wow school and drawing a lot really saps motivation huh. hi it's been a bit
(3757 words)
Laughing, you unlock your office.
Followed by the green-haired man, you lean against your desk and face him, smile still as bright as ever.
"Your students really experimented with those tea flavors, huh?"
He shrugs, resting against the wall beside the door. "They tried their hardest, and a few were good, but..." A shiver trails up his spine at the memory of the taste. "That one was like Theraflu if Theraflu tasted ten times worse. The lemongrass was overpowering but at the same time half-obscured by cinnamon and what tasted like parsley."
"My god." You laugh, causing a fake pout to drag down his lips.
"It was so bad! Don't laugh, it was near torture!" His pout twitches as you raise a brow, finding it hard to keep such an expression with you around.
"Uh huh." You continue, him rolling his eyes.
"I still have the rest of the teabags, do you wanna try? I'm not exaggerating how bad it was, that I swear." He pleads, a smile forming as you laugh again.
"No thank you. Even if you are exaggerating, the way you described it was enough to put me off." You wave off the offer, him humming.
"One day, we'll have that tea together, I swear it." He moves to your side, also leaning against the desk.
"Alright, Alright. Why did you even keep it if it was so bad?" You ask, looking towards him as he runs his hand through his hair, eyes moving elsewhere.
"It was a gift from my students." He answers, slightly embarrassed.
Gently, you nudge his shoulder. "And you said you weren't a very sentimental man."
"Well, I... yeah, I guess I am, but it was only for my students."
Was?
"Yeah, sure. If that's the case, I must be one lucky man." You use the desk behind you to pop your shoulders, groaning. "Considering how you act around me."
He freezes, heart damn near stopping.
"You're so nice to me all the time, I'm definitely glad to have met you." Slowly, as you lean on him a bit, he loosens up.
Did you know?
Did you mean it like...?
He accepts your weight without complaint, one of his arms sliding along the desk behind you. "Well, you're kinder than most. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad to have met you as well."
Your smile is simple. Calm yet sweet as you lean on him just a bit more.
He finds himself observing you once more, how comfortably you half-nestle against his side and banter with him; he can't quite read you like he can others.
Is he missing signals, what did you feel about him?
Is this how you act with your roommate, or is he special in your eyes?
He can't help but wonder.
You can feel the arm behind you, how he seems eager to pull (or at least keep you) close.
At first, you had acted warmly with him, as it was what you were used to doing, but being around him made you feel... something.
In your chest, it warms like a furnace, keeping you comfortable and safe.
You aren't eager to move away.
A comfortable quiet overtakes you both, simply resting in each other's warmth.
When the rumbling begins, he immediately pulls you closer, shifting you both to the back of the desk and ducking underneath it.
"Earthquake?!" You ask, confused and slightly panicked. You can feel your cheeks grow hot when Lucien essentially pulls you against him, his gaze protective as he glances between you and your filing cabinets. The boxes rattle in their shelves, the loud clatter distracting.
"Yeah, this one's stronger than usual." He remains outwardly calm, but his eyes reveal his worry. Slightly, his grip on you tightens, and he feels how you allow yourself closer.
Based on your face, he can tell you're definitely a bit shaken up, lips pulled into a stressed line.
You're still warm.
Quickly, you begin to copy the slow, calming breaths Lucien takes, and the short bout of rumbling ceases.
With a relieved sigh, you lean back against the inside of your desk, the tall man beside you running his hand through his hair once more. He releases you, slumping against the side as his legs cross over yours.
"You okay?" He asks, looking over at your slouched form.
"Yeah, thanks for acting so quick. Are you okay?" You look his way, the care in your eyes making him look down at his hands.
"Yeah, I am. And it's no problem, I don't want you to get hurt." He lifts his eyes to smile towards you, and you feel your cheeks grow hot again, for just a moment.
You sigh again, rubbing your neck and pulling out your phone. "I need to check on Lem..."
Lucien slowly gets up, pulling himself out from under the desk and stretching, looking around the office. "You made a good choice with those lamps. The only thing that fell was one of the fake trees."
"Thank god." He hears you say from beneath the desk, the relief in your words palpable.
"I'm going to check my office real quick." He informs you, seeing your thumbs up peek out from underneath the desk.
"I'll follow you shortly."
His smile grows warmer.
You get confirmation from Lem that he was okay and that nothing was broken (save for Sneakabout's trust in the ground), and pull yourself up, hearing various things pop as you remove yourself from the cramped space.
