Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Spelldon was getting really fucking sick of the color pink.

It was everywhere.

It was February! Of course it was everywhere.

An ugly, garish shade of pink that made him think of swine and cough medicine.

Spelldon found Valentine in the belltower again, picking at some flowers like the angsty vamp that he was. He couldn’t help but chuckle just a little at the sight.

It was a normal sight to him now, watching Valentine swing his legs on the edge of the belltower and pick at whatever flower he’d found in the grounds’ garden this time. Roses, tulips, baby’s breath- Valentine tore petals from them all, pouting and looking to the world lovesick and heartbroken at the same time.

It didn’t matter what Spelldon said or how he egged at him, Valentine was a tough spell to break. They’d grown so close lately, but it still felt like there was so much that Valentine refused to tell him. It made him feel a little insecure, sometimes. He wanted to be close to Valentine. He was the only monster in the school that understood it all. 

He was also the only person in the world Spelldon could talk to about this . 

He’d been having visions again- nothing new. He often got premonitions and forecasts in his sleep, but it was usually meaningless droll about the weather or a pop quiz.

“Hey, Vallie.” Spelldon greeted with a sigh, walking over to sit next to the vampire.

“ Spell .” Valentine’s face lit up with the greeting. His face fell again, seeming to notice something in Spelldon’s face. “...What’s wrong?”

“Visions.” Spelldon groaned, holding his head. “Family.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.” Valentine urged, bumping their shoulders together.

Spelldon smiled tiredly. They always fell into a rhythm so easily. Spelldon was a little known gossip, and Valentine just happened to be so good at listening.

Growing up the son of Circe, the little brother of Casta Fierce and the Spells , well, he didn’t get listened to very often. Valentine was different. Valentine looked at him like he was the world, like he was the superstar, or the magical god, and the vampire knew how to keep secrets of all kinds.

“...Do you ever get scared of the idea of your own…immortality?” Spelldon said finally, fingering at the pentacle necklace around his neck.

Valentine hummed, looking out at the school grounds with a pout. He usually pouted when he was thinking really hard about something. “...Not the idea of the immortality, no. The idea of loneliness for eternity…sure as shine.”

Spell couldn’t help but admire Valentine while he looked out at the grounds. The school was decorated in an absolutely garish shade of pink, but Valentine’s shade of pink was different. It was warm and soft and gentle. His skin, the stripes of his hair, the color of his eyes. Even the sky painting the background was that warm, burnt shade of pink that Spelldon had just come to know as Valentine .

The vampire did everything in pink. His hair, his notebooks, his favorite pens. His favorite undershirt was a billowing victorian button-up in a pale shade of pink he insisted was called the queen’s pearl .

“I’ve been having dreams about Valentine’s Day.” Spelldon sighed. “...Fortune tellings, y’know? Just makes me think…”

“That’s nevah’ good.” Valentine teased, tugging on the pentacle necklace and smirking. “You’ll lose the brain cells ya have left doin’ that. You don’ need to be playin’ matchmaker in this school, trust me. It’ll get ya stuffed into a locker.”

“ Ha-ha .” Spelldon retorted dryly, rolling yellow eyes. “...I’m being serious. I keep having those dreams about just being stuck in this loop forever .”

“Loop?” Valentine asked, tilting his head a bit. Spelldon couldn’t help but watch the gentle curve of his hair as it waterfalled across his face when he did that.

“...I’ve been alive a long time, Val. Like you. But I feel like that whole time, all I’ve done is just live out of my mother and my sister’s shadows. I only started experiencing life for my own when I moved here, to get away from them.” He sighed. “...What if that’s all I am? What if all I’ll ever be is a compilation of their leftover magic? Just another shadow in the family legacy? What if all anyone ever sees is that? What if love just isn’t on the table for me like it is everyone else?”

Valentine seemed to think of this, humming.

“...Well, I don’t think that’s true at all.” Valentine said simply, like he was correcting the answer on a study test. “Y’know, out of all the monsters in this school, out of all the monsters in this city- you’re the only one whose shown me any kind of kindness. You’re a good person.”

“Being a good person doesn’t make up for the immortality factor. Who's gonna wanna live forever with the shadow of Circe? Who's gonna even be capable of that?” Spelldon nearly whined, threading through multicolor hair. 

“...Someone.” Valentine said simply, removing Spelldon’s circular sunglasses as it got darker around them, placing them in his hair. “...Anyone would be lucky to have ya, Spell. Maybe it’s just…takin’ a while to notice them. You’ve got a lifetime to do it.”

“I just-” Spelldon started, grasping for words. He barely acknowledged Valentine’s touches to his glasses. “I think I’m just overreacting. It’s Valentine’s Day soon, y’know? Love is everywhere! ” He mocked. “Everywhere but here. I can’t even get Holt to look at me, nonetheless someone who could actually make this standstill of immortality seem any more bearable.”

Valentine’s ears twitched, barely noticeable, on Holt . “...Spelldon, I luh-” Valentine’s mouth snapped shut with a click of his teeth, sighing huffily. “...I care about you very much. You’re smart, and you’re kind, and you have a big heart. Maybe your somebody is just…hidin’ in plain sight. You ain’t nevah’ been too good at those spot the differences .”

There was something different in Valentine’s eyes as he spoke through that rough accent. Something secret and teasing.

Whatever it was scampered off when Spelldon stood up, creating more distance between them. 

The pink of the sunset flooded into the belltower now, highlighting Valentine like a ghost against his already stark, pale pink skin. 

Valentine took the hand offered to him by Spelldon, standing up. 

“So, what’ve you got planned for this dumb made up holiday?” Spelldon griped.

Valentine smiled in an amused way. “Just- outta curiosity- do you know who made the holiday up?” 

“No?” Spelldon said. “I don’t care to. It’s just another ridiculous reason for monsters to rub their stupid happiness in everyone’s face and beg poor witches like me for made-up love potions.”

Valentine snorted through a laugh- that real laugh that he only used with Spelldon and Draculaura. “You aren’t usually the pessimistic one outta us. I think I’m startin’ to like this new, bitchy Spelldon Cauldronello.” 

“Don’t get used to it, Spooky.” Spelldon assured, scoffing. “Give it a few days after Valentine’s and I’ll be back to nagging you into socializing with our peers.”

“ Great .” Valentine droned.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school. You, Rochelle, and Draculaura are still trying to finish decorating the west wing, right?” Spelldon asked, stepping over the ledge of the belltower and onto the ledge of his broom, floating in air for him.

“ Tryin’ to .” Valentine griped. “Laura thinks nadeshiko pink is a Valentine’s Day color. Can you imagine? She’s gonna drive me up a wall by tomorrow.”

“Is pink not a Valentine’s Day color?” Spelldon asked, amused, as he floated down enough to fold his arms over the ledge and rest his chin on it. 

“Not that pink, it’s not!” Valentine huffed, whining and high pitched. “The theme is carnation pink , obviously!”

“I’m sure, Val.” Spelldon snarked, letting the force holding him up fall completely and suddenly as he swept away on his broom.

He started noticing pink everywhere after that. In the sky, in the cars below, and in Valentine’s shrinking form.

He found himself reading another wikia page that night when he couldn’t sleep- something about the difference between Nadeshiko pink and the shade that Spelldon had decided to dub Valentine pink .

Chapter Text

Valentine found him seething the next day.

He snorted at him, gently plucking a pink paper heart out of Spelldon’s hair. “Oh darlin’ , what happened?”

“I am going to curse this school, and I am going to curse this holiday!” Spelldon yelled, shoving past him.

Valentine jogged to catch up to him, trying to talk him down. “Oh, take it easy. Won’t ya tell me why you’re covered in hearts and glitter?”

“Why don’t you ask your awful little pink vampire friend.” Spelldon murmured.

“ Laura .” Valentine groaned to himself. “She didn’t mean anythin’ by it, Spell, you know that. She’s just excited!”

“If I hear one more monster say the words I love you, I’m gonna turn everyone into cats and dogs!” Spelldon yelled, ignoring him.

Valentine teleported in front of him, shoving him a bit. “Would you stop bein’ such a pain ?! Some monsters really like this holiday, even if you wanna spend it being sour!”

“Why- huh?!” Spelldon yelled hysterically. “When’s the last time you heard the words I love you?! ”

Spelldon’s heart dropped into his third stomach immediately . Valentine looked like someone had just shot him, freezing up and shaking in the fingers.

