Chapter Text
"You do know that's not going to work, right?" Venti squints at the screen, taking a sip of his caramel latte.
"Have some faith in the mythical and magical."
"I lost faith in the mythical and magical the day Bloody Mary never showed up in the bathroom mirror."
"She was too busy to spook some kids who didn't even get the chanting right."
"Oh, speak for yourself! I didn't mess it up."
Varka could deny that claim, but he's too focused on his PC. Loaded on the screen is a text-heavy website landing page. The quality of the accompanying graphics is questionable at best: a few stock images of 2D hearts and rosy-cheeked cherubs - the latter doesn't even make sense, cherubs are not to be confused with Cupid. But apparently the designer doesn’t care about that.
CupidCompanion.com
Are you experiencing love problems? Does your beloved not hold affection for you? Does your heart ache with unrequited longing? Worry not, for the solution is in your hands!
Summon a guide of Cupid today! Once you complete the ritual, your assigned guide will soon make an appearance. All you need to do is share your grievances and truly hold the desire to be loved back. As long as your affections are genuine and borne of the heart, the guide will assist you in earnest. After all, what greater pain is there to love without being loved in return?
Disclaimer: CupidCompanion is not responsible for losses, damages or any liabilities that may arise from the use of this website and its services, including but not limited to accepting assistance of the asssigned guide. By proceeding, you are agreeing to adhere to the terms and conditions.
Do you wish to proceed?
Totally not suspicious at all. Varka clicks yes. He's once again led to a page that describes the ingredients required for the summoning ritual.
The whole thing started 24 hours ago. Heck, the him from yesterday might not even have believed what's about to go down now.
It's not like Varka went seeking this website on purpose. On the contrary, he was interrupted with a random ad that intruded on his game while he was trying to distract himself from a boring math lesson. At the time, he paid it no mind and simply clicked Xas soon as it appeared.
An hour later, during a different class, it popped up again.
"CupidCompanion? What, is that a dating site?” Venti snickered, reading it over his shoulder. Absolutely no shame, and twice as bold. He leaned in closer to whisper, "Aw man, I thought you were serious about your crush on Flins. Didn't you say he was soooyour type?"
"Hey, quit it!" Varka glanced around to make sure no one heard. His face was already flushed a deep red at the mere mention of the name. Since he couldn't exactly turn around in his seat with Miss Istaroth pacing at the front, he glanced out the window silently.
With some lucky timing, he noticed Kyryll Flins walking down the hallway at that exact moment. The newly moved in student had practically captured Varka's heart in record time with his charming, elegant demeanor and humble words. Those eyes of his were stunning too, a piercing shade of lime yellow that made Varka's own blond hair look dull in comparison. Varka forgot all about the ad, and instead had to fight the deepening blush off his cheeks.
Later that day, while waiting at the school gates for his mom to pick him up, Flins walked right over. Prim and pristine as usual, with a soft smile directed at Varka. His wonderfully blue hair was down, short and choppy in the front while it splayed across his back. Something like a jellyfish, Varka had thought at first. He found it fascinating, how Flins was allowed to wear his hair like that. Was Varka to show up at school with his hair even an inch past the allowed length, he'd end up with a harsh disciplinary note.
Somehow, Flins had never gotten in trouble for it ever. It was almost as if the teachers simply forgot about it the moment he turned away.
Varka made small talk, any excuse to keep Flins in his sights. He asked about the weather, what Flins thought about the sports team and even shared how he smacked his head on the table while falling asleep during Miss Rhinedottir's chemistry class. Flins chuckled softly when Varka parted his hair to show the light bruise, and wished him to heal soon. Varka had to shove his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking - though it subsided the longer they kept chatting.
It was fortunate that Venti was already on his way home - Miss Istaroth didn't stay at school long after her teaching hours, meaning she wasted no time picking up Venti and his sister. The teasing would've been endless otherwise.
But good things didn't last for long. Varka's mom pulled up at the gates and it was time to say goodbye.
"Get home safe, Varka, and make sure to do something about that bruise."
