Work Text:
Neuvillette is just in the midst of cracking his neck after an especially long trial when a knock is heard on his office door. He looks up and furrows his eyebrows.
“Come in,” he speaks calmly yet loud enough that the person–or Melusine, possibly–can hear him.
A man walks in, dressed in the usual Garde attire. He offers a polite smile and walks towards his desk.
“You asked for me, Iudex Neuvillette?”
Neuvillette stares for a moment, fidgeting with the pen in his hand. Then he inhales sharply at the realization that he did in fact, call for a Garde earlier in the morning. That long trial really did seem to do a number on him. It’s unlike him to be so distracted.
“Yes,” Neuvillette breathes. “I did.” He reaches over and hands the Garde a stack of papers. “Could you do me a kind favor and deliver these for me? I would do it myself but…” He trails off, eyeing the even larger stacks of papers that he needs to read through by tonight.
“Of course.” The man nods dutifully. “To whom?”
Neuvillette blinks again. It seems that a concerning amount of things have started to slip his mind, including mentioning who the papers were being delivered to. Exhaustion can truly have an effect on someone.
“Ah, yes. To the Duke, if you will.”
The Garde freezes and narrows his eyes nervously. “Of… the Fortress of Meropide?”
Neuvillette blinks yet again. “Is there another Duke that I’m not aware of?”
The Garde flusters and shakes his head profusely. “N-no, Monsieur Neuvillette. I just wanted to make sure.”
Neuvillette has never been great at reading human emotions. But, when his eyes scan over the young Garde’s features, he can tell through the widened eyes and the tense jaw that he’s experiencing fear or, something akin to nervousness.
“Is something the matter?” He tilts his head.
“Ah…” The Garde brings a hand up to scratch at his nape. Yet another sign of anxiousness. “It’s just that– Duke Wriothesley can be– how should I say this…” He clears his throat. “Scary, at times.”
Neuvillette widens his eyes in slight surprise and he sits up in his chair. “Scary? Really… how so?”
The Garde laughs awkwardly. “Oh you know, he’s got quite a rough touch. I mean, I’ve only heard of rumors of how physically harsh he can be whenever dealing with others. Well– with only the head nurse as an exception, of course. But, just last week, I had a duty to complete down there and I saw first-hand the way he punches a punching bag…and also a person…”
Neuvillette listens intently yet he still finds himself slightly perplexed. But, he sets his confusion aside for a moment.
“But, I know it’s his job and all… It’s just that–” The young man cuts himself off and looks away. “I rambled too much. I apologize, Monsieur Neuvillette.”
The man only smiles. “No worries. Thank you for letting me know. If you would like, I can send another Gard–”
“No!” The young man suddenly exclaims. “I can do it. I would hate to disappoint you, Monsieur. I’ll go now!” And he’s bursting forward to gather the papers into his hands and turning around to run out of the office.
Neuvillette can only stare with slight shock. But then, he sighs, turning back to the papers that are still stacked on his desk. He’ll dwell on the Wriothesley issue another day.
The next morning, Neuvillette sits at one of the outdoor tables stationed outside the nearby cafe. However, he doesn’t particularly order anything. Just a simple glass of water. He looks up, gazing at the bright blue sky and spots of clouds here and there.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A lighthearted voice is heard from behind him.
Neuvillette straightens and stands up, facing the owner of the voice—one of the most brilliant and admirable women that he knows, Navia. Her blonde hair shines perfectly in sync with the sun and she gives him an even brighter smile.
“Miss Navia,” he greets with a polite smile and a nod. “How’ve you been these past few days?” He reaches over to pull out a chair for her to sit in.
“Oh, quite alright,” she laughs, taking a sip of her own drink. He doesn’t recognize it, but it looks sweet and bubbly. “A bit swamped with work but nothing I can’t manage. And you, Monsieur Neuvillette?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Though, I do plan to visit your father soon.”
Navia’s eyes are bright yet her lips pull into a solemn smile. “We can go together then! I heard flowers are in peak blooming season right now. It would be perfect for his grave.”
Neuvillette gives her a soft smile. “Of course, Miss Navia.”
She sighs, looking out to the bustling streets of people either shopping or heading off to work. “You know…” She starts. “I found it quite out of the ordinary that you invited me to this cafe just to chat. I always assumed your schedule was swamped.”
He hums. “You’re not wrong.” He glances down at the cup. Is it empty already? “But, I simply wanted to chat with you. My agenda today isn’t completely horrible either way.”
The woman raises an eyebrow. “What do you believe is not ‘completely horrible?’”
“About thirty minutes of personal time?”
Navia groans. “You’re hopeless, Monsieur Neuvillette. What about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” He leans forward, thinking. There’s not much. A trial he has to attend for one. A meeting with some staff regarding the amount of sick days they should be taking. And… “Ah, other than the usual meetings and such, I have a meeting with Duke Wriothesley regarding business.”
