Chapter Text
The air is just short of frigid when Julius pushes open the door to the gardens, closing his eyes as a gust of wind hits him right in the face and blows his hair into his line of sight. Distaste rises up through his throat and he barely holds his tongue from clicking; it's a shame the same cannot be said for the crease on his lip, which curls downward anyway before he gains the presence of mind to fix it.
He walks down the steps with care not to slip due to the puddles of water all around, a tell of the rain that’s only just stopped, as he doesn’t want to ruin his uniform. All caution is forgotten once he remembers to check his watch for the hour and notices with great horror that there is only a quarter of an hour left until the uniform inspection starts.
He rushes through the corridor, hoping not to trip on the puddles of water that’ve accumulated throughout the place. He is just short of two meters away from the door to the academic building when he hears it, sharp and distressed: the voice of another.
He stops, turns— the lush, vibrant greenery floods his sight along with the fountain that's located at the centre of the gardens— and only then does he notice a black-haired boy at the opposite corner of the gardens, who had just exited the residential building.
He feels something slip from beneath his arm, and looks back in time to watch as his bag falls and hits the step to the academics’ building, tips over, and spills his stationery all across the ground. His heart sinks all the way down to his gut, and he bites his tongue to hold back the curse that itches to be released. He falls to his knees and attempts to gather all of his belongings before they can soak up the ground's moisture.
Once all of his books and notebooks are back in place, he climbs the step and pushes the door open. The sweltering weather of the indoors hits him like a wave and he finds he hadn't missed it. There is not, however, enough time to dwell on it.
He dashes through the corridors whilst fixing his uniform to the best of his ability, and finally reaches his destination. He stops right before the door and takes a moment to catch his breath, fix his collar, and brush off what little dirt had got caught on his trousers’ knees from before. He steadies the strap of his bag over his shoulder until it sits comfortably, and only then does he push the door open.
A sour taste floods his mouth as he enters and finds the class monitor already there. The young man turns around to look at him, a frown on his face, as he stares him up and down for what feels like ages before giving him a terse nod. His chest loosens then, and he permits himself to look elsewhere.
The clock on the wall says it's five until nine. The prospect does nothing to loosen the tautness in his chest; it fails to soothe him entirely. He looks down and sees the two lines of students, one for the boys and one for the girls, ordered from shortest to tallest, left to right. He walks toward the boys’ line and finds himself somewhere to the rightmost end of it.
‘I should've arrived earlier,’ He finds himself thinking as he sets down his bag near his feet.
Arriving at that hour isn't quite what's expected of him, as can be seen by the presence of almost every other student in his class. It is not the expected behaviour from the acting Student Council President. Julius can tell that is what The Monitor is thinking as he settles in front of the boys’ line.
The door slams open when there is a minute until the bell rings. Julius flinches as he is drawn out of his thoughts and forced to pay attention to whoever it is that just came in instead of dwelling further on how much earlier he should've woken up.
Right at the door stands a boy with unruly black hair slicked all the way back, whose most prominent feature is his sharp, mean glare. Julius finds that he recognises him: Subaru Natsuki.
The boy had enrolled during summer vacation earlier that year. Julius had made an effort to know as much about his classmates as he could, and he'd found that the task hadn't been so arduous when it had come to Natsuki.
“Natsuki Subaru.” Like thunder, the monitor’s voice cracks. “What in God’s name have you done to your uniform?!”
Julius would never admit he leaned back as much as he biologically could to get a clean look at
the boy’s uniform, but he finds he isn't surprised by the monitor's reactions when he sees Natsuki’s state of attire. The hems of his pants rest too low, and therefore are rumpling along the ankle.
In a display of pure and unadulterated lack of survival instincts, the boy has the nerve to take a step farther and speak up. “What could I have done? It was raining like crazy just now, didn't you see?”
Julius cannot see the monitor's expression, but he has a clear guess as to what it is once he breaks into a rant regarding flaws in Subaru's behaviour and appearance that Julius doesn't have the visual acuity to see from a distance. The boy looks up, something reminiscent of a mix of shame and anger flashing through his eyes, and then he catches Julius staring. Julius looks away, out of respect for the boy.
In a way, Natsuki is already leagues above his initial presentation. Julius can remember vividly the first day of the semester, and the way the monitor had scolded him within an inch of his life— rightfully so, at that. He'd shown up without his blazer, maybe three of his shirt’s buttons had been undone, and his tie was nowhere to be seen. That kind of behaviour wasn't acceptable by any metric, so it was relieving to find that Natsuki had been integrating nicely into the Institution’s system, even if it was in his own way.
That relieved him from another duty of his already big workload as the Student Council President and the one in charge of enforcing the Academy’s regulations. That being said, Natsuki could certainly make haste in the betterment of his usual appearance; making the monitor mad wasn't a wise decision given that, once on a roll, he could rant for minutes on end without regard for the rest of them.
As the monitor wordlessly sends Natsuki off to integrate into the boys’ line with a gesture of his hand, Julius hears snickers coming from farther down the line; not whispers, as that would elicit a scolding due to not having been able to remain silent. How uncouth. That sort of behaviour wasn't the kind that Linden enforced nor facilitated.
His shut eyes are once more pried open by yet another shout. He looked down to his left in time to see Natsuki freeze—
“Ah, right. It's from shortest to tallest.” He hears him whisper as he steps out of the line and reincorporates into it just four students to Julius' left.
That was the end of it.
The monitor walks past him and formally begins inspecting, not without having first leaned in and said: “I believe I do not need to repeat myself in your case, Mr. Natsuki?”
Natsuki nodded and ducked his head low. The monitor gave a satisfied nod and moved onto the next student. Julius' turn arrives sooner than he'd wished it would. Upon stepping in front of Julius, the monitor does not waste time in pulling at his lapel, clicking his tongue at a crease he'd missed while ironing. With a tap on the side of his calf, the monitor indicates that the hems of his pants rest too low, and therefore are crumpling along the ankle. He does nod appreciatively at Julius' posture, but does tug on the sleeve of his blazer so that the shoulder sits properly.
"Did you think putting your bag there would have made me overlook it?” He asks out of nowhere, moving Julius' bag aside with his foot, and something inside Julius' chest pulls taut. “That sort of behaviour is unbecoming, I hope you know; you should know better than this, Mr. Juukulius." The monitor says, and Julius bites his tongue.
‘I didn't mean to hide it.’
The words sit at the back of his throat, but they never make it out. They drown in the smile Julius gives and the bow of his head that follows, replaced by words he doesn't fully mean. “My apologies, sir. It won't happen again.”
The monitor nods. “You should be more careful, Mr. Juukulius. To an institution of this calibre, these sorts of behaviours are nothing short of disrespect.” He gives Julius a pat on his shoulder and moves on to the next student. Julius never looks anywhere that isn't directly in front of him.
The Monitor is right. He'd been careless, he'd forgotten to properly sort his stationery for the day the night before even though he'd been told to prepare it beforehand. He'd been incautious and overconfident, which had caused him to arrive later than he should've which then in turn had left him with little time to properly tidy himself up and—
“Very well done, Mr. Van Astrea. Impeccable presentation, as always. There certainly are a number of students that could benefit from following your example. Keep at it.”