“ I- ” Spell started, faltering.

“... Why would you say somethin’ like that? ” Valentine whispered, shaking his head like he just  couldn’t understand .

How could Valentine understand? Valentine was a love vampire. He could have anyone he wanted, anytime he wanted. Everything he did or didn’t do was of his own volition. Spelldon? He was facing the very real idea of being alone for all of eternity .

His mother, Circe- she’d been alive for three thousand, seven hundred and seventy two years. She’d sculpted Cas from a mixture of Circe Isle’s dust, a few emeralds, and the water of the ocean. She’d sculpted Spelldon from - what he assumed was - whatever leftover materials came from Cas. Just a bunch of leftovers, shoved together and called son .

In all that time- she had to sculpt her children. Not once did she meet someone to spend her three thousand and still going years with.

Spelldon used to resent her for her coldness, her viscosity. She was jaded and seemed so cruel to Spelldon for those first fourteen hundred years of his life.

He was one thousand, seven hundred and forty-three years old now. And he was facing the very real reality that he might have to watch other monsters- his peers - find love, grow old, die , and he could do nothing about it. Even if he did find love in these haunted hallways, he would more than likely have to one day watch them wither and die without him.

That would make him jaded and cruel too. Valentine’s eyes- usually that pale pink, now grey and heartbroken- were a testament to all the similarities he was finding with his mother.

“Because we are not the same.” Spelldon stressed, pulling at his hair. “You- you can have any ghoul you want! You’re handsome, and you’re funny, and you’re pretty, and you could charm yourself out of a man-mob if you wanted to! But me?! Valentine- my sister just left me here while she goes on her stupid world tour, my mother contacts me maybe once a century because of work. My own family doesn’t seem to truly love me- no one could ever love me!”

“ Why would you say something like that?! ” Valentine roared back. Monsters started crowding around them, watching the display they were creating. Spelldon didn’t seem to care. He was just- he was so angry , nothing mattered. He could feel the crackle of magic sending pins and needles through his fingertips. “They could if you would just stop being such a pain about everythin’! You are easy to- easy to like!”

“ You can’t even say it!” Spelldon whispered with a break in his voice. “How could you be so sure there’s anyone out there for me? My mother ended up alone- my sister is largely alone- I’m all I’ve ever had, and I’ll be all I have left for the rest of my unnatural life!”

Valentine stomped his foot, hissing. “Because I luh- ” pink hands flew up to his face with such force it was like they were out of his control, slapping him across the mouth before the word could leave him. 

“ You can’t even say it.” Spelldon repeated darkly, glaring.

Valentine made somewhat of a show trying to tear his hands from his mouth, like watching a magnet resist against being pulled apart.

“ I do!” Valentine begged, shaking his head. He was bending down a bit, trying to meet Spelldon’s eye level, trying to reason with him. It made Spelldon feel condescended to, instead. “ Please , I promise- I promise I do, Spelldon! I- I lov- !” Hands slapped against his mouth again as he made a muffled sound, barely restrained from shoving themselves through his fangs to silence himself.

“You’re not being funny, Val.” Spelldon murmured. His eyes caught on something paper and pink in Valentine’s chest pocket, and he wasn’t sure what came over him. Fury, jealousy probably. He ripped the paper heart out of Valentine’s pocket, crushing it in one hand and watching the delicate lace light in green fire at the edges from the uncontrollable state his magic was starting to get to. “I can’t wait for your little valentine to realize you’re the same as you’ve always been!” Spelldon levitated the paper heart in his hand, making a show of lighting a fire just beneath it. “A bully and a liar and-” 

Spelldon’s eyes finally caught on the tiny paper heart, on the writing in Valentine’s ancient curvy scrawling. 

“And- and…” He stammered breathlessly, reading that name over and over and over and over .

Spelldon.

At the very top, before more of Valentine’s pretty script: To Spelldon Cauldronello .

“And…” Spelldon sighed, breathless. The fire snuffed out immediately, and the valentine was left hovering dangerously in the air between.

Spelldon heard a small hiccuping sound, and finally looked back up over to Valentine, shaking with quiet sobs and holding his hands over his face.

His pink looked duller now. Heartbroken . He looked like he had when Spelldon first met him, wandering the halls and trying to make up for what he’d done by being self sacrificial and deprecating.

Valentine finally lifted his face from his hands a bit- just to show his eyes.

Crying . Valentine was crying. Valentine was crying .

It was kind of a big deal, and the crowd around them became hushed whispers and gasps at the sight.

Vampires don’t cry . It’s dangerous for them. Vampires tend to cry blood since their bodies don’t naturally create water like other monsters. Losing blood is dangerous for them too, though. With so little blood already circulating through their systems, crying was a big deal . Vampire tears were coveted by most witches, a rare ingredient found in only rarer occasions. 

And Spelldon found it with just a few words and an angry outburst.

Blood tears, red and shining in the fluorescent light of the school hallway, ran down Valentine’s face freely, staining his fingertips like red paint where they were still trying to cover his face from the school. 

In moments, Valentine’s eyes went blood red too- from that heartbroken grey to angry, blood red, blending in perfectly with more tears welling up in his eyes. 

The paper heart was swept from Spelldon’s own control, and ripped roughly in two. The two pieces were sent flying apart- with enough force to dent the two lockers that it’d hit.

“ You were right. ” Valentine croaked from between his fingers, still sobbing heavily- too heavily , he was going to faint soon, he was going to lose too much blood .

“...Val-” Spelldon reached out, but Valentine bolted away, through the crowd and darting through the hallways of the school.

Pale pink paper hearts - carnation pink hearts - turned black and shriveled as he ran past them, turning his hard fought Valentine’s Day decorations into a monument to his own heartbreak.

“ Valentine! ” Spelldon called after him, attempted to break through the crowd after him as he had.

Instead, a small pink figure popped out in his wake, shoving him back. “So what?! You’re just going to chase him now?!” Draculaura yelled, stomping her feet. “Do you have any idea how long he’d been waiting to give that to you?!”

“What is your problem?” Clawdeen yelled from behind her, growling defensively. 

“I- I didn’t- I didn’t know -” Spelldon whimpered, shaking his head. He couldn’t get the image of blood red tears streaking hauntingly down Valentine’s face and weaving through his lithe fingers. Spelldon raised his hands and stretched them out, trying to form a protective barrier over himself.

His magic wasn’t working. The world was spinning. Spelldon couldn’t think straight.

All those things he never noticed- Valentine did love him. The pet names and the touching and the way he’d told Valentine things even his sister never knew.

He was so busy wallowing he never even stopped to consider Valentine, and wasn’t that just like his mother if not worse?

“Stay- S-stay back…” Spelldon whimpered, trying to focus, trying to work his magic.

“ Asshole! ” Clawdeen barked at him, lunging forward and sinking 2 and a half inch canines into the meat of his right hand.

Spelldon yelped, and he could hear headmistress Bloodgood galloping her way through the halls, and the faint chant of fight! Fight! Fight! Around them, but she wasn’t coming soon enough , Clawdeen had latched on , he was going to lose his hand because he couldn’t watch his mouth for once.

“Clawdeen! No, no, bad! ” Draculaura reprimanded, grabbing her by the middle and trying to tear her off. 

It was like tug of war with a rabid mutt. Clawdeen simply growled and thrashed her head back and forth to further lodge her fangs into Spelldon’s hand. She was a dog with a bone, and there was no reasoning with her until something broke .

“Children! Enough!” The headmistress announced, raising her lantern high. The light shined out suddenly, blinding Spelldon enough to fall back, and Clawdeen enough to make her whine and let go of Spelldon’s hand.

It wasn’t over though. In moments Clawdeen regained her sight and lunged on top of Spelldon, bringin clawed fingers down on his arms, trying to poorly block her. She wasn’t drawing blood yet, but she was ripping his jacket to shreds in her anger.

And that’s what it was- righteous anger. She wasn’t out of control, she was giving Spelldon just what she thought he deserved. He’d be dead if she was truly a dog without a leash.

“He’s been trying so hard to change, for you! ” She yelled, bringing claws down on his jacket. “ He’s been in our dorm every night for months , trying to write out that stupid poem, for you! ” roared, bringing claws down on his shirt. “He’s been lovesick and trying everything to break that stupid curse, for! You! ” She brought her claws down on his exposed skin, not tearing, not bleeding, but leaving four clean scratch marks pink and stark against his green skin. 

