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It was like an unsprouted flower. The petals weren’t open, only the stem and leaves were visible. The flower itself was closed, protecting the bright pollen inside. You had to wait for the misty water droplets to slide down the rigid stem onto the leaves, where there they would roll and hang to the edges before finally letting go. Only then, after the droplets of morning dew were gone would it get warmer for the petals to open. Flowers took time to bloom.
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Maybe it was fate when you crossed paths that first time.
“Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?” you told him, scratching the back of your head with a bashful smile
“I should be the one asking you. You’ve stumbled to the floor.” He let out his gloved hand to help you off the dirty floor. You bumped into him from behind and fell to the floor. The book you were holding made a crackling noise as it fell to the floor with you. You took the stranger's hand and picked up your book.
“I’m okay. Sorry for bumping into you”
“No worries at all. Where are you headed?”
“I was just going to sit outside…” you looked down at your book “oh… actually. I have to go to the store. The spine cracked a little when I bumped into you. See? At least it’s not a library book-” even with sad eyes, you said something brighter
“Allow me to take care of it,” the stranger said, "I've mended books many times.”
“You don’t have to do that, really it’s fine,”
“I insist.” said the stranger. His green eyes looked directly into yours. He really was insisting on fixing the spine for you. His gloved hand was already on the book, ready to take it from you.
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And Rook did. He successfully convinced you into giving him the book you were reading. Was it a poetry book? A fantasy book? A romance? Usually, he wouldn’t offer to mend spines of books, and you were the one to bump into him, not the other way around. But the book you had seemed interesting. Maybe while fixing it, he could take a closer look at the pages.
In his dorm room, Rook lifted the book from the bottom of his bag, and set it on his desk. He started to look at it. The pages weren’t separate from the spine, it was just a crack more than anything. A piece of tape would be fine, but magic would have it as good as new. It took Rook all of 5 seconds to fix your book. He turned the cover over to read the description.
It was about two lovers. One of them died and came back as a ghost, looking over the other’s shoulder and trying to prevent them from harm. But they found someone else to cherish, all while their dead lover watched.
Angsty little piece you have. Why would you ever want to read about pain so close to the heart?
Rook found himself flipping to the first page, and started to read.
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All through the night, Rook stayed at his desk. His gloves were off, and his tie was thrown to his abandoned pillow. By the time Rook got to the last chapter, the sun was rising above the ground. It was a loud sunrise, hues of pink and orange telling Rook exactly how long he’d been up for. As the sun continued to walk across the sky, bright ochre smudged into brilliant azure blue. The sun poured honey and cradled everything it touched in gold. Rook shifted to turn his drained lamp off. He didn’t need it to read the last chapter.
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He finished the book and took a minute or ten to think about the last line. Oh how lonely it was, the pining to prove death doesn’t play any part but pain.
Rook took a pressed forget-me-not and set it in the first chapter of your book. You needed a proper bookmark fitting of the book. The story behind the forget-me-not was that a knight died trying to bring flowers to his lover, and called out ‘forget me not’ with his dying breath.
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“Bonjour, lecteur avide! I have your book all repaired. I hope you don’t mind, but I found myself intrigued and read it”
“Oh that’s alright. Thank you so much for fixing it in the first place” you looked through the pages “it’s just like new.”
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The second time you bumped into Rook, he was convinced this had been fate. What else could have caused this? There was nothing so special about you, really. But there was such beauty in the simplicity of you. Of your routine of bumping into him at the right times, your books which grab such emotion, and the way you just were.
You had a different book two days later. As it happened, you sat in the far corner of his history class. Your eyes looked just as tired as Rook’s did when he pulled an all-nighter. He smiled to himself. The new book was relatively thin and the pages were yellow. The cover was a deep navy, complemented by gold letters and sanguine flowers by the edges.What were you reading now? Hopefully something with a happier theme. Your eyes were bloodshot not just from the lack of sleep, but from crying. Your eyes were a little glassy. Maybe over that last line? Maybe this new book of yours was a comfort one? It was certainly old.
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Light poured in the botanical garden. Purple bodied green, fine yellow and livid purple and red shrubbery soaked in the sun and exhaled its vibrance. They looked so happy. The flowers looked like sweetness dripped from their petals, and ran through their stems. The cheerfulness around them made the garden very calm. It didn’t change Crewel’s assignment though, you needed their berries.
You picked ten of them, thanking the flower for the berries. You put them in your small basket and bumped into someone’s shoulder as you backed up.