—and if Natsuki hadn't been that loud back in the garden, he wouldn't have had to stop. He wouldn't have turned and let his bag slip from his grasp and then have to spend the next five minutes gathering his belongings. He wouldn't have—
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
No. That wasn't quite right.
He crossed his arms behind his back and shook his head as if to shake the thought away.
Natsuki hadn't been at fault for his own distraction. The only person at fault in his circumstances was himself. Natsuki hadn't forced him to fall back asleep after breakfast. If he hadn't fallen asleep, he wouldn't have been late. Thus, the fault was his and only his.
He would do better. He had to.
That sort of behaviour wasn't proper for a student of Linden Academy, where the children of all sorts of families were sent to learn how to properly become people of the high class. And the instructors will go just short of beating anything unbecoming out of the students enrolled.
Everything was designed to be stunning. Polished marble floors in every room, embellished crown moldings along high-reaching ceilings. Portraits of prior headmasters and sponsors hang from nearly every square inch of free walls, regal to each individual stroke of oil paint. Extravagant, solid wood furniture at every corner. Sprawling, handwoven carpets at every turn.
Beautiful, of course. Strangely oppressive, too.
His eyes betray him and cast a glance sideways; he briefly catches the sight of red hair and the profile of a face before he retrieves his focus. It's still enough time for something disgracefully cold to brush against his gut. He looks down at his feet and lets the voice of the monitor fade into the back of his head.
To be in the halls of high society, one must be high society. Every step taken in these halls, one must be worthy of it— the polished floors will reflect his every flaw, the portraits’ soulless eyes pay due judgment as he walks by, the domed ceilings reaching over like the ribs of a bird cage. Anything else is stripped away, replaced to cover up any other impurities.
That is the kind of place he's in. That he'd already spent a year in. He'd already spent a year learning what words to speak and to whom in order to not draw more attention from the instructors than he absolutely must.
‘Get it together.’ His mind whispers incessantly, but he cannot wash away the strange sense of unease that lingers just beneath his skin.
The Instructor finishes up checking the boys’ uniforms and only then he goes and settles by the door, where a woman takes his stillness as her fuel to take on her own duty and begin checking the uniforms of the girls.
Try as hard as he might, his mind does not wander. It is kept in place and focused on the present with almost unbearable focus on every detail, to every word of praise the monitor of the girls says and to every complaint she has to share.
The rest of the time until the bell rings feels like watching the slaughter of the innocent. His mind cannot help but come back to the memory of Natsuki’s entrance and the ensuing scolding regarding his uniform. The unease that follows is hard to ignore, the unreasonable wish that the Instructors might go easier on them is pushed back.
It's what needs to be done if the school wishes to keep up the reputation of being able to streamline generation after generation of perfect exemplary high-class graduates. To become a gentleman, there are many qualities he must possess: obedience, attention to detail, integrity, reliability and respect.
That is what is expected of him, and that is what he wants of himself, so he bites his tongue and looks the other way because that is the right thing to do no matter how much it grates on his ears to hear the same thing said over and over again at the same hour every day. That is why he's there, after all.
He's the Student Council President and so his duty is to be there for the students, to help turn them into a better collective by functioning as the bridge between the student body and the Instructors.
So when the clock marks the end of the academics for the day, and a monitor sent by the administration calls for him, he nods and tidies up his seat as fast as he can before coming along.
He doesn't ask to be told a reason when the Headmaster who called for him tells him that Natsuki Subaru will be his new roommate, but he is given one anyway.
Natsuki Subaru’s roommate transferred over the weekend and they cannot let a student have a room solely for himself, he says. And Julius does not mention that he has been living on his own without a roommate for the better part of the two semesters he's been enrolled at Linden.
The intent is clear even if never told outright. They want Julius to help straighten Natsuki by putting him in the same room as one of their star students. They hope Julius’ good habits will rub off on him. Maybe they're hoping he will accept the responsibility of also trying to whip Natsuki into propriety outside of the classroom, too.
He nods and smiles to hold the groan that threatened to suffocate him. The headmaster smiles so cleanly it is hard to tell whether it is plastic or not what his teeth are made out of.
A surge of annoyance catches Julius off guard, and he doesn't find he disagrees with the cause even if he understands the motive behind why he of all people is being sprung with the sudden transfer all of a sudden without even being asked if he's alright with it, or even given a briefing.
Of course. That doesn't stop the shame that comes afterwards, which only serves to make him
dread more his new duty to ‘lend Mr. Natsuki a little bit of a helping hand.’
Even if it rubs him the wrong way, the way the duty was pushed off onto him, Julius cannot help but feel a sort of joy from it. From being considered for these sorts of duties out of the nearly two thousand students enrolled in his year.
Being seen as reliable in that way… at least his efforts have paid off in some way.
He isn't exactly opposed to the idea of sharing space with Natsuki, although if given the choice he'd take the solo room ten times out of ten, but he is certainly wary. If word around the institute is to be trusted at least to some capacity, then it'll be a rather… hectic experience. There is no doubt in anyone's mind that there is a stark difference between him and Natsuki Subaru, so the idea of rooming with him feels hard to imagine as he has nothing to compare it to.
He exits the headmaster’s office and straightens his posture.
It will be fine.
He will make it so.
. . .
It's thirty-five past seven and Julius finds himself tapping his foot against the ground as he waits inside his room. The sound of the wood creaking does little to ease his annoyingly fast-beating heart, but tapping his foot against the floor is really the only other alternative he's got to pacing around the room— which he couldn't give himself the luxury to indulge in. What if Natsuki walked in on him? That couldn't be his first impression.
That being said, it didn't seem like Natsuki cared much about his own first impressions. The headmaster had said that he'd be the one to tell Natsuki about his relocation, and that Julius ought to be there to welcome him— and to hand him his key, because that'd been another of the duties deferred to him.
How much longer would it take him to arrive? At this rate, he’d be late to a meeting with the Student Council. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply in a feeble attempt to calm himself.
At exactly seven thirty-seven someone knocks at his door repeatedly. “Come in. It's unlocked.” Julius says from where he stands.
“Can't! I've got my hands busy!” He hears Subaru from the other side. “Could you open it for me?”
Julius sighs and uproots himself from where he stands, walks toward the door, and twists the doorknob before pulling. The door opens and he finds Subaru carrying two boxes, one on top of the other. Julius steps aside and Subaru lets out a hushed “Thanks” before bursting in.
"Sorry!" He says, frazzled, "I, uh, had more stuff than I thought, and I put off packing until the last minute—” He sets the boxes down by his bedside. “Sorry for the lateness. Uh, I kinda have to go back to my old room for some stuff— Nice to meet you, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Julius watches as Subaru sits on the bed and lets his shoulders sag. He breathes heavily, attempting to catch his breath, and then leans forward.
“Do you need help with that?” Julius asks then. Subaru looks up and the brief look of confusion is all the incentive he needs to elaborate. “To unpack, I mean. It looks like there's a lot. I could help you unpack, if you want.” He offers, because it's the right thing to do.
Briefly, he hopes that Natsuki says no. He's already risking being late to the meeting; any more and it'll reflect poorly on him. The hope is, of course, suffocated and dragged to the back of his mind as soon as it's noticed.
