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Contrary to popular belief, Ruggie Bucchi had feelings.
Half of Savanaclaw wouldn't have believed it if he told them, but it was true. Ruggie Bucchi had feelings.
And feelings, like many things, could get hurt.
He'd never admit it, of course. That never did him any good back in the slums, where staying alive had been the main priority, and it hadn't done him any good here, not when the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend was also his boss.
He was an employee, okay? He knew what his job entailed, he was getting paid well—even without the occasional thefts—and none of that arrangement concerned his feelings.
It was on him, really, for getting attached.
What had he been thinking? That a prince would ever see him, a slum cat, as anything approaching an equal?
Misunderstandings could get you killed back home. And, as it turned out, it wasn't any different here at Night Raven College.
Leona's overblot had been, to put it lightly, terrifying.
Black blot had crawled across his skin like living tar, swallowing gold and brown beneath its inky sheen. His magic had filled the air with a heat that made Ruggie’s lungs seize, the ground cracking beneath them as though even the earth itself wanted to get away from him. Sand whipped through the air in violent spirals, stinging Ruggie’s skin and filling his mouth until every breath tasted like dust.
It was like death itself had taken hold of Leona, transmuted him into something cruel and unyielding, something deadly.
It was terrifying. It was horrifying. It was something out of Ruggie’s worst nightmares. But it was, above all, a reminder. Leona Kingscholar was his boss, not his friend. And his boss wasn't obligated to like him as a person. Didn't even have to care if he lived or died, as long as he could get the job done.
When all was said and done, and Leona had snapped out of it, Ruggie played nice, in front of all the others. Because if there was one thing to know about Ruggie Bucchi, it was that he prided himself on knowing how to read the room.
But after that, when they'd finally retired to their dormitory, Ruggie took the reminder to heart.
It didn't take him too long. Ten minutes at most.
When he was done, the corkboard above his desk was almost empty. The photo holder at his bedside table was blank again, just a brass-lined square of black.
He gathered the photos into a pile, just to look through them one last time. In one, Leona was ruffling his hair, an almost fond smirk gracing his lips as he stared at him. They were both sweaty as all hell, having just gotten off the field, but the sweet acid of victory was evident in both their expressions. In another, Leona was looking off into the distance, careful boredom written on his face. Ruggie stood by his side, close enough to touch but never daring to really close the gap, a wide smile on his face, looking unbothered by the space.
That picture couldn't have been that long ago, but it seemed like a century away.
A clear drop landed on his printed face, still set in an eternal smile. Then another.
Ruggie blinked, and wiped at his face hastily. Maybe staring at old pictures hadn't been the best idea, not when his skin was still itchy from the lack of moisture. Not when his palms still ached from scrabbling against the ground. Not when his chest was still tight with something he refused to name.
Five minutes later, when he'd gotten his fill of nostalgia, the photos were returned to their rightful place, ripped to shreds and lying at the metal base of his trash can. Ruggie didn't spare them another glance.
Pretense was second nature to hyenas. It was like their whole schtick. Ruggie couldn't name another species that laughed when they felt threatened.
The next morning, he was up before Leona, as always, slipping in and out of the dorm like a man on a mission. Meals were procured, loose ends were taken care of, favours performed. He moved with practiced efficiency, eyes always scanning, ears always open. The dorm needed stability, above all else, after what had happened, and Leona sure as hell wasn’t going to do it.
Through it all, Leona barely looked at him. It was like his overblot had never happened, like they were still Ruggie and Leona, Leona and Ruggie.
It wasn't unexpected, but his chest still prickled with quiet hurt. After all that, and not even an attempt at an apology?!
Well. If Leona wanted to do it that way, Ruggie would play along.
When Leona huffed and told him to hurry up, his laugh came easy, sliding out of his throat like it always did — bright, sharp, a little annoying if you weren’t used to it.
See? He was fine. Normal. Same old Ruggie.
And, well... even if he didn't want to be that same old Ruggie, he had to. He had a whole clan waiting on him at home, and Leona was feeding half of them.
He didn’t linger anymore.
That was the trick of it. Hyenas didn't do cold shouldering, no, they weren't quite as dramatic as that. Ruggie still hovered close enough to hear orders, still anticipated Leona's needs before they were voiced.
But he made sure never to overstep.
Now that Ruggie knew what he knew, it was easy to keep his distance. Leona had said it himself: Ruggie was nothing more than a lowly hyena — someone to lick his boots.
