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The campus of Walkis Magic Academy was unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the stones of the courtyard and made even the wind pause before sweeping through. The lamps lining the pathways flickered with warm, gentle light, and the sky above was a soft, endless velvet blue.
Most students had retired to their dormitories; the exhaustion of the day weighed heavily on them. But Lévis Rosequartz preferred solitude, and the night gave him the perfect excuse to disappear.
He walked the courtyard with his hands behind his back, posture impeccable, coat swaying barely with every step. The eyepatch over his right eye gleamed faintly with reflected moonlight. He wasn’t brooding, exactly, just thinking. He always thought. Always calculated. But tonight, something in his mind felt unsettled, like a needle on a compass trembling between two directions.
A small crackling sound broke the silence, followed by a hiss. Lévis’s head turned sharply toward the source. Near the fountain, crouched on the stone tiles, was Galuf Gargaron.
Of course it was him. Acid sizzled faintly around his boots, pooling in small circular shapes, glowing subtly in the moonlight. Galuf cursed under his breath, swiping a hand through his hair in frustration.
Lévis approached without hurry but with unmistakable purpose. “If you intend to dissolve the courtyard,” he said, voice cool and perfectly even, “I would at least hope you have the courtesy to warn the maintenance staff beforehand.”
Galuf jolted, then whipped his head toward him. There was that guilty, nervous grin of his, sheepish but warm, the kind of expression he seemed to give without thinking. “Hey, Lévis. Uh… no, I’m not trying to melt anything. Just… lost control for a sec.” He shook his foot to dispel a stray droplet. “Again.”
Lévis exhaled softly, not quite a sigh, not quite amusement. “You are remarkably consistent in your inconsistency.” The words could have been insulting, but somehow his tone made it sound almost… not.
Galuf rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. You can control magnets with your brain and I...” He gestured vaguely at the puddle. “...do this.”
“And yet,” Lévis said, stepping closer until he was beside him, “your performance today was unexpectedly competent.” A pause. Then, as if it physically pained him to add it: “Impressively so.”
Galuf blinked, stunned. “Wow. From you, that’s like... like a giant trophy.”
“Do not make me retract it,” Lévis warned, a faint glimmer of dry humor slipping through.
Galuf laughed quietly. The sound carried softly over the courtyard, mixing with the nighttime air. Something about it eased a tension inside Lévis’s chest he hadn’t realized was there. Perhaps it was the exhaustion. Or perhaps, though he would never admit it aloud, it was simply pleasant.
With the acid finally neutralized, Galuf stood, brushing off his clothes. But instead of leaving, he lingered there, staring up at the sky. Lévis noticed the stillness in his expression, rare for someone so naturally restless.
“You’re out here alone?” Galuf asked after a moment.
“Yes,” Lévis replied simply.
“Thinking?”
“Always.”
Galuf huffed softly. “I didn’t feel like going back either. Too loud in the dorms.” He kicked lightly at the ground. “Came out here to… breathe, I guess.”
Lévis should have walked away. He didn’t. Something kept his feet rooted beside the fountain, shoulder only a hand’s width from Galuf’s. It was not proximity he was accustomed to tolerating. Yet he tolerated it.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Not exactly. It was unfamiliar, yes, but not unwelcome.
“You did great too,” Galuf said, the words bursting out suddenly, like he had to force them past nerves. “Like, unbelievably great. But, well, you know that already, I guess.”
“Confidence is not arrogance when it is justified,” Lévis replied, a faint lift of his chin. “And I am justifiably confident.”
Galuf snorted. “Yeah. No kidding.”
Lévis glanced sideways. Galuf’s grin was uneven, messy, entirely unrefined, yet disarmingly sincere. The type of expression Lévis was powerless against. Not because it persuaded him, but because he didn’t know what to do with it.
The breeze picked up, brushing past them. Galuf shivered slightly. Lévis noticed the motion instantly.
“You should return inside if you are cold.”
Galuf shook his head. “Nah. It’s nice out. Besides,” He hesitated, then added quietly, “I kinda like the company.”
Lévis’s breath caught for half a second, a fraction of a moment he hoped went unnoticed. “You are easily pleased.”
“Maybe,” Galuf said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Or maybe your company’s better than you think.”
Lévis looked away abruptly, gaze fixed on the fountain. He didn’t move his hands from behind his back, but his fingers tightened slightly. His composure was pristine, as always, but something under his ribs felt unstable. Too warm.
“You are unusually forward tonight,” he said.
Galuf laughed softly. “Probably ‘cause I’m tired. Makes me honest.”
“You are honest at inconvenient times,” Lévis corrected.
“You think this is inconvenient?”
Lévis opened his mouth. Closed it. A faint flush touched the tips of his ears, so subtle most would miss it. Galuf did not.
“It is…” Lévis began slowly, “…unexpected.”
Galuf’s voice softened. “Is that bad?”
“No.” The answer came out quicker than intended. Lévis straightened his posture. “It is simply… new.”
They stood there in the hush of night, water rippling softly behind them, the vast sky stretching endlessly above.