Natsuki looks between him and his boxes, and then speaks. “Ah, no. No thanks, I, uh, I'm still not done.” He says, standing up from his bed. “Thanks for the offer though.”
Despite his innermost wishes, Julius finds himself frozen in place after Natsuki's words reach him, suddenly torn between two possibilities he cannot seem to choose from: Insisting and probably being caught up in a task that'll probably take another twenty minutes to complete, or simply accepting his deference and moving on.
A gentleman would choose the former, but he truly doesn't want to be late to the meeting. Julius lifts his arm and looks at his watch— fifteen minutes until the meeting starts. It's all the way over to the academic building; the sole trip will take him most of that time. He spares Natsuki one last glance, and finds him sprawled on his bed. He swallows hard.
It should be fine to go. Natsuki had already said he'd be fine on his own, applying pressure after a definitive negative would be simply rude. Therefore, he shouldn't worry.
Julius steps forward and approaches Natsuki, reaching into the pocket of his own trousers and searching for something. Natsuki sits up as he sees Julius approach and, before he can speak, Julius thrusts something in his direction. Natsuki looks down at Julius' open palm, and finds a key there.
“Here, it's your key to the dormitory. Be careful not to lose it.” He says. “There’s matters I need to attend to, so I'll be back later.”
“‘Kay.” Natsuki nods. “Gotcha.”
Julius smiles and steps back, turning around and heading for his desk where his bag rests on top of. He picks it up and throws the strap over his shoulder before heading for the door. Just as he steps into the threshold he holds the door open and speaks once more. “Once you're done, be sure to lock the door.”
“Sure thing.” Natsuki utters from his bed, and Julius finally closes the door behind him.
There is a distinct heaviness in his chest that he cannot really look away from. It wasn't wrong to leave Natsuki on his own— space was likely the thing he needed most at the time, after having been just told he'd be living with a stranger from that day onward. He needed to acclimate to the new space.
The notion doesn't do much to lighten the weight that presses down on Julius' chest, but it does make it easier to push aside for the sake of the matters that are relevant at the time. He exhales deeply and begins to head for the academic building.
Upon Julius’ return, he could see that the sun had already entirely gone down as can be seen
through the windows that make it easier to appreciate the starry night outside. The quiet is rather oppressive, making every step he takes echo through the empty corridor that seems to stretch out far longer than it has any reason to.
There is a dull ache behind his eyes that makes the notion of shutting his eyes just so very enticing if it weren't for the bitter taste that drowns his mouth.
When he stops before the door to his room, he pushes the door in an attempt to open it only to find that it won't budge. Only then does his memory deign to remind him that there is now another person living there. He reaches down to his trousers’ pockets and fishes for his keys, hoping it is not another item he's forgotten.
He slots the key into the hole and twists, before pushing the door open once it clicks. He steps inside and pulls the key out before closing the door behind him. There, he is met by the absolute silence that engulfs the room in its entirety along with the absolute darkness that veils everything inside.
The moon’s light, thinly sneaking in through the curtains, can only do so much for illumination. With the help of memory, the minuscule amount of moonlight that slips into the room through the window, and a desperate sort of wishful thinking that hopes Subaru didn't take any sort of creative liberties with the rooms layout, he reaches his desk and then through his sense of tact he finds his lamp. He tugs at the cord and suddenly he can see again.
He lets his bag fall somewhere to the left of his desk and exhales. Upon turning around, he becomes aware of the multitude of decorations that now cover Subaru's side of the room, an amount so large of posters and the like that Julius has to pause for a second, and think if the sheer quantity is within the academy's regulations— if there are any regarding the matter at hand.
As the surprise erodes the longer he stares, he finds something resurfacing that burns the back of his neck. He tries to recall the old layout, the absolute lack of traces of life that'd been characteristic of it up until that same evening, and the shame burns hotter. In one evening, Natsuki had managed to make the room seem more loved than Julius ever had in little over a year.
He looks away, feeling as if the longer he prolongs the act the harder it will become to not feel embarrassed. In the process, he finds something else that catches his attention.
“—Ah.”
He should've known. The quiet that filled the room. The lights were off. It was obvious. How could he have missed it?
There, on the desk at the foot of the bed, Natsuki lies asleep with his face pressed against the pages of an open book, his neck bent at an odd angle that'll definitely mean trouble when the time comes to wake up next morning, and drooling. Sleeping in such a position cannot be comfortable in the slightest, with his neck cricked and his back bent.
There is a notable lack of snoring, a contrast between Julius’ mental image and the one before him that he chooses not to dwell on. He instead focuses on the fact that Natsuki is still in his uniform, muddy at the hem of his trousers and certainly dirty. This combined with the amount of work that Natsuki had spent on unpacking means— Julius cannot let that be. It would benefit no one and likely cause unsatisfactory sleep.
Julius moves closer and carefully moves up an arm and reaches for his shoulder. To his slight annoyance, Natsuki does not wake after he tugs at him once or twice. Julius puts more strength in his touch, and he finds himself almost falling over backwards once Natsuki springs awake. He mumbles a string of nonsense that Julius takes to mean: What? What hour is it?
Julius clears his throat, effectively calling Natsuki's attention. “I'm sorry for waking you up, Natsuki.” He says, and Natsuki looks at him as if he's expecting him to follow-up, which is certainly strange.
“Is something wrong?” Natsuki finally asks, yawning into his open palm.
Julius shakes his head. “I thought it would be rather uncomfortable to spend the night in your uniform. I apologise if waking you up wasn't to your liking.”
Natsuki frowns, and then waves his hand. “Nah, it's cool.” He pauses. “Is nothing wrong? Like, really?”
It's Julius' time to frown this time. “Indeed. There's nothing I would consider wrong happening. Why the inquiry?”
“Nah… it's just…” Subaru trails off, and then purses his lips. “Might sound kinda creepy, but you have this look in your face that kinda gives off that feeling, y’know?”
Julius' mouth dries and, for an instant, he doesn't know what to say. The eloquence he takes pride in is no more, and he finds that he stutters out a very embarrassing: “Huh?” As a response.
Subaru's expression sours and colours a little bit, but it is beyond what Julius can notice at that very instant— too focused on a single thing: The apparent glaring clarity of his current disposition. He wouldn't be so daft as to claim he wasn't feeling downhearted, but he hadn't expected it to be so clear to see— and for that he couldn't help but wonder if someone else had noticed.
“It is indeed odd. I don't think there's anything worthy of mention that can be deemed wrong.” Julius replies once his tongue undoes the knot it'd made out of itself. Too late, he realises redundantly belatedly.
“Ah, C'mon man.” Subaru grins, the look of embarrassment nothing more than a memory of a past that might as well not have happened at all due to the short-lived nature of its presence. “That's bullshit and you know it.”
Julius inhales deeply to not let his irritation show, and replies once again. “It's rude to assume that sort of thing without evidence, Natsuki.”
“You took way too long to say it! That's enough proof if I do say so myself.” Natsuki smiles and puffs out his chest; it makes Julius huff and shake his head.
“It barely qualifies as a reason for suspicion.” Julius states. “And it is also entirely beside the point.” He adds as an afterthought as he takes a step back and begins to walk away.
“Where are you going?”