“Clawdeen Wolfe! Enough!” Bloodgood yelled, shoving students aside to try and get closer to them. 

“You don’t even deserve him! ” She barked, raising a fist and punching clean between his eyes, breaking his glasses into an irreparable state. “You don’t have any idea what he’s done for you!”

A whistle- just above silent - sounded out harshly, and Clawdeen’s ears folded as she whimpered and whined and fell over, holding her head.

“I’m sorry!” Draculaura apologized, helping pick her up. A dog whistle- werewolf whistle? - hung limply from her neck. “He’s had enough, Clawdeen! Just leave him alone now.”

Spelldon weakly picked himself up with more than a little struggle, head spinning and shimmering purple blood started to leak from his nose where Clawdeen had punched him.

She jumped at him, growling, making him start and hold his hands up defensively.

“Get out of here before she goes at it again!” Draculaura yelled, barely holding Clawdeen back by her middle with all of Draculaura’s strength. Clawdeen’s bare feet clawed against her, scraping and making awful noises on the floor as she fought against Draculaura’s hold. She growled deeply at him again, shaking her head in a fury and sending her mane swinging back and forth like a deeply pissed lion.

Spelldon took the hint. “ Πάρε με μακριά από εδώ!” He yelled, crushing his eyes closed just as he saw Draculaura’s hold falter.

He opened his eyes, finding himself in his dorm. 

He licked his lips, tasting metal and salt. He chanced a glance at the mirror in his room, wincing at the image he made.

Valentine had ripped out his heart, and Clawdeen had ripped out his flesh. She’d left him with a black eye, an absolutely demolished outfit, and a few nasty scars on his arm. 

Not to mention his poor glasses. They were bent at the nose, one lens slanting awkwardly into his cheek. The side he could still see through was nearly shattered, vivid colors of magic splaying through the spiderweb cracks of the glass.

Spelldon winced at the sight he made, and the mirror cracked into its own spider web of imagery and color, affected by his powers. 

There was no Valentine to talk him down this time. There was no one to hold him tightly in his bed and tell him that he’s not really evil like his mother, that his magic is a gift, that he just needs to learn control and everything would be okay.

There was no Valentine.

There was pink everywhere. Everywhere Spelldon looked he could find shades of pink. Shades of valentine.

There was no Valentine , not anymore.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long before Spelldon found himself standing ragged and awkward in front of Draculaura’s dorm room.

Dangerous. Both because the Monster High dorms were all contained inside of glyphed mirrors, to preserve space and make it so no monster would ever fear not having room to stay and - considering every mirror in Spelldon’s own dorm was shattered and tear stained - any moment now he could have another outburst and trap himself or Draculaura in between worlds. 

But also because Draculaura’s lair mate was Clawdeen.

He rubbed weakly at his arm, wincing at the pain that shot out from Clawdeen’s earlier attack.

He looked a mess. It was only hours after the fight in the north wing. Dirtier than a ragamuffin in a strawberry fieldhouse , Valentine would say, through than impenetrable accent of his.

It was dark now, moonlight filtering in through the windows of the school. He’d managed to change into his night clothes- just a pair of basketball shorts and the ridiculous tank top Valentine had gotten him for his birthday - one thousand seven hundred and forty! - Valentine had yelled excitedly - but every single one is worth celebratin’ with you, darlin’.

It was a gaudy purple color, with the obnoxious text: City Kitties: Apocalypse Pets! Just above the picture of a racoon-gryphon and a possum-snake - both some of Spelldon’s favorite animals.

Spelldon brought himself to knocking gently on the mirror before he could second guess himself.

He needed to fix this. He needed Valentine back. Draculaura was the only person in the whole school who would know what to do. He didn’t even know if Valentine had family, and Djinni was off in Scaris he was pretty sure, causing chaos as she was want to do, even if to a lesser degree.

Draculaura appeared in the mirror, dressed in a nightgown and absolutely unkempt looking hair. 

“Oh.” She said rather disappointedly. “...Hello.”

“...I don’t know what I’m doing.” Spelldon whispered through a break in his voice, trying his best to convey how witless he felt without Valentine here to tell him about his petty arguments or his very important opinions on the shade of pink Draculaura had been seen in. “Please…Please, I don’t know- I-”

“I want to hear you say it.” Draculaura said with a firm tone, staring him down despite the fact that Spelldon was a good half a foot taller than her.

“...What?” Spelldon asked, exasperated.

“I want to hear you say that you’re sorry.” Draculaura stressed. “I want to hear you admit you were wrong.”

“...I was wrong.” Spelldon said quietly. “Draculaura, I was- I was so wrong. I shouldn’t have pushed him away when he was just trying to help. I shouldn’t have accused him of all those things in front of the whole school. I shouldn’t have destroyed his- his valentine.”

Draculaura seemed to think on this a moment, still staring him down with slit, narrow eyes.

Spelldon fell to his knees, weak and heavy. “...Draculaura, I don’t know what to do. ” He whined, tears starting to well up in his eyes. “I’m- I’m a seer, I can see the future, and I tell everyone their futures, and I’m supposed to know what to do , but Draculaura, he’s gone. I can’t- I can’t think, I can’t cast , I can’t see -”

“Come inside, crybaby.” She whispered with just a hint of fondness in her voice, stepping aside.

Spelldon sniveled, rubbing his arm against his face to clear his tears and stepping into the mirror with her.

He knew every student had an entirely different dorm, but he was still shellshocked by Draculaura’s. A hodgepodge of pink and black meshed with leopard stripe and scattered drawings of fashion ideas and magazines- it was like walking into a Spencer’s. 

“...I…I fucked up, Draculaura.” Spelldon managed to choke out.

“...Yeah.” She said simply, nodding her head. She sat down, leaning against the frame of her bed. Spelldon sat across from her, looking around a bit to try and figure out where the strange vibrating noise was coming from.

“ Deen. ” She said simply, wagging her finger where Spelldon could see Clawdeen with folded arms in the corner, growling like a steady beat to a lawnmower. “You said you’d be cool if he came in. So be cool .”

Clawdeen approached, her claws clicking against the floor as she squared up, standing menacingly over Spelldon.

“...I’m sorry ‘bout earlier.” She said with a deep huff. “I’ve just seen everything Valentine’s done to try and change, and I went and got protective of him.”

“Imagine that.” Draculaura teased. “Wasn’t it Valentine’s throat you were trying to claw out just a few years ago?”

“S’different.” Clawdeen huffed. “He’s different now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Take it easy, puppy.” Draculaura said, waving her off. Clawdeen sat on top of Draculaura’s bed, brushing through her tangled pink and black hair and not so subtly listening to whatever was said, her large ears twitching toward Spelldon. 

“...I haven’t been able to read his valentine.” Spelldon said finally. “...Would you help me?”

“What, did I give you brain damage to go with that black eye?” Clawdeen snapped, never looking up from Draculaura’s hair.

“ Clawdeen .” Draculaura sighed, exasperated. “Spelldon’s glasses are special, they’re imbued with a combination of magic and a bunch of sciences Frankie helped figure out. They keep his eyes in this dimension, so he can focus to read things. When he doesn’t have them, he sees a bunch of wild colors and visions, a big awful jumble of future possibilities and color.”

“Like an acid trip?” Clawdeen snorted. “Man, glad I broke ‘em for you then.”

Draculaura rolled her eyes, ignoring her. “Spelldon’s not able to read or focus on anything without them. All the letters jumble up and look upside down and crossways- not to mention, imagine being an an LSD trip all the time , like, even when you’re just trying to walk through the school.”

Clawdeen shivered at the thought, wincing. 

“Frankie’s gonna zap you for breaking them. They spent ages trying to configure them right so it’s not blurry when Spelldon uses them.” Draculaura sang.

“Yeah, yeah.” Clawdeen groaned. “Just keep their bolts busy. I’ll get them one of those coloring books they like.”

“Lemme see.” Draculaura said, making grabby hands at Spelldon.

Spelldon hesitantly handed over the tarnished paper heart, irrationally terrified of Draculaura destroying it so Spelldon could never really know what Valentine had wanted to tell him.

“ Aw! ” the vampire cooed. “Valentine always had such a way with words.”

Clawdeen sneered and tilted her head, ears flopping with her. “It’s just a bunch of that mushy gushy crap! How can you like this?” 