“My apologies lecteur avide, I tried to sneak past you without being a bother. It seems you were too quick for me,”
“We’ve seriously got to stop meeting like this” you moved away from the stranger
“Oui, soon we’ll be flying into each other.” you gave a small laugh
“Is that stinging nettle in your pocket?” you looked at the green herb in his lab coat
“Oui. I’m surprised you don’t have it. By the herbs you have acquired, you’ve certainly passed it”
“I have?! I couldn’t find it anywhere”
“It’s in the south temperate zone. I would accompany you, but I must take my leave back to my dorm”
“Oh, sure. Thank you.” The stranger tipped his brown hat and turned the other way, “Wait!” you called out and grabbed his sleeve
“Hm?”
“What’s your name? I’ve bumped into you twice now and you fixed my book. I think I should know it. Mine’s (Y/n),”
“Rook Hunt.”
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You started seeing each other more and more. You were in magic history together. Rook never noticed because you always sat at the back and came in at the last minute. Rook sat in the middle row, he would have to look back at you to see you. But then you would know he was looking for you.
You also almost never stayed in the cafeteria during lunch. You’d opt for the lecture hall or outside. Would it be so bad if he did the same thing because he wanted to? He could come up with excuses until he didn’t have to.
This time, the excuse was cleaning his bow. You watched him with interest as he did so. Maybe he should take you back to his dorm and show you what an amazing shot he is.
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Why?
Why did Rook have such an interest for you? Your remarks, your subtle nature, your taste in pretty and sad books? He could show you so many things if he wanted to. One time, you told him about a marble trick your friend tried on you.
“He made me put the marble in one hand, and raise that hand to my forehead while he turned the other way and counted to fifteen. Then I showed him both my hands when they were still closed. He guessed which hand the marble was in every time! I don’t know how he kept doing that,” you said, still amazed though this happened hours ago.
“The blood drains from your hand, lecteur avide. It looks paler, that’s how your friend knew,” now that Rook explained it, it seemed so simple. He laughed at your expression “It’s obvious now, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…” you gave another one of your bashful smiles and scratched the back of your head.
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Rook was happy when he saw you. His eyes lit up and something of a smile formed. You started sitting in the middle row with him in history instead of the back.
But Rook knew that this shouldn’t continue. You were from Heartslabyul dormitory. He could tell from the colour of your pen, but he chose to ignore it. Being friends with someone from another dorm was very common, but dating?
Not that you were dating. But something was happening in Rook. He could feel it. Something, something more than joy. Something innocent and growing.
It was like an early flower. The fragile petals started to open. The pollen inside started to peak at the sun. The misty morning dew long since faded, and now the stem was soft, not rigid. It was warmer. The petals were opening. It was starting to bloom.
Was it really okay though? Usually people dated others from their own dorms, usually roommates. Were there even any rules when it came to dating? If this was a housewarden and his resident, Rook could see a conversation happening about conduct, but he was a vice and you weren’t from the same dorm.
Pursuing you should be fine.
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Rook started acting differently around you. He started inviting you to watch plays almost everyday, giving you random flowers he found during his ‘field work’, and complimenting you more.
“If I gave you a flower every time their beauty reminded me of you, there’d be no flowers left, mon lecteur avide”
You looked the same every single day, but according to Rook, “your beauty never stops growing, and I’m lucky enough to see it before my eyes.”
You waved it off.
Rook would offer to spot you in flight class. He said to always tell him if you were going out to practice because he wanted to “catch you if you fall, so you can fall for me once if never again.”
You laughed it off and made a joke about him wanting you to fall off your broom. He only gave you a smile.
It was like his goal was to tease you. Maybe he simply was comfortable being around you and more playful in nature? You were digging through your pencil case in history, and all you found were pens. No pencil in sight. You needed a pencil, not a pen. You would not function through this class if you did not have a pencil. You needed to have an eraser. You looked through your bag next, from the small side pockets to the bottom of the actual bag. Rummaging through your heavy textbooks inside and loose papers, you couldn’t find anything. You pulled your hand out from under the heavy textbooks and freed yourself from the bag’s confinement. Your wrist was marked red. It was throbbing lightly from having the weight of the books lifted off.
“Oh non non, this will not do. Why would you damage your delicate hand as such?” Rook promptly asked when he came beside you, making a ‘tsk’ and shaking his head.
