the seven husbands of y/n l/n ✷ gi

in which time fails to move fast enough

It vexed Y/N beyond comprehension. It was like a parasite gradually eating away at its host; teeming to shake the pest aside, however, is ultimately fruitless as they merely watch their body erode away with the passage of time. Powerless to the flow of fate. 

With clenched fists, Y/N stands from her seated position, ambling to the chalkboard as she vigorously wipes away the numbers that seemingly morphed into brazen words of deride and disparage. Her knuckles turned white underneath her thin, frayed mittens that silently tore at her own fervour.

'Screw them all.'  Remarked Y/N, a bitter seething taste of spleen and spite rising within the pit of her stomach. To Y/N, their comments were apathetic and callous, for how dare they deny her dream to be more than another tool against the brawn of winter? They were fools, she contrived, accepting and embodying a pitiful life in which they did not question nor seek. 

Ultimately, her own notions will be swallowed and gulped down readily like the most exquisite wine, assiduously crafted. Yet, sour and absurdly blasé as her own truth became her lie that thus morphed into poison-- not wine. 

"You are going to make a hole in the chalkboard if you keep rubbing endlessly," the voice remarked nonchalantly, their shadow cast into the grime of the room. 

"Your presence here is unwarranted, Capitano," seethed Y/N, her voice carrying into the atmosphere, a definite message, "Leave, or you might allow more snow to come in." 

Capitano sighs, uncrossing his arms as he gracefully enters the 'school' which possessed nothing but a singular classroom. Capitano then voices placidly, his now baritone voice reaching Y/N's ear, "You've been here all day."

"I am aware." 

"I found your scarf." 

Gradually turning her head, Y/N remarks with an air of incredulity, "Is that so? And how am I so sure you did not take it from the old wrench?" 

"Sister Martina is not to be trifled with, especially considering she practically raised us." 

Y/N scoffs, crossing her arms, "I refuse to believe I have been 'raised' by her." 

Capitano shakes his head in disdain, however, shifts the topic to more pressing matters, "I also want to ask you something," he voices, a slight tone of fluster in his usually, placid articulation. 

Y/N raises her eyebrow and mouths conspicuously, "Is that so? Go on."

With the subtle beating of his heart and the frost of winter, Capitano declares without a tremor in his voice, "Dance with me." 

NOTES FROM KYLE !

I am very happy to get this done in ruffly an hour... thank goodness!

Character development is real... give Y/N some time, trust.

This is a bit of a time skip! Y/N is now sixteen as stated. 

Thanks for your support! A kind reminder to vote and comment :)