Work Text:
🧡
Mornings in Heartslabyul always felt overly polished. The windows gleamed, the silverware reflected the chandelier light too brightly, and students moved through breakfast with perfect posture and practiced manners, as if even chewing too loudly might summon Riddle’s wrath from across the dorm.
Y/n L/n preferred arriving early enough to avoid most of it, and the dining hall was quieter at this hour. He sat near the windows with a book propped open beside his untouched tea, absently turning a page while the sunlight warmed the side of his face. Around him, conversations drifted in low murmurs and the gentle clinking of spoons stirring teacups.
It was normal, peaceful even. Exactly the kind of morning he liked.
Then somebody slammed both hands onto his table.
“DUDE.”
Y/n startled, nearly ripping a page in his book as his teacup rattled, just barely containing the liquid inside. He gathered his bearings and slowly looked up. A first-year student stared at him with the expression of someone witnessing history.
“. . . Can I help you?” He raised a brow, smoothing out the new crease in his poor novel.
“You actually did it,” the student scoffed, a disbelieving scoff tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Y/n only looked more confused. “Did what?”
Another student appeared behind him. “I told you they were together!” he expressed, grin widening by the second.
“No, because the chemistry was INSANE—”
Y/n looked back and forth between the two as they had a conversation over him. He blinked once. “What are you talking about?”
The first-years looked horrified. “Have you checked Magicam??” The one in front of him asked.
“I don’t have Magicam.” Silence followed his statement, and the two students stared at him like he’d confessed to living in a cave.
“You don’t—”
“No.” Y/n cut him off.
“Seriously?” The other asked.
“Yes,” Y/n deadpanned.
A phone was shoved into his face, and Y/n frowned at the bright screen before immediately wishing he had never looked.
It was a photo of him, and not even a good one at that. He was sitting outside the botanical gardens three days ago, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and a book open in his lap. Leaning against his shoulder with an annoyingly photogenic grin was Cater Diamond, arm reaching out to take the photo, the other wrapped around Y/n’s shoulder. Y/n could see his past self giving a side-eye to Cater himself, and not the camera.
The caption read: Finally got him to stop ignoring me, with a glittery pink heart attached to the end.
Y/n stared at it, and the comments below the post blurred together.
HE HARD LAUNCHED???
Wait they’re actually perfect
CATER ACTUALLY PULLED
HE LOOKS SO IN LOVE IM SICK
The post had thirty-seven thousand likes and was posted just last night.
Y/n lowered the phone very carefully, his eye twitching. “. . . What.”
“Congratulations, by the way,” the student behind him offered. The one in front nodded sympathetically. “Honestly, we all figured it would happen eventually.”
Y/n stood so abruptly that his chair scraped loudly against the floor. Every nearby conversation paused, but he ignored him.
“Where is Cater?” he demanded.
One of the first-years laughed nervously, probably taking Y/n’s question entirely the wrong way. “Last I checked, he was in the garden.”
Y/n brushed past him without another word, determined to get to the bottom of all this.
🧡
The rose garden smelled faintly like sweets and tea. Y/n stormed through the trees until he found Cater by himself, pacing between two rose bushes which had yet to be painted red. His phone was in hand, and he looked up the second Y/n came into the vicinity.
“Oh good, you found me before Trey did,” he greeted, offering a tight smile that portrayed both fear and anticipation.
Y/n held up his phone, Magicam downloaded seconds prior just for this moment. “You posted me,” he said blatantly.
“Okay, so actually—”
“You implied we were dating.” Y/n pocketed his phone, crossing his arms across his chest and looking at Cater pointedly.
“Technically,” Cater corrected weakly, “I implied you finally stopped rejecting my friendly advances.”
Y/n glared. “Cater.”
“Right. Yep.” Cater’s posture straightened. “Bad timing for jokes.”
Y/n walked forward, and the closer he got, the more nervous Cater visibly became.
That alone was unsettling because Cater Diamond didn’t get nervous; he laughed things off, smiled through disasters, and talked his way around consequences.
But now he kept readjusting the rings on his fingers and refusing to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds. “I can explain,” Cater said quickly.
Y/n cocked his head to the side. “You have one minute.”
“That’s not a lot of time objectively—”
“One minute.” Y/n’s glare hardened.
