Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The grand clock tower of Night Raven College chimed, its deep resonant tones echoing across the campus and signaling the end of another grueling potions class. Ace Trappola, usually brimming with sarcastic energy, slumped against the ancient stone wall outside the laboratory, a picture of utter dejection. The foul stench of failed elixirs still clung to his robes, but it was the weight of unspoken words, far more potent than any potion, that truly burdened him.

He watched as Deuce Spade, his ever-reliable and earnest friend, emerged from the classroom, meticulously wiping down his cauldron. Deuce, with his dark blue hair perpetually styled in a gravity-defying swoop and his perpetually furrowed brow, was the polar opposite of Ace in almost every way. Yet, despite their differences, they had forged a strong bond, a camaraderie built on shared adventures, late-night study sessions, and countless escapades that had landed them in hot water more times than they cared to admit.

It was this very bond that made Ace's current predicament so agonizing. For months, a quiet admiration had been growing within him, a warmth that intensified whenever Deuce was near. It started subtly, a simple appreciation for Deuce's unwavering dedication, his surprising kindness, and even his endearing awkwardness. But over time, it had blossomed into something more, something that Ace struggled to define, something that made his heart race and his palms sweat.

He was, undeniably, irrevocably, head-over-heels for Deuce Spade.

The realization had hit him like a rogue Blasting Spell, leaving him dazed and disoriented. At first, he tried to ignore it, to dismiss it as a fleeting infatuation. He teased Deuce relentlessly, played pranks on him, and did everything he could to maintain the status quo of their friendship. But the more he tried to suppress his feelings, the stronger they became, until they were an undeniable force threatening to consume him.

The problem, of course, was the inherent risk involved. Night Raven College, with its rigid social hierarchies and unspoken expectations, wasn't exactly a haven for open displays of affection, especially between two boys. Ace knew that revealing his feelings could jeopardize their friendship, invite ridicule from their classmates, and possibly even lead to expulsion, given the school's rather draconian rules.

The thought of losing Deuce, of being ostracized by their peers, was enough to send a shiver of fear down his spine. So, he kept his feelings locked away, hidden beneath a mask of nonchalance and sarcasm. But the silence was starting to suffocate him. The weight of unspoken words was becoming unbearable, a constant ache in his chest.

"Hey, Ace! You look like you've just swallowed a Mandrake," Deuce said, breaking into Ace's brooding thoughts. He approached Ace, a concerned frown etched on his face. "Everything alright? You were unusually quiet in class today."

Ace forced a smile, trying to appear casual. "Just tired, Deuce. Potions always drains me. Especially when Crewel insists on using those… those things he calls ingredients." He shuddered dramatically, hoping to steer the conversation away from his internal turmoil.

Deuce, ever the worrywart, didn't seem entirely convinced. "You should get some rest. And maybe lay off the sugar for a while. You've been acting… jumpier than usual lately."

"Jumpier? Me? Never!" Ace protested, his voice a little too high-pitched. He coughed and tried again. "I'm always this energetic. It's my natural state."

Deuce raised a skeptical eyebrow, but thankfully, he didn't press the issue. "Alright, alright. But seriously, take care of yourself. We have that History of Magic exam coming up, and I need you to be on your A-game."

"You can always count on me, Deuce," Ace said, a genuine smile finally reaching his eyes. He cherished these moments, these simple interactions with Deuce that reminded him why he was so smitten in the first place.

As Deuce turned to leave, Ace felt a surge of desperate courage. He had to do something, anything, to break the silence. He couldn't keep living like this, trapped in a prison of his own making.

"Hey, Deuce, wait up!" he called out.

Deuce stopped and turned back, his expression curious. "Yeah?"

Ace took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. "I… I wanted to ask you something."

He paused, searching for the right words, but his mind was a blank slate. All the carefully rehearsed confessions, the witty remarks, the heartfelt declarations, had vanished without a trace.

"I… I just wanted to say… thanks," he stammered, cursing himself for his cowardice. "Thanks for being such a good friend. You know, always having my back and stuff."

Deuce's expression softened. "Of course, Ace. We're friends, aren't we? That's what friends do."