Draculaura dramatically cleared her throat, sitting up tall to read the poem. “ For any creature as fair as this, with eyes as deep as the fullest moon, with skin as soft as a ghost’s kiss-” Clawdeen groaned, rolling her eyes. “ And a heart as pure as snow, would have to be a witch! ” Clawdeen promptly stuck her tongue out, gagging. Draculaura batted at her with one hand while reading the poem. “ To steal one’s heart, to hold my glove, a witch he must truly be, for he is my one true love.”

Spelldon sighed heavily, sinking into himself. “...He does have such a way with words, Draculaura.”

“Gross.” Clawdeen chimed, dodging the hand that Draculaura moved to bat at her.

“I just- I don’t understand.” Spelldon sighed, shaking his head. “Why didn’t he just tell me?”

“Well, that’s…complicated.” Draculaura said, wincing. “...Spelldon, I’ve known Valentine for a long, long time. There’s a lot that I don’t think he’s told you, mostly because he doesn’t want to drive you away.”

“ Please , Draculaura. I need to fix this.” Spelldon begged, folding his hands and holding them out to her. “I need him back. I didn’t realize how much I needed him, and now he’s gone.”

“...Okay.” Draculaura sighed. “...I know you think Kieran Valentine’s this master of love, that he’s just lovey-dovey and secure all the time , but that’s not the case at all .”

“But isn’t he a love vampire? Isn’t his whole thing that he has to feel love in order to survive?” Spelldon asked.

“He is. But the right path isn’t always the easy path, you know. You know how Kieran called off siphoning love forever, after the incident at my birthday party?” Draculaura started, reaching over for a soda bottle labeled Ginger Pale , with the picture of a red-headed human woman getting her blood drained through an IV and smiling politely. “Valentine has to work for all of the love he lives off of now. He’s come a long way working on the whole self love thing, but it won’t ever be a good replacement for real, true love. For a long time, he got that off of you , Spelldon. I can’t imagine he’s in any good place right now, all heartbroken and weepy.”

“Looked like a zombie when he came crawling back here to cry to Laura.” Clawdeen chimed. 

“...Still. Valentine’s a looker. He’s charming, he’s sweet, why not just charm the nearest person, powers or not?” Spelldon asked, shaking his head.

“Because he wants to be with you , silly.” Draculaura said, shaking her head. “A love vampire physically can’t just catch feelings and ignore them. Even if they try to charm someone else, powers or not, it won’t work. The love won’t translate the same. It had to be you .”

“So why not just tell me?” Spelldon argued. “Why make a scene in front of the school? Why stay quiet for so long?”

Clawdeen winced, looking away. Draculaura sighed, looking pained.

“...You remember Kieran’s friend Djinni, right? The whisp?” Draculaura asked, looking sad still. “He probably gave you that story about how his first wish was to fix what he’d broken , leading him to just being made to fix that vat of goo he’d fallen into. His second wish was to return home to avoid getting dunked into the goo again by Manny. His third was to always stay friends with Djinni, so that Valentine wouldn’t lose her when she went away to help the next monster with their wishes.”

Spelldon nodded along, knowing this story well. He’d heard much about Djinni. She was Valentine’s best friend because of their shared experiences with trying to undo what they’d done.

“...Well, that’s not entirely true.” Draculaura said, sighing. “Valentine’s first wish was to fix what he’d broken , but that led him to ending up in the school, learning from Cupid how to nurture love instead of stealing it. It’s around that time that I think he bumped into you.”

“...Yeah.” Spelldon said with a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was still getting used to my glasses, so I didn’t even realize who’d knocked into me and made me spill my books until I moved my glasses higher on my face, and it was like getting knocked back. I wasn’t expecting him to be as pretty as he was, I guess. I wasn’t expecting him at all. I’m a seer, I see the future, every future, but…Valentine was the one monster who defied his apparent destiny. I could never predict him .”

“ Gay .” Clawdeen called, stuffing some hot chips into her mouth.

“Uh?” Spelldon said, pointing at Clawdeen’s hand still buried in Draculaura’s hair. “ Lesbian?? ”

Draculaura snorted, rolling her eyes. “Stop, both of you.”

“Valentine’s second wish didn’t end so well.” Clawdeen chimed, looking away.

Draculaura sighed, continuing. “Valentine’s real second wish was too complicated for Djinni to grant in a way that wasn’t convoluted. He wished that he would never siphon love again , that he would only truly love his true love , that they’d find him waiting. He probably meant that he wanted patience, or that he wanted wisdom not to use his powers for evil again. Instead of earning wisdom, he lost something else.”

“You remember how Valentine’s hands kept slapping him on the face when he tried to say the word love to you?” Clawdeen asked, pouting a bit.

“He’s never said the word love around you, has he? He uses big terms of endearment and he says very likable , right?” Draculaura asked.

“...Yeah.” Spelldon said, starting to realize it. Valentine had never said the word love around him. Not even about colors, or foods. 

“Djinni accidentally cursed Valentine so that he could never say I love you or even love to anyone ever again. Not until his true love found him , first.” Draculaura explained, sighing. “...Someone’s gotta tell Valentine that they love him before he can ever say it back, or even have his full strength again. And it’s gotta be earnest.”

“I love Kieran like a brother,” Clawdeen said. “But it didn’t work when I said it. It’s gotta be someone he already loves. His true love.”

“...Oh, Valentine…” Spelldon murmured, shaking his head. “...He was trying to tell me. He’d tried to tell me already so many times, and I just ignored it.”

“It’s not your fault.” Draculaura said, patting Spelldon’s bare knee. “Kieran’s in a sticky situation.”

“It’s no wonder he had a breakdown when I popped off this morning.” Spelldon groaned. “He’d been reaching out to me for ages , it’s a wonder he hadn’t just given up completely.”

“Valentine’s a stubborn bat.” Clawdeen said, moving to sit down with them as Draculaura scratched at a tuft of her leg hair. “He doesn’t give up. Definitely not on love.”

“...You should talk to him.” Draculaura said, nodding encouragingly.

“Are you kidding? He probably hates me right now.” Spelldon sighed. “ You were right , that’s what he said, remember? I was right. No one could love me. Not even the one bat in this whole world who’s flowing over with all the love he has to give.”

“He didn’t mean that, I promise.” Draculaura assured. “He came in here just bawling after that mess. Why do I still love people who hurt me? Is what he kept babbling about.”

Spelldon sighed, squirming. “...I don’t even know where to find him. He doesn’t have a dorm here at the school, right? Whenever I bring up going to his place he gets all finicky and avoids it.”

“1342 Bloodway Street.” Draculaura said without an ounce of hesitation. “He lives in this little stone house underneath the bridge. I have an immediate access mirror that will take you right to him.”

“Of course you do.” Spelldon sighed.

“Stop making excuses and go to him.” Clawdeen snapped good naturedly, kicking Spelldon’s foot. “Do you think he’d hesitate even a second to get to you if it was you all heartbroken?”

“...No.” Spelldon sighed. “No. No, he wouldn’t.”

Draculaura helped pick him up, already walking him over to a full length mirror she had sitting in the corner, decorated in painted hearts and a black casing. 

“W-wait, shouldn’t I- shouldn’t I change, or, or find something to give him, or-” Spelldon stammered, trying to fight against Draculaura’s hold.

“Nope!” She said simply. “All you need to bring is yourself, Spelldon. I promise.”

“Myself.” Spelldon said, trying to convince himself. “Myself, right.”

“...Good luck!” She chirped, shoving him forward and into the mirror.

“If Valentine eats you tell him I want the leg bone!” Clawdeen yelled as Spelldon fell through.

He found himself skidding on his hands on the other side, onto cobblestone arranged in a pathway from the top of the pier further into the cave beneath it.

A little cobblestone house. Well, bigger than what Spelldon was imagining, at least. It was little for vampiric castle standard, but still pretty large and grand for the standards of literally any other monster. It had all those southern belle meets transylvanian notes Valentine was known for. Grand, curving arches and little towers that stretched further into the cave. The water creating somewhat of a moat, separating the cobblestone path from the mini-castle itself by a strong current.

A single alligator, big and fat, suddenly crawled it’s way up to the cobblestone shore where Spelldon was standing.

Spelldon held his hand out, a single flame drawing the beast back, before he noticed something.

A delicate pink bow, wrapped around its head like a southern bonnet, and a confused, babyish feature to it’s eyes.