Cater groaned dramatically and dropped backward against a nearby tree. “It was supposed to be funny,” he expressed. “There was this trend going around where people ‘soft launch’ their relationships.” He gestured vaguely, “and everybody already thinks we flirt—”
“We don’t flirt,” Y/n denied, resulting in Cater looking at him flatly. “Y/n, last week you told me my voice sounded expensive.”
Y/n merely shrugged, “It does.”
“That’s flirting.”
“That's an observation.”
Cater pointed at him. “That’s flirting too!”
Y/n pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why me?” The question came out quieter than he intended, and Cater paused. For the first time since Y/n ambushed him, Cater’s expression lost some of its exaggerated panic.
“Because it’s easy with you,” Cater admitted. Y/n raised a brow at that, and Cater scrambled to revolver. “I mean—not easy easy. You’re terrifying sometimes, but people already think we’re attached at the hip, so—”
“So your solution was to tell your entire following that we’re dating, which happens to include at least half of the school?” Y/n deadpanned.
“I didn’t think it would explode like this!”
Y/n held up his phone again. “There’s fan art.”
“Okay, but some of it is kinda good—”
“Cater.”
“Sorry,” he said meekly.
Silence settled between them. From afar, students crossed the courtyard laughing, completely unaware that Y/n’s entire week had just derailed before breakfast.
Finally, he exhaled sharply. “So fix it,” he demanded.
Cater winced. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”
Y/n gestured. “What problem?”
“If I suddenly say it was fake now, nobody’s gonna believe me.” Cater leaned forward, speaking faster now. “They’ll think I panicked and tried to backtrack, or that we broke up immediately, or that one of us cheated—”
“Okay, okay, pause. That escalated quickly,” Y/n cut him off, bringing a hand exhaustedly to his temple.
“You don’t understand how insane Magicam culture is.” Cater started fiddling with his rings again in thought.
“I’m beginning to,” Y/n said exasperatedly.
Suddenly, Cater stood, then smiled. It wasn’t his usual effortless grin; instead, this one looked desperate around the edges.
“Fake date me,” he declared.
Y/n stared at him. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” Cater beckoned.
“No.”
“Just until things calm down.”
“No.”
“You literally don’t even use social media,” Cater reasoned.
“That somehow makes it worse.” Y/n dragged a hand down his face, turning to start walking away.
Naturally, Cater followed him. “Y/n,” he called.
“No.”
“I’ll owe you!”
“Still no.”
“I’ll stop posting pictures of your hands.” Y/n stopped walking, slowly turning towards Cater. “. . . You posted pictures of my hands?”
Cater looked away. “. . . People think they’re attractive.”
“Cater.” Y/n flustered.
“Please.” And there it was again: no jokes or dramatics, but genuine pleading from the Cater Diamond.
Y/n looked at him carefully. At the forced smile, the nervous tapping of his rings, the way he kept trying to make himself look unserious. Like if he laughed first, rejection wouldn’t hurt as much.
Y/n sighed, long and tired. “This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” he said wearily.
Cater blinked. “. . . That’s not a no.” he slowly smiled.
“It should be.” Y/n rolled his eyes.
Five seconds later, Cater grabbed Y/n’s shoulders. “Oh my gosh, babe, we’re gonna be amazing!” he started shaking him back and forth.
Y/n looked deeply unimpressed. “You are never calling me that again,” he glowered.
Cater grinned, “You better start getting used to it.”
Y/n, almost instantaneously, began to regret his decision.
🧡
Fake dating became exhausting immediately. Not because Y/n was bad at it; unfortunately, it was the opposite. The problem was that Cater made pretending feel weirdly natural.
It started the very next morning. Y/n had barely stepped out of his classroom when someone gasped dramatically from the hallway.
“There they are.”
“Oh my Seven, they’re together right now—”
Y/n stopped walking, and Cater appeared beside him like he’d been summoned by chaos itself.
“Morning, Sweetheart.” Before Y/n could react, Cater casually slung an arm over his shoulders. Students nearby started whispering, and Y/n stared straight ahead. “You’re enjoying this,” he grumbled.
“Immensely,” Cater admitted.
“You’re a terrible person.” Y/n kept his glare pointed forward.
“Mhm,” Cater hummed amusedly, “But I’m your terrible person now.” His words were clearly meant as a joke, yet still, heat climbed into Y/n’s face before he could stop it.
