah, indeed I have.” Jade smiles, opening up the lid to reveal an assortment of items. “I planned this little present out myself. Floyd actually retrieved the items with Azul’s money, though, so you can consider this a gift from all of us.”

Floyd and Azul, too? Hm. How thoughtful of them.

Though, Silver imagines the price will be astronomically steeper than it would’ve been had it just been Jade… Ah well. It’s the thought that counts and all that.

Silver looks up to see Jade’s smile shift. Most people wouldn’t be able to notice the gentle crease at the corner of his lips, or the subtle way he bends down to make better eye contact with people he likes… but Silver does.

He does, because he recognizes it from what feels like a lifetime ago.

A lump forms in his throat.

Silver swallows down the sentimentality that’s about to break out of him. He raises a hand to wipe away tears he hasn’t shed yet, but by the Seven, he’s about to.

Jade tsks. “Silver, you should know better than to be such a—”

“Jade? Is that you?”

Silver’s blood turns to ice in an instant.

Jade’s expression goes stone-cold as he turns his head. 

“Lilia.” he greets, but without a hint of the pleasantness he had when greeting Silver.

“You’re not bothering Silver, are you? I’ll have you know he’s made it very clear he wants no visitors other than Kalim.”

He takes a step back, even as his legs start to tremble underneath his own weight.

Father— Father can’t see him like this. He can’t even stand up straight anymore, too shaky and too worthless to even think of it, not the swordsman his father spent 17 pointless years raising…

Oh Seven, he hasn’t even brushed his hair today—

“Of course not. We all know how hard these past few days must’ve been for him.” Jade says. Slippery-smooth as always, but there’s a bite just underneath his unassuming smile.  “I just decided it would be prudent to check on my dear friend here and see how he was doing. The last thing we want is for him to be all by himself in these trying times, hmm?”

Silver has backed up far enough he can grip one of the beams of his bed, and he holds onto it like the flagpole of a sinking ship on a stormy sea. And much like a storm, he closes his eyes and prays it’ll pass without incident.

But of course — as it always does — that’s when the lightning chooses to strike him down.

“Leech?”

If Father’s voice made him freeze, Malleus’s voice nearly makes him tumble over.

Why in Twisted Wonderland did he have to show up? He hadn’t even gone within fifty feet of Silver’s room for the past two weeks, and now— now he’s just a hop, skip, and a jump down the hall…?

The sky rumbles outside. “What do you think you’re doing in Diasomnia? I don’t seem to recall anyone inviting you here.” 

“Malleus, come now.”

“Indeed, Malleus,” Jade says, a hint of sarcasm on his tongue, “I just came to visit a dear friend of mine. I thought you would’ve been preoccupied with a certain meeting between housewardens that’s supposed to be occurring right now.”

The familiar taste of metal stings in Silver’s mouth.

Father sighs, a single note of sound that causes the blot to suddenly well up in Silver’s throat. “In any case, Jade, you shouldn’t bother him while he’s sleeping.”

Jade cuts his mouth open to reveal the knife-like teeth hiding underneath, and Silver knows what he’s going to say the second before he says it, please, no —

“But he’s not sleeping.” Jade says with faux innocence. “I’m sure he would just love to talk to you, too, if you were so inclined.”

Malleus’s next words still tremble like the thunder in the sky. 

“...He’s awake?”

Silver stumbles into the bathroom with none of the grace of a swordsman, but with all the weight of a burden.

Every nerve in his brain is firing, telling him to get back out there and be the polite little boy Malleus and Lilia have spent nearly two decades raising. Pretend to be him, at the very least. Pretend like all is well even though Silver’s father murdered Malleus’s mother, even though Malleus tried to murder him, even though Silver failed to protect Sebek so spectacularly, the freshman finally decided he had enough of Diasomnia’s cruelty and left for greener pastures.

But his cowardice, instead, compels him to fumble with the bathroom lock until it clicks.

The reprieve makes him get a few shallow breaths in, before there’s a gentle knock on the door.

“Silver?” Father calls out, apprehension lacing every syllable with poison. “Darling, are you alright?”

Silver slaps his hands over his mouth as a dry sob threatens to break out of him. He buries it with everything he has and then some. Curses himself all the while. He’s not a child anymore, he doesn’t deserve to—

A black droplet drips to the floor.

Silver raises his head to look at himself in the mirror, just to see drops of black gunk trickling down from his nose.

“Silver?” Father calls out again. “You disappeared so suddenly…”

Silver spots a neatly-folded towel on the far right corner of the sink. He dashes for it, ripping it off the counter and desperately trying to clog his nose with it.

“Silver!” Father’s gentle knocking has turned into full-blown banging. “Silver, are you okay in there?!”

The pipes in the building start to rattle as rain begins to pour outside.

“Silver!” Malleus.

Seven, why did it have to be Malleus…?

He collapses against the sink, holding himself up with only his arms.

Nobody can see him like this. They can’t see him with these ugly, shadowy streaks running down his face or else they’ll know. They’ll know he’s just as weak and greedy as he always knew he was. He can’t even keep a lid on his own emotions, burdening everybody else around with them, because that’s all he knows how to do, apparently, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

(He could kill himself, but it’s far too late for that to fix anything.)

“What have you done, Leech?!” Malleus shrieks.

“Nothing.” Jade says sharply. “Silver was just fine before you showed up.”

Are they… arguing over him?