“...Valentine keeps you like a pet.” Spelldon murmured through something between an exasperated sigh and an annoyed croak. “...Of course he does!” He said with fake cheer, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Of course he does, right?”

The alligator scampered further toward Spelldon, suddenly turning around and using it’s large, powerful tail to sweep his feet out from under him, forcing Spelldon to land on it’s back.

Before any kind of warning, the reptile started heading for the water, gently swimming Spelldon from the cobblestone path over to the door of the home, granting him access that didn’t include Spelldon using some convoluted spell to part the waves.

Spelldon sighed somewhere between exasperated and fond as he noticed a long line of similar pink bows wrapping in a spiral down the alligator’s powerful tail.

He took a breath, lighting a small flame on the tip of his finger, before venturing further into what Spelldon was deciding to dub Valentine Manor .

Chapter Text

The home itself was…less than Spelldon expected. He wasn’t sure what he expected- velvet everything, pink, probably.

Instead, there were cobwebs lining very particular rooms, like Valentine hadn’t been in them for years. Photo frames were knocked off of the wall and set to the side, looking dilapidated and haunting. The home felt so cold and empty.

Spelldon felt like a stranger as he walked through the halls, watching as spiders crawled about and centipedes crawled through the woodwork. The home felt nearly abandoned.

Spelldon had the split-second drop in his stomach when he thought about the possibility of Valentine leaving completely and going back home to Transylvania. 

It was a drastic change when Spelldon finally walked through an archway leading to the sounds of Valentine’s short snivels.

This room was starkly different. A large fireplace, red and pink everywhere . The walls were a warm red color, and all of the furniture was a reddish-pink velvet. The entire room felt warm and, well, like Valentine .

He found him with his knees brought up to his chest, his head buried into his arms, and sitting in an isolated room- what Spelldon had to assume was his bedroom. The door was wide open, to be fair. He was sitting in front of his bed, leaning on the black sweetheart frame and surrounded by clutter and soda cans.

Bitt . That gross root-beer tinted blood soda that Valentine liked so much.

Valentine started, looking up in surprise when he heard the sound of Spelldon coming closer. 

He looked worse for wear. The girls were right- he was getting weaker by the second. His normally pink tint was missing, replaced with a blue-ish grey. His cheeks looked nearly sunken in and he had deep bags underneath those long, pretty eyelashes.

“...Alligator let me in.” Spelldon said as casually as he could manage.

“ Rosebud .” Valentine groaned in annoyance, pinching the bridge of his nose. He promptly shoved his head back into his arms, curling back up defensively.

Spelldon moved to sit next to him on the floor, and for a moment, there was only silence and the sound of another fireplace in Valentine’s room crackling in front of them. 

Spelldon took the moment to just look around at everything. He’d never been in Valentine’s room. It felt intimate somehow. He felt like he was seeing a side of Valentine no one else got to see. Rooms and belongings told stories, no matter how small.

Small was not a word that fit the room, at all. Valentine had a grand king bed, with what looked like silk sheets and a curving heart shaped frame, because of course he did. All of the throw pillows were heart shaped too- all in varying colors and sizes.

The room was warm, like the space before it, but still somehow cold and empty. Everything was a red velvet color- it reminded Spelldon of a coffin. He had a large vanity lined in pictures- photographs of the school, of the dirt, of the ocean, of some of the most mundane things you could see day-to-day by a monster. 

Everything was so pink . 

Valentine seemed to just collect things that were pink or red. His huge window and following windowsill was lined with various objects- a pink-tinted glass bottle, a small pink rubber ball (with a very particular looking bite that Spelldon was going to take as Rosebud’s sign of telling everyone it was her ball), a pink comb that Spelldon recognized as actually belonging to Gorey. 

There were little items lining his vanity, too. A heart shaped compact mirror, a pink fuzzy pen, a pink beta fish swimming around in a tiny bowl, and finally a dark pink container of nail polish Spelldon recognized as the color Valentine was currently wearing.

All organized by color. Carnation pink, Nadeshiko pink, salmon pink, and finally rose pink.

Spelldon kind of resented that he could tell the difference between the shades now.

This room was kind of like Valentine’s coffin, probably. A place he always ended up- alone and cold and forgotten no matter how many hearts and how much warmth he surrounded himself with.

At the end of the night, he was still alone.

“Isn’t it just crazy …?” Valentine whimpered, sniveling some. He finally lifted his head up, and Spelldon couldn't help but admire the ridiculous state he was in. Usually combed and kept hair was splayed and frizzy, sticking up in various places. His normally fitted, gentlemanly look with the jacket and formal pants was replaced with heart-printed boxers, his oversized, poofy Victorian undershirt, and long, lanky limbs curled around himself. Valentine turned to him, pink eyes that awful grey color from before. "There are so many things to be afraid of in the world we live in. But out of everything else-" Valentine chuckled bitterly. “...So may choose to be afraid of-” His mouth snapped shut on the word. 

Love.

“...I was afraid.” Spelldon said, combing through his own hair nervously. “And I’m sorry, Valentine. I really am.”

“...You were right, I think.” Valentine sighed. He looked so tired. He looked like the skin and bones of his former self- a ghost. It made sense. With every passing moment, he was losing power, losing his life force . He slumped against Spelldon tiredly. “...I want you to know that I’m not upset with you anymore.” he whispered. “...I get it now.”

Spelldon followed his line of sight, and winced at the destroyed remnants of the full length mirror hanging from Valentine’s closet door. Spelldon wasn’t the only one completely out of whack from their encounter. Valentine’s mirror was split into shards, some of them having fallen completely out of their frame and onto the floor.

He was eyeing his own reflection now, fractured and splayed. He looked like a thousand-eyed monster in what was left of the mirror.

“And…what is it, that you get?” Spelldon asked quietly.

Valentine shrugged, smiling in a broken way. “...I wouldn’t wanna be with me, neither.” He whispered. “I’m cursed, I think. Look at me. Can’t even say the words-” His voice faltered, and he sighed again. “...Must look crazier than a junebug in May, huh?”

“...Draculaura told me some…stuff.” Spelldon said, trying to say things as delicately as he could. Valentine looked delicate right now, collapsed into Spelldon’s shoulder. He looked like if Spelldon reached out and touched his cheek, it would crack like porcelain and cave into itself. “She explained a lot. She told me about the fiasco you had with Djinni.”

“It’s ain’t just that though, is it?” Valentine said with a sigh. “I saw the look you gave me at school. It doesn’t matter that I’m all emotionally constipated, or that I stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, or even that I’m a boy. It’s just…me.”

“...I don’t understand.” Spelldon said, shaking him a bit.

“It’s me.” Valentine said with nothing short of conviction, finally lifting his head to meet Spelldon eye to eye. “...It’s not any of those things that makes you not love me. It’s me . You don’t love me because I’m me .” He settled back down onto Spelldon’s shoulder, looking tired and frail. Spelldon wondered if he’d even slept, or if he’d just came home and locked himself here in his own tragedy. “...And that’s okay. I can’t make you love me, even without my powers. I know that now. And…I just want you to know it’s okay. I’m not upset. I’m just…really sad.”

Spelldon sighed, knocking his head against the bedframe. “...How could you think that?”

“Hm?” Valentine hummed.

“I mean…I know why you think that. But…” Spelldon looked down at him, and Valentine finally looked up. “...You couldn’t be more wrong, Val.”

Valentine huffed, getting off of him. “...I saw the way you looked at me. I’m an empath vampire, Spelldon. Don’t try to gaslight me into thinking-”

“You’re an empath vampire at his lowest point and feeding off of self-love barely hanging on.” Spelldon snapped. “...I was angry, Valentine. I was… jealous . All my life I’d been going on and on about how I’d be alone forever , and you were right there, listening to me whine.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for me. I’m a tough vamp.” Valentine sighed, shaking his head. “...I get it now. You don’t have to spare my feelings. We’re too…different.”

“We’re not that different.” Spelldon said with a wince.

Valentine limply let his head turn to him, giving him a very particular look. “...Yes we are. You’re the son of a goddess , Spelldon. You represent… life , and the sun, and animals- the world of the livin’. I’m literally undead. I’m a walking representation of the preservation of death itself. I can’t go out in the sun, I can’t listen to all of the loud music you do, I can’t wear all of your short clothing or shave my head without feeling wrong .” Valentine sighed, shaking his head. “We are different. You can’t pretend that we’re not. You’re always changing, always adapting with life. I never really left 1604.”