Whatever Ruggie used to do: leaning in to whisper a joke into Leona's ear, nudging Leona awake in class, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, just to feel the warmth of Leona's clothes pressed against his arm... it was all unnecessary. Leona, he knew now, had only been tolerating Ruggie's closeness, and Ruggie didn't want to overstay his welcome.
So Ruggie adapted. He stayed close enough to serve, but far enough not to presume.
Ruggie knew Leona would notice.
It was an inevitable thing. Leona Kingscholar was lazy, not stupid, and Ruggie's absence might have been unnoticeable to others, but Leona had always known him better than most — it was one of the reasons the beatdown had been so unexpected.
Ruggie didn't let that stop him. He stopped letting himself into Leona's room uninvited. He stopped hanging around the moment his work was done. He even stopped stealing from Leona, which would definitely raise some red flags in the second-born prince's mind.
One afternoon, Leona finally grew curious enough to say something.
“Oi.” The word was gruff, almost uncaring, but Ruggie could tell there was an uneasiness underneath.
Ruggie turned immediately. “Yeah, Leona-san?”
A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Leona’s tail flicked once, irritated. “What’s up with you?”
Ruggie laughed again, softer this time. “Nothing, Leona-san.”
Leona stared at him for a long moment, golden eyes sharp, searching for something—guilt, maybe. Avoidance. Some kind of tell. Anything he could push back against.
Ruggie gave him none of it. Just that same relaxed posture, hands in his pockets, weight balanced to leave at a moment’s notice.
Finally, Leona scoffed. “Tch. Whatever. Don’t screw things up.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ruggie said lightly.
And he meant that too.
At night, when the dorm was quiet and the lights dimmed, Ruggie lay on his bed and stared at the blank space above his desk, spacing out.
It was easier this way. Cleaner.
He told himself this was how it was supposed to be.
Because back in the slums, you survived by knowing exactly where you stood with people. Ruggie had forgotten that for a while, dazzled by the ease of life here, by the rare feeling of being chosen instead of just used.
But at the end of the day, Ruggie was a hyena. And hyenas should know better.
Weeks passed like that. With his new efficiency, Leona's assignments took half as long to complete, and Ruggie had a lot more free time to do whatever he wanted. Empty stretches in his schedule where there were no errands to run, no fires to put out, no prince to hover around and anticipate.
So naturally, he took up more shifts at the Mostro Lounge. They didn't call hyenas adaptable for nothing, and it was straightforward, easy money. Azul never questioned the sudden uptick in his shift requests, just adjusted the roster with a thoughtful smile. He was good for that.
It was nice there.
At the Lounge, he was a run-of-the-mill employee. Clear rules. Clear compensation. There was nothing to get upset over — it was all business, at the end of the day.
Jade watched him with quiet amusement, Floyd with open curiosity.
“You workin’ overtime again, shortie?” Floyd drawled one night, chin propped on his hands as Ruggie slid a drink across the counter.
Ruggie grinned. “What can I say? It's good money.”
Azul’s eyes flicked up from his ledger. “Do try not to exhaust yourself. An overworked asset is a depreciating one.”
Ruggie laughed. “You worry too much, boss.”
The word felt different in his mouth here.
One afternoon, Leona caught him at the dorm door.
“Where’re you goin’?” he asked, voice lazy, stretched out like he hadn’t been paying attention at all.
Ruggie paused, already halfway out. “Got a shift.”
Leona frowned. “Again?”
He shrugged. “Pays well.”
That should’ve been the end of it. It usually was. Money was a language they both understood. But the easy acceptance he’d expected never came.
“You’re never around anymore.”
Ruggie turned back, genuinely surprised. Leona was wearing that same, familiar scowl, but this time, it seemed… off. Like it was just a cover, poorly concealing something else. Something Leona himself didn’t seem to know what to do with. His long tail flicked once, belying his irritation.
“I’m around when you need me, aren’t I?” Ruggie said evenly, smiling. "What, do you need something now?”
Leona opened his mouth.
Closed it.
His jaw tightened. “Forget it.”
Ruggie nodded and turned away. “Alright. I’ll see you later, then.”
It wasn't like he'd expected Leona to care, but his stomach still sank.
Ruggie was right, after all. In Leona’s eyes, Ruggie's strange behavior wasn't worth the trouble of a difficult conversation.
Or maybe Leona had never learnt how to say he was wrong, or that he was sorry.
Either way, that was Leona's problem to fix, not his.
The funniest part was, Ruggie wasn’t even angry anymore. Anger took energy, and it was so hard to sustain. Whatever rage he'd previously felt had simmered down slowly over the weeks, and now, he could barely feel it at all.
Besides, there was no point in being angry. Things between him and Leona wouldn't change, so all that was left to do was to adjust to this new normal.