"Yeah. I will! For sure! Uh, see you tomorrow?"
"I'll see you tomorrow." Flins smiled at him again, and Varka was vibrating with giddiness as he slid inside the car, hurriedly rolled down the window and waved at him.
During the car ride home, when Varka pulled his phone to check some unread texts, the ad popped up again. It was getting weird at this point - he needed to get his phone scanned for a virus or something - but he gave it a quick read. Clicked on the link. Landed on the website, and saw the text waiting for him. A quick look of curiosity soon turned into multiple rereads before his mum glanced at him through the rear view mirror and asked how his day was.
And here he is now, that very same website opened on his PC.
He's been preparing for the ingredients diligently since yesterday. It was easy enough to grab some salt from the kitchen unnoticed, and he found some chalk in his drawer. Venti had just been brought the scented candles, courtesy of his friend Mona, who didn't question it when Venti slid cash over the table.
Which is a good thing, really, because Varka couldn't imagine the news getting out. Especially Flins finding hearing about it. Also, as much of a blabbermouth Venti can be when it comes to inconsequential things, Varka can trust him to protect secrets when it matters.
Venti yawns, nudging his elbow into Varka's shoulder. "Enough reading. Ready to make your crush fall in love with you?"
"It's not making him fall in love with me," Varka says immediately. Right, Varka might be ‘very into’ Flins (as he once told Venti) but he'd never stoop that low. As far as he's concerned, this isn't even remotely close to a love spell. "Just…think of it as relationship advice. From a supernatural entity."
He glances outside. The sky is dyed a hazy orange splitting into shades of pink. He’s been wondering if it’s worth to wait until it gets darker, but then again the website never mentioned an appropriate time.
Venti giggles. "How come you're suddenly interested in all things supernatural?"
Varka thinks back to a hot Tuesday afternoon. He found Flins in the library during recess, where he was reading a book about fae.
Varka dropped by, intending to just hang around for a while but didn't expect to spend the rest of recess sitting across from Flins and listening to him talk about ancient fae, their many intriguing habits and the way they lurked about humanity. Flins told him about other creatures too, stories from different cultures and civilizations. He spoke of creatures that prowled around in the dark, those that treated lost souls with kindness and ones that preferred to keep to themselves. Varka had listened to him, barely uttering a word because he was too captivated by the spark in Flins' eyes and the weight of knowledge in his words.
That night he spent hours researching all these creatures Flins spoke of - and started to see the beauty in them. Even the raw, dangerous parts. It felt like a step closer to understanding Flins.
"Just a little interest of mine. Anyway, get the candles out," he says, trying to sound indifferent as possible. "I'll start working on the summoning circle."
"Sooo focused. This is cutting into our video game time, but meh, I'll cut you some slack." Venti gives him a knowing smile - shit, is he that obvious? - and reaches out for the bag he'd brought over.
They fall into silence soon. A space is already cleared out in the middle of Varka's room - his desk has been shoved out of the way and his guitar is lying on the side of his bed. They kneel on the floor with the salt, scented candles and chalk pieces laid out. All that's left is the offering.
Since the website didn't quite specify (though it spent three paragraphs rambling about different types of scented candles before recommending lavender or vanilla), Varka had come to the conclusion that the best offering would be his own blood. Some old horror movies he watched would agree. Not that he wants tonight to end up like a horror movie, but he doesn't have any other source for comparison. A simple nick has to be enough, right?
Varka has his phone lying on the floor, CupidCompanion's instruction page already pulled up. He swipes up, and finds the text describing the summoning circle required for the guide of Cupid. It's thankfully accompanied with an image. This one looks more convincing than the graphics on the landing page. The image is clear, demonstrating a perfect circle drawn across dusty floorboards with stacks of book in a corner.
Venti shoots his now empty cup a regretful look before putting it away. "Just to be clear - what are you expecting out of this?" His tone isn't serious. Varka isn't sure what to feel about this. I mean, I can't blame him. This isn't serious in the first place. But I still want to try.
"A guide of Cupid if we're lucky." Varka picks up the salt shaker and twists the lid around.