Cater noticed instantly, and his grin widened. “Oh?” he teased softly, “That got you?”
“It didn’t.” Y/n rejected.
Cater raised a brow, “Your ears are pink, Baby.”
“I hate you.” Y/n flushed.
“No, you don’t.” The worst part was how easily Cater said things like that; every pet name rolled off his tongue naturally, like he’d been calling Y/n those things for years.
And every single time, Y/n’s composure fractured a little more.
By lunch, the relationship had become a public spectacle. Students openly stared when they entered the cafeteria together: someone dropped their tray when Cater leaned down to steal a sip from Y/n’s drink.
“Wow,” Cater grimaced dramatically after tasting it. “This is awful.”
“You purposefully stole it,” Y/n said, impassive.
“And I regret it purposefully, too.” Y/n tried to ignore the amusement bubbling in his chest from that.
Tried being the important word, because Cater noticed it immediately. His eyes lit up, “Oh wait, hold still.”
Y/n narrowed his eyes. “That sentence from you has never led to anything good.”
Too late. Cater grabbed Y/n by his sleeve and pulled him closer before snapping a quick selfie. Y/n barely had time to glare properly. “You cannot keep posting me without warning,” he chastised.
“I absolutely can,” Cater countered, already typing up his caption and posting it.
Studying his habits like a National Geographic documentary. Of course, another heart had to be attached to the caption; above it sat the blurry candid of Y/n mid-scowl next to a grinning Cater.
Within seconds, comments started flooding in.
HE LOOKS SO DONE WITH YOU
CATER WON AT LIFE
Oh they’re sickening
Y/n stared at the screen in disbelief. “Your followers are insane.”
“They’re invested,” Cater corrected cheerfully.
Y/n glared at the phone, “You say that like it’s healthy.”
“It’s not,” Cater shrugged, “But it is entertaining.” Then his smile took on a sudden softness. “You look cute when you’re irritated, by the way.”
Y/n nearly choked on his drink, and Cater burst into laughter. “Oh my gosh, there it is,” he giggled.
“There’s what?” Y/n demanded.
“That face,” Cater drawled, wiggling his finger toward Y/n.
“There is no face,” Y/n objected.
“There absolutely is, Sweetheart.” Y/n looked away before Cater could see the way his expression betrayed him. Unfortunately, Cater always noticed anyway.
Studying together became part of the act surprisingly quickly. . . Mostly because Cater started showing up uninvited.
At first, Y/n assumed it was another performance: a way to be seen together publicly. But then Cater kept staying, even after nobody else was around.
Rain taped softly against the tall windows of the library while warm golden lights flickered overhead. Y/n sat at one of the back tables, surrounded by restoration notes and half-finished annotations. Across from him, Cater spun a pen lazily between his fingers.
He had been ‘studying’ for the past twenty minutes, which mostly meant talking instead.
“You’re staring again,” Y/n said without looking up.
“I’m literally your boyfriend,” Cater defended himself, “It’s allowed.”
“You’re fake dating me.” Y/n looked up at him through his eyelashes.
“Mmm,” Cater tilted his head thoughtfully, “Ambiguous.”
Y/n snorted before he could stop himself, and Cater pointed at him accusingly. “There! That’s the laugh.”
“I did not laugh,” Y/n denied.
“You did. And it was totes adorbs.” Y/n rolled his eyes and returned to his notes. Cater watched him for a moment longer, her voice taking on a more teasing lilt. “You always look so serious when you study.”
“Because studying is a serious thing to do,” Y/n reasoned.
“I know, pretty boy, but still.”
Y/n’s pen nearly slipped out of his hand. Cater blinked, then slowly grinned, “Oh, that one got youuu.” he leaned across the table.
Y/n refused to look up, his ears burning. “You’re annoying,” he deflected.
“Aww,” Cater cooed. “You’re embarrassed.”
“I am not.”
“Baby, your entire face is red.”
Y/n tensed. “It’s warm in here.”
Cater pursed his lips, “It’s raining.”
Y/n finally looked up just long enough to glare at him. Unfortunately, that only seemed to make Cater happier. He leaned further across the table, resting his chin in his hand. “You know,” he murmured, “I didn’t think you’d be the type to get flustered.
Y/n frowned. “What type?”