Spelldon got up suddenly, walking over to Valentine’s shattered mirror with a deep glare, as if this one mirror was the source of all of their problems. He roughly turned it around to face the closet so that Valentine couldn’t keep sinking into his own monstrous reflection. Spelldon whipped back around to find Valentine giving him a very miffed look, annoyed.

“...Valentine, we are different. You’re right. We are the two most different monsters in the school.” He reaffirmed sternly. Valentine looked downtrodden, like he didn’t really expect Spelldon to agree with him so soon, but that he expected the inevitability eventually. “I'm from Mycenaean Greece. You're from Transylvania. I like loud music and The Misfits and Dead Kennedys. All you listen to is Johnny Cash and Dolly Parton. I fucking hate the color carnation pink more than anything in the world!"

Spelldon sat back down across from Valentine before he could bite anything back, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together.

"But did you know for how much I hate pink, ballet slipper pink has become my favorite color?" He whispered. "Because it's your color. It's in my shoelaces, and I write with it in my spell book, and it's in your eyes. That’s how I know that it doesn’t matter that we’re different. Because I love that we’re different, Val. I love the old, goth gentleman style you have. I love that you do everything properly and that you bring different views to my visions.”

“...Even if you did lo-” Valentine choked on the word, looking away. “...It’s not meant to be. Fire n’ ice. We wouldn’t last , Spell. Do you think someone like me would last a second on Circe Island? With nothing but sun and running water for miles around?”

“And what makes you think I’d choose Circe Island over you?” Spelldon said without a moment’s hesitation, gently bringing Valentine’s gaze back to him. “Circe Island- where my mother ignored me and left me for decades? Where my sister abandoned me for her claim to fame?”

Spelldon moved to sit next to Valentine again, bumping their shoulders gently. “...Why on earth would I choose Circe Island- why would I choose anywhere or anyone else in the world, when someone as wonderful as you is right here, Valentine?”

Valentine faltered for a moment, looking away. When he looked back, Spelldon’s heart swelled.

The pink was started to return to Valentine’s face- to his eyes. 

“...You really think I’m…wonderful?” He whispered, batting long eyelashes at Spelldon and trying to find the lie in his face.

“...I do, Val.” Spelldon whispered. “And you can fight me. You can argue with me, and tell yourself that I’m lying, or that I’m wrong, but you know me.”

Valentine smiled softly. “...You’re not going to stop. Not until your last breath.”

Spelldon smiled back at him, watching the color come back into Valentine’s face. “...And I’ve got a whole immortal lifetime to convince you I’m right. I won’t spend a second of it wasted.”

Valentine smiled to himself, slumping back into Spelldon’s shoulder. 

“...Spell?” Valentine whispered, looking into the fireplace at the opposite wall.

“Yeah?” Spelldon tried to convince himself it was mindlessly that he reached for Valentine’s hand, squeezing it in his own. He was so warm, for the undead. So very alive.

“...Do you believe in fate?” He whispered.

Spelldon huffed through a small laugh. “Valentine, I’m a fortune-teller.”

“I know but, you don’t always believe that.” Valentine pointed out. “I know how you work. You see hundreds of possibilities and timelines, so you show people certain cards to lead them down the right one for them.”

“Fate is…funny.” Spelldon admitted. “But, do you?”

Valentine shrugged. “...I think so. A lot of things had to happen to get me to end up here, to meet you, to learn how to earn love, instead of stealing it.”

“...Do you believe me, then?” Spelldon asked, resting his head on top of Valentine’s. “Do you believe that you’re allowed to love? That everything doesn’t always have to end in tragedy for you?”

Valentine didn’t answer. Instead, he looked away, sighing.

“...Can I show you something?” Spelldon whispered.

“Anythin’.” Valentine said without a moment’s hesitation, looking up to him like Spelldon held the world. 

Spelldon smiled, fishing his shattered glasses from his jacket pocket, before drawing them out and holding them a few inches from his eyes.

“δείξε μου τις χορδές της μοίρας” He spoke in a low voice. Light shot from his eyes and into his multicolored glasses, causing light to refract and shine in all different angles and shapes in the room.

As Valentine focused, he realized they were visions. They were Spelldon’s premonitions, made real and visible through the lens of his shattered glasses. 

Like Spelldon often said, there was no one set path- there never was. There were rivers, winding and winding and winding down different hills and different rocks. All different, but somehow similar, too.

Valentine stood up, hesitantly approaching one of the visions, fragmented against the angle of his wall.

He couldn’t help but reach forward, touching the face of a Valentine years in the future. 

“...We run away to New Goreleans…” Valentine whispered with a reverent gasp, smiling at a happy Rosebud splashing in the background of the vision.

He turned, and realized every vision- they were together in some facet or another. They were together, whether through love or through yearning.

“You inherit Circe Island, when your mother grows ill…” Valentine whispered, walking over to a green-tinted vision. “...You perform a spell so powerful that you nearly faint. You cover the island in thunderclouds. For me. So that I can…walk on the beach with you. We live there together…on the beach…”

Valentine walked over to a red tinted one, dragging his fingers along the walls. “Oh, Spelldon …” He gasped. He turned, smiling fanged and toothy and soft . “You ask me to marry you in Scaris ? At Draculaura’s wedding?”

“I could.” Spelldon murmured with a happy sigh. “None of these are certain- they’re all possibilities. But they all have the same chance of happening. You did what you always do, Val.”

Spelldon crushed his eyes shut for a moment, and when he opened them, the striking yellow of his irises were back. He smiled at Valentine. “...You’re the most unexpected thing to ever happen to me. You’ve done so much to change yourself for the better, so much against what everyone thought of you, I never could’ve predicted you. And now ? Well, I was never too invested in looking into my own future with so long to live it.” Spelldon stood up to stand next to Valentine, smiling up at him. “But now that I have? You’re in every single one. Imagine you did reject me completely, out of some self-sacrificial pledge of yours. Do you really think I’d let that be the end of it? Do you really think you’d let that be the end of it?”

Spelldon was right. Two immortals, it was nearly impossible that they didn’t run back into each other again, with those same tight-chested feelings from before.

Whether they decided to try now, or try milennia in the future when they were more jaded, that didn’t really matter.

Valentine sighed, looking away. “...This won’t be easy.”

“...Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?” Spelldon suggested. He brushed a hand against Valentine’s face, still too pale for comfort. “You look exhausted. You need rest.”

“It’ll be about as good as puttin’ a bandaid on a black eye.” Valentine said with a sigh. “It’s not unrest that’s makin’ me all ditzy. It’s the lack of-” His mouth snapped shut with a click, and he groaned in frustration.

“...What if I stayed with you?” Spelldon asked. “Would that help?”

“...Y-yeah.” Valentine choked out. “You’d do that?”

“Sleep in a king bed with silk sheets?” Spelldon asked with a laugh. “Bold of you to assume you’d be able to kick me out.”

Valentine snorted, rolling his eyes.

For a moment, they just stood next to each other in front of the fire. It was silent, and they did nothing but stare at each other, but it was nowhere near awkward or stifling. Spelldon felt warm. He felt like he had hope for himself for the first time in millennia. 

“...Nice tank top.” Valentine said with a small chuckle.

“Nice boxers, looney tune.” Spelldon replied with a toothy smirk.

Valentine laughed with him for a moment before he was suddenly hugging Spelldon. Their height difference made it awkward- with Valentine nearly a head over Spelldon and just kind of leaned over him, and Spelldon having to hug him back by the waist. It didn’t make it any less perfect. With every small gesture, it’s like he could feel Valentine gaining back his strength, a little at a time.

In between the sound of crashing waves outside of the window, a fireplace crackling down to a smother, and undoubtedly Rosebud trampling through the house a few times at night, Spelldon has to say it was the best sleep he’s had since Crete. 

The pretty vampire that ended up on top of him sometime in the night made a nice weighted blanket, too.

Chapter Text

Spelldon woke up gently, far past when the sun rose. It was a Saturday, so it’s not like anyone would miss them. Not to mention all of Valentine’s windows were tinted so that no sunlight could get through to hurt him accidentally.