Julius pauses, and then turns to face him. “I'll be washing up for the night.”
“Wait! You didn't tell me what was wrong!”
“That's because there is nothing wrong.” He lies, once more.
Any further attempt at a rebuttal from Natsuki's end is promptly ignored as Julius opens his drawer and looks for his sleepwear before entering the shower. Once inside, as the water begins to fall and his irrational irritation washes off like a layer of grime, he cannot help but feel frustrated.
It'd been unseemly, the way he'd behaved. Entirely disconnected from the behaviour expected of someone of his standing. He could argue that shame had been the cause— that the reason behind his foul mood was the fact that he'd been unable to find an important ledger that he had been expected to hand in that evening. That he'd spent an entire night working on it. That he'd endured that same morning's humiliation for.
But even rolling all of those reasons into one didn't excuse his behaviour. He'd been at fault for losing it. He hadn’t been careful when picking back up his materials after dropping them in the morning while he was rushing to class because he was running late.
The person he wanted to be wouldn't have reacted in that way, regardless of how tempting the act of lashing out appeared to be. It shouldn’t have mattered— the sensation of itching just beneath his skin, the frustration and anger that welled within him.
And thus, it was decided. He would apologise to Natsuki as soon as he exited the bath.
Once decently clothed, he wrapped his towel around his head so as to dry his hair faster, and stepped out of the bathroom. Upon doing so, he immediately found Subaru sitting on his bed. Something caught at his throat momentarily, the selfish desire to not go through with what he'd promised he would.
“Natsuki,” Julius began, so as to drown the impious suggestion of his mind, but it didn't matter— Natsuki interrupted him soon enough.
“Hey. Julius…” Natsuki began, and Julius had not the mind to do anything but notice the use of his first name instead of his surname. “I, uh. I'm sorry man. I was kinda pushy just now, wasn't I?”
Julius was entirely prepared to deny that claim. If only he'd been given the chance to speak, that is.
“It's my first day here, so I kinda don't wanna have any sort of bad blood going on between us, y’know? That'd be pretty lame. So, I'm sorry for that man.”
Once again, all of the hundreds of multiple ways of the scene unfolding he'd conjured up inside his mind when he was bathing were inevitably crushed by the reality before him. Once more, he was left at a loss for what to say— outside of: “No problem.”
And even if Natsuki seemed to lighten up at that answer, the guilt that pressed down on his heart only grew heavier. He had been the one at fault, not Natsuki— his intentions had been entirely devoid of ill-spirited underlying meanings. So why was Natsuki apologising?
“Now that the bath’s free, I'll go wash up.” Natsuki said, standing up
The part of himself that rejoiced at the prospect made him want to gag. Holding back a grimace, Julius was utterly at a loss for what to do. Natsuki reached for his drawer and began pulling out his nightwear, and Julius’ feet felt as if they were stapled to the ground.
Natsuki walked past him, and he closed his eyes. “—It was because I lost a ledger.” Before it could catch up to his mind, his voice rang out in a tone that made him want to shrink.
Natsuki made a confused sound before he turned around, the confusion spreading all the way to his expression. And even if Julius' throat felt tight, his chest felt lighter, and he took the silence as his opportunity to speak. “I was… I was irritated because I lost an important paper this morning, and I didn't realise it until I tried to find it halfway through a meeting.” He added, then laughed humourlessly as he scratched his cheek. “It’s irritating to know all that effort went to waste; it feels rather frustrating.” Julius smiled wryly before looking up. “I didn't have to be so rude about it, however. I apologise for the unseemly behaviour.”
The next few seconds were spent in complete and utter silence, and it made his chest feel substantially lighter.
“You lost… a ledger?” Subaru asked then, his hesitant inquiry cutting through the silence.
It was hard to tell the inflection with which the words had left Natsuki's mouth. There was no particular tell that Julius could depend on to infer what it was that the tone he'd utilised meant in that context, and the prospects made his heart beat faster in something he could only describe as a distasteful mixture of dread and hope.
As Julius stewed inside his mind, looking over his interaction with Subaru in hopes to infer whatever it was that he felt and wanted out of it, Subaru hurried to find his bag which he then holstered up and opened before frantically beginning to search for something inside it.
After a few minutes of searching, he'd seemingly found the object he meant to pull out and held it with both hands before turning around. “Is this yours?” Natsuki asked, shoving the paper all the way in Julius' face.
Julius had to take a step back and squint to fully be capable of making out the details. And once he did, he couldn't help the smile that crept up to his face. It was his ledger. It was dirty and there were signs of it having been once wet, but it was undoubtedly his. “Yes! Yes, it is mine!” Julius said, and then turned to face Subaru with the same smile. “How—” he bit his lip. “Where'd you find this, Natsuki?”
Subaru blinked, and smiled. “You know you can just call me Subaru, right?” He said. “Hearing someone call me Natsuki makes me feel kinda weird.”
Julius opened his mouth but nothing came. He bit his lip. “If you wish, then I could start calling you by your first name.” He already used Julius’. It was expected of a gentleman to reciprocate gestures, no?
“Yeah, please. If it isn't too much trouble.” Natsuki— Subaru nodded, then cleared his throat. “About the paper… it kind of hit me in the face this morning when I was rushing to class.”
Julius was unable to hide his confusion at that, and so Subaru decided to elaborate— if his vague answer could be called that. “I don't know. One second I could see normally and at the next all I could see was paper, ink and numbers.” He said.
Julius looked down at the paper he now held, and felt relief wash over him, relaxing his every muscle with a satisfying effectiveness.
“— It was such a pain getting it, y’know? I got all muddy ‘cause of it.”
Suddenly, all the relief he'd felt washing over him vanished and was replaced by a sinking feeling that he could not describe where it came from— could one describe direction, if it was felt all over?
“What?” It was all he could bring himself to say.
“Yeah! The wind was crazy.” Subaru laughed. “If I hadn't made a run for it, I might've made it in time for class, haha.” he said, patting Julius on the shoulder.
What followed was hard to discern. Subaru's words became hard to tell apart as a ringing sound took place inside Julius’ ears and soon all he could make out was Subaru's voice saying he'd go wash himself for the night before leaving Julius alone with the paper he hadn't realised he'd begun to clutch tightly in his grip
A familiar sentiment came back and soon it was all he could feel: Guilt.
Because, when looking back at that morning and the way Subaru had been scolded within an inch of his life on two separate occasions, Julius found that the only person at fault was himself. If he hadn't been so careless, Subaru wouldn't have been late because he wouldn't have lost time trying to reach his paper and so he wouldn't have been chewed up and—
And what?
Did he need another reason to regret his actions? Most certainly not. Did that mean that this entire arrangement was his fault? No, but he'd played a part in worsening the image of Subaru, whose only infraction was really only the presence of abrasiveness in his personality, and had caused him more trouble than he had any right to.
That was simply incompatible with the kind of attitude he should've shown. His mistakes had caused someone else to go through an unpleasant experience that really only he was due to live through— so why? Why did he feel so light— so relieved— while he felt as if his insides were being twisted around with a cold metal?
His throat closed in on itself and his hands tightened into fists.
Apologising wouldn't help anything any more. What good were apologies if they came post eventum, when there was hardly anything that could be done to fix the error?