“The composed type.” Cater smiled lazily. “The emotionally devastating mysterious guy type.”
“You’re making categories up,” Y/n crossed his arms across his chest.
“And you’re still blushing.”
Y/n looked back down at his book, resulting in Cater laughing under his breath. That sound affected Y/n far more than it should have.
As the days passed, the posts kept coming.
Cater documented everything: pictures of Y/n’s hands holding teacups (this time, Y/n actually knew about it), blurry late-night study sessions, short videos where Y/n shoved the camera away while Cater laughed in the background.
Even the captions started changing, becoming less exaggerated and more personal.
He pretends he hates me, but he waited outside my class today :P
Caught him smiling. Nobody speak to me.
Date night <3 (the photo attached to that one consisted of two drinks and a hint of Y/n’s sleeve in the corner)
Students around Night Raven became obsessed with spotting them together. Someone even started a private account dedicated entirely to “Cater and Y/n sightings.”
Y/n discovered this because Ace showed him while laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
“You guys are actually famous,” he belted.
“We shouldn’t be,” Y/n sighed. Ace only laughed harder.
Cater looked delighted, and Y/n looked exhausted. Somehow, that contrast only made people adore them even more.
One evening, Cater dragged Y/n to a café near campus under the excuse of ‘content opportunities.’
Y/n really should’ve known better.
The café lights were warm and low, casting everything in soft gold. Cater sat across from him in the booth, scrolling through pictures they’d taken earlier.
He suddenly paused. “. . . Wait.”
Y/n looked up from his coffee. “What?”
Cater slowly turned the screen around. It showed a candid photo posted by a fanbase community that neither had realized had been taken. It showed Y/n looking down at a book while smiling faintly at something Cater had said. The photo was soft and unaware, unguarded and open.
Cater stared at the picture, strangely quiet. “You look really pretty here,” he said softly.
Y/n’s chest tightened unexpectedly. Cater didn’t sound teasing; didn’t sound performative. Just honest.
Y/n looked away first. “You’re staring again,” he muttered weakly.
Cater smiled, “Can you blame me, Sweetheart?” And there it was again, that warmth spreading embarrassingly fast beneath Y/n’s skin.
Cater noticed immediately. “Oh, you’re gone,” he smirked.
“I’m not.”
“You totally are.”
Y/n glared at him, “You’re imagining things.
“Baby,” Cater said, leaning forward, “if you get any redder, I think the fire alarms are gonna go off.”
Y/n covered the bottom half of his face with his hand, looking off to the side.
Cater nearly collapsed laughing, and before Y/n could stop him, he heard a familiar click.
“Cater,” Y/n glared, but said boy was already typing up some god-awful caption for his post. “Yeah, this is getting posted immediately.”
“You’re evil.”
“And you’re cute when flustered.” Cater clicked the post button triumphantly, “We all have our burdens.”
🧡
The annual Halloween festival transformed an empty park into something unrecognizable. Lanterns floated overhead in shimmering rows of gold and crimson light while enchanted ribbons drifted through the air like living streamers. Music echoed from every corner of the event, and families flooded the pathways in groups, laughing loudly enough to drown out the evening breeze.
Everything felt bright, crowded, and warm. Cater thrived in it. “This,” he announced dramatically while spinning once beneath the lights, “is my natural habitat.”
Y/n walked beside him, carrying two drinks and the exhaustion of a man being held hostage by extroversion. “You’ve said that at about three separate booths today,” he remarked.
“And I meant it every time.” Cater grinned before gasping, suddenly grabbing Y/n’s sleeve. “Oh my gosh, wait there.”
Y/n didn’t even have time to react before Cater lifted his phone and a gentle click resounded from the device.
“What was that for?” Y/n asked.
“The lighting makes you look unfairly attractive,” Cater reasoned.
Y/n rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward slightly. Cater caught it, and his expression brightened. “There it is,” he said softly. “That smile.”
“You’re obsessed with my expressions.”
“Well, yeah.” Cater looked entirely unashamed. “You don’t make enough of them, so they’re rare collectibles.” Before Y/n could answer, Cater had already posted the picture. Y/n caught a glimpse of the caption before the phone disappeared again.
Festival dates look good on him <3
It was embarrassing how quickly that warmth spread across Y/n’s face now whenever Cater said things like that. And Cater had, of course, figured it out. The smug look he gave Y/n afterward confirmed it.