Galuf shifted closer, only slightly, but enough for their shoulders to brush. Lévis didn’t move away. He didn’t even think to.
The warmth of that brief contact spread through him like a quiet, steady pulse. Galuf seemed to hold his breath, waiting for a reaction, good or bad.
Lévis spoke first, his voice a shade quieter than normal. “You lack subtlety.”
Galuf swallowed, smile turning shy. “Should I back off?”
A long moment passed. The wind rustled leaves overhead. The fountain murmured between them.
“No,” Lévis said, his voice steady. “You may stay where you are.”
Galuf’s breath escaped in a relieved, almost disbelieving rush. His fingers brushed lightly, accidentally, intentionally, against the back of Lévis’s hand. A spark ran up Lévis’s spine, sharp and startling, but he did not pull away. For Lévis Rosequartz, that was equivalent to an embrace.
They stood like that, barely touching, shoulders aligned, hands almost, but not quite, together. The night felt quieter around them, as though the world had chosen to fade away and leave just the two of them there, wrapped in moonlight and unspoken things.
After a long while, Galuf whispered, voice soft with sincerity, “I’m glad it was you out here tonight.”
Lévis closed his eye briefly, exhaling a slow, measured breath. “…I find your presence tolerable,” he replied. But the faint tremor beneath the words said far more than the words themselves.
Galuf smiled, wide and genuine, and this time when his fingers grazed Lévis’s hand, Lévis allowed the touch to linger.
The contact between their hands was barely there, a whisper of warmth against Lévis’s cool skin, but it felt louder than any of the cheering crowds.
Galuf didn’t push it. He didn’t interlace their fingers or try to grab his hand; he simply stayed close, letting their knuckles rest against each other in a quiet, hesitant line.
Lévis was acutely aware of every point of contact. His senses, honed for battle, now honed instead on the subtle heat beside him. It was strange, unsettling, that something so small could occupy so much space in his mind. He inhaled deeply, forcing his breath to steady. He would not let something as simple as a touch unbalance him. And yet… he didn’t move away.
Galuf shifted his weight slightly, turning just enough so that he could see Lévis’s expression.
The moonlight softened the sharpness of Lévis’s features, casting delicate shadows along his cheekbones and highlighting the pale gold of his visible eye. He looked almost peaceful like this, Galuf thought. Not softer, Lévis Rosequartz was incapable of softness, but quieter. More… human.
“You’re really staying out here?” Galuf asked, voice warm but tentative.
Lévis kept his gaze forward. “Yes.”
“Even though you’re tired?”
“Tiredness does not dictate my actions.”
Galuf smiled softly. “Okay, but… you are tired, right?”
Lévis hesitated only a fraction. “…Perhaps.”
Galuf let out a slow breath. “Same here.” He tilted his head back to look at the sky. “Guess I didn’t want the night to end yet.”
“That is illogical,” Lévis murmured.
Galuf shrugged, shoulders brushing again, this time more stable, more certain. “Maybe. But sometimes things just… feel good. Even if they don’t make sense.”
Lévis turned his head slightly, meeting his eyes for a heartbeat. “You equate my presence with feeling good?”
Galuf froze for half a second, then let out a breathy laugh, as if caught off-guard by the bluntness. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
Lévis’s heart gave an uncomfortable thud. He schooled his expression instantly. “You are unusually honest tonight.”
“You already said that.”
“And you have not refuted it.”
Galuf’s voice softened. “Do you want me to?”
Another long, weighted silence. The fountain splashed rhythmically behind them, the wind curled around them like a cool ribbon, and the entire courtyard waited for Lévis’s answer. “…No,” he finally said.
Galuf swallowed, his breath shaky in a way he tried to hide. The warmth between them shifted, quiet but growing, something that neither of them named but both of them recognized.
Galuf let his hand rest a little more firmly against Lévis’s, not grabbing, not boldly intertwining fingers, but easing closer, a statement in itself.
Lévis didn’t pull away. He didn’t speak, either. Instead, he allowed the contact to settle into place, allowed the warmth to seep through his skin, allowed himself, just this once, to exist without evaluating every possible angle.
Galuf’s voice broke the silence, gentle as a whisper. “Did you… ever do this before?”
Lévis turned his head sharply. “Do what?”
“Be close with someone like this.”
Lévis’s lashes lowered slightly. The answer was easy. Too easy. “No.”
Galuf’s expression softened, something like tenderness flickering behind his eyes. “Yeah. Me neither.”
Lévis studied him for a moment. The way Galuf’s usually chaotic energy had settled into something warm and steady. The sincerity that radiated from him without effort. The faint pink brushing his cheeks, visible even in the moonlight. All of it made Lévis’s throat feel inexplicably tight.
“You are… different tonight,” Lévis said.
Galuf’s eyes darted down to their nearly-touching hands, then back up to Lévis’s face. “Not different. Just… not holding back.”
“Why?”
“You,” Galuf said simply.
The answer hit Lévis like a spell. Not physically, but in that deeper, quieter way. The kind of hit he couldn’t block or deflect.