“I was just looking for a pencil. My notes get too messy when I use a pen. Do you have one I could borrow?” you usually wrote your decipherable chicken scratch in pencil so no ink would smudge, and then copy down your notes again in different coloured pens to study off of.
“Of course, I’ll do anything for you. But you must promise me to take the contents of your bag out before you look at the bottom of it. There is no need to feel around in the dark when you have light.”
“See, that idea didn’t occur to me at the time, but I promise to be smarter about it. Thanks, Rook.”
A worksheet was passed around via a levitating spell, and then Trein asked where the spell originated from. The lesson was mostly a review about grimoires and the material you learned yesterday. While the professor talked, you etched letters with your pencil on the page, filling out each section. Your eyes flipped between it and your notebook. Your fingers ran through the pages, trying to find each spell formula. A grimoire was basically a cookbook. You were gravely focused on finding the answer to each question, and if you just dipped into your brain a little more you could be done.
If you still sat in the back, you would have gotten away with sleeping in class, but in the middle row, Trein had eyes like a hawk. If he saw a phone or the lit up screen of a smartwatch, he would call you out on it immediately.
Your eyelids started to droop.
‘Your tired eyes will not do either, mon sleepyhead.’ Rook wrote in the margins of your notebook
‘Sorry, I couldn’t sleep so well yesterday’ you wrote sloppily.
There was a weight like an anvil underneath your lashes. You closed your eyes for a moment and your whole body just started to relax. The mechanical pencil in your hand slipped from your fingers and rolled across the filled-out page. Rook stopped writing his mini-rant about proper sleeping habits when he noticed.
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Rook should have poked you awake, but he knew of your sleeping troubles. Your head started to sink as your posture failed. Your body slumped as you fell to the desk. Rook managed to slip his gloved hand under your forehead just in time to give you a safe landing. He righted the pencil in your hand to make it look like you were awake and lazily doing your work.
There was a sudden rush inside Rook. A pounding in his chest. Maybe it was the adrenaline of keeping you safe from Trein’s reprimands. Even after the bell, your chest continued its steady rise and fall. Your consciousness never heard the ringing.
Rook took hold of your shoulder and gently shook you awake. You rose like a bear coming out of hibernation, rubbing your eyes squinting at the spring light. A frown formed on your vermillion lips and Rook had to remind himself that he couldn’t leave you sleeping. If he didn’t wake you when he did, you would have woken up sore so, so much later.
“Is it the end of the day?” you asked, a low grumble in your tired voice
“Non, non sleepyhead. There are 2 minutes to the next class”
“WHAT!” Your body went straight up out of the seat. You started shoving your paper in your bag, and your feet started to move as you zipped up. You had to stop after two steps. “Rook, move.”
The history classroom was like the lecture hall, there were no desks. There were rows of benches around the room. Second row next to Rook didn’t mean in the middle where you could go either direction. The window was on your right and Rook was on your left.
“Why don’t you skip avec moi? It’s a catch-up day for you, isn’t it?” you looked at Rook bewildered. He knew you would never dream of skipping class. You had study methods, academic planners, student websites, and specific pilot G-02 0.38 pens…And a collection of randomly found pencils that were always dull.
“Well, yeah. But it doesn’t mean I should skip. You shouldn’t either. If you won’t politely move, I’ll just climb over you.” you said
Rook titled his hat down. His shoulders shook with the force of his chuckle. No wonder he liked you so much. At first, it was your blunt innocence in a school like NRC. Now it was how he saw you change and adapt. When he first met you, there was no way you would have suggested climbing over him because you would be late. Now that you had nothing to hide, you were much more spirited! You were a rabbit running late, and he was the hunter leading you for a trap.
No wonder you’re so immune to his flirting attempts. You didn’t even know he was flirting with you. It was that blunt innocence standing in the way. It didn’t let you see Rook as anything more than a friend. He needed to be more obvious.
“Ma cherie, you are welcome to attempt such things. However, your time seems to be up” on queue, the bell rang for next period. “You should stay with me, just this once. You fell asleep in class, I think you are too stressed to go to another one.”
“Naps give you energy.”
“You need a break, ma lectrice avide. Allow me to take care of you. Just this once.”
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Rook regretted it immediately. He tried to give you a break, but all he did was make you fall ill. The hunter did not expect this to happen. He gets his quarry by playing fairly in the field, not by making them sick. Rook only wanted to capture your smile when it wasn’t bashful. Seldom did you give him one that was courageous, so he made it his mission to try. You were never as loud around others as you were with just him.