He clapped Ace on the shoulder, a gesture that sent a jolt of electricity through Ace's body. "Now, come on. Let's grab some lunch. I'm starving."

As they walked towards the cafeteria, Ace couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed a golden opportunity. He had come so close to confessing, to finally unleashing the torrent of emotions that had been brewing inside him. But fear had held him back, fear of rejection, fear of change, fear of the unknown.

He knew that he couldn't keep postponing the inevitable. He had to find a way to express his feelings, to tell Deuce how he truly felt. But how? How could he confess without risking everything?

He glanced at Deuce, who was animatedly discussing the merits of different types of magical ink. A plan began to form in his mind, a risky, perhaps even foolish, plan. But it was the only option he could think of, a desperate attempt to break free from the weight of unspoken words.

He would write a letter.

A letter filled with all the emotions he couldn't voice, a letter that would lay bare his soul. He would pour his heart onto paper, crafting a confession so honest, so vulnerable, that Deuce couldn't possibly ignore it.

It was a gamble, a shot in the dark. But Ace was willing to risk it all, for the chance to finally be honest with Deuce, and with himself. He had to hope that Deuce felt the same way.

The library of Night Raven College was usually a haven of hushed whispers and the rustling of parchment, a place where students sought refuge from the chaos of campus life. But tonight, it was Ace's sanctuary, his personal writing studio where he hoped to craft a masterpiece of romantic confession.

He had claimed a secluded corner, far from the prying eyes of his classmates, and spread out his materials: a stack of crisp, unused parchment, a quill meticulously sharpened to a fine point, and a pot of shimmering, deep blue ink – the color of Deuce's hair, he realized with a blush.

He stared at the blank parchment, his mind racing. He knew what he wanted to say, the emotions were there, bubbling just beneath the surface. But finding the right words, the perfect phrasing, was proving to be a challenge.

He had never written a love letter before. His previous attempts at romantic expression had been limited to cheesy pick-up lines and clumsy compliments, none of which seemed appropriate for this situation. This was different. This was serious. This was Deuce.

He took a deep breath and dipped his quill into the ink. He began to write, slowly, carefully, trying to capture the essence of his feelings.

Deuce,

I know this is probably going to sound weird, coming from me. I’m not exactly known for my heartfelt declarations of emotion. But there’s something I need to tell you, something I’ve been holding back for too long.

He paused, rereading the words. It sounded too formal, too stiff. He scratched it out and tried again.

Deuce,

Okay, so, here’s the thing… I have a confession to make. It’s kind of embarrassing, and I’m probably going to regret this later, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore.

Better, but still not quite right. He wanted to be honest, vulnerable, but also maintain a sense of his own personality. He couldn't lose himself entirely in a sea of sentimentality.

He crumpled the parchment and tossed it aside. He had a growing pile of discarded attempts, each one failing to capture the true depth of his emotions.

Frustration began to set in. He slammed his quill down on the table, causing a small splash of ink to splatter across the parchment.

“Ugh! This is impossible!” he muttered to himself.

He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He needed to focus, to clear his mind and let the words flow naturally.

He thought about Deuce, about the way he always stood up for what he believed in, about his unwavering loyalty, about the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited. He thought about all the times they had shared, the laughter, the camaraderie, the quiet moments of understanding.

And then, the words began to come.

To the dumbass who I love the most,

I don’t really know how to say this, so I’m just going to come right out with it. I… I have a crush on you. A big one. Like, a ridiculously huge, completely embarrassing crush.

I know, I know. It’s probably the last thing you expected to hear from me. I’m usually such a jerk, always teasing you and playing pranks. But the truth is, I do those things because… because I like you. A lot.

You’re one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. You’re kind, and loyal, and always willing to help others. You’re also incredibly strong and determined, even when things get tough. And you’re… you’re really cute, too. Especially when you’re trying to concentrate and your brow furrows like that.

I know this is probably a lot to take in. And I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way. I’m not expecting anything from you. I just needed to tell you the truth. I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.

Our relationship means the world to me. And I would never want to do anything to jeopardize that. So, if you need some time to process this, or if you want to pretend this never happened, I understand. I’ll respect whatever you decide.