He turned his head away, breath barely noticeable but uneven enough that Galuf caught it. Lévis rarely showed emotion, not out of pride but because emotion was dangerous in his world. It could be used, twisted, exploited. Yet Galuf’s honesty wasn’t a knife. It was warm. Irritatingly warm. Disarming. Impossible to counter.
After a long moment, Lévis spoke, voice low. “If you insist on being direct, then I will respond in kind.”
Galuf blinked, waiting.
Lévis continued, each word precise. “Your presence is… not unwelcome. And given the choice between solitude and… this,” he nudged Galuf’s hand lightly with his own “I find myself choosing this.”
Galuf’s breath stuttered. “Lévis…”
“No,” Lévis said quickly, a faint tension in his shoulders. “Do not read more into it than intended.”
Galuf nodded slowly. “Alright. I won’t.”
But he couldn’t hide the gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Lévis saw it anyway. And, unexpectedly, felt no urge to correct him.
The wind shifted, colder now. Before Lévis could comment, Galuf quietly slipped off his outer uniform coat, just enough to drape it loosely around his shoulders, brushing against Lévis’s arm. Not quite offering it. Not quite assuming anything. Just… sharing warmth.
Their arms pressed together now, the contact warm and steady, no longer hesitant. For several minutes, they said nothing at all. They simply stood there beneath the moonlight, close enough to feel each other breathe.
Eventually, Galuf spoke again, voice soft but more certain than before. “It’s nice like this.”
Lévis closed his eye. “…Yes.”
No denial. No deflection. Just a quiet, deliberate truth.
Galuf’s smile widened, soft and real. Lévis didn’t see it, he felt it, somehow, in the way Galuf’s hand finally slid fully against his, fingertips brushing carefully along his knuckles.
This time, Lévis let their fingers stay touching. He didn’t move away. He didn’t tense. He simply… allowed it. Allowed him. And for Lévis Rosequartz, that was a beginning louder than any declaration.
The night air grew colder, enough that even Galuf’s easy smile faltered for a second. The breeze slipped through his thin shirt where he’d removed his coat, making him shiver lightly. Lévis noticed instantly, he always noticed everything, but said nothing. His eye flicked toward Galuf’s exposed arms, then away again, as if acknowledging concern were some kind of breach of protocol.
“You’re cold,” Lévis said finally, tone flat, but betraying attention.
Galuf huffed a tiny laugh. “You’re colder than me, probably.”
“That is not the point.”
“Well… neither is freezing to death.” Galuf shrugged, still smiling with that soft, tired warmth. “It’s fine. I just didn’t wanna go back yet.”
Lévis looked at him for a long, measured moment. The kind of look he usually gave opponents in battle - calculating, assessing, but there was something different tonight. Something gentler he didn’t bother concealing.
“Remaining outside in this condition is unwise,” Lévis said.
Galuf shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “Then what do you suggest?”
The answer came quicker than Galuf expected. “My room is closer,” Lévis said simply. “And it is warmer.”
Galuf blinked. “You… want me to come with you?”
Lévis’s jaw tightened, just barely. “I am offering, nothing more.”
Galuf’s heartbeat jumped. He tried to keep his voice steady, lowering his eyes slightly. “Then… yeah. If you don’t mind.”
“If I minded,” Lévis said as he began walking, “I would not have suggested it.”
Galuf followed him, their steps echoing softly through the quiet courtyard. Neither spoke as they walked through the dim corridors of Walkis. Their silence wasn’t awkward but oddly intimate, charged with the awareness of what they were doing. Lévis kept a precise, steady stride, but Galuf could tell he was walking a fraction slower than usual. Slowing down for him.
When they reached Lévis’ door, he unlocked it with a flick of his hand. The room inside was exactly what Galuf expected: spotless, symmetrical, every book aligned, every object in its deliberate place. His sheets were perfectly smooth. His desk clear. His uniform jacket hung with mathematical precision.
Galuf stepped in quietly, as if he might disrupt the order just by breathing. Lévis entered behind him, closing the door softly.
“You may sit,” he said, gesturing vaguely, almost awkwardly, toward the neatly-made bed. “Or stand. Whichever causes fewer issues.”
Galuf laughed under his breath. “It’s a bed, Lévis. It’s okay.”
He sat on the edge, bouncing slightly. The mattress barely moved. Lévis watched the motion with mild disapproval and mild fascination in equal measure.
“You have excessive energy,” Lévis commented.
“Not right now,” Galuf admitted. “Honestly, I’m exhausted.” He leaned back on his hands, letting out a long breath. “Feels good to finally… stop moving.”
Lévis approached a little, stopping beside the bed. “Then rest.”
Galuf looked up at him, eyes softening. “Is that okay?”
Lévis held his gaze. “If it were not, you would not be here.”
Galuf swallowed. The room felt warmer than the hallway. Or maybe it was just Lévis standing so close, his presence intense even when silent.
Galuf scooted back on the bed until he could stretch his legs out. “You’re not gonna sit?” he asked.
“I prefer standing.”
“You’re tired too.”
“I am fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“I do not lie,” Lévis corrected. “I omit.”