Your nerves tightened as you coughed. You could feel your stomach rattle and tighten every time you lurched against your will to cough up phlegm. Your body was shaking, yet every part of you was on fire. Your throat was so weak, every sentence was a struggle. It was hardly even a whisper. That made it incredibly hard to tell Rook to go away instead of visiting you. He’d try to place his hand on your forehead, and you’d wriggle away with all your strength. You’d have to hide under the blankets, which only made the heat worse.
Rook wouldn’t leave this time. He sat in a chair by your desk and read to you from your comfort book. Midway through the fifth chapter, you pulled the blanket as high as you could without uncovering your feet. Your eyes were so heavy and your head sunk into the pillow. You struggled to stay awake and listen to his voice, but the sound of it was only comforting to you. Mixed with the pillows, were you no match against the lull of sleep.
Rook stopped reading and closed the book. He stood up from the chair and placed the book exactly where he found it. Perhaps you’ll imagine this was a dream, and he didn’t actually read to you.
“”If only I could take your pain as my own, and rid you from this misery.”
Rook checked the pulse of your wrist to see if it was too high or too low. After confirming it was as it should be, he placed a kiss on your pulse and left without a word.
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It’s true that Rook regretted getting you sick, but he felt guilty for not regretting leaving school.
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Rook almost regretted leaving campus. Almost. He would forever carry guilt for causing you to suffer, but he would never regret almost kissing you.
Rook knew what that feeling in him was now. It started to blossom weeks ago, and now it was in full bloom.
The rose that was his heart was deep red and full of life. It had no thorns as there was no need for his heart to be protected. Warmth kissed the flower and gentle rain nurtured it. The vibrant stem was where all his patience for the pursuit of you was. The leaves were where he held the desire to wrap his arms around you and keep you safe. And the rose petals were for every time his heart sped up and his body felt warmer than usual around you. Every petal was a heartbeat.
Rook almost kissed you.
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You were leaning over the florid rail of a bridge, throwing pieces of bread to the ducks in the lake underneath. The air smelled like fresh September rain, yet there were no clouds. The air was cool, yet there was no wind to make you shiver. The sun danced a slow ballet among the blue paint it splashed in. The gold sphere in the sky made the water below dance with it and the lilies laugh on their green lily pads.
You were just focused on the cute little waddling ducks, and Rook was just focused on the cute distracted you. You really couldn’t be oblivious anymore. He’s called you his dear, sought you out over and over, told you in so many ways that he was falling for you. Told you in so many ways that he’d be there as long as you needed him to. As long as you’d let him.
But you…Most people would have flirted back or blushed, or told him flat out they weren’t interested. But you reply like he didn’t just whisper poetry like a lover would.
You’ve changed your seat in history from the back row to right by his side, and whenever you get bored you doodle in the margin lines of his notebook. You’d draw little hearts and jellyfish. Sometimes you’d draw a miniature him. You’d write him small messages and force him to stifle his laugh in the middle of a lecture because you had an intrusive thought.
Rook wouldn’t say you’ve made any attempts at flirting. Or maybe he’s been overlooking it because they’ve been so subtle. Maybe resting your head against him when watching a play was your way of flirting, but Rook couldn’t tell if it was your heart beating or his.
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At that moment on the bridge, Rook was about to ask. You beat him to it and asked if one could have a duck familiar.
“I am afraid you have me at a loss, ma fleur. However I know you do not need a familiar for someone to follow you. I would follow you anywhere.” he said
“Why?”
“Why? You are so beautiful to me that I cannot bear the thought if anything were to happen to you. I am the one who tempted you into coming here with me. My intent was to give you a chance to rest, and yet you choose to care for ducks by feeding them bread. I don’t think I could ever let that go. Please, mon lecteur avide, don’t force me to.”
You looked down at your feet and became more florid than the red railing. Your face and ears were flushed with rubies. This, is when you went speechless.
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Should Rook bring you soup?
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All the herbs and tea cleared the congestion in your lungs and made your stomach soft instead of rigid. It was only two days that you were sick, and now your only symptom was a runny nose. You were well enough to go to school, though. Tired that you were.
Waiting at the gates of Heartslabyul was a familiar fellow with short blond hair cut in a bob, and impatient green eyes.
“Bonjour, mon lecteur avide. These last days without you have been more tragic than anything I have ever known.”