It was far different than how he woke up in his own dorm. He was one of the few students that was permitted a singular dorm- his powers made it too dangerous for him to have a lair mate. He was a liability. The only monsters that would be safe being put in his dorm would be the extremely durable kind, and all of those monsters already had dormmates that fit them better for their freaks and personalities. Draculaura had Clawdeen, Robecca had Rochelle, and he’d had accidents with other students.

Bloodgood paired him with Hoodude for a good while, but their clash in magic was just too monstrous. Between Spelldon’s barely contained emotional state and Hoodude’s accidental hexing, they were an accident waiting to happen- usually on each other. 

Abbey lasted longer than most. If there was a monster in the world that fit the definition of durable , it was Abbey B. Bominable. They got along well enough between Abbey’s hesitance for words and Spelldon’s general isolated nature- the only major clash between them was always the temperature of the room.

She, like the rest, ended up getting moved eventually. Bloodgood had told Spelldon that while they got along, it didn’t mean that Abbey was happy. Her foremost purpose of moving to Monster High was to learn how to socialize and not be seen as quite so cold. Spelldon only enabled her want to isolate and push people away, so she ended up getting moved out - and with Spectra Vondergeist of all people. 

Some other options were the students of the ghostly heritage. Sirena Von Boo, Moanatella Ghostier, even Johnny Spirit for a spell or two. No one ever seemed to work out.

Spelldon always ended up alone.

It was probably better for anyone, anyway. Spelldon couldn’t seem to control his emotions or his magic around anyone other than Valentine and Casta, so the safer option for everyone was for him to be alone.

It was Valentine’s idea to start fortune-telling as a practice. Fortune-telling was the one thing that came to him passively and without much strain. It allowed him to hone was skills he knew so that he could practice methods of honing ones he didn’t. 

Valentine liked to play the ditzy southerner, but he was smart when he wanted to be.

Spelldon reached across the bed to stroke at the high plane of Valentine’s cheek, smiling to himself a bit. Green against the background of light pink looked so nice. He was looking better already. The full ballerina pink color had returned to his skin, and he looked more alive - as alive as someone without a beating heart could, at least.

Spelldon was able to pet down some stray spikes of Valentine’s black and pink hair before he took in a large breath, glaring in his sleep before fluttering pink eyes open at him.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Spelldon, with his eyes wide and his hand caught in the cookie jar, and Valentine, just trying to process what he was looking at moment’s after waking up.

“...Hi.” He said with a small smile, one fang sticking out from his lips.

Spelldon smiled at him some more. He wanted to say he felt butterflies in his stomach when Valentine smiled like that, but as he saw a few butterflies flutter over Valentine’s head, he figured Valentine probably already knew. 

He really needed to get his magic under control if they were going to be any more intimate than they already were. One stupid smooth line from Valentine and Spelldon might accidentally color the west hallway pink and green.

“I’m so in love with you.” Spelldon found himself saying before he could catch the words in his throat. They didn’t feel scary, though. Spelldon felt safe when he said them.

He didn’t realize how in love he was falling with Valentine until Valentine suddenly just wasn’t there anymore. He realized how much he loved Valentine’s ridiculous little passionate fits about color coding and organization in the school. He realized he loved Valentine’s ridiculous accent and his metaphors that Spelldon could only barely understand. He realized he loved the little ways Valentine showed affection- pressing bunched of parts of Spelldon’s jacket down while they walked or slicking back some of Spelldon’s hair to see better when he was studying or organizing things in his dorm room as he walked around, waiting for Spelldon to suggest doing something else. 

He wasn’t sure when he realized he loved Valentine, but he was confident that it was true.

“...What did you say?” Valentine murmured, suddenly wide awake and staring over at Spelldon with accusatory eyes. “You don’t…you still mean everything from last night?”

“Of course I do.” Spelldon assured immediately. He realized suddenly that Valentine had a point- he’d never said it last night. He’d never looked at Valentine head on and said- “ I love you, Kieran Valentine .”

Valentine sat up on his elbows, tilting his head this way and that, like he just couldn’t seem to understand what Spelldon just said. 

“...You do ?” He whispered.

Spelldon smiled at him, feeling soft and sore in his heart. “...I love you, Valentine. I love you .” He repeated, smoothing a hand against Valentine’s face.

Valentine laughed something watery and happy. “I- Spelldon, I love- I love -!” He nearly lunged at Spelldon, suddenly just on top of him and nearly kissing him silly. “ I love you! ” He whispered quietly, like he was testing it out. “ I LOVE YOU! ” He yelled louder, throwing his hands up dramatically and absolutely giddy with himself. 

“Take it easy-!” Spelldon laughed, holding Valentine by his cold thighs to make sure he didn’t throw himself off of Spelldon in his excitement and land on the ground.

Valentine was suddenly kissing him again, and Spelldon had the momentary thought that it was better than any kiss he’d ever had in his life. Valentine’s lips were soft and gentle, even if Spelldon had to take care to avoid the fangs poking him. 

“ I love you-” Valentine murmured against his lips. “ I love ya, I love ya, I love ya, sugah’-”

Spelldon could almost feel Valentine feeding off of his love, growing strong again. Valentine would take in a deep breath as they kissed- almost like he was breathing Spelldon in , and Spelldon could feel him thrumming with energy from the tight grip he had on Valentine’s waist. 

When Valentine finally pulled back, he looked like he was glowing . Spelldon had never seen him so happy before, so full of life. The vampire couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes. “...Say it again?” He whispered softly.

Spelldon felt like he was overflowing with love for this absolutely ridiculous, overly dramatic man sprawled on top of him. He would say it a thousand times if it meant they could stay like this forever. 

“I love you.” Spelldon whispered back. Valentine finally seemed to settle a bit, fully lying on top of Spelldon and tucking his forever-smile into Spelldon’s neck, sighing happily against his skin. “I love you, Kieran.”

“You love me…” Valentine trailed off dreamily, struggling to squirm his way closer. He stretched his arms above Spelldon’s head like a cat. “You loooove meeeee…! ”

Spelldon snorted, rolling his eyes. He decided to move one hand up to bury it in Valentine’s long hair, threading his fingers back and forth through it.

Spelldon wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that- not long enough. Valentine’s now warm weight settled on top of him like a weighted blanket as he whispered ridiculous versions of I love you and you love me over and over again into his neck. He wanted to be here forever.

“...I was so scared you’d left.” Spelldon whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. “I thought you’d gone back home to Transylvania for good.”

Valentine hummed, sighing. “...I don’t actually have anywhere to go, I don’t think.”

Spelldon hummed in question.

“...I’m not from Transylvania like the other vampires. I was born in what used to be called The Territory of Goreleans, 321 years ago.” Valentine explained. “Momma moved out here with me about fifty years ago, but then when I told her I wanted to learn how to earn love instead of stealin’ it…”

“...She left you here?” Spelldon finished, more than a little offended on Valentine’s behalf. “You just live here all by yourself?”

“Well, she wanted me to come with her at first!” Valentine defended weakly. “But it was because she wanted to enroll me in Vamp Prep. She thought it would fix me. I told her that if she dragged me with her, I’d fight her every step of the way, because I wanted to be a better person. Better than her.”

Spelldon squeezed him reassuringly. 

“...I don’t need to be fixed.” Valentine whispered shakily. “It’s lonely, always lonely. But I don’t need to be fixed. I don’t.”

Spelldon squeezed him again. “You don’t. You’re perfect.” 

Valentine huffed against him, melting a bit more into him.

“This won’t be easy.” Valentine murmured into him. “Monstah’s talk, Spell. You’re s’posed the be the son of Circe. The sister of Casta Spell.”

“And now I’m the boyfriend of Kieran Valentine . That doesn’t sound so bad to me.” He murmured. “Does it sound bad to you?”

Valentine smiled, sighing. “...No, I don’t think so, darlin’.”

“So,” Spelldon sighed. “You wanna get up and find some food, or are you just gonna lie on top of me all day?”

“I could do either.” Valentine murmured, burying his face further into Spelldon’s tank top. “This is fine.”

Spelldon snorted, shaking him a bit. “C’mon lover boy- you might be able to feed off of emotion but I need real food.”

“I don’t think I keep any real food in here.” Valentine commented. “I mostly feed on emotion and the occasional blood soda.”

“ Pop .” Spelldon corrected with a dramatic grimace. “It’s called pop , not soda .”

They got into another one of their petty-arguments-for-the-sake-of-arguing. It was different. Spelldon couldn’t help but feel like an old married couple, squabbling over the correct term for a carbonated drink. 