With yet another sigh, you begin towards Lucien, finding him standing at the desk with a vague expression, eyes focused on something behind it.
You don't see his mug.
His shoulders droop, and you can sense the crushing disappointment from him. His lips pull down, brows furrowing, and you walk over and gently place a hand on his back.
He jolts slightly before relaxing into your touch, turning away from the shattered mug on the ground to instead look at you with a weak, forced smile.
You won't want to see this, the dreary man he becomes when he loses something precious to him.
"I, uh... looks like I'll be, uh, needing a new... new cup." He averts his eyes again, unable to meet the care-filled gaze you're directing at him.
Did you? Did you care for him?
"You don't have to lighten the mood, Lucien. It's okay to feel bad in a way that may not be palatable to others." You rub his back, seeing how his head and shoulders droop lower.
You... you did. There was no doubt.
"I..." He lets out a short breath, saddened eyes meeting yours once more, face holding a weak but real smile. "Thank you."
He aches at the loss, but the knowledge of you at his side staves away the worst of it.
"Of course." You remove your hand from his back, about to return to your side until you intertwine your fingers with his instead, not seeing how he looked down at you in slight shock before shifting just a bit closer. "I'll do my best to help you."
He wants to hold you closer.
Looking down at the shards of porcelain on the ground, he feels that heavy burden on his chest lift, expression growing gentler. His loose grip tightens a bit. "I'll do the same."
He wants to pull you against him.
"I know you will. You're a kind man, Lucien. I doubt you let a single debt go unpaid, or a single favor not returned." You slightly lean against him. "You're practically the ideal."
He wants to press his lips against yours, see if you taste as sweet as you act.
"The ideal what?" He tilts his head, looking at you once more. His eyes drift to your lips briefly, before meeting your eyes once more.
He just wants...
"Just... the ideal. Like, person, friend, partner, anything." Now it was your turn to avert your eyes, embarrassed by how boldly you had said that.
He just wants to love you, to express it to you.
But do you feel the same?
He doesn't want to take the plunge, he doesn't want to risk you.
He needs more time to think, to mull over you.
"Well... thank you. I'm glad you think of me so highly." His smile gains back a little life as he looks over you, eyes fond but not perfectly warm.
"You've done nothing but good by me. I don't know how I couldn't think of you so highly." You rub the back of your neck, finally raising your bashful gaze to his.
"I could secretly be some evil villain." He offers, you smiling in response.
"I don't think some evil villain would care so much about his students, or would have lunch with me every day." You roll your eyes playfully, still holding his hand and leaning against the desk.
"I could be some vile, manipulative man." He steps just a bit closer. "Using you for, I don't know, friendship?"
"Then at that point you aren't using me. If you were, then both of us would be evil men using the other." You tilt your head, eyes closing in a smile. "Manipulation loop, we're friends now."
He finds himself smiling at your words, debating taking another step forward. Gently, almost subconsciously, you swing his and your hand, the small action making his expression soften just a bit more.
You hum quietly, eyes closing. He's warm, it feels nice to hold his hand and stand near him. You know, however, that that's not the only reason you do so. There's more to it, to your subtle glances and yearning to simply be near him.
You know it, and you will do nothing to stop it.
He observes you, the gentle curve of your lips and your overall serene expression making his face a hint redder than before. You're utterly relaxed; at peace as you hold his hand.
Softly, he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, looking down at it with the same fond expression. You distracted him from his sadness, and purposefully guided his eyes away from the shards.
He doesn't want to risk it, to risk you, but...
His eyes lift to you as you let out a gentle sigh, features loose and calm.
...it feels like that risk may pay off.
╫
With a calm sigh, you enter your apartment, shirking your coat off of your shoulders and smiling at the sound of Lem talking in the living room. The lights were on in there, as the kitten vanished in the dark.
"Sneak, get away. I'm telling you, you better back up-" His voice is desperate as he talks–or, rather, pleads to–the kitten. "You can't have this! It's mine!"
As you enter the room, you find the blonde in a stare off with the fluff ball, holding a serving of leftover spaghetti with a dire expression.
"Y/N, help me here! She keeps trying to eat my damn spaghetti!"
Said kitten leaps up, climbing his arm with loud meows, eyes focused solely on the food in his hand. "Damnit Sneak! I fed you already!"