Galuf grinned. “So you’re tired.”
Lévis sighed, long and controlled, and finally, finally, sat beside him. Not close enough for their bodies to touch, but close enough that Galuf felt the warmth of him radiating through the air like a quiet current.
Galuf let his hand drift between them, fingers resting palms-up on the blanket. Not touching yet. Just waiting. An offering, not an expectation.
Lévis stared at that open hand. The room hummed with silence.
After a moment, he placed his own hand beside it, not holding, not clasping, just letting their fingers lie parallel. The nearness itself felt deliberate. A choice.
Galuf relaxed slowly, shoulders sinking. “You know,” he murmured, “I really didn’t know how tonight was gonna go. But… this is nice.”
Lévis looked forward, not at him. “I am not accustomed to guests.”
Galuf smiled softly. “I’ll behave.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Galuf laughed again, quiet, warm, the kind of sound that softened the edges of the rigid room. He leaned back until his shoulders brushed Lévis’s arm.
Lévis stiffened for half a second, then let himself breathe. Let the touch settle. Let it be real.
“You fall asleep, you know,” Galuf said softly. “Even if you try to hide it." Lévis did not deny it.
Galuf shifted until he was reclining fully against the pillows, one leg stretched out, the other bent. He looked strangely peaceful like that. Vulnerable, even. “You can sleep too,” he said, voice gentle. “I won’t… bother you.”
Lévis’s golden eye lowered slightly, studying the exhaustion settling into Galuf’s features. The faint tremor in his shoulders from the cold. The warmth he carried anyway.
“You may stay,” Lévis said, carefully, precisely. “For tonight.”
Galuf’s breath caught. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’d like that.”
Lévis reached to turn off the lamp, plunging the room into soft darkness streaked with moonlight through the curtains. When he returned to sit on the bed, Galuf shifted closer, not boldly, just enough to let their shoulders rest together naturally.
Lévis did not move away.
Their breathing found the same rhythm. Galuf’s eyes fluttered shut. Lévis watched him for a brief moment, the rise and fall of his chest, the soft lines of his face, before allowing his own tension to ease.
Galuf’s voice came faint, almost asleep. “Lévis…? You good?”
“Yes,” Lévis murmured. “Rest.”
Galuf smiled into the pillows. “Night…”
Lévis hesitated, only for a breath. “…Good night.”
Galuf drifted off first, his head gradually tipping sideways until it rested against Lévis’s shoulder.
Lévis stayed awake a little longer, not because he was uncomfortable, but because he realized, with a quiet jolt, that he did not mind the weight. In fact… he preferred it.
The night passed more gently than either of them expected.
Galuf slept soundly, his breath warm against Lévis’s shoulder, his hair brushing Lévis’s collarbone every time he shifted.
Lévis did not sleep at first. He told himself it was because he wasn’t tired, because he needed to maintain awareness, because having someone in his room disrupted his routine. But as minutes turned to an hour, he realized the truth was simpler: he was unused to sharing space, and even more unused to sharing warmth. And Galuf was warm.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame habit, and Lévis drifted into a light, steady sleep, head tilted slightly toward the boy resting against him.
Morning crept in quietly through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, pale glow.
Lévis stirred first. His breathing shifted, deeper, then slower. When he blinked awake, he needed a full two seconds to remember why someone was pressed against him.
Galuf lay tucked into his side, one hand curled loosely against Lévis’s ribs, his cheek resting on Lévis’s shoulder. His expression was peaceful in a way Lévis rarely saw: calm, a little vulnerable, the faintest smile on his lips.
Lévis stared. Not because he was confused or alarmed, though he might have called it that if asked, but because something in his chest pulled tight at the sight. He did not move.
Eventually, Galuf’s lashes fluttered. He inhaled softly, shifting against Lévis with sleepy confusion.
“…mh? Wh-”
He froze suddenly as awareness slammed into him. His eyes snapped open. “Oh... oh crap, I-” His face went red almost instantly. “I... uh, sorry, didn’t mean to, kinda leaned and... uh... wow, okay-”
Lévis raised a hand slightly. “Stop.”
Galuf did. Immediately.
Lévis continued, calm but impossibly soft: “You do not need to apologize.”
Galuf’s breath hitched. “I… don’t?”
“No.”
Silence fell between them, warm, thick, buzzing with the memory of shared sleep and the closeness still lingering.
Galuf swallowed, his eyes searching Lévis’s face for any sign of regret or discomfort. He found none. Instead, Lévis looked… composed. Focused. As if he’d made a decision sometime in the early hours.
Galuf sat up slowly, not pulling far away, just enough to meet Lévis’s eyes properly. His hair was messy, falling into his face. Lévis’s fingers twitched subtly, an instinctive urge he suppressed.
“You okay?” Galuf asked quietly.
“Yes.” A beat. “Are you?”
Galuf smiled, small and honest. “Yeah. Better than okay.”
Lévis looked away for a moment, not out of embarrassment, but because the directness of Galuf’s sincerity was overwhelming in a way no spell ever had been.