He closed his eyes and leaned forward, sitting on the edge of his bed with both of his hands being used to massage the bridge of his nose.
He should—
No.
He had to be better.
He opened his eyes back up, and stood up from his bed, looking for something to take his mind off of the guilt that persists despite his resolve. He approaches his desk and pulls his bag near. He pulls his notebook from his bag, and settles in at his desk; The scratch of his pen against paper fills the room in the absence of anything else. It's almost enough.
He is midway through annotating the third page when he hears the bathroom door click open behind him, and his hand stills without him quite wanting it to for just a moment before he forces it back into motion. The floorboards creak under the weight of Subaru's steps; Julius keeps his eyes on the page. The creaking stops at some point, and then the soft rustle of sheets and the particular give of mattress springs under new weight.
Julius turns a page.
"Hey," Subaru says from behind him, his voice rough like he'd been on the verge of falling asleep not a second ago. "Are you gonna be at that for long?"
Julius lifts his head, though not enough to look back. "A while longer, I'm afraid. I have some annotations I'd like to finish before morning." He pauses, and then— because it is the right thing to ask, and for no other reason— adds: "I can move to the common room, if the light bothers you."
There is a second of silence. "Nah," Subaru says. "Light doesn't bother me when I'm sleeping. You're fine."
"I see." Julius says. "I won't be long."
Subaru makes a sound that Julius takes to mean he's heard him, and nothing further follows. He turns back to his notebook. The scratch of the pen. The sensation of living with another that he feels he can get used to. Julius finds that the silence feels rather different from the silence he'd grown used to over the past year— something lived-in rather than occupied. He doesn't linger on the thought for long. It wouldn't do to start ascribing qualities to silence at this hour; he has annotations to finish.
He does finish them. Or he finishes enough of them that he can, in good conscience, call it done for the night. His pen stills and he straightens in his seat, rolling his shoulder where it's stiffened, and that's when the knock at the door comes— three measured raps, unhurried— and a voice drags his attention out of his mind.
"Thirty minutes to bedtime." Says the voice at the other side of the door.
The steps that follow move on without pause and Julius sets his pen down before turning in his seat. Subaru hasn't moved, he's lying on his side with one arm folded beneath his head, the sheets pulled halfway and his hair an affront to the concept of propriety, and he is, without any apparent effort, entirely and completely asleep. If the drool coming down the corner of his mouth wasn't enough of a tell. Julius watches him for longer than he means to. Then he turns back to his desk, closes his notebook, and begins to pack his things while doing his utmost to not make a noise that could rouse Subaru, slotting each item back into his bag slowly, buckling the strap instead of letting it fall.
He sets his lamp to its lowest setting before he turns it off entirely, plunging the room back into the dark that the moonlight through the curtains does its inadequate best to soften. He sits on the edge of his bed and looks at the ceiling one last time.
‘I'll do better.’ He thinks, and finds that he is already resolved for the decision.
He lies back and shuts his eyes.
. . .
“—There’s no way Mr. Suzumebachi isn't targeting me.” Subaru whines, falling into step right beside Julius.
Putting aside the fact that he has absolutely no idea from where Subaru came from, Julius hums in acknowledgement. “Good day to you too, Subaru.” Julius says, and Subaru merely responds with a click of his tongue.
“We said our hellos this morning. Do we really need to do it again?” Subaru groans.
“Manners are one of the tells of one’s education, so of course we do.” Julius replies, and continues before Subaru can interrupt him again. “Regarding Mr. Suzumebachi, I do not believe he is targeting you, however.”
After having said that, Julius' memory provides him with the events of their last period. Indeed, Subaru had been called to read during Comparative Literature an amount of times that was exponentially greater than the average, but there was a motive for that.
“What do you mean? He was totally glaring at me the whole class!” Subaru said, gesturing loosely with his hands and looking at Julius with a strange expression.
Julius merely closed his eyes and exhaled before looking at Subaru from the corner of his eye. “That would be because you spent the entirety of the class doodling instead of underlining what the instructor told us to.”
Subaru's eyes widened, he pursed his lips, and replied after a short bout of hesitance. “But the Instructor said we didn't have to do it! He said that it'd be in our best interest, not that it was obligatory.”
At that, Julius paused. Indeed, the Instructor had said as much, but if one took the time to discern what he truly meant then one would infer that what the Instructor had really meant to say was that anyone who didn't do as told would be picked on.
Such was the norm with most of the Instructors that bore the task of instructing them on academics. Most of the students had been quick to catch onto that.
Julius looked back at Subaru, who continued rambling as they walked side by side.
Learning to discern the illocutionary act behind every spoken statement was nothing short of imperative if one desired to lead a tranquil life in Linden, nevermind the outside world. People could talk for hours on end regarding one thing and mean another entirely different thing deep within.
It was a rather tiresome activity nonetheless. Honesty was what should be expected, never mind straightforwardness, when conversing. A gentleman would not veil his intentions if he truly wished to get his message across. Hence why the Instructors engaged in such a practice— to teach them.
Julius had learnt to tell the difference, as was expected of him, for there was really no other way to fulfill the duties expected of him if not by attempting to discern what every person that asked anything of him really wanted. He was sure that most, if not all, of the student body had grown accustomed to the same.
If Subaru hadn't, it was only a matter of time until he did. He was still a ‘new’ student, all things considered— he’d learn with time to tell the intention behind each word just like he'd learnt to care for his appearance, even if it meant being scolded relentlessly.
Julius lifted his arm, careful not to let the papers he carried slip, and checked the hour. A grimace crept up his face when he realised the hour for a meeting with the Student Council was nearing.
Julius stared out the windows of the hallways and into the gardens one last time before he inhaled, and halted in place just as they were nearing a turn. Subaru stopped at the same height Julius did, and turned to look at him. “Why’ve you stopped?”
“I've got matters to attend to.” Julius said.
Subaru eyed him for a second. “Student Council stuff, or…?”
Julius nodded. “You should go on ahead,” he paused. “I do not know when I'll be back, so it'd be splendid if you kept the door open.”
Subaru tilted his head. “Kept it open…?”
A sour taste rose Julius’ throat. He swallowed the grimace, and spoke. “I seem to have forgotten my key.”
“Ah.”
Indeed. A rather shameful oversight on his part. By now, it should have been ingrained in his morning routine to make sure he carried the essentials but, for some reason, he hadn't been able to find his key in the usual place that morning which could only mean he'd lost it—
“Here.”
Subaru's voice snapped him out of his mind and urged him to focus on his hand, on what there lay— a key.
“Is that…” Julius looked up at Subaru. “I can't take it.”
The confusion in Subaru's face grew, as could be inferred by the deepening of the frown that'd taken over his expression. What was so confusing? Julius couldn't take Subaru's key and leave him without a way to lock the door just because he'd lost his. He was already indebted enough given that Subaru had somehow forgotten to lock the door behind him when he left that morning earlier than Julius, which was the only motive Julius himself hadn't wound up locked for the day. He ought to own up to his shortcomings.
The frown on Subaru's face deepened first, and then his eyes shifted somewhere past Julius' shoulder for a moment, and then, quickly, like a latch catching, something in his expression settled. His expression brightened as he seemingly reached a realisation.