Eventually, his hard work paid off.
Azul called him into the back office one evening, after the Lounge had quieted into its late-night hum. The lights were dimmer there, tinted blue by the aquarium glass, and the air smelled faintly of ink and salt. Ruggie shut the door behind him and leaned casually against it, already guessing where this was going.
"Ruggie Bucchi." Azul acknowledged him with a nod and a polite smile. His eyes glinted sharply in the low light, as they often did when Azul really wanted something. Jade was leaning against his chair. He offered him a nod as well.
"Sup. You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yes." Azul's gaze was considering. “Your performance over the past several weeks has been… exemplary.”
Ruggie grinned. “Really?"
His faux obliviousness earned him an unamused look. ”Customer retention during your hours has improved. Your duties, though simple, have been performed with impressive efficiency." Azul said, his voice smooth and even. "In short, you are profitable.”
There it was. The highest compliment Azul Ashengrotto could ever give.
Something in him tightened in sharp anticipation, but he kept his expression placid.
“I won't beat around the bush,” Azul murmured, watching him carefully, “I am interested in discussing a more permanent arrangement. Full-time employment at the Mostro Lounge.”
He'd expected it, but Ruggie's breath still caught in his throat.
Azul slid a folder across the desk. “Benefits included, of course. A generous base pay, preferential scheduling. And”—his smile sharpened sweetly—“access to certain… conversations that might otherwise go unnoticed.”
Ruggie didn’t need that spelled out. He’d already picked up plenty just by keeping his ears open: whispered complaints, illicit deals, confessions made loose by the easy atmosphere. Information was currency, and the Lounge was practically a mint.
He flipped open the folder, scanning the terms with a practiced eye.
The numbers were good. Better than he'd expected, actually. Enough to feed him, and most of his clan. Enough to make the occasional theft unnecessary.
Enough to walk away.
“Looks like you’re tryin’ to steal me,” Ruggie said lightly, chuckling.
Azul laughed softly. “I prefer the term headhunting, actually. I believe in recruiting only the best.”
Ruggie closed the folder slowly. “I’ll think about it.”
“Of course,” Azul said easily, like he'd expected Ruggie's response. “Do take your time. I value... informed decisions.”
Ruggie left the office with the folder tucked under his arm, steps measured. The dorm halls felt different on the way back — longer, emptier. He did the math automatically, a habit ingrained from years of scarcity.
By the time he'd reached the dorm, the decision was clear.
Switching bosses wasn’t an act of betrayal, in a hyena's eyes. It was survival.
Leona paid well enough, but the benefits were informal and inconsistent. Azul’s offer would change that. It was an opportunity for more stability, better consistency. If Azul decided he was done with Ruggie one day, there would be proper notice.
And, well. He didn't have to worry about Azul turning him into sand.
He stopped outside the Savanaclaw dormitory, fingers tightening around the folder.
Leona would hate it.
Not just because he’d lose an employee—there were others who could fill the gap, eventually—but because it would mean Ruggie, a lowly slum-born hyena, had had the audacity to choose someone other than Leona. Leona would never admit it, but Ruggie knew in his heart of hearts that the lion had a fragile ego, and this sequence of events would be nothing if not a lethal blow. The second prince didn’t like being the second choice, after all, even if the decision was coming from someone he didn't give a single shit about.
Ruggie snorted quietly to himself.
Karma was a funny thing, huh?
He sat on his bed that night, the blank space above his desk staring back at him, and weighed his options. Full-time at the Lounge, huh? It meant longer hours, sure, but it also meant different risks. Azul was dangerous in a way Leona wasn’t — intelligent, exceedingly calculative, always looking three steps ahead. But at least Azul was honest about it.
At least Azul never pretended to care about him.
Ruggie lay back, folding his hands behind his head with a sigh.
Loyalty was not a quality typically attributed to hyenas. They were opportunistic scavengers, not foolworthy herbivores. They moved quickly, and adapted even quicker. They were always on the lookout for the next best thing.
And this was it. He didn't just have himself to think about, here. It was a decision that would benefit his family, too.
But his chest still tightened painfully at the thought of accepting Azul's offer.
It would be the smart thing to do. It would be the hyena thing to do.
But Ruggie didn't feel like a hyena, right now. He just felt like Ruggie Bucchi.
And, contrary to popular belief, Ruggie Bucchi had feelings.
Was this really it?
Was this the end they had been marching towards, after all this time?
Were they really unable to change their fate?
Under the cover of darkness, Ruggie finally let the tears fall, cold and heavy.