When Galuf spoke again, his voice lowered just a touch: “I… liked last night. I liked being here. With you.”
Lévis’s breath caught, so subtle he doubted Galuf noticed. But Galuf noticed everything. He leaned in a little, slow and cautious, watching Lévis for any sign to stop. Lévis didn’t move away. Didn’t tense. Didn’t break eye contact.
“Can I…” Galuf whispered, words half-formed, hesitant. “Is it okay if I…?” He didn’t finish the question. He didn’t need to.
Lévis spoke first, so quietly it could’ve been mistaken for breath: “Yes.”
Galuf’s eyes widened for a heartbeat, surprised, touched, then softened. He leaned in the rest of the way.
The kiss was feather-light. Barely pressure at all. A brush of lips warm from sleep, shy and slow, as if Galuf thought that anything stronger might startle him.
Lévis did not startle. He inhaled softly through his nose, his eyes drifting half-shut. He didn’t kiss back at first, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was processing the sensation: the gentle warmth, the tremor of Galuf’s breath, the delicate, unassuming contact.
Then, in a movement so subtle Galuf almost missed it, Lévis leaned forward. Not much, just enough that it became mutual, deliberate, real.
Galuf let out a tiny sound at the back of his throat, relief and happiness threaded together. He cupped the side of Lévis’s jaw very lightly, thumb brushing the edge of the eyepatch strap, careful not to push boundaries.
Their lips lingered like that, soft, slow, trembling with the weight of something new and startlingly fragile.
When they finally parted, Galuf’s forehead rested against Lévis’s without thinking. Lévis let him.
Galuf whispered, barely loud enough to hear: “Was that… alright?”
Lévis’s voice was steady, but the subtle warmth beneath it was unmistakable. “Yes.” A faint pause. “It was… preferable.”
Galuf smiled, bright, a little overwhelmed, deeply genuine.
And for the first time, Lévis didn’t look away. He held that smile with something that wasn’t softness, exactly, but something close. Something that, in his own way, was even better.
Galuf stayed close, breath mingling with Lévis’s, their foreheads connected in a way that felt strangely natural, like the distance between them had always been meant to shrink to this.
Lévis didn’t pull away. He didn’t stiffen or straighten his posture or reassert distance the way Galuf half-expected he would. Instead, Lévis remained perfectly still, letting the quiet wrap around them like a second blanket.
Galuf finally pulled back just enough to see his expression clearly. Lévis looked… collected, yes, but there was something new under that calm: a brightness in his visible eye, a looseness around his mouth, a softness to his breathing.
“You didn’t have to say yes,” Galuf murmured, voice still hushed from sleep and nerves.
Lévis regarded him with faint, analytical focus. “I do not say things I do not mean.”
Galuf’s chest tightened in the best possible way. “So... you wanted me to...”
Lévis didn’t blink. “I allowed it.” A pause. “And I did not dislike it.”
Galuf’s grin spread slowly, warm and disbelieving. “That’s your way of saying you liked it, isn’t it?”
Lévis opened his mouth to deny it, and didn’t. “I found it… agreeable,” he settled on, but the slight color rising along his cheekbones gave away more than he intended.
Galuf leaned in again, not for another kiss, just to nudge their noses for a second. A small, affectionate touch. Lévis’s breath caught, but he didn’t move.
“You’re unreal,” Galuf whispered.
“And you speak too much,” Lévis replied, though the words held no bite.
Galuf laughed quietly, leaning back against the headboard. The bed dipped with his movement, making Lévis shift a little to maintain balance. He watched as Galuf rubbed at the sleep in his eyes.
“You look like you actually slept,” Galuf said.
“I did,” Lévis admitted. “Despite my expectation to the contrary.”
Galuf stretched, arms overhead, then winced. “Ugh, my shoulder’s stiff.”
“That is your own fault,” Lévis said. “You fell asleep on me.”
“You make a good pillow.”
Lévis shot him a sharp look, a warning twitch of the eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, curving upward by barely a millimeter.
Galuf caught it instantly. His smile softened into something quiet and tender. “Hey… Lévis?”
“Yes?”
“I really liked that kiss.”
Lévis inhaled quietly through his nose. “I gathered.”
“You want another?”
Silence stretched but it wasn’t tense. It was warm, electric. Galuf could see Lévis weigh the question, not with hesitance but deliberation. He wasn’t rejecting it. He was deciding how to answer without giving away everything at once.
Finally, Lévis shifted closer measured, controlled, but unmistakably intentional. He lifted a hand and touched Galuf’s jaw with two fingers, almost experimentally, as if testing the idea of contact. Galuf’s breath hitched.
“If I were to kiss you again,” Lévis said softly, “it would not be because you asked.”
Galuf swallowed. “Then… why?”
Lévis leaned in, slow enough that Galuf could feel the breath before the touch. “Because I wish to.”
The kiss was firmer this time, not forceful, but certain. A claiming of intention rather than permission. Galuf melted into it, lifting a hand to lightly cup the back of Lévis’s neck, careful, reverent.