“Thanks…” you replied.
“Shall we?” Rook tilted his head as a way of saying to go. You nodded your head and walked alongside him.
“Thanks for coming all this way. You didn’t have to.”
“Non, ma fleur. Of course I had to. I’ve suffered greatly with how you pushed me away this past week.”
“Because you have better things to do than check up on me. And I didn’t want to make you sick.”
“You have it wrong mon amour. There is nothing I would rather do than see you. When you are away, I cannot think of anything but you.”
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You had no idea what was happening. It was history again. Rook was kind enough to give you notes for the days you missed, but that wasn’t surprising. During the current lecture, you were writing your missed notes in decipherable chicken scratch in your notebook. Focused on the board and your page, you had no awareness of Rook. You only noticed his hand laced with yours when the warmth in you suddenly changed.
You turned to Rook, who was already looking at you.
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Did he like you? Rook had to. He was straightforward and bold and said all these things without actually saying the words “I like you”, which was just like him.
He said all these sweet things and looked at you in such a way but you thought he was kidding. You didn’t think he actually meant it. Sometimes people say things in such a sweet context that it could be interpreted as romantic, but usually it is playful and friendly. Wasn’t that happening?
You never told Rook, but you understood small words in French. You knew that he called you “my love” and “my flower.” You had no idea what “lecteur avide” meant until you searched it up. It meant an avid reader. Bookworm. Was it because you read so much and always told him about it? Your cheeks started to burn.
It wasn’t particularly hot outside, and the other students walking past you started to give you second looks because of your flushed face. Rook had gone to his class already. Yours was down the hall from his.
But Rook was giving you nicknames based on your interests. Oh, god forbid he called you something that related to ducks. He knew all about your ducks. You had a Pinterest board for ducks. And he knew about all of it….Oh, God.
The students in your class looked at you and your ruddy complexion all the same. You took your seat at the back and sunk in your seat. You couldn’t be bothered with magic curses. What bothered you was the chemical reactions happening in your brain to think that Rook would actually like you.
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“You look troubled, ma cherie.” he said. You looked up from your book pressed against your knees. Your back was against a tree and the heels of your feet were touching the back of your thighs. Rook was right beside you.
“I…”
“Are you reading something morose?”
“No, I’m just, thinking.” it was hard meeting his shining eyes as you spoke
“About what?”
You dropped your gaze to the book. You put a forget-me-not inside the page and closed it shut. Rook always gave you forget-me-nots to put in your books. You laid it on the bed of fresh grass, and looked back at Rook.
Here goes nothing
“...I like someone but I don’t know if they like me. I’m not so good at picking up certain ques.”
“Oh?” Rook’s brow raised “And who won the heart of mon lecteur avide.”
“Maybe I should say the books since I’m such a bookworm,” you said. Rook’s lips started to smirk. You continued, “ My love for them is very dear . Whenever I mark a page, I find my flower to put inside”
“Ah, mon amour, and here I thought you wouldn’t catch on for another week. You’ve caught me by surprise”
“So.. That means that you really do…” you trailed off
“Oui. I like you. Very much. How could I not? I wait with anticipation each day for history class because you are there. My heart beats so loud when you sketch in my notes that I cannot hear anything but your pencil's movement. And when I review my notes after class, I cannot comprehend anything except how much I want you to be beside me. I think of you constantly.”
Rook shifted and dipped his head until his forehead pressed against yours. A silent ask. A want. The heat crawled over you and pooled around your cheeks.
You made the move this time.
You kissed Rook.
You put your lips on his, and everything felt like it stopped. There was nothing except the two of you. Your stomach turned to hard, sensitive knots. Heat spread in an eruption of butterflies through your system. Rook was cupping your cheek and holding you close, pulling you into his lap so he could touch you more. Your hands slithered behind his neck and tangled in his hair. Rook kissed you again, fervent and greedy. He could hear the soft sounds of you as you gave into him more, melting into him, and his hand by your hip pulled you impossibly closer. Rook would kiss you all day, if you let him. The way you boldly played with hair sent him spiraling deeply in the warmth of your touch, and your lips moving with his made it easy to forget that he needed to breathe.
You were both gasping and flushed red when you pulled away.
“Does this mean you’re mine?”
“Mhm. Of course, Rook.” you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.
He held you by your waist in his arms, in his lap, and rested his head by your shoulder. Enjoying the feeling that coursed through him, the feeling of finally being with you.