“Oh,” he laughed softly. “You’re blushing already? We just got here.”
“Shut up,” Y/n deflected.
“Aww. Sensitive tonight.” Y/n deliberately took a long sip from his drink instead of responding, and Cater looked delighted by it.
The festival only got worse from there.
Or better, depending on who you asked.
Cater dragged Y/n from booth to booth with endless energy, stopping every few minutes to take more photos.
Y/n holding candy apples.
Y/n glaring at carnival games.
Y/n illuminated by floating lantern light.
At some point, Y/n realized Cater wasn’t really taking pictures of the festival itself anymore, only focusing on him.
“You know,” Y/n said eventually while Cater scrolled through recent photos, “normal people usually enjoy events instead of documenting them like Great Seven historians.”
Cater gasped. “Excuse you, this is art.”
“This is twenty-seven photos of me holding food,” Y/n countered.
“And every single one is gorgeous.” Y/n looked away before Cater could catch the expression threatening to form.
Unfortunately, Cater stepped directly into his line of sight again. “No, seriously.” His voice softened, “You’ve been smiling a lot more lately.”
Y/n paused, and the festival noise blurred around them for a second. Cater looked oddly sincere beneath the lantern glow—not exaggerating, no teasing—just honest observation.
“Is that your fault?” Y/n asked quietly.
Cater smiled slowly, “Maybe.” The answer settled somewhere dangerous in Y/n’s heart.
Eventually, they reached the older section of the festival grounds near the edge of the park. It was quieter there, less crowded and illuminated. Vintage magical decorations lined the pathways, glowing softly beneath the evening sky.
That was where Cater spotted the photo booth.
“Oh,” he breathed dramatically. “Oh, we have to.”
The booth looked strangely old-fashioned compared to everything else around it: black lacquered wood, velvet curtains, and a flickering light overhead that read: RETRO ENCHANTED PHOTO STRIPS.
Y/n narrowed his eyes. “It looked haunted,” he commented.
“That’s part of the charm.” Cater grinned, ignoring Y/n’s reluctance entirely, and grabbed his wrist. “C’mon, Baby. One set of pictures.”
“You said that thirty pictures ago,” Y/n said, voice borderline on a whine.
“And yet here you are,” Cater sang, “supporting my dreams.” Y/n barely managed to keep hold of his drink before Cater pulled him inside.
The booth was tiny, painfully tiny. The second the curtain closed behind them, Y/n became acutely aware of everything.
The warmth of Cater’s knee pressed against him, the faint scent of his flowery cologne, the way their shoulders touched every time either of them moved.
Cater seemed completely unbothered. Y/n, meanwhile, understood why people died in romance novels.
“Oh, this is perfect,” Cater said while adjusting the camera settings excitedly. “The black-and-white filter is so cute.”
“You call everything cute,” Y/n remarked.
“Not true.” Cater pressed a button, and the screen started a countdown. “Just you.” he shimmied closer to Y/n.
Y/n nearly dropped his drink, and Cater burst into laughter.
“You’re impossible.” Y/n coughed.
“And you're flustered.”
Y/n looked to the ceiling of the booth. “I’m trapped in a confined space with you; that is not the same thing.”
Cater merely hummed, and the camera flashed, taking its first photo. The picture printed briefly on the side preview screen: Cater smiling brightly toward the lens while Y/n looked caught mid-complaint.
Cater laughed, “That’s adorable.”
“I look miserable.” Y/n leaned back.
“You look in love.”
Y/n stared at him, and Cater blinked once before coughing awkwardly. “Well, that slipped out.”
Before Y/n could respond, the countdown started again. Cater suddenly grabbed Y/n’s jaw lightly and smushed their faces together. Y/n’s breath caught as Cater said, “Smile, Sweetheart.”
Annoyingly, Y/n listened, and the flash went off.
For a second afterward, neither of them moved away. Cater’s hand lingered against his face slightly too long, and the expression reflected on the preview screen was dangerously fond.
Y/n could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Outside the booth, laughter echoed faintly throughout the festival. Inside felt quiet, close, and the third countdown began.
Neither looked toward the camera this time. Y/n was already looking at Cater: at the curve of his mouth, the beauty mark beneath his eye, the way the soft monochrome lighting made him look unfairly beautiful.