Lévis’s other hand slipped to Galuf’s waist, fingers splayed as though memorizing the shape of him. The closeness deepened but remained gentle, unhurried. Their breaths tangled; the warmth between them rose like a tide.
Galuf smiled into the kiss, unable to help it.
Lévis felt the curve of his lips and pulled back half an inch, eyebrow arching. “You are smiling.”
“Yeah,” Galuf breathed, cheeks flushed. “Can’t help it.”
“That is inconvenient.”
“You keep saying that,” Galuf said softly, brushing their noses together again. “But you don’t move away.”
Lévis’s hand tightened ever so slightly at Galuf’s waist. “No,” he said quietly. “I do not.”
Galuf’s heart thudded, heavy and sweet. “Then I’m gonna… stay close. If that’s okay.”
Lévis said nothing. Instead, he moved even nearer, letting Galuf lean into him fully, their foreheads touching again, breaths steadying into the same rhythm. No hesitation. No retreat. Just closeness. Just intention. Just them.
Galuf stayed pressed against Lévis, their breaths brushing, their foreheads resting together as the moment settled between them. The room felt warmer now, not because of sunlight or blankets, but because of the closeness that had grown naturally, quietly, without either of them forcing it.
Lévis’s hand remained at Galuf’s waist, fingers relaxed but deliberate, as if anchoring him in place. Galuf’s own hand trailed lightly along Lévis’s arm, tracing the edge of the sleeve, feeling the line of tension that was there and the softness beneath it.
“You’re really warm,” Galuf murmured.
“You are leaning on me,” Lévis replied. “That would cause anyone to feel warm.”
“I didn’t mean physical warmth.”
Lévis looked down at him, eye narrowing slightly. “Then elaborate.”
Galuf thought for a moment, then shrugged slightly, still resting in Lévis’s hold. “You feel… steady. Like even if everything else went nuts today, I’d be fine right here.”
Lévis was silent. Not rejecting, not recoiling, just absorbing the words with a quiet intensity.
“Steady,” he repeated under his breath, as though testing the word.
Galuf nodded, leaning his cheek against Lévis’s shoulder again. “Yeah. I mean, you’re intense, and sometimes scary as hell, and really serious about everything. But somehow that feels safe, not threatening.”
“Safety is not something I routinely provide to others.”
Galuf laughed softly. “Well… you’re providing it to me.”
Lévis’s fingers tightened minutely at his waist, so slight, so subtle, but unmistakable. “I see.”
They sat like that for a while, the quiet stretching comfortably between them. The morning light moved slowly across the room, creeping up the walls and softening everything it touched. The sounds of the academy waking, distant footsteps, faint chatter felt muted, far away, irrelevant.
Eventually, Galuf shifted, stretching his legs out across the bed, and without thinking too hard, he rested his head more fully against Lévis’s shoulder, almost nuzzling into the fabric. Lévis froze at the contact, only for a heartbeat, and then eased.
“You are… affectionate,” Lévis said, tone unreadable.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
Galuf smiled lazily. “You’re just not used to people wanting to be close to you.”
Lévis opened his mouth to respond, and closed it again when no denial came. Galuf saw that. A tiny, fond smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Lévis huffed, almost imperceptibly, and shifted just enough to let Galuf lie more comfortably against him.
“You’re letting me do this,” Galuf said quietly. “You don’t have to, but you are.”
“And you are making unnecessary observations about it.”
“That’s ‘cause it feels nice,” Galuf said, his voice softening. “Being close to you.”
Lévis’s breath stilled for a second. He didn’t push Galuf away. “You should not become reliant on physical closeness,” he murmured.
Galuf snorted. “I’m not reliant. I just… like it.”
“That is not better.”
“It kinda is.”
Lévis gave him a look, but a subtle warmth worked its way up his neck and into his cheeks.
Galuf, predictably, noticed. “You’re blushing,” he teased gently.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“You are imagining things.”
Galuf reached up and brushed a thumb lightly along Lévis’s cheekbone. Not teasing. Not provoking. Just touching, soft and warm.
Lévis inhaled sharply. Something in him pulled taut under the contact, not painfully but intensely, like a spell drawn to its caster.
Galuf leaned in and placed a tiny kiss beside the corner of Lévis’s mouth. A fleeting brush. Nothing bold. Nothing demanding.
Lévis’s eyes widened just slightly. Not fear. Not discomfort. Surprise, pure and raw.
“Galuf...”
“No,” Galuf whispered, touching their foreheads again. “Not asking for anything. Just… showing how I feel.”
Lévis’s throat moved with a slow swallow. “You are… exceedingly direct.”
“You keep saying that,” Galuf murmured. “But you’re not pushing me away.” His fingers slid lightly along the back of Lévis’s hand. “And I don’t think you want to.”
Silence fell again. But it wasn’t empty. Finally, Lévis spoke, quiet, almost fragile in its sincerity. “I do not… dislike this.”
Galuf smiled softly. “I know.”
“And I do not…” He hesitated, the words catching. “…wish for you to leave yet.”
Galuf’s heart warmed, beating in a slow, steady rhythm he leaned into. “Then I won’t.”