Everything felt hazy and slow, but in a good way. Spelldon’s life had always passed him by so unbearably quickly. He was born in Mycenaean Greece- he blinked an eye and the Roman empire had been overtaken, all of his vampire friends staked. He blinked another eye and the humans of the world were wearing worker’s clothes and everything was metal and ash. He blinked another and he was suddenly alone, attending monster high with uncontrolled powers and a pretty jaded personality.

Here with Valentine, everything was moving so slowly. He had time to savor the reflection of light on Valentine’s fangs and the sleepy look he still wore.

It’s hard to notice movement when the world is moving so slow. Valentine moved slow and sweet, like honey. Spelldon didn’t realize Valentine’s taller, lankier figure was tangled into his lap until the vampire spoke.

“Are you still scared of your immortality?” Valentine murmured, pressing a firm kiss into the swell of Spelldon’s cheek. “Of what it means?”

Spelldon sighed, squeezing the vampire in his lap and making him squirm a bit. Unruly black and pink hair blocked some of his vision. “...I guess it just means that now we get to do tarot readings and argue about shades of pink together…forever.”

He felt Valentine’s smile pressed into his neck.

Chapter Text

Valentine was…well, pinker than ever . Everyone noticed a difference in the following months at school. Fall became winter became spring became summer. Spelldon’s life was still passing him by as he watched things change around him while he stayed the same- but it was different now. He wasn’t staying the same. Valentine’s presence helped him learn more about his powers- and himself. Soon enough Valentine ended up becoming his lairmmate, forcing even more change into his life. It wasn’t an uncomfortable change though, or even a compromise. Valentine’s presence was akin to coming home from a long, long trip. He felt like he could let out a breath he’d been holding for millennia. 

Valentine was glowing both metaphorically and nearly physically. He hovered with near heart-eyes around Spelldon everywhere they went, absolutely selfless with displays of affection and gaudy pick up lines.

Spelldon was kind of obsessed with how giddy and lovestruck Valentine was. He didn’t mind the hovering, either.

It was really, really nice to be looked at that way. The thing about it was- Valentine had always been looking at him that way. The only difference was that now Valentine melted when Spelldon allowed himself to look the same way back.

Draculaura was just sick with them. Valentine was nearly attached to Spelldon’s hip most of the time, and his blatant lovey-doveyness was just too easy for her to make fun of. 

It was nice, though. On that everyone could agree. Valentine went so quickly from lovesick and heartbroken to lovesick and ecstatic .

Valentine had spent a long time after Draculaura’s 1600th birthday holding himself back from any real kind of romance. He didn’t have anyone to woo or amuse.

Now, though- well, Valentine was making up for lost time.

Spelldon also realized Valentine showed love in just so many different ways. Somedays he was all about grand displays- turning Spelldon’s pen into a bouquet of roses in his hands, having Spelldon hold him by the arm like the old gentleman he was, turning off Spelldon’s alarm clock so he could personally wake him up with soft whispers and tight squeezes. Other days he was very physically attached - on weekends Valentine tended to be content just lounging on top of Spelldon, whether that was while Spelldon organized his crystals or by transforming into a bat and taking a nap in the hoodie of Spelldon’s jacket. Other times it was little things- little notes that Valentine wrote in Spelldon’s books for him to find later, pushing his glasses or his hair up out of his face, reading over or playing test subject to newer spells that Spelldon wrote.

Like today, as Valentine balanced a small brush in his teeth and painted bleach into Spelldon’s hair.

“I can’t believe your leavin’ me-” Valentine griped, still helping Spelldon paint his iconic white tips in. 

“It’s only for a few weeks!” Spelldon defended.

“ For weeks! ” Valentine huffed.

Spelldon snorted, rolling his eyes. “Vallie, what do you normally do when I’m gone?”

“You’re normally not gone.” Valentine huffed. “I feel like a widow you’re leavin’ for war.”

Spelldon scoffed. “I’m just going up to Transylvania with Draculaura for a few weeks. Being crowned vampire queen is kind of a big deal. Besides, I don’t trust that Stoker guy.”

“I just don’t like you bein’ so far.” Valentine whined. “And especially not in the vampire court. Laura or not, it’s dangerous.”

“Sorry, would you prefer going to Transylvania with us, and almost definitely running into mommy dearest?” Spelldon asked.

Valentine smacked the side of his head lightly. “Don’t be a pain . I’m right to be worried.”

“If the vampires in the vampire court are anything like you and Laura, I’m sure I’ve got nothing more to worry about than maybe getting poofed at with some glitter or blush.” Spelldon commented. He gently rubbed at Valentine’s knee that wasn’t being used as a backrest for Spelldon. “I’ll be fine.”

“They’re not like me n’ Laura, though.” Valentine said darkly, sighing. “That’s why she left. They’re dangerous, Spell. ‘Specially that Stoker . Man’s a dark stormy night in a bottle.”

“So I’ll be careful.” Spelldon repeated. “I’m the son of a god. I think I can hold my own in a fight if I have to.”

“Rinse.” Valentine commanded, pointing to their shared bathroom.

Spelldon took a moment to recognize just how much of Valentine was imprinted in his life now. From always asking for Valentine’s help with dying his hair to the splotches of pink that decorated the dorm to the once empty-now overflowing cabinets in their bathroom that was filled with Valentine’s trinkets and products.

He didn’t bother trying to spare the tub from the striking white of the dye. The stain might actually cause the tub to recover from its absolute nightmare taking on all of Valentine’s pink.

He found Valentine lost in though when he returned, still toweling off his hair and thoroughly destroying the towel in the process.

He was staring off into space, looking worried and holding the pick of the comb like it was a weapon.

Spelldon placed his hands over Valentine’s squeezing gently. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Valentine nodded, sighing.

He stayed like that, though.

His previous pink was replaced by a resounding grey again. No matter how much Spelldon tried to convince him that he’d be okay and that he’d come back safe and sound, Valentine’s aura didn’t budge.

Valentine saw him off, at least. Out of everyone, they took the longest to say goodbye. The girls didn’t notice too much anyway, too wrapped up in the excitement.

“I’ll be back soon.” Spelldon promised.

Valentine simply sighed at him, shuffling on his feet a bit.

“...Hey.” Spelldon stressed, taking Valentine’s hands in his own. “The vision, remember? We’ll always find each other again, no matter what happens.”

Spelldon couldn’t hold Valentine’s hesitance against him. The last time someone had said they’d be right back, his mother abandoned him here. 

When Valentine opened his hands up, there was something glittering inside of it. 

“What is…?” He murmured, holding it up to properly inspect it.

It was a small pendant, fit to perfectly replace the rose lapel Valentine usually wore on his vest.

“It’s a speaking-mirror. See?” Spelldon clarified, holding up the chain of his necklace and revealing an identical one. “...No matter how far we are, we’ll still be together. You can talk to me anytime you need.”

Valentine broke into that wonderful smile Spelldon had been missing. He gently took Spelldon by the cheeks, shaking him a bit and laughing. “You’re a mess an’ a half, Spell.” He said fondly.

Their lips met naturally, and for a moment, Spelldon wasn’t going anywhere. He was rooted in this spot, to this wonderful man, and he could feel his heart flying far away, into the clouds.

Valentine broke away first, pressing their foreheads together. “...Come back to me.”

“I will, Kieran.” Spelldon said before embracing Valentine tightly, squeezing him. “Who knows? Maybe Laura and I will find some other vampires to bring back to the school with us. We could get you some friends.”

“I have friends.” Valentine snapped.

“Draculaura is an ex, she doesn’t count.” Spelldon clarified. Valentine opened his mouth to argue, but Spelldon beat him to it. “I don’t count either, I’m your boyfriend.”

Valentine huffed. “Y’know suddenly a few weeks doesn’t seem so bad.”

Spelldon snorted, shaking his head. “Anytime you need me.” He clarified, tapping the glass of the mirror pendant Valentine had already pinned to his vest.

“...You should probably go before Clawdeen tries to drag you by her teeth.” Valentine muttered.

Valentine lasted all of 8 minutes and 14 seconds before he’d called Spelldon by the mirror in Draculaura’s coach.

Not that Spelldon was already counting.

It didn’t matter how long this short trip would keep them apart anyway. They had all of eternity together afterward.

One day, he was sure mortals would whisper fairytales about the vampire and the witch, in the same fashion mortals now told tales of Circe.