Cater noticed after a second, his teasing smile softening. “You’re staring,” he said gently as the camera clicked.
“Quite the observer,” Y/n said after the photo joined the others on the preview screen.
“Hard not to when you look at me like that.” Y/n swallowed, the booth suddenly feeling far too small.
Cater looked nervous now, actually nervous, which seldom happened. And somehow that affected Y/n more than all the flirting combined.
Cater laughed under his breath. “We should do something dramatic for the last picture.”
Y/n’s voice came out lower than intended. “Like what?”
Cater shrugged lightly, though his fingers fidgeted against his sleeve. “I dunno. Kiss maybe? People would lose their minds over it.”
The joke landed strangely between them, because neither of them laughed afterward.
The countdown for the final picture started.
4. . .
Cater looked at him carefully now.
3. . .
Y/n realized that he could hear Cater’s breathing.
2. . .
And for the first time since this whole fake relationship began, Cater looked uncertain.
1. . .
Y/n grabbed the front of Cater’s blazer and kissed him.
The flash went off as Cater froze completely, not pulling away nor pushing closer.
Y/n kissed him softly at first, carefully, like he was giving Cater time to stop him.
Instead, Cater made the quietest sound against Y/n’s mouth, startled and breathless all at once.
It came crashing down on Y/n, and at that moment, he realized that this wasn’t fake anymore, and maybe it hadn’t been for a while.
When he pulled back, Cater stared at him with wide eyes, speechless.
Y/n’s hand was still twisted tightly in the fabric of his blazer. “. . . Too much?” he asked quietly.
Cater blinked once, then laughed softly in disbelief. “No,” he answered. “No, definitely not.”
And then Cater kissed him back like he couldn’t help it. One hand slid against Y/n’s jaw, the other gripping his wrist.
The second kiss felt completely different: warmer, needier, and honest in a way neither of them had been ready for.
Outside the booth, the festival continued loudly without them. Inside, the rest of the world disappeared.
By the time the final photo strip was printed, Cater was halfway in Y/n’s lap, and both of them looked equally wrecked.
The last picture didn’t show either of them smiling, just staring at each other like they’d accidentally crossed a line neither one wanted to step back from.
Cater picked up the stips with slightly shaky fingers without moving away from Y/n. He handed one of them over and pulled out his phone, taking off the case to place the pictures behind.
“I don’t think I can post this one,” Cater whispered.
Y/n blinked. “Why?”
Cater smiled faintly, because for once, he wanted something that belonged only to them.
🧡
Things changed quietly after the photo booth, and there was no conversation about it. No awkward agreement, no “what does this mean?” and certainly no attempt to define whatever had shifted between them inside that cramped little booth beneath black-and-white camera flashes.
They just. . .continued. Except now Cater kissed him. Constantly.
At first, Y/n thought it was another extension of the act; a way to sell the relationship more convincingly.
But then Cater started doing it when nobody was watching, and that made things dangerous.
For example, it first happened three days after the festival.
Y/n sat at the back of the library, surrounded by open books while rain tapped softly against the tall windows. Across from him, Cater had been ‘helping study’ for the past twenty minutes.
Meaning he’d contributed exactly one useful comment and spent the rest of the time sprawled dramatically across his chair complaining about the latest gossip.
“You’re distracting,” Y/n muttered without looking up from his notes.
Cater gasped. “Wow, and here I thought my presence improved your quality of life.”
“It lowers my life expectancy, actually.” Y/n sighed, glancing up. Cater was already staring at him with that lazy, fond look that had become increasingly common lately. The kind that made Y/n feel strangely warm beneath his skin.
“What?” Y/n asked quietly.
Cater smiled. “You get this line between your eyebrows when you concentrate.”
“. . . That’s your observation?” Y/n raised a brow.
“Mhm.” Care rested his chin against his hand. “It’s cute.”
Y/n looked back down at his notes before Cater could see the reaction on his face. Truly, a fruitless action.
“Aw,” Cater cooed. “There it is.”
“There is no ‘there it is.’” Y/n denied.
“Sweetheart, your ears are pink.” Y/n hated how easily Cater could do that now—a single pet name and suddenly his composure cracked apart like glass.
Before he could think of a response, Cater leaned forward across the table and pressed a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth.
Y/n froze as Cater leaned back against his chair, like nothing happened.