Lévis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His hand, still at Galuf’s waist, shifted, sliding around a little more securely, drawing Galuf closer in a subtle but unmistakably protective gesture.
Galuf melted into him, arms circling Lévis’s middle, holding him gently.
They stayed like that, entwined in quiet warmth, neither rushing nor retreating. Just breathing together. Just getting used to the idea of being held.
Galuf rested against Lévis’s chest, his arms loosely around him, breathing slow and even. Lévis sat very still, not rigid, but attentive, as though every second of contact required intention. He wasn’t tense anymore. If anything, he seemed… grounded. Centered by the weight of someone leaning on him without fear.
Galuf’s thumb traced idle circles against Lévis’s side, not consciously, just following the slow rhythm of comfort. Each tiny motion sent a strange thread of warmth through Lévis’s spine. He didn’t understand why such a simple, unconscious gesture had such a pronounced effect, but he didn’t pull away from it.
Eventually, Galuf let out a small breath against Lévis’s collarbone. “I could stay like this all day.”
“That would be impractical,” Lévis replied quietly.
“You didn’t say impossible.”
“I did not.”
Galuf smiled against him, shifting slightly so he could see Lévis’s face. The movement brought their bodies closer still, chest to chest, legs tangled naturally. Lévis’s hand instinctively tightened at Galuf’s waist to steady him.
Galuf’s voice was soft, almost hesitant. “You really okay with this? With me… like this, I mean.”
Lévis studied him for a long, unwavering moment. His gaze was steady, precise, impossible to misinterpret.
“If I were not,” he said, “you would not be here.”
Galuf’s chest fluttered. “Yeah. I guess so.”
But something still lingered in Galuf’s expression, a quiet, searching look, as though he was working up the courage for something bigger, heavier.
Lévis noticed immediately. “Your expression has shifted,” he said. “What is it?”
Galuf swallowed, eyes flicking down for a second before returning to Lévis’s. “I…” He exhaled. “I’ve been trying to figure out if I should say this. I don’t wanna freak you out.”
“You are already speaking too much for subtlety to be an option.”
Galuf laughed nervously. “Yeah. Okay. Fair enough.”
He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers lightly along Lévis’s jawline. Lévis inhaled sharply, but didn’t stop him. Galuf’s thumb lingered near his ear, gentle and warm.
“You don’t have to answer right away,” Galuf said, voice dropping into something real, something trembling on the edge of hope. “But I wanna say it. Because last night, and this morning… they made things pretty clear for me.”
Lévis’s pulse picked up, subtle, but there.
Galuf took a breath. Then another. “Lévis… I like you.”
Lévis didn’t move. Not even to blink.
Galuf continued, heart pounding. “Not just attracted to you. I mean, I like you. You. The way you think. The way you look at people. The way you’re blunt but weirdly gentle when it matters. The way you… let me close even though I know it’s not easy for you.”
Lévis’s fingers tightened once, almost imperceptibly, on Galuf’s waist.
Galuf leaned his forehead gently against Lévis’s. “I like you. A lot. And I’m not saying it because I want something. I just… needed you to know.”
Silence filled the room, thick, humming with tension. Lévis’s breathing was controlled, steady, but Galuf could feel the shift in the air. The way the atmosphere sharpened, focused. Lévis wasn’t overwhelmed or frightened. He was deciding.
After a long moment, Lévis lifted a hand and placed it on the side of Galuf’s neck, fingers spreading along the warm skin. The touch was firm, deliberate. Claiming.
His voice, when it came, was soft but precise. Measured truth. “I do not form attachments easily.”
Galuf nodded. “I know.”
“And I do not give my trust lightly.”
“I know that too.”
Lévis’s thumb stroked once along his pulse point, barely enough to be felt, but enough to make Galuf shiver.
“But,” Lévis continued, “you are… not insignificant to me.”
Galuf’s breath caught. “Yeah?”
“You have… affected me.” A pause. “More than I anticipated. And more than I expected to allow.”
Galuf’s eyes softened, bright and wide. “Lévis…”
“I am not skilled in expressing these things,” Lévis said, voice low but steady. “But I believe you should know…” He held Galuf’s gaze with a rare vulnerability. “I wish for you to remain close.”
Galuf’s heart opened, warm and overwhelmed, and he leaned in without thinking, pressing a soft kiss to Lévis’s cheek, just beside the corner of his lips.
Lévis’s eyelid fluttered.
Galuf whispered against his skin. “Lévis… that’s enough. That means everything.”
Lévis turned his head a fraction, and their lips brushed again, gentle, slow, not quite a kiss but no longer an accident.
Galuf breathed, “Is that your way of saying you… feel the same?”
Lévis answered by closing the remaining distance. A kiss, quiet, deliberate. Not rushed. Not hesitant. A confession in action rather than words.
When they separated, Lévis rested his forehead lightly against Galuf’s, letting their breaths mingle in the warm morning light.
“I do not know what this will require,” Lévis murmured, voice softer than he’d ever let anyone hear.
Galuf smiled, brushing the tip of his nose against Lévis’s. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Lévis exhaled slowly. “Yes. Together.”