“It's yours.”
A second was spent in silence and then the words registered in Julius’ brain. He blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
Subaru's eyes avoided Julius' gaze. “It's, uh. It's your key.” He said, then cleared his throat. “I… I might've picked it up by accident this morning.”
“...”
“Say something!”
Julius blinked, and quit staring at the key and returned to looking at Subaru. Something loosened inside his chest, and only then he could recall that it'd pulled taut all day long. He brought his hand up, and took the key from Subaru.
“Thank you.”
“It's nothing.” Subaru said and then, nary a second after, the look of sheepiness became no more and a strange grin took over his face. “Did you really think I'd give you my key?”
Julius’ breath caught, he pursed his lips and looked away. “... I don't know what you're talking about.”
Subaru laughed, loud. “You did!”
Heat crept up the back of his neck and his hands ached for fidgeting. Nevertheless, he persevered. “I had no way of knowing you had my key. I couldn't let you give me yours just because I lost mine.”
“Well, I wouldn't be locked out, would I?” Subaru said. “Besides, I could’ve just crashed at a friend’s dormitory until you came back.”
“...”
“Oh, what now.”
“...you have friends?”
“Oi. What's that supposed to mean?”
Before Julius could elaborate on his question, the loud strident ring of the bell echoed through the halls. It marked the beginning of the class periods for those in extracurricular activities such as clubs like athletics, arts or, in Julius' case, the Student Council. He clicked his tongue, and looked back. “I have to go. I'll see you later.”
Julius turned the corner and began sprinting in order to make it in time to the meeting. Behind him, gradually becoming smaller as the distance grew, Natsuki Subaru shouted. “Hey! Don't run from me! What did you mean by that?!”
The smile that threatened to bloom was buried as the seconds stacked and the notion of being late became a greater plausible possibility. He couldn't give himself the luxury to be late to every meeting the Student Council had, it’d reflect poorly on him and could result in his demotion, which would be an unsightly outcome all things considered.
The meeting was only deemed over when the bell rang for a second time, therefore announcing it was dinnertime. The last person to leave the room was Julius, far too preoccupied with finishing sorting out a series of papers he'd been given to mind the passing time; it wasn't until an Instructor that was passing by found him that he was made to pause his work in order to have dinner.
Julius complied, stuffing the remaining paperwork inside his bag and throwing it over his shoulder before exiting the room. The Instructor held the door open for him and closed it behind him on his stead, before walking him to the Dining hall and resuming his duties afterwards.
It was mostly empty by the time he arrived. Large patches of students sat in groups sporadically with rather empty spaces between them; Julius sat in one of the latter and served himself a serving of the food that had grown mildly cold. Beef Wellington, mash and steamed vegetables were the menu for the night, elevated to be more pretty than appetizing if the way they were placed was anything to go by.
Nothing really noteworthy or out of the ordinary transpires and so Julius allows himself to simply relax. The faculty member that oversees the dining hall watches over them all, pretending not to be irritated at the fact he's been tasked with watching over teens eating, and Julius tries to make haste even if the food is rather dry; it takes him two glasses of water to finish the astoundingly dry meat, and he looks down at the rest of the meal that he has no desire of eating before digging in anyway.
There was no way he could simply return the excess food now that he's already put it on his plate, nevermind throwing it away. That'd be wasteful and utterly rude.
Once he's done and feels well enough to stand without feeling nauseated, although still peeved by the amount of remains on his plate, Julius moves to scrape of the remains of his food off into a waste bin before heading to the scullery window where he drops off his tray and the utensils he made use of.
The walk back to his dormitory is largely spent in silence, which is occasionally interrupted by the distant hollering of laughter, the sounds of the leaves rustling or the wind howling just outside. The sun outside has begun to set and Julius cannot help but focus on the dull ache that sits in the space between both of his eyes and somehow below at the same time.
He doesn't think of knocking when he arrives at the door. He fishes for his key inside his pocket only to find a stray pencil he'd thought he'd lost earlier that day, his heart rate spikes and just as he's about to panic his brain has the decency to remind him he stored the key inside his bag after Subaru gave it back.
He huffs and searches for it before slotting it into the keyhole and turning, finding then that the door is open and it was all for naught. He swallows the urge to groan and pushes the door open—
“Shit!”
The first sound that welcomes him back is that of Subaru hitting his head with the bedframe while he is halfway buried in the space below his bed for reasons Julius doesn't entirely believe he wants to know.
Julius lets the door close behind him.
"Are you alright?" He asks, because that is the first appropriate response. Subaru makes a pained sound from beneath his bed that Julius chooses to take as a yes, and he sets his bag down on his desk before approaching. When he comes close enough to look down, he finds nothing but the soles of Subaru's shoes and the lower half of his legs sticking out from beneath the bedframe; there is a sound of frantic rustling coming from beneath.
"Subaru."
"One second."
"What are you doing under there?"
A pause comes, and the rustling stops. "...Nothing."
A rather poor attempt at deflection, if anything. Julius sighs, crosses his arms and waits. After a moment the rustling starts again, quieter— an attempt at subtlety that fails miserably— and then Subaru attempts to get out from beneath his bed, which involves knocking his elbow on the bedframe a second time and something scraping against the floorboards. It is nothing short of an ungraceful sight.
He emerges eventually, his face flushed, hair dishevelled, more so than usual, and carrying something which he deposits on the bed behind his own person with an efficiency that would be impressive if it weren't quite so obviously an attempt to prevent Julius from seeing it. Julius has already seen it. It is a cardboard box, not very large, and it rattles faintly when Subaru sets it down.
"Like I said," Subaru says, with careful nonchalance that doesn't suit him in the slightest. "Nothing."
Julius looks at the box, and then back at Subaru before breathing in through his nose.
"What's in the box?" He asks finally.
"Nothing relevant." Subaru averts his gaze.
"Subaru." Julius lifts an eyebrow in an attempt to convey his skepticism.
Subaru meets his eyes for a second and then looks back away, somewhere to Julius' left. "Figurines." He says. "They're figurines."
It takes Julius a moment to process the word, embarrassingly longer to understand what he means, and dreadfully longer to realise what it means in the current context.
"Figurines." He repeats.
"Figurines, yeah, like— collectible ones. From an anime." Subaru adds, then picks something up that Julius only then notices had been resting against the bedpost: a figurine, perhaps fifteen centimetres tall, of a woman in a revealing outfit rendered in painted resin. It catches the light in a way that does nothing to help Julius' case for charitable interpretation. "This is Yoko. She's a character from— Nevermind, you probably don't know— She's, uh." He turns it over in his hands in a way that seems to make him notice the outfit as if for the first time. "She's very important to the plot."
"I don't doubt that she is." Julius replies.
"You're looking at me like I'm some kind of criminal." Subaru's eyes become narrow.
"Is that so?”
"Yes, it is so." Subaru nods, and sets the figure back against the bedpost, gently enough that it is clear he is aware of Julius watching and also aware of how that looks. "It's not what you think."
"I'm not thinking about anything in particular." Julius says, which is not quite true. What he is thinking is that he cannot reasonably imagine any criterion under which the Academy would consider the contents of that box acceptable. He looks at the ‘Yoko’ figure again. The outfit. His mouth tightens. "I don't believe those are permitted."