“Silver, at least tell me you’re alright!” Father yells, just as a lightning bolt cracks against the earth, rattling the building with its force. “If you’re not, I can go fetch the nurse!”

“No.” Silver breathes out, anguished. Agony weighs down his limbs even as panic surges through them. “Please, don’t—”

“I cannot believe this.” Malleus hisses, his regal tone no less intimidating, even when it’s being muffled. “You mean to tell me Azul called a farce of a housewarden meeting just so you would be able to come here without anyone to stop you? How far are you Octavinelle students willing to sink?”

“No better than anything you’ve done, that’s for certain.”

“Why, you—!”

“Stupid door, why won’t you open…?!”

He coughs. Ugly, disgusting sludge trails down his chin and splats onto the floor. 

Silver gets up from the sink and stumbles towards the door. He barely makes it a few steps before his feet slip on the black goo on the floor, and he collapses against it, his head hitting the door with an unceremonious thud.

Silver breathes heavily, his lungs convulsing with every pained inhale he takes.

To his horror, he feels more ice-cold ink running down his face. But it’s not coming from his nose or his mouth this time.

With a shaking hand, he wipes just below his eyes.

Black residue dries at the tips of his fingers, crusting underneath his nails.

“SILVER!”

“Please…” he mumbles out pathetically, scrabbling at the door with his fingers.

The cacophony on the other side ceases to be at his frail plead. All that’s left is the sound of the rain walking across the roof. 

“Get out.” Jade mutters.

“What?”

“Get out!” Jade shouts. Silver has never heard him that loud before, but well, there’s a first time for everything. “Both of you, get out!”

A pregnant quiet follow. Silver shudders from the ringing in his ears. He hadn’t realized how loud it had been until it was no more.

Jade’s shoes click towards him, and Silver sees his shadow from the crack under the door.

“Silver,” Jade says quietly, like he’s coaxing a frightened animal out from the corner, “it’s just you and me now.”

The Diasomnian lets out a relieved breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. But as soon as the relief floods in, the tears start pouring out. 

“Jade…”

“Hm?”

“Please,” he heaves, as dark spots danced across his vision, “please… Take me out of here.”

“...That can be arranged.”

(How pathetic.)

Chapter Text

It’s not that Sebek considers himself bad , per se, but he does know himself.

He’s seen his ears, too soft and round to match up with his grotesquely sharp teeth — as if he was one of those mix-and-match dolls his sister used to play with when she was younger.

He’s seen his hands, too scarred by gripping his blade too tightly, damages which don’t match up with the rest of his pale skin. A stark reminder that he knows how to kill a man, but is too young to have actually done so, and probably never will.

He’s seen his hair, a shade of minty green that looks nothing like his mother’s jade. He still remembers all the faces of every child who jeered at him to “prove” he was even her son at all.

And besides his looks, there’s his trash personality.

He’s not ignorant to the very ignorant things he used to say, and even if Silver forgives him for it, Yuu still looks at him with a tired expression whenever he speaks, as if they expect him to say something backwards or horrid or wrong. 

It’s a good reminder that he needs to stay self-aware. He recognizes his place with the freshmen is fragile at best, so he needs to mind himself more than he ever has before.

It’s tiring, sometimes, but it’s better than his current situation in Diasomnia. Call Sebek irresponsible all you want, but he’s too exhausted to mind his step while he’s walking over the pieces of a broken family that isn’t even his.

Sebek knows he’s too loud, too bold, too cheerful, too much all the time. The last thing they needed right now was him.

But it was fine. Even after everything. 

He might not have Diasomnia or his sense of purpose anymore, but that’s okay. 

He had his studies. He had his hobbies. And now he had his… his friends, if he could call them that after only two weeks of being with them.

It’s fine.

He has to remind himself of that frequently.

When he’s sitting Ace in the library, and Ace starts running his fingers through his hair, it’s just to mess with him. To distract the both of them from their studies for Ancient Magic, which just so happens to be Ace’s 3rd least-favorite subject.

Sebek doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t even try to bat his hand away.

It’s just a joke. He can take a joke.

It’s fine.

When all of the freshmen are cleaning Ramshackle, and Jack mumbles an apology before picking Sebek up off the floor so Yuu can mop underneath him, it’s for efficiency’s sake. Jack wouldn’t want to touch him otherwise, he’s sure.

Yuu looks up at his quietly indignant expression and laughs. “Don’t drop our beautiful baby boy, Jack.”

Yuu’s not actually calling him beautiful. It’s just so the alliteration is more satisfying. As an appreciator of good poetry, he can understand that.

It’s fine.

When Ortho hangs onto his arm as they’re walking through a crowd, looking up at him with those wide yellow eyes for his permission, as if Sebek’s opinion means anything , it’s because he’s misguided. These sorts of mistakes are common in childhood. He doesn’t know yet that he should avoid Sebek like the plague, because cute kids like Ortho are what people like, and nobody wants to be around abominations like him.

Sooner or later, he’ll need to learn these hard truths, just like Sebek did. But the elder Shroud might actually obliterate Sebek if he makes Ortho cry, so he hasn’t said a word. They’ll have to address it eventually, of course, but for now it’s… alright.

So when they’re walking (floating?) through the halls, on the way to their classes which happen to be in the same part of the school, and Ortho goes to hold his hand, it doesn’t mean anything. 

Ortho does this with all the first-years. He’s impressionable. It’s not as if Sebek is special in any regard.

It’s not like Ortho is trying to break Sebek’s spirit (even if he is succeeding regardless).

It’s… fine.