Just as he speaks of Wriothesley’s name, he sees Navia shiver from head to toe. Her shoulders tense and her glossy lips pull into a straight line. Neuvillette tilts his head slightly at her reaction.
“Are you cold, Miss Navia?” He asks though the sun is currently shining and it’s currently the afternoon–the warmest part of the day.
“No!” She blurts, flustered. “It’s just– the mention of the Duke simply caught me off guard is all. You see, I don’t…” She winces. “I don’t enjoy speaking with him much.”
Neuvillette’s eyes widen slightly. “Hm?”
“Oh, of course, he seems like a perfectly responsible and trustworthy man,” she chuckles. “It’s just that the last few times when I tried to inquire about a matter, he always had this scary look in his eyes. They’re so… sharp and critical that I can’t help but feel nervous. But! There’s nothing against him as a person! He can just be a bit intimidating, that’s all.”
“...I see,” Neuvillette breathes, deep in thought. “He does seem to be quite serious when it comes to business, so I understand your sentiments.”
Navia visibly relaxes at that. “Well, your thirty minutes are almost up and I’ve got a few errands to run.” She suddenly leaps out of her chair, energetic as she’s always been. Neuvillette follows suit. “It’s been great to catch up with you, Monsieur. And best of luck with your meeting with His Grace!” She gives him a short wave before walking away, her dress swishing gracefully.
Neuvillette simply sits back down in his chair with a slight frown as he thinks. Did he really ever need ‘luck’ to meet with the Duke? They’ve met plenty of times already so it’s become quite natural. No luck necessary.
That same day, Neuvillette heads back to his office. But, just as he’s about to enter, he hears a group of higher-pitched voices chatting away in the nearby room. Melusines, he automatically recognizes. He’s always found that their conversations are often amusing and adorable so he can’t help but pause and listen in.
“We could use these and stick them on the Duke’s back!” One speaks excitedly.
But another Melusine is quick to interrupt. This Melusine, Neuvillette’s fully aware is Sedene after hearing her voice multiple times to remind him that he has a trial to attend to. “No!” She whispers hastily. “Not right now!”
“Why?” Another one sulks.
Sedene sighs. “I just spoke with Sigewinne earlier and she specifically told me to pass on to you not to mess with him right now. Apparently, whenever she does checkups on him recently, she finds that his whole body is– is stiff! Almost like he’s ready to punch someone at any moment!”
The two other Melusines let out dramatic gasps and murmurs. “Oh dear…”
“I’m not surprised,” the other Melusine sighs. “I suppose we’ll wait then.”
“It’s a shame… I bought so many of these stickers!”
Neuvillette huffs with a small, fond smile. Though Melusines hold a great responsibility here, they still never fail to be playful and pull pranks. As he continues back into his room, he sits at his desk. But, rather than starting work, he twirls the pen between his fingers.
So this is how everyone truly views Wriothesley?
He’s always been aware that Wriothesley is serious when it comes to work. But, he never dwelled on the fact that he must be so serious that he can come off as… intimidating or scary. But alas, he simply just has to avoid getting on Wriothesley’s bad side and he should be completely fine. Besides, he’s known him for years now.
“I offer you my thanks. Please, enjoy the rest of your day.” Neuvillette smiles at the guard who escorted him throughout the Fortress of Meropide. Though he’s been here multiple times, it’s still quite easy for him to get lost in the large area, especially with the hustle and bustle of all the inmates during the daytime. The guard bows and rushes off while Neuvillette stands just before the Duke’s office.
He pushes the door open cautiously and slowly so as to not alarm Wriothesley. He hears nothing in the upper level, surprisingly. Usually, the sound of the chair sliding across the floor or an inquisitive, deep, “hm?” can be heard.
Neuvillette stills for a second, waiting for Wriothesley to descend the stairs first. But, nothing happens. So, he takes it upon himself to climb them. Only then, does he find out that there’s no one sitting at the desk or brewing tea off to the side. Neuvillette sets his papers down on a nearby table and looks around. Where could he be?
“Sedene did schedule an appointment with him… right?” He mumbles to himself.
It’s not entirely unexpected that Wriothesley’s not on time. It’s become quite the common occurrence actually, that he would burst through Neuvillette’s office doors, hair disheveled and chest heaving breath, late for a meeting. Neuvillette pays it no mind, already aware that inmates can cause quite a stir at random times.
Just then, he remembers the secret room down at the lower level of his office. It’s possible that Wriothesley could be there, working on his gauntlets since he once claimed that he hated getting grease on his much finer wooden desk. Neuvillette decides to traverse down there.
He makes sure not to accidentally trip down the stairs as he heads down. And just as expected, sounds are coming from one of the nearby rooms. However, it’s not the sound of metal clanking or tools falling. Rather, it sounds like a soft material being pounced on over and over again. Even more perplexed, Neuvillette walks over to the source. He peeks around the doorway and he freezes.
There Wriothesley is, repeatedly hitting a punching bag in the middle of the dim-lit room. His hair is once again, messy, and sweat drips from his forehead down to his neck, and down to…
Neuvillette widens his eyes and the grip he has on the doorway tightens ever so slightly.