Subaru stiffens. "They're collectibles."
"They're figures of women in revealing clothing."
"That doesn't automatically make them— look, it's not like that. I'm a fan of the series." Subaru moves to sit on his bed and deposits the box in his lap, where he opens the top flap and begins rearranging something inside with a focus that reads as purposeful avoidance. "Yoko happens to dress like that. That's how she's designed. I didn't design her."
"That's rather beside the point."
"Is it?" Subaru looks up. "What's the point then?"
Julius holds his gaze and finds no good answer. The point, he thinks, is that possession of materials of that nature— broadly speaking— is the sort of thing that, if found during a routine inspection, which happened twice a semester and could occur with anywhere between one hour's notice and no notice at all, would reflect extraordinarily poorly on both of them. It was not, strictly speaking, a question of morality; it was a question of appearances, which in this institution amounted to the same thing.
He says as much, which he feels is fair.
Subaru stares at him. "So you're going to report me."
"I don't want to report you." Julius says, and finds that it is both true and not the thing he should have said, for several reasons. The most immediate of which is that whether or not he wants to is entirely irrelevant to whether or not it is the correct course of action.
Subaru's expression shifts and all that's left is something stiff and complicated. "But you will."
Julius does not answer right away. In the silence, Subaru closes the box, which makes something in Julius' chest pull taut, and sets it beside him on the bed.
"C'mon." Subaru says, and Julius is unable to miss the way his voice has lost the sharp defensive edge it had held. "It's nothing bad. I promise." He pauses. "What was I supposed to do, leave them at home? My parents would've found them and I'd never hear the end of it."
"Then perhaps you shouldn't have—" Julius begins, but never quite ends.
"Don't." Subaru says, low and flat, likely in the know about what he'll say. He sighs and Julius feels oddly against the way the bridge of his nose wrinkles "Just— don't."
Julius closes his mouth, the words die at the tip of his tongue. He tries again, and it is to no avail. He is not entirely sure why that is.
"They're mine." Subaru says plainly, and that somehow makes it harder to argue. "I've had them for years. They mean something to me. That's it." He looks up, and whatever Julius finds in his expression makes it difficult to hold the position he'd been holding. "Have you not anything you like? Something you keep because it means something to you?"
The question certainly lands. Julius isn't sure where exactly, only that it did. The way his breath catches is the sole witness to his struggle. "I've never had any particular preference for that sort of media." He says, finally, meaning anime and manga, meaning the category that figurines belong to, meaning to communicate that the question is not really applicable due to a difference in circumstances. “I never really found it meaningful to my duties at any given time.” He adds, hoping that Subaru’s look might soften.
Subaru gives him a look that Julius can hardly parse and continues in speaking. "Really." He says, entirely disbelieving.
"Really." Julius nods.
"Huh." Subaru leans back on one hand and stares at him in a way that makes him feel strangely observed. It is, for reasons he declines to examine, not a comfortable sensation. "I had you pegged as a Saint Seiya fan type of guy." He pauses. “Guess I was wrong.”
Silence stretches a tad bit uncomfortable before Julius can gather his bearings and answer something other than a stutter. He blinks. "I beg your pardon?"
"Saint Seiya. It's an anime." He pauses. "Well, manga originally. About knights, mostly."
Julius blinked once, then twice, and the words finally came to him “I fail to understand how that matter is of any importance in the current context.”
“Every time you come back here with a book that doesn't give me a headache just from looking at the title, it's always about knights." He says. "Knights of some kind. Very consistent." His eyes drift past Julius' shoulder to Julius' desk, and he tilts his head toward something there. "Like that one."
Julius does not turn around. And yet he is uncomfortably incapable of ignoring the heat that climbs the back of his neck.
"That is beside the point." He says, closing his eyes, as if that could wash the embarrassment away.
"Is it a knight one?" Although he can't see it, Julius can almost hear the smirk in his voice
"That is entirely beside the point." He restates, and opens his eyes. As it turns out, he was right. Something he cannot pay any mind twitches at the base of his stomach.
"See, that means yes." Subaru says, smiling. "Kinda fits, doesn't it? You're kind of—" he waves a hand vaguely in Julius' direction. "You know."
Julius does not in fact know or, if he does, he deliberately chooses not to draw the correlation. He looks away from the gesture and focuses somewhere past Subaru's head, he clears his throat and speaks up again. "We appear to have strayed significantly from the matter at hand."
"Which is?" Subaru leans in.
"Your figurines." Julius focuses back on Subaru's face, and almost wishes he'd taken longer to do so.
"Right." The smile on his face fades. "That.”
There is a stretch of silence that neither seem keen on breaking. Julius’ mind is torn doing something he had no recollection of ever before considering out of a sense of responsibility and something more that tugs at his chest; the simultaneous awareness of what he should do, what he has told Subaru he will do, and the knowledge of his dues. That Subaru had been late to class because of his oversight, and had been scolded for the state of his uniform because of it, and hadn't said a word about any of it until he found himself holding the paper out to Julius over a changed subject.
He sighs and presses the space between his eyebrows with his thumb, closing his eyes. He'd been meaning to make it up to Subaru soon— he hadn't the foggiest as to how, however.
He opens his eyes, and focuses on Subaru. There is an undeniable trace of worry and a sort of resignation that, when mixed, makes Julius feel sick. He purses his lips, and looks away. He pinches the bridge of his nose.
Maybe there actually was a way he could repay him.
He lowers his hand and swallows down the built-up sentiment that can only be described as the preface to regret.
"I won't report them." He says, and lets go of the fist his hand had made.
Subaru looks at him, his eyes gleaming with something he hopes is gratitude. Julius catches and drowns that selfish desire; gratitude cannot be expected from an act that is purely meant to repay a favour.
"Consider it repayment." Julius says. "For the ledger." He adds, belatedly.
A gentleman honours his debts
Subaru pauses, and then looks at him. It doesn't take long for a smile to crawl back up to his face. "That's a long way to say thanks."
"It’s basic integrity. I simply cannot let my dues go unpaid.” Julius corrects, and finds the words’ taste is odd. He straightens his back and continues. "However, I would ask that you keep them out of sight during inspections.” He swallows a grimace. “I don't particularly want to have to explain that I was unaware of their presence."
"Does that mean you won't report them if they're found?" The joy in Subaru's voice is impossible to miss, and therefore the erroneous warmth Julius feels becomes harder to push away.
"It means I won't report them if they're not found." Julius says. "Two fundamentally different things."
Subaru pauses, arguably to think it over, before nodding. "Okay." He says. "Yeah. I can do that." He pulls the box back into his lap and opens it; there is something in the way his hand traces the brim of the box that tells Julius that he'd been wanting to do it for the entire duration of their conversation. "Hey. Since you've never watched anime—"
"I said I have never had a preference for it." Julius interrupts.
"Right, yeah, that. Whatever" He rolls his eyes before looking back down from the box. "I want to show you something."
Julius looks at the bed, and then at Subaru. He is then reminded of the pages upon pages of work that lie inside his bag and grimaces. "I have paperwork—"
"It's past nine." Subaru deadpans, his expression a mix of genuine bewilderment and annoyance. Neither makes Julius exactly happy.