"And if we're unlucky?"
"We summon a demon instead and it devours our souls before condemning us to hell."
"Oh, Varka, I always knew I could count on you for a good time!"
Varka starts with the outer circle. It's a bit of a tedious process, so he starts to think a little ahead. If - when - this guide of Cupid appears, what exactly should he ask for? What exactly would this assistance entail? Is he supposed to bluntly admit to a supernatural being that he's a little too much of a coward when it comes to the boy he has a crush on?
That Kyryll Flins, with his soft smiles and charms, makes his heart race so fast that he can't even string together a sentence properly sometimes? That he wants to know Flins, to grow closer to him and-
Venti leans in without warning, perhaps to point out a mistake, but Varka doesn't register the movement and their heads collide into each other with a hard thump.
"Ow, watch it!"
Varka rubs at his forehead. Too bad Flins isn't here to tell him to get better soon. "Man, you watch it! Why'd you butt your head in, anyway?"
Venti sticks his tongue out. "Just trying to help. This part over here - redraw it. You're drawing a circle, not an octagon."
A little bit of back and forth ensues until they end up switching the salt shaker every few minutes. The circle is soon completed. Now, it's time to work on the symbols.
Soon enough, topic of what would happen if Varka's mom knocks on the door is brought up.
"Let's just say you spilled the salt on accident," Venti suggests, tilting his head to scrutinize a symbol he just drew.
"And how exactly did I acquire so much of salt to begin with?"
Venti waves the question away. "This symbol makes no sense. I need more coffee."
"Looks like a heart split in two."
"That isn't ominous to you at all?"
"Uh, maybe it's two different hearts?"
"Right." Venti nods. "That's a lot better. Anyway, I'm done with your circle of doom."
Varka settles back on the balls of his feet, admiring their handiwork. It's not perfect by any means and doesn't quite compare to the image on the phone but it's good enough. The outer circle is steady enough, wide enough to fit a regular person inside it - and a guide of Cupid too, hopefully.
It's hard to figure out the proportions from the picture. Two triangles occupy the center of the circle, one of them upside down, so that the combined six points touch the circle. The spaces inbetween are filled with strange symbols - like the heart(s), as well as rune-like shapes. On Varka's side is a collection of smaller symbols - twisting lines and curves that form the image of open wings if he squints just right.
Venti flicks a grain of salt lying outside the circle so that it falls into place.
"Voilà! Now that's a perfect summoning circle!" Venti announces in a singsong voice.
"Candles are next," Varka says. His fingers are trembling with what, he can't tell. Excitement? Giddiness? Something else?
"Leave it to me!" With a burst of energy, Venti picks out the candles and places each of them on the six spots where the triangles touch the outer circle.
Soon enough all six candles are lit up, a small, healthy flame flickering to life from each one. Which leaves just one last thing…he reaches into his pocket, and out comes the small blade he's been holding onto since yesterday. A standard issue pocket knife.
Venti's gaze, usually playfully and relaxed, shifts into something more serious at the silver glint of the blade. It's enough to make Varka pause in his tracks. Are they going too far? But they've already put effort into this. It's either they really do summon a guide of Cupid, or simply waste the evening. Isn't it worth a shot?
He thinks of how it feels to be around Kyryll, how every soft smile and crinkle around those eyes make Varka so flustered to the point of light-headedness. He thinks of how much he wants to be closer to Flins. To get to know him past his charming manners, his gentleness. Maybe this isn't about the ritual itself. Maybe summoning this guide - or trying to, anywho is the proof Varka needs of how serious he is about Flins.
The scent of the candles - a strong lavender - fills his lungs. A wave of calm washes over him. His eyes fall on the flames of the candles, each one dancing, almost teasingly as if waiting for him to proceed.
"It's a small cut," he tells Venti.
"Don't make it too deep," is all Venti says before settling back and crossing his legs. His part is done, the gesture seems to say.
He moves his hand closer to the center of the circle, the two triangles, and presses the blade against the skin of his index finger. He takes a deep, steadying breath. Here goes nothing.