Walking over, you pluck the kitten off of his outstretched arm, her protesting and wiggling in your hands, unable to escape. Your smile redirects from the writhing fluff in your hand to the blonde on the couch, who lets out a sigh of relief, setting his spaghetti down. He's done with it for the time being, based on how he places the top back onto it.
"She's very food-driven, eh?" You ask, amused by the man's resulting groan.
"Tell me about it." He sighs, standing. He stretches, lips curving up at the sounds Sneak was letting out. "I've never seen such a ravenous cat."
"Reminds me of you when we first met." You tease, his eyes meeting yours. "You kept threatening to eat me."
"I was, admittedly a bit, ehm, misguided." He rubs the back of his head, looking away. "A big bit misguided."
"Definitely. Still, I enjoyed your company then as much as I do now, though I am glad we moved past the me getting eaten part." You grin, him feeling his expression soften at the sight.
He quietly laughs. "You're too cute to eat."
"I know." Your eyes fall to the kitten in your hands, who had grown calm with the gentle scratches you gave her. "You said something similar when you decided you weren't gonna eat me."
"I guess I did, didn't I?" He hums, thinking back. "Didn't you say something like 'and you're too cute to let eat me' or something?"
"Sounds about right." You chuckle. "Oh, that, for some reason, reminds me. On Friday, I'll get here and then head back up to the school a couple of hours later. There's a Fall party happening, apparently."
"Before the school year even starts?" He asks, confused.
"I said, like, the same thing. But yeah, I guess. We're not exactly sure why, but Lucien said it might be to raise spirit or get new students familiar with the campus?"
"Strange." He murmurs, looking down at the kitten as she drifts off. He stays quiet for a moment as you gently place down the kitten on the couch, her stretching out but still laying still.
"Y/N."
You look towards him, his expression not necessarily hard but still serious.
"Have you heard of heart seals?"
Your head tilts, clueless, and he knows the answer. His eyes move from you, lips pulling up nervously. "It's... an ability of demons. Specifically, those who have formed a strong bond with a human or other demon."
You grasp his hand, guiding him to the kitchen in order to let Sneak sleep without interruption. He feels his heart pound, swallowing thickly as you squeeze his hand as if urging him to continue.
"Passively, it does nothing. Actively, it, uh, lets the demon know the other's whereabouts. There are other things that can happen with it, but seeing as I never really experimented with my powers, I'm not sure of everything nor am I capable of its full extent." He explains, hearing you hum in acknowledgement.
"Interesting..." You murmur, releasing his hand as you lean against the counter, turning to face him. "Is there any reason you brought it up?"
His eyes shift elsewhere, and he rubs the back of his head. "Well, I was..." He trails off nervously, until your hand lifts to his cheek, guiding him to face you again. "I... I wanted to know if I could place one on you."
"I mean, sure." You shrug. "I trust you."
He blinks a few times, bewildered, before letting out a sigh, his nerves melting away. "Alright. The ritual for it is simple, but it'll probably land me with a... rather severe fever for a day or two."
You hum, tilting your head. "So I'm hearing I should take care of you."
He pauses. "That'd be nice, but you can still go to work. I'll just-"
"I can check in at work, but your health is a priority. So, what's needed?" You ask, him huffing in amusement at your quick shutdown of his suggestion.
"I just need to place my hand over your heart. It probably will drain you a bit too, but nothing too major." He explains. "I can make the seal on your back or on your front, it's up to you."
"I guess my back?" You answer, otherwise slightly unsure.
"Alright, I will need direct contact." His eyes widen briefly as you begin unbuttoning your shirt, not ready for how little you cared. A shaky sigh escapes his lips as he begins to walk, gently grasping your shoulder. "I think the bed would be better; if I end up passing out, I'll, well, be in bed."
You blink, nodding. "Makes sense. My room, then?"
He hums in approval. Your room is always one he finds more comfort in; granted, it's the room that has you.
As he begins walking towards the bedroom, he dismisses any thoughts that strike him about the connotations of his actions, claiming to himself that while yes, he holds feelings for you, he isn't doing this as a romantic gesture.
But as he glances back at you, seeing you stretch with your half-unbuttoned shirt and seeing how you yawn, he feels that warmth surge through him. He isn't doing this out of romantic love, but by god if he isn't feeling it.
He sighs again, this time heavily, feeling your hand on the nape of his neck afterwards. You're still so warm.
"Everything okay? We don't have to do this." You murmur, him feeling a tiny chill climb his spine.
He hums in response, the sound affirming. "I am okay, yes. Just... slightly nervous." He lies.