A quick glance at his own wrist tells Julius that Subaru's right, and all it does is make the distaste he's held harder to hold back. He hadn't meant to be in the dining hall for as long as he had been— a failure of time management he would prefer not to have called attention to.
"That is irrelevant. A gentleman can only relax when his duties have been fulfilled." Julius says, with dignity he doesn't fully feel. “And, for the record, I can do paperwork whenever I feel like it.”
"Cool." Subaru says, noticeably discarding all of what Julius has just said, before patting the space on his bed beside him. "Then come sit."
A surge of annoyance makes him almost groan when he finds himself inclined to abide. It costs him a great deal of internal confidence to do so without showing the many reservations he has regarding the arrangement, but he largely succeeds. Subaru reaches across him to retrieve his laptop from the opposite side of the bed and Julius holds himself very still while it happens. When it is done he breathes out once, slowly, hoping it was quiet enough to let pass unnoticed.
Subaru sets the laptop on the pillow between them. He pulls his earphones from the pocket of his trousers and holds one of the speakers at one of the ends out toward Julius. Julius looks down on it, and then at Subaru, who thrusts it in his direction as he clearly begins to lose his patience which prompts Julius to take it despite his hesitance.
"Keep the volume low." Julius says.
"Yeah, obviously." Subaru tucks the other speaker inside his ear. "I know the rules."
"That's a bold claim."
Subaru looks at him. Julius looks back. A smile tugs at his lips, and Julius finds that he doesn't think that only qualifies for Subaru.
The screen loads and a title card flashes, followed by a dramatic orchestral piece which fills the earbud. Julius winces, and thinks about asking Subaru to lower the volume.
"This," Subaru begins, "is Fate/Zero." He turns to look at Julius, and Julius can't bring himself to say anything he means to.
Julius doesn't mean to watch more than one episode. All he'd meant to do was watch an episode, two at most, to grasp, or feel like he has an ounce of one, Subaru's position in the matter. Every chapter that follows is a product of his own interest, that he won't deny. But neither will he stand and say it was in opposition to his own volition; he's decided to look further into it at a later date, preferably after he's done watching that particular arc.
The later date does not come, because the series does not allow it. The matter of knights— the specific problem of honour and what it costs and what it is worth when the accounting is done— is rendered in a way that makes it rather difficult to look away from. Julius finds himself leaning forward at some point during the third episode during a confrontation between two people whose argument is not, structurally, about swords at all. He doesn't notice he has leaned forward until Subaru glances over at him.
He leans back.
"You're into it." Subaru says.
"It has a way of capturing one’s eye with its animation." Julius replies.
Subaru snorts, or laughs, or he does something else. The nature of it is lost on Julius, who can't bring himself to look away from the screen.
By the fourth episode the room has gone fully dark outside the glow of the laptop. Julius is not leaning forward anymore but he isn’t really leaning back either, occupying some intermediate posture he would describe as attentive if anyone asked. No one does, but it feels nice to have an answer predetermined in the off chance it happens. The earbud sits warm in his ear. He is aware, with a constancy that does not decrease with time, but that he wishes would, of the distance between his shoulder and Subaru's; they have not moved, the distance has not changed, and yet he attends to it with a focus he cannot redirect elsewhere regardless of how clearly he identifies the more appropriate place for that focus to be.
On the screen, a man makes a decision that is entirely against his own interest and entirely right.
"Oh," Julius says, and only realises it after the syllable’s already left his mouth.
He is very aware that Subaru glances at him, and does not look back. His neck wouldn't dare move, either way.
"Yeah." Subaru says, quietly. "Yeah, that's— I knew you'd like this.”
Julius says nothing. There is a tightness in his chest that he can't really compare to anything he's felt before without it feeling like a stupidity or a blatant understatement; the character on screen says something that catches Julius' attention, and suddenly he's drawn away from the thought.
He decides he will examine that at a later date.
The date continues not to come.
Around the beginning of the sixth episode Subaru lists sideways and does not list back upright. His mind provides him with recallings of Subaru fighting sleep that Julius' previously caught sight of from the corner of his eye, and only then does he allow himself to register what has happened.
Subaru nodded off, and his head was facing in a rather unfortunate angle that led to a very unfortunate angle. His shoulder feels warm and Julius swallows back a grimace he can't really say he knows the causes of.
On the screen, something is said that he does not quite catch.
The clock on the wall tells the hours that have gone past. It's twelve thirty-five, an hour and a half past bedtime and an infraction of the rules without a doubt. He takes a look to his left, and finds Subaru asleep against his shoulder. Something adjacent to his heart twists in such a way that leaves him wondering how to breathe— it'd be awkward to wake him now, wouldn't it?
He tries not to shift. He reaches over, with a care that costs him something he doesn't name, and tilts the laptop screen down a fraction to dim the light, and he watches the rest of the sixth episode and some of the seventh by the glow of it before his own eyes begin to close. He does not examine what it is about this specific configuration— the dark, the sound low in the earbud, the warmth against his shoulder— that makes the room feel different from how it has felt before.
He shuts the laptop when sleep becomes unavoidable. His hands move on their own to set it on Subaru's nightstand, which requires a small movement he completes without disturbing Subaru's position, and then he sits in the dark for a moment with no particular object for his attention.
He does not want to wake him. Subaru sleeps very little— Julius has had cause to observe this over the past weeks— and whatever sleep came this easily is not worth the cost of interrupting. He adjusts himself enough to be approximately comfortable, which requires some negotiation between what comfortable means and what is feasible under the current circumstances, and he sits with his back against the headboard and his eyes on the ceiling.
He's asleep before he can fight it.
Morning comes, and he finds himself waking up with his head against the cold wall and his neck screaming, aching, as Julius moves to sit on the bed that isn't his. The room is empty when he scans it left and right in his sleepy haze, no trace of someone having been there other than the messy covers placed over him that he had no recollection of placing over himself the night prior.
He closes his eyes and tries his utmost not to fall back asleep before running his hands throughout his face. Subaru was an early bird, Julius came to realise as much in his time as his roommate. It was no surprise he wasn't around this early, something of his routine for staying healthy involved early morning jogging.
Julius closed his eyes and exhaled. His shoulders sink and his hands fall to his lap; it is six forty-seven in the morning and his eyes sting, the clear consequence of his late-night anime binge. The laptop is also nowhere to be seen on the bed, but rather atop of the bedside table from Subaru's bed.
Saying he doesn't know what he feels— disappointment, strangely enough— would've been a lie he hasn't the mental energy to keep. However, finding the motive for that seems to also be a cumbersome task at that same moment.
Rather than interrogating the nature of his heart’s capricious sentiments, Julius chooses to hop off the bed in order to get ready. He winces when he steps down and finds the floor is cold beyond comfort even though he's wearing socks.
It's six fifty in the morning and routine uniform check-up before breakfast is due at seven. Rather than dwelling on matters such as the ones regarding the night prior was something secondary to his duty.
It had been merely something he'd done out of gratitude and that he'd found enjoyment in. Nothing more. It wasn't unheard of, acts of gratitude weren't always hard on the person committing them.
The fact that he found himself looking toward the door before leaving the room was, naturally, unrelated.