Chapter Text
It's raining outside. You snuggle closer to Damien, glancing from your book to his. The two of you are sitting in his library, reading together and listening to the rain hitting the window and the roof. Damien had pulled out a comfortable blanket for the two of you to share as you sat next to each other.
You sigh and close the book in your hands. It's not a bad book, it's just… not the kind of thing you usually read. Also, you'd hate for him to find out that you're reading more of his Naruto fanfiction collection. The nice, good person part of you says that it's kinda mean to think it's funny that he likes Naruto, but the bad person part is laughing its ass off. Holy hell. Your boyfriend reads Naruto/Sasuke fanfiction. And possibly writes some. You aren't sure yet. Maybe you should ask.
“Hey, Damien?” you ask, wondering just how to approach this situation.
Damien looks at you out of the corner of his eye. “Yes?”
“Do you… remember that book I found the first time you invited me here?”
He sighs and his cheeks take on a slight pink tinge. “Ah, that. Yes, I remember.”
“I was wondering something. I know you're probably embarrassed and I understand that, but you know you can talk to me about anything. I just have to ask. Have you ever written any of that stuff? Or do you just have physical copies of your favorite stories?”
Oh, god. He is so cute. His blush is getting worse. “I… I may have dabbled in it once or twice,” he says, shifting awkwardly. “I wasn't very good at it. I decided it would be best if I collected the stories of others instead of attempting my own.”
You pout a little. “I bet your stories are good, though. I'd like to read one.”
Damien shakes his head. “The last time I tried to write one was a long time ago. Things like writing letters or books in my head are very easy for me, but getting a genuine story out just doesn't work. I have no remnants of that past to show you.”
You wish you had that handkerchief on you, the one he gave you on the night of your second date. You would've used it to dab away imaginary tears at your loss. “Alas. That would have been fun.”
“For you, maybe,” he says. He picks up his bookmark from the side table and places it in the book, shutting it and then returning it to the top of a pile on the table. He looks back at you, taking you fully into his arms. “What about you? Do you have any literary escapades you'd like to share? You’ve mentioned your appreciation for words.”
You shudder as you remember the poetry you wrote in eighth grade. “I was an angsty middle schooler once. That… was a thing. A very bad thing.”
Damien smiles. “We've all been there.”
“Ugh. Middle school was hell.”
“That it was.”
You rest your head against him. With the way you're both angled, you can put your ear to his chest and hear the beat of his heart. It's strong. Just like he is.
You're so proud of him.
“Damien,” you say. “I know I already said this, but I'm really proud of you. For everything. For starting to be more comfortable with who you are outside of the goth thing. You're amazing, you know that?”
You're pretty sure his heart is beating faster now. That's adorable. “I… I owe it to you, dear. I'm not sure I'd ever be able to tell anyone that I work IT if it wasn't for you. Or wear tennis shoes outside. Or admit that I like looking at storage solutions. Just any of those non-goth things, really.”
You close your eyes. This is the most comfortable you've been in a long while. “Oh, please. The most I did was give you a little push out the door. Well, I guess technically Mary did that when she sent us after the Duchess. Whatever.”
Damien laughs and your heart soars. You never get tired of that sound. You never get tired of his voice. Somehow, you'd enjoy watching paint dry and grass grow at the same time as long as he was there with you. “But I would not have been able to admit it to all of the rest of our friends if you hadn't reassured me that it's okay to not be completely gothic all the time. You restored my confidence to do so. I won't ever be able to repay you.”
“Mmm. You don't owe me anything. Seeing you happy is more than enough.”
Damien starts using his index finger to trace circles on your shoulder. It's a relaxing motion, his gentle touch and the repeated rhythm of movement sending absolute calmness through your veins. You never want to move from this spot ever again.
This is it. You and Damien are going to starve to death here together. You just decided that. A slow, painful death would be better than getting up from this spot. “I… I love you,” Damien says.
“I love you too,” you reply without thinking, not realizing for a moment that that was the first time he said I love you. It's been implied, of course, what with the way you're his exception to the rule of no public displays of affection , but hearing the real, verbal confirmation is a bit of a shock. Your eyes open, though not as much as they probably should have. You're very comfortable and rather tired. “Wait. You… you're in love with me? Really?”
“Madly,” he replies. “I can't imagine a world where I don't fall for you.” He pauses and swallows nervously. “Did you mean it? That you love me too, I mean. If you said it on reflex, I understand.”
Oh, great. Thanks, Damien. Now you're blushing. “I definitely meant it,” you manage to admit after a moment of trying to find the right words. “I love you, Damien. I really do.” Even though you're half asleep by now, you manage to sit up and look him in the eyes. “I love you,” you repeat.
Damien smiles again and kisses you softly. “I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”
You know you’re still blushing. How could you not be? “Me too,” you say, laying your head back down on his chest. “My handsome not-always-goth prince.”
He chuckles. You rearrange the blanket and sigh happily. The continued background noise of the rain, the warmth of his body against you, the beat of his heart and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes… he holds you close even as you drift off to sleep.