Casually, he said, “You looked too serious.”
“. . . Did you just kiss me to interrupt my studying?” Y/n stammered a response.
“Yes,” Cater answered simply.
Y/n stared at him, and Cater grinned wider. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed, Baby.”
After that, the affection became constant. Not exaggerated or performative, but natural in the way Cater grabbed Y/n’s sleeve while walking through crowded hallways, or rested his head against Y/n’s shoulder during lunch, or stole quick kisses whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Sometimes Y/n barely had time to process them before Cater was smiling again like he hadn’t just completely short-circuited his brain.
And the worst part? Y/n started wanting them.
One evening, they ended up alone in the Heartslabyul lounge after most students had already retired to their rooms.
The fireplace flickered softly nearby while Cater lay stretched across the couch, head resting against Y/n’s lap, as he lazily scrolled through Magicam. Above him, Y/n tried reading.
Tried.
Because every few seconds, Cater would shift against Y/n to get more comfortable or would laugh softly at a post while quickly typing up a comment.
“You’ve been on the same page for quite a while, Love.” Cater said without looking up from his phone.
Y/n rolled his eyes, flipping a page out of spite.
Cater laughed, "There's my favorite expression,” he said softly.
Y/n put his book aside, looking down at Cater as he sprawled further across Y/n’s lap, throwing his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch.
Something in Y/n’s chest tightened unexpectedly, and he moved without thinking. His fingers caught lightly against Cater’s cheek as he kissed him, the angle awkward yet perfect all the same.
Cater made a small surprised sound against his mouth before melting into the kiss, throwing both his arms around Y/n’s shoulders.
When they pulled apart, Cater blinked at him several times. “. . . Okay,” he said weakly. “That was unfairly attractive.”
Y/n smiled despite himself. “You complain a lot for someone who keeps kissing me.”
“Yeah, well.” Cater leaned closer again, grin slowly returning. “Now I know you kiss back on purpose.”
🧡
The realization hit Y/n fully a few days later in the botanical gardens.
The evening sun spilled warm gold through the glass ceiling overhead while flowers climbed the walls around them in heavy curls of color.
Cater sat beside him on the fountain edge, talking absentmindedly about a Magicam trend Y/n only half understood.
Then, mid-sentence, Cater leaned over and kissed him softly, automatic in a way that meant he didn’t need to think before doing it.
Y/n stared after him afterward. Cater blinked, “What?”
Y/n looked at him carefully; at the easy affection; at the softness hidden beneath all the teasing; at the way Cater instinctively reached for him now without hesitation.
And suddenly the question setting quietly in the back of his mind finally surfaced. “. . . What are we?”
Cater went still, enough for Y/n to notice the nervousness flicker briefly across his face. The joking smile faded first, then Cater looked down at his hands.
“You call me Sweetheart,” Y/n said quietly, “You kiss me whenever you feel like it, and you’re always with me no matter what.”
Cater laughed softly under his breath. “Wow,” he muttered, “Hearing it out loud makes me sound pathetic.”
“You sound attached,” Y/n corrected.
“That’s worse.”
Despite himself, Y/n smiled. Cater looked up at him carefully then, unusually unguarded. “I just. . .” He exhaled slowly. “I didn’t wanna ruin this.”
Y/n frowned slightly. “Ruin what?”
Cater gestured between them. “This.” The word came out quieter than expected.
Y/n stared at him for a long moment before shuffling closer. Cater watched him carefully, like he wasn’t entirely sure what would happen next.
Y/n reached up slowly, fingers brushing lightly against the side of his face before kissing him again. Cater inhaled sharply against his mouth, and when they separated, Y/n stayed close enough that their foreheads touched.
“I like you,” he murmured.
For once in his life, Cater Diamond looked completely speechless.
Y/n smiled faintly. “And unless I imagined the last two months,” he continued, “I think you like me too.”
Cater laughed helplessly under his breath before pulling Y/n back into another kiss.
When they pulled apart, Cater rested his forehead against Y/n’s shoulder. “Oh my gosh,” he groaned, “We’re disgustingly in love.”
Y/n rolled his eyes affectionately. “You’re dramatic.”
“And you’re my boyfriend now, pretty boy.”
Y/n opened his mouth to argue, but then he paused.
Because honestly?
He liked how real it sounded this time.
🧡