He didn’t say I like you too. He didn’t need to.
He kissed Galuf again instead, deeper this time, slow and complete, pulling him in until the confession didn’t need words at all.
The kiss lingered, slow and unhurried, the kind that didn’t try to claim or consume, just affirmed. Their breaths mingled in the stillness of the room, the soft rustle of sheets the only sound as they eased apart by barely a breath.
Galuf remained close, fingertips brushing Lévis’s cheek, memorizing the warmth there. Lévis didn’t flinch or withdraw. Instead, he leaned subtly into the touch, eyelid lowering almost imperceptibly in a gesture of trust he would never offer anyone else.
When Galuf finally pulled back enough to look at him properly, he saw something rare - Lévis truly at ease. Calm, but not guarded. Present, not analyzing. Just… there with him.
“You know,” Galuf murmured, voice still hushed from all the emotion hanging between them, “if someone told me yesterday that this would happen… I’d’ve thought they took a wand to the head.”
“That is unsurprising,” Lévis replied evenly, though the faint curve at the edge of his mouth betrayed him. “You have never been particularly rational.”
Galuf laughed and shoved him lightly in the shoulder. “Hey.”
Lévis caught his wrist mid-push, not harshly, not defensively, just reflex, and held it. His fingers wrapped around Galuf’s with quiet certainty. Galuf stared down at their hands, heart thudding in a steady, warm rhythm.
“You don’t have to hold on like that,” Galuf said softly.
“I am not ‘holding on,’” Lévis insisted automatically.
Galuf raised an eyebrow.
Lévis’s grip didn’t loosen. “…But I do not wish to let go yet,” he amended.
Galuf smiled, genuine and soft. “Good. Me neither.”
They sat there for a moment, hands linked, breaths slowing into the same rhythm.
Eventually, Galuf shifted to sit beside Lévis rather than half on top of him. Lévis followed the movement, their knees brushing, shoulders nearly touching. Galuf leaned against him lightly, testing, and Lévis allowed the contact without hesitation.
“You know,” Galuf said after a long silence, “we’re gonna have to go outside at some point.”
“We do not,” Lévis said immediately.
Galuf snorted. “You can’t hide here forever.”
“I can,” Lévis corrected. “It is others who will insist I can't.”
Galuf bumped their shoulders together. “C’mon. What’ll people think if you and I walk out of your room together?”
“That is irrelevant.”
“Heh. Is it?”
Lévis didn’t respond verbally, but his eye flicked sideways toward Galuf in what might have been the tiniest hint of unease or protectiveness.
Galuf’s smile softened at the sight. “Hey,” he said gently. “I’m not ashamed. Or embarrassed. About any of this.”
Lévis’s jaw tightened, subtle, almost invisible, but he didn’t look away. “I am not ashamed either.”
“I know. I just mean… whatever this is, whatever we decide to call it, I’m not gonna pretend it didn’t happen.”
Lévis inhaled, slow and controlled. “I would not allow you to.”
Galuf blinked. Then grinned. “Good.”
Lévis let out a quiet breath, almost a sigh, but not of frustration. More like relief. As if some invisible weight he’d carried for years had shifted just a little.
Galuf took his hand again. “We don’t have to tell anyone. Not yet. We can just… go out there and be ourselves. And we’ll figure the rest out later.”
“That is acceptable.”
Galuf leaned his head onto Lévis’s shoulder. “I figured it might be.”
Lévis hesitated for exactly one beat before resting his cheek lightly against Galuf’s hair. It wasn’t dramatic or shy, just simple. Honest. The kind of gesture he would never offer without intention.
They stayed like that as the minutes slipped past, wrapped in a quiet bubble of warmth that neither wanted to leave. But eventually Galuf sat up, stretching his arms over his head with a groan.
“Alright,” he said. “If we don’t move now, we really won’t leave for the rest of the day.”
“That would not bother me.”
Galuf turned to him, eyes soft. “Yeah. I know. But… we’ve got lives outside this room.”
“Unfortunately.”
Galuf laughed, then reached for Lévis’s hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Together, right?”
Lévis looked down at their intertwined fingers. He took a breath, deep, deliberate. Then he squeezed back, careful but firm. “Yes,” he said quietly. “Together.”
Galuf’s heart soared.
They stood, still holding hands for one lingering moment before Lévis reluctantly let go to straighten his uniform. Galuf didn’t tease him for it.
Before opening the door, Lévis paused. “Galuf.”
“Yeah?”
Lévis leaned in, just a little, and brushed a soft, brief kiss to the corner of Galuf’s mouth. A promise, warm and certain.
Galuf blinked. “What was that for?”
Lévis met his eyes steadily. “An incentive to return later.”
Galuf flushed scarlet. “I-y-yeah, okay. I'll definitely do that.”
“Good.”
Lévis opened the door. And together, shoulder to shoulder, closer than they had ever been, they stepped out into the hallway, the morning bright around them, the world unchanged but somehow entirely different.
Not hidden. Not ashamed. Not defined yet. Just beginning.