Admitting it to himself felt like pulling teeth, but it was true. Leona had always been so much more than a boss to him.
He was a selfish, arrogant bastard who stopped at nothing to get what he wanted, but he was also talented, competitive, and unexpectedly kind. When he saw the other Savanaclaw students picking on Ruggie for his worn out clothes and lack of money, he'd taken him under his wing immediately, providing him with a relatively stable income and making sure he was never ostracised again. He even offered Ruggie his own clothes. Hell, even his dorm uniform was a hand-me-down from Leona.
But most importantly, he'd made Ruggie feel valued, in a way he'd never felt before.
And it had all been a lie. A beautiful, terrible lie, but a lie nonetheless.
And, for some reason, Ruggie didn't want to leave their past in the dust, no matter how much pain it was causing him now.
He was so busy wallowing in self-pity that he missed the first knock.
But another came, firmer this time. Ruggie paused, his hand still raised to wipe at his cheeks.
His eyes darted to the clock above the door. It was almost midnight. Why would anyone have any business with him now?
Wary, he approached the door and looked through the peephole.
Leona was standing outside his door, one hand tucked into his pants pocket. His face was set in an uncomfortable grimace, as though this was the last place he wanted to be.
Ruggie blinked.
What did Leona want with him, at this late hour? Surely there was no errand urgent enough to warrant an in-person visit.
Or maybe... just maybe… Leona was here to terminate their arrangement.
His stomach dropped at the thought, nausea rising fast in his throat as he considered the possibility.
It made sense. He'd been completing his assigned tasks adequately, sure, but he'd never considered the fact that Leona might not appreciate his current attitude, not to mention the sudden distance Ruggie had wedged between them.
Maybe Leona had finally grown tired of him.
He swallowed. If his guess was right, the termination came at the perfect time. Ruggie wouldn't have to scramble to look for employment, not when he had a contract sitting ready in his room, ready to be signed and brought to Azul's office at a moment's notice.
He ignored the sharp jolt of unease in his chest that came with the thought of signing it.
Well. Whatever it was, he was going to find out very very soon.
When he opened the door, Leona’s eyes were fixed on the ground.
“Hey.”
“What’s up, boss?” Ruggie tried to keep his voice cheery, but it fell a little flat. Internally, he winced at his slip up, but hey, who could blame him? It was late, and it had been a long day. Lots for him to think about.
Leona frowned at his strange tone, but didn’t look up.
Silence fell between them, thick and uncomfortable.
Then, Leona spoke, his voice slow and measured in a way that was almost false.
“Y’know, I heard the strangest thing over dinner just now. From that Azul Ashengrotto.”
Ruggie’s smile froze on his face.
Ah, what the hell. Azul had exceeded even his wildest expectations — going after Ruggie’s current gig so blatantly, just because Ruggie hadn’t immediately accepted his offer?That was low.
“He said you were quitting.”
When Leona’s gaze finally rose to meet his, Ruggie’s breath caught in his throat.
This was the most expressive he’d seen Leona since… well, since his overblot. The second prince’s eyes were like glowing emeralds in the low light of the corridor. His brows were knitted in an unusual show of emotion, and his lips were pulled up into what could only be described as a frustrated snarl.
For once, Ruggie didn’t know what to say.
“Is it true.” The words were quiet, but they were so heavy that they made a shiver run down his spine.
Ruggie swallowed. He didn't feel like he could lie his way out of this.
“...He offered me a full-time position, yeah.”
“Answer. the. question.” The words were almost growled.
Ruggie felt his grin falter.
The easy thing to do now was to say yes. Yes, Leona Kingscholar, believe it or not, I am quitting, I am leaving — for something better, for something simpler, something I don’t have to cry my heart out over. What are you going to do about it, prince?
He said none of that, tucking his hands into his pockets with a casualness he didn’t feel. He fixed his gaze to the floor in front of him.
“What, you worried?”
“I asked if you’re quitting, Ruggie.”
There was something strange about Leona’s voice. It was too… controlled.
Ruggie had heard him angry, oh yes, and irritated, bored, amused, smug… even half-asleep. He knew Leona’s voice almost as well as he knew his own. But this wasn’t any of those.
For some reason, it felt like he was asking about more than just the contract between them.
For some reason, it sounded like Leona trying very, very hard not to sound afraid.
And that unsettled him more than he’d like to admit. Because Leona Kingscholar was many, many things, but he was not afraid. He was someone who took hold of fate by its collar and told it to go fuck itself. He was someone who wanted the world, and would stop at nothing to get it.