He realizes that Wriothesley is out of his usual work clothes. Instead, he wears only a tight, black tank top–one that perfectly emphasizes every muscle in his torso. His bare, muscular arms are adorned with multiple scars both big and small. Every time he throws a punch, the muscles in them flex.
Neuvillette should say something. He really should, rather than just standing there, ogling at the man’s physique. He’s witnessed many trials with many, shocking twists that leave him thinking about the events until late in the evening. But nothing comes close to how mesmerizing the current sight is before him.
He gulps, hands feeling sweaty as he leans forward to get a better view. His gaze travels up to the man’s sharp blue eyes and down to his broad shoulders and…
Neuvillette coughs suddenly. Have some decorum…!
Wriothesley jumps at the sound and he whips around. His previously piercing stare softens into something more… neutral and relaxed, though still wide with surprise.
“Er– oh! Neuvi– Monsie– Chief Justice.” He stumbles over his words. He straightens up as if to appear polite and proper as if his hair isn’t a complete mess right now—strands sticking up almost like a puppy. “It’s a pleasure to see you here.” He pauses and looks around skeptically. “...why are you here?”
Neuvillette clears his throat, his eyes flitting elsewhere out of sheer embarrassment. “I believe we had a meeting today. I was unable to find you in your office so I came to look for you here.” His gaze unintentionally wanders back down to Wriothesley’s muscular figure. “Apologies for interrupting.”
Wriothesley stares for a moment before grimacing. “Ah, is it that time already? Sorry, I should be the one apologizing…” He sheepishly offers a small smile, one that Neuvillette finds almost endearing. He brings up a hand to his hair to ruffle it, flexing his muscles in the process. “Please, you can return to my office. I’ll be up in a second.”
Neuvillette swallows thickly, allowing his eyes to linger on the sight once more before he heads back up.
The Iudex sits on the large couch as he waits patiently, papers sitting in his lap. He should be looking over them, making sure he has everything ready to discuss. But instead, he finds his mind distracted.
He thinks of the image of Wriothesley punching the punching bag–the way it sounds on impact, the way it sways from his sheer strength, and the way the fabric is already half torn from Wriothesley’s own fists.
“Oh you know, he’s got quite a rough touch.”
Neuvillette can’t help but find himself agreeing with the Garde from before. Since they work in such separate workplaces, it’s rare to see Wriothesley actually display his strength. It’s surprising but also a bit… hypnotizing. He’s aware just how much Wriothesley must keep his shape to manage such a vast place like the Fortress of Meropide. Yet for some reason, his thoughts seem to stray away from the idea of necessity and more towards the idea of allure.
The door clicks, snapping him out of his not-so-appropriate feelings. It’s almost like the sight is burned into the very backs of his eyes, as he blinks, making sure Wriothesley is properly dressed. He is, of course. His hair is sweeped back into its usual style and he’s wearing his normal clothes. Albeit, he never does seem to tighten his tie properly.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Neuvillette,” Wriothesley sighs, already carrying in a tray of tea for two as he sits down on the couch beside the man. “These past few days have been hectic. I can’t imagine how much worse it is for you up there,” he jokes half-heartedly.
Neuvillette hums and tilts his head. “It is nothing that I cannot handle.”
“Of course, of course,” the younger man laughs, his eyes bright and his smile… a pleasant sight to look at. He reaches over to pick up the cup of tea, bringing it up to his lips. But, just before taking a sip, he adds a lighthearted, “I admire you, Monsieur.”
“I admire you the same.”
Wriothesley doesn’t seem to take that sip that he intended to. Instead, he freezes, his hand frozen in air and the tea just about to spill over onto his lap. The man stares at him with wide eyes before awkwardly clearing his throat and turning back to his tea. Perplexingly, his hands even seem to stutter around the cup.
“Thank you,” Wriothesley seems to struggle to get out. Neuvillette simply stares, a small frown on his face.
“Is everything alright, Wriothesley?” He reaches a hesitant hand out to make sure he isn’t injured. After all, boxing can result in sore hands, right?
Wriothesley starts coughing, his ears oddly red as he sets the tea down. It seems to be getting cold but it seems like the man refuses to take another sip. “I’m– fine. What… What was it that you wanted to discuss with me?” He forces a polite smile.
Neuvillette lets out a breath and he reaches over to present the papers that he’s prepared. “I just had a few concerns regarding your supply requests.”
Wriothesley gazes at the papers, seeming to be in much thought. Then, he looks back up and gives Neuvillette a slightly amused smile. “You always have those concerns, yet you always wrote letters for me to address them. Is today different? Missed me so much that you had to come see me in person?”
Neuvillette’s heart thumps and he has the sudden urge to look away. He really did have the choice to write a letter but instead, he took the time to come down here. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he honestly replies, his voice quieting.
Wriothesley’s eyes soften and he gives him a small smile. “Hey, it’s not like I’m complaining or anything, dear Iudex