But if, by some miracle, you feel the same way… well, that would be pretty amazing.

Anyway, I’m going to stop rambling now before I embarrass myself even more. Just please, don’t hate me.

Your friend (and secret admirer),

Ace

He reread the letter, his heart pounding in his chest. It was honest, vulnerable, and undeniably him. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real.

He carefully folded the parchment and sealed it with a drop of melted wax, imprinting it with his personal crest – a stylized playing card with a mischievous grin.

He clutched the letter to his chest, his mind racing. He had done it. He had finally confessed. But now came the hard part: delivering the letter to Deuce.

He knew that he couldn’t just hand it to him directly. That would be too obvious, too awkward. He needed a plan, a discreet and foolproof method of getting the letter into Deuce's hands without raising suspicion.

He thought about Deuce’s daily routine, about his habits and preferences. And then, it hit him. The perfect solution: Deuce's locker.

Every student at Night Raven College had a personal locker, located in the main hallway of their respective dorms. Deuce’s locker was conveniently located near the entrance of Heartslabyul Dorm, easily accessible and relatively discreet.

Ace would simply slip the letter into Deuce’s locker while he wasn’t around. It was quick, easy, and relatively low-risk.

He checked the clock. It was late, almost midnight. Most of the students would be asleep by now. This was the perfect opportunity.

He carefully tucked the letter into his pocket and crept out of the library, his heart pounding in his chest. The fate of his confession, and perhaps his entire relationship with Deuce, rested on this single act. He had to be careful. He had to be precise. He had to make sure that the letter reached its intended recipient.

As he made his way towards Heartslabyul Dorm, a sense of nervous anticipation washed over him. He was about to take the biggest risk of his life. But he knew that he couldn’t turn back now. He had come too far.

It was time to deliver the letter meant for Deuce.

Chapter Text

Ace awoke to loud knocking on his door at 7 am. Dart! He had overslept again! And ofcourse, that dumbass–very beautiful dumbass–Deuce hasn't woke him up!

"Just a sec!" Ace shouted as he got out of bed and began getting ready, messily putting his school uniform on and running to the bedroom's bathroom to get his toothbrush, while he still had the toothbrush in his mouth the door opened and his Housewarden walked in.

"Shit! Uh..." Ace muttered, washing his mouth from the toothpaste. "Heyyy Housewarden Riddle!" He chuckled nervously, 'I'm fucked.' he muttered under his breath.

Riddle cleared his throat and rubbed his arm, his cheeks suspiciously pink. "Good morning, Ace. Um, I've brought you a cup of tea." He said, voice trembling a bit. Ace looked down and saw that Riddle has indeed set a cup of teaon his bedside table. "Yo! Thanks man!" Riddle handed Ace the cup and softly straightened Ace's crooked tie. "Would it be okay with you if I accompanied you to your basketball practice today?" Ace raised an eyebrow. "Uhh, sure? But I'm warning you, Floyd WILL be there, and he is way more annoying during practice."

"That's fine." Riddle’s finger lingered at Ace’s chest a bit too long. "Ahem. I must be leaving now. Have a good day." Riddle then hurried out. "...What the helly?" Ace scratched his head a bit before sipping his tea—and spitting it out immediately—"HOLY FUCK HOW MUCH SUGAR IS IN THIS?!"

"I apologise for the incident with the tea this morning." Riddle said while walking alongside Ace to the gym. "Oh, its fine I guess..." the second the two entered the gym, Floyd jumped onto Riddle. "GOLDFISHIE~~" "Ack—! FLOYD! GET OFF THIS INSTANT!" Floyd kept squishing Riddle and Riddle tried pushing him away. "Oi! kids! quit your lovey dovey!" The coach demanded (couldn't remember if Vargas was their coach or not but wtv) "Ehhh... whatever..." Floyd let go of Riddle and approached Jamil, poking at him. Ace then turned to Riddle. "Go sit at the bleachers. And–don't mind the smell. Some of us don't like putting deodorant." Ace said, shooting a glare at Floyd. Riddle only nodded and sat down. Watching them play... he then began to wonder–Why in the seven would Ace of all people give him a love letter?