“I meaaaan…” He dragged the word out as long as he could, kicking his feet. “Maybe? I haven’t really decide—”
“Don’t.” The word was gritted out from between Leona’s teeth.
Unable to conceal his surprise, Ruggie looked up.
Leona’s expression was drawn tight, his ears pinned back like he was bracing for an attack. It mystified Ruggie to no end — because there was nothing for Leona to be afraid of, here. Just good ol' Ruggie and his usual antics, no? There was nothing to lose — well, nothing but a lowly bootlicker he could replace in half a second flat.
Before he could express his confusion, though, Leona was speaking again, his voice low.
“How much is that bastard paying?”
“I…” Don’t think that’s any of your business, Leona-san. Didn’t think you gave a fuck, Leona-san. What’s it to you anyway, Leona-san? The words rose up within him, unbidden, like ugly, boiling lava, and he bit them down immediately, surprised at the bitterness in them. He’d thought he was over being angry about it, but perhaps he’d underestimated his own ability to hold a grudge.
“I’ll match it. Fuck, I’ll double it, even.”
Ruggie stared, speechless.
“Stay.”
A laugh rose within him once more — but this time, it wasn’t false or light. No, this one came out harsh, broken, betraying the ugly, acidic feelings he’d told himself he could squash out.
“Typical, Leona-san. Even now, you’re trying to buy me out?” His voice was unrecognisable to even himself, a hiss that made his throat tight and his chest tighter.
Leona’s eyes widened at his tone — even at Ruggie's angriest, he had never spoken to Leona like that before, not with that much open vitriol.
“What if I told you it wasn’t about the money, huh? What if I told you I just didn’t wanna do this anymore, and no amount of money could make me stay?” Ruggie’s voice cracked slightly on the last word. He winced.
For one horrible second, he was back there again — his throat burning, sand hot and heavy in his mouth, Leona's magic tearing through him like a vice.
He could still remember how terrified he'd felt.
How betrayed.
How he'd thought, delirious from the pain — oh.
So that's what I am to you.
And the feelings — those that had been building up slowly in his chest, soft tendrils of want hardened by time and proximity — those that he'd been convinced he would have to bring to the grave... everything had shriveled up in an instant.
“Is this—if this is about that day, I’m… I’m sorry, okay? Fucking hell, I’m sorry.” The words sounded like they’d been torn out of Leona’s chest, with how painful they seemed for him to say.
Huh. So Leona did know how to apologize.
“I didn’t mean any of it, I wasn’t thinking, I—” He cut himself off with a frustrated growl, his hands flying up to grab at his dark hair.
“Hell, Ruggie…you don’t know what you mean to me.” His voice cracked on the last few words. The low tone had been stripped of its usual lazy confidence, and now the words lay before Ruggie like a confession, raw and tortured out of its owner.
Ruggie felt a little dazed by it.
“...Yeah, I don’t,” was all he could say, his throat tight with something too big to name, and he was thinking about the photos, then, and how he’d convinced himself that he had been the only one who’d read into things, the only one who’d cared too much, the only one who'd—
Ruggie swallowed hard, forcing the smile back onto his face, though it felt brittle now, like it might splinter if he pushed it too far.
“That’s kinda the problem, isn’t it, boss?”
Ruggie looked at him, then, and tried, for once, to let himself see what he’d been running away from for weeks.
Proof that Leona cared.
And in the tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hands, the deep furrow in his brow, and the way he was barely holding himself together — Ruggie found it.
It stole his breath away. Not because he hadn't expected it at all, he wasn't totally oblivious, there had been more than a few moments where he'd thought Leona had seemed bothered by his change, but because he'd spent weeks looking away, trying hard not to see any of it.
Because seeing it meant hoping. And hoping was dangerous for someone like him. Hoping was something someone in his position couldn't afford to do.
“Then let me tell you,” Leona said. “Fuck, let me show you.”
And then Leona’s lips were on his.
For one stunned second, Ruggie just froze.
Leona’s lips were warm against his, a soft pressure that didn’t demand anything back — no, this was really just Leona showing him, in a way so unlike himself that Ruggie found himself at a loss as to what to do.
After a second, the second prince leaned back, searching Ruggie’s face with an uncertainty Ruggie had never seen on him before. “Tell me I’m not reading this wrong. That you have been wanting this, as I have—mmpf.”
After a moment, Ruggie pulled away. Leona's eyes were a little wide, and he was regarding him with a surprise he'd never directed at Ruggie before.
“You’re an idiot, Leona Kingscholar.” His voice was a breathy thing, and Leona’s lips were tugging into his usual smug grin.
“Yeah? Tell me about it, little scavenger.”
And Ruggie did.