He isn't nervous, he wishes he could just shout it, just tell you, just write it down and show it to you, just...
Just love you.
But there's a sinking feeling in his chest, one he can't quite grasp.
As he looks into your eyes for a moment, the same eyes that meet his over and over again, that pull from him his most vulnerable state, he doubts. There's love in your gaze, directed towards him, yet it feels like a portion of it, the portion he desperately wishes to see, is directed somewhere else.
Opening the door, he casts aside the unsettled feeling that rests over his shoulders in favor of simply relishing in your touch.
He takes his seat on the bed, near the pillows, and it doesn't take long for you to follow, now continuing to unbutton your shirt. You slide it off your arms, mindlessly tossing it in the general direction of your laundry basket, and you hear a self-soothing breath escape the model sitting behind you.
"Alright... I'm ready when you are." He says, rubbing his head and trying to quell his anxiety.
You nod, stretching your arms above your head, and let out a hum. "Alright, I'm ready."
Ever-so-gently, his hand presses into the left side of your back, and he takes one more deep breath. "Alright."
The jolt of pain hits your chest, but past that quick zap, you don't feel anything other than the comforting hand of your roommate on your back.
Lem lets out a ragged sigh, falling back onto the pillows behind him as sweat begins to form along his brow. His hand removes from your back, leaving nothing but the absence of his touch. "That was... quicker than I expected. Both the seal and the fever's onset."
You turn, not taking more than a moment to place a hand on his forehead, feeling the heat emanating from it. "Definitely. Get comfortable and get under the covers, you're going to have to rest. I'll go get some water, hmm?"
His lips curve into a somewhat weary smile, feeling a deep exhaustion pull his lids down. "You're ever on top of things, Y/N."
"And I want you to be ever under the covers." You respond, smiling his way as you turn once more, exiting the room but leaving the door ajar.
He hums, unbuttoning his shirt and removing it with slightly shaking hands. He lifts a hand, delicately ghosting his claws over the deep marks that permanently remind him of his weakness.
He remembers lying on the cold, wet pavement, blood streaming from his wounds like rivers, and staring up at the red eyes that glared at him. It was raining that night, and that was the only reason he remained clean despite his injuries.
As he slips beneath the blankets, surrounded by the familiar smell of the cologne you use (it's always been comforting to him; is that strange?), he feels four small paws trod up his legs, coming to a halt at his abdomen. Looking down at the kitten with an amused expression, it isn't long before the furball kneads his stomach and curls up, tail curving around her head.
Without a word, he pets over her, feeling the purrs even through the blanket that covers him.
Familiarity.
It's comfortable.
His eyes lift from Sneak at the sound of footsteps, you soon reentering the room and setting down a cup of water, just as you said before. Your fingers glide through his hair as you lean against the bed, lips in a calm smile.
"Get some rest, okay? I need to get something to eat, but you need to sleep." You advise, voice calm.
As he meets your eyes, the hand that slowly pets over the kitten slows to a stop. He blinks, averting his gaze from your enamoring expression. "I will."
You remove your hand from his hair, stepping away. "If you need anything, just shout."
Eyes lifting to your form, he feels his face burn upon noticing once more that you're shirtless. "I, uh, will."
You nod, unhooking the robe from the back of your door before slipping it on. Giving him one last smile over your shoulder, you leave him with the fluffball on his lap and an empty room.
Jaw unclenching, he lets out a long sigh, head drooping. Rubbing his head, he looks up at where you had just left from, letting out a smaller sigh. "Man, am I pathetic."
Sneakabout lets out a small meow, the blonde looking down at her. "You think so too?"
The kitten wiggles for a moment, and he notices then how she had shifted. Unfortunately, not fast enough to do anything as she pounces at his hand, batting at it. Not like it hurt. "Or not."
His head falls back onto the pillow, and his eyes close as he lifts his free hand to the freshly forming migraine. "Ugh..."
Opening his eyes, he once more looks to the door, lips pulling down in a slight pout.
Damn, he wants to cuddle you.
He blinks, gaze shifting to the ceiling above him.
Whatever, he'll just wait until you're done with dinner.
...
When will he tell you?
His eyes grow unfocused.
These feelings have been broiling for years at this point; can he really just say it straight to you?
He knows, he sees it in your eyes, you aren't completely enamored with him like he is you.
That is answer enough.
He can't risk it–risk you.
He'll have to stay quiet just a bit longer, as he has in the past.
Hopefully, just a bit.
He prays it's just a bit.