The blade slides against his finger, soon followed by a quick sting that soon flattens into a dull thrum as small drops of blood drip out of the cut he just made. It lands on the floor with a splatter.
Venti watches silently, as Varka reaches for his phone and starts to chant the words below the summoning circle image. He's read it enough times to breeze through the Latin though the pronunciation certainly isn't the best. Still, he manages to complete the chanting without a hitch. Once the final syllable leaves his throat, he pauses and looks at Venti.
Silence.
Utter silence.
Varka's chest is tight with anticipation. He can't even register the sting in his palm now. For a moments he dares to hope. He dares to think that it really did work. The website is right, and he's summoned a guide of Cupid. This ridiculous thing worked, and all is well and -
"Well…?" Venti breaks the silence. "Where is it?"
Varka's gaze drops to the flickering flames of the candles. They continue to burn steadily, filling the room with the cozy scent of lavender. The salt circle is intact, the blood is starting to dry on the floor and the question - where is it? - hangs in the air.
Varka grabs his phone again, to scroll further but there's nothing else past the chant other than the disclaimer from earlier repeated in even smaller text. Absolutely nothing. If Varka were to cough up any money for this, he would definitely count it as a scam.
So…that's all there is to it. Varka lowers his phone.
Of course.
It's not like Cupid - or his guides - really exists. It's his fault, really, for daring to be disappointed by stories like this as if he's an eight year old. No, he's a high school student. Varka's shoulders slump. The sting on his finger makes itself known with a returning pang, almost as if it wants to mock him.
Venti seems to have abandoned this already. He's back to reclining on Varka's bed, scrolling on his phone with a thoughtful pout on his face. "Hey, should I grab another coffee on my way back? Seriously, what did they put in it? The flavor is so good - wait, should I just order it right now? I'm staying over to work on that annoying assignment with you anyway…" His fingers are already moving to click on order now.
Varka leans in to blow the candles positioned around the outer circle. They all extinguish easily, much like the ridiculous hope he's been holding onto. "You do that, man."
With Venti occupied, Varka cleans up the remains of the ritual. It gives him some much-appreciated time to think. Right, so the ritual didn't work. Was it even supposed to? He was fine with that possibility from the start, but seeing it fail after all their efforts is a bit of a blow, he thinks.
It's not like he needs supernatural help, right?
Talking to a boy he likes isn't that hard. Just…nerve-wracking. Really nerve-wracking. To the point that divine assistance would help.
The cut on his palm isn't deep enough to need medical intervention but still, he smacks a bandaid on it just to be safe. With that out of the way, he sinks into the chair by his desk with a slightly frustrated sigh. The CupidCompanions website is staring back. Almost mockingly. Why is everything mocking him today?
This doesn't and shouldn't even matter. It's just a stupid website, and a stupid ritual. Stupid Cupid. That rhymes.
"Hey, cheer up. I got you a drink too," Venti says, lifting his head. "Hmm…do you feel like apple cider?"
"I feel like we just wasted our time," Varka replies. He tugs at the bandaid on his palm almost absent-mindedly. "Are you getting caramel latte again?" he asks a moment later with an attempt at a smile.
"Yep, and apple cider for you!" Venti declares merrily.
The room is silent for a moment. It's soon interrupted by a ding, confirming that the order is on its way. Then Venti is glancing at him with a thoughtful look on his face. He doesn't say anything.
"Time to get started on that assignment, yeah?"
Who is he kidding? Varka would rather do anything else. And Venti can tell that too, but he just chuckles lightly and gets to his feet to grab his school bag.
They spend the rest of the evening poring over textbooks and bickering over the parts that don't make sense. Soon enough, the failed ritual fades into something of a mild bother in Varka's mind. He's far more distracted by the algebra equations laid out before him, and Venti's decisive rambles accompanying them.
"So if you calculate the square root of -" Venti's phone buzzes. "Ooh, our order's almost here! I'm going downstairs to pick it up. Be right back!" He jumps to his feet and rushes out the door, leaving it open carelessly. It's a good thing the ritual items are already cleared out. His eager footsteps bounce down the stairs, momentarily coming to a halt as he greets Varka's mom. Fragments of conversation wind their way up to Varka's room, but soon fade away.
Varka stretches in his seat. The verbal expression questions are the worst. They've been progressing through the numerical equations smoothly enough, but his brain is too tired to skim through the unnecessarily dense paragraphs and scrawl out the correct equation.
Still, maybe he should finish off the remaining questions before Venti comes back, so that they can enjoy their drinks in peace. Apple cider sounds really good right now. He leans forward and continues to work on the rest of the assignment. The sky outside has darkened, shifting into deep shades prickled with stars. It's hard to believe what they were up to only a little while ago.
Varka lets out an amused laugh to himself. He wonders what Flins would think of such an endeavor. Maybe he'd tell Varka stories about the god Cupid, and maybe Varka would just listen in spite of the embarrassment coursing through his veins.
He wonders about it for a while, for long enough that it takes a moment to register that the air in the room has dropped to a noticeable degree. Not only that, the door has closed on its own without a noise. Varka pauses, the hair on his arm standing on end. Something of a heavy presence has blanketed the room. Thick and heavy to ignore. Every instinct of Varka has picked up on it already, all but shouting at him to get away.
Get away from what?
The lights in his room flicker, before going out completely and drenching the room in near darkness.
He almost tumbles out of his chair at the suddennes of it all and manages to grab the edge of the desk to steady himself. Heart racing, he stumbles to his feet. Shit. His first thought is that they really did get unlucky with the ritual. He remembers what he jokingly told Venti earlier.
We summon a demon instead and it devours our souls before condemning us to hell.
No way.
Varka fumbles for his pocket knife, the edge of the blade already wiped clean. He aims it around in the darkness with staggering confidence. Well, the last horror movie he watched featured a brazen protagonist who slashed at ghosts with a mythical blade and kept them at bay.
The thing is, Varka isn't a brazen protagonist. Nor is his pocket knife blessed by any gods. Heck, he's not even sure if this presence in his room is a ghost, or something worse. But still, fake confidence is better than no confidence at all.
"Who's there?" he calls out, surprised by how steady his voice sounds.
No response.
The blade grows heavier in Varka's hand, or maybe that's his imagination. Right - maybehe's imagining all of this. Maybe he just fell asleep at the desk and his brain is feeling a little creative. That's reassuring enough.
But he can't shake off the feeling that it's just wistful thinking - that something has gone horribly wrong and he can't tell what it is.
An agonizingly long moment after, the darkness clears up a bit. The light from outside seeps in a little easier and Varka's eyes adjust to the change. There's a definite form before him, standing close to his bed - humanoid, thankfully - but nothing else can be made out yet.
A realization comes rushing, hurtling straight at Varka without warning.
Oh, God. This cannot be real. Not only did the ritual fail, it completely backfired and they've summoned a demon instead. There's a demon in my room. There's no other way to explain it.
If he's quick enough, maybe he could scrawl down his final will on that notebook behind him - not that he has anything worthy to pass on.
He's half relieved Venti is out of danger's way but also terrified for himself. Just what is he supposed to do? Grovel for mercy? Insist that his soul probably doesn't even taste that good?
"Stay back!" Varka lifts his pocket knife. His voice is barely audible, shrunken down to a weak mumble. "I don't know what or who you are but - stay back."
"Cupid has heard your wish, and he has agreed to provide his assistance."
Huh.
Varka should get his ears checked one of these days, because that voice sounds way too familiar. So familiar it automatically lowers his guard and forces the grip on his blade to loosen slightly.
The figure takes a step forward. Something about the gait, the posture, the swing of its hands is familiar. Varka is going crazy. Delirious. A part of him is drawing connections between this figure and someone he already knows and no, it can't be, it better not be-
"You may speak your grievances," the being continues in a steady, almost rhythmic voice. There's a satisfying cadence to his voice. Varka is mentally cursing himself at the recognition. "Share your sorrows with me. Confess your worri - oh."
The darkness clears up further. Varka's hand trembles around his pocket knife.
It's Kyryll Flins.
Except he looks like something out of an epic movie - dressed in rich, dark robes slung across his body with silver ornaments and a lamp hanging at his side. Its flames are mesmerizing, a captivating mix of blue and violent fighting with each other. There's a glow to his eyes Varka has never seen before, as well as the notably pointed tips of his ears.
Varka stays utterly still, not trusting himself to move an inch. Flins is just as quiet. A rare look of surprise occupies his face, one that slightly widens his eyes and parts his lips.
On the other hand, Varka is mortified. What are the odds? Just what are the odds that this supernatural entity - a guide of Cupid - he summoned for help with his crush turns out to be his crush himself? Is this a cruel joke from the universe?
In any other circumstance, Flins showing up in his room out of the blue would've been a matter worth blushing over for days. But alas, this is a circumstance of an entirely different kind.
Flins clears his throat. "My apologies for keeping my identity hidden from you. It's…complicated, but I'm sure you understand why."
There goes Varka's last hope of him just being a demon in disguise.
"I, uh, I don't, actually." Please don't tell me knows. Please don't tell me he knows. Varka swallows. "It was just a dare. Yeah. Venti and I got bored so we tried a summoning ritual for fun. We didn't think that…it would actually work."
Flins squints at him. "That can't be right."
"Yeah, it - huh?" Varka settles the pocket knife on the desk with a trembling hand. It's unfair how Flins is so calm about this already. Does this sort of thing happen to him often? He doesn't want to think about it.
"All the ritual requires to succeed is genuine affection and pure longing. As long as these needs are met, anyone who partakes in the ritual will soon find themselves in the presence of a guide of Cupid. This is how it's always worked, Varka." He tilts his head curiously, and something about the gesture is so endearingly sweet, even in this strange form, that it feels like a direct squeeze to Varka's heart.
"So is that what you are?" he asks. "A guide of Cupid? You're not a human?" He's not secretly a hundred years old, is he? That might be a little too old for me.
"I’m human, just like you are."
"Last I checked, I don't have the ability to pop up in people's rooms and cause the lights to go out." Among other things.
Flins just gives him a small smile, one that makes Varka's chest tighten. "Let me modify my phrasing, then: 'mostly human.' Does that sound fair?"
This is still too much to take in. Varka drags his chair out, turns it around and sinks down. He buries his face in his hands for a moment. When he looks up, Flins is still there. Great. "I don't know," he admits. "Is that fair?"
Flins watches him with an unreadable expression, though it's still soft and gentle. He inches closer. "You're still avoiding it, Varka. If if wasn't you who summoned me, I suppose it was your friend?"
With uncanny timing, the door swings open just then and Venti strides in with a caramel latte in one hand and a bottle of apple cider in the other. He shuts the door with his hip and then pauses, mouth opening to perhaps ask why the lights are off. Then his eyes land on Flins.
It happens so fast Varka barely registers it. The drinks slip out of Venti's grasp. The caramel latte's lid comes loose and it spills over the floorboard. Luckily the bottle of apple cider survives the fall, but rolls under the bed. Venti sprints across the room and grabs Varka's arm. Despite his smaller stature, he tugs with urgent alarm. "What are you doing? Let's get out of here!" he splutters. "Th-that's not - Varka, this isn't a good idea."
"Hey, relax." Varka makes sure his voice is as steady as it was earlier. "This is Flins. From school." He blinks with his eyes, trying to send a silent message. Nothing is making sense, but you need to trust me. Oh, and if you tell him that I have a crush on him, you're dead.
Fine, perhaps the message is too long to be conveyed via a series of blinks. But he hopes Venti catches his drift.
Flins clasps his hands gently. "Let's make this quick, please. I don't have all night."
Venti tears his gaze away from Varka. He eyes Flins, half-conflicted and half-hesitant. "And why is that?"
"I need to finish my algebra homework."
"You're joking."
"Not at all." Flins' gaze drops to the floor. "It might be a good idea to clean this up first."
Varka, unsure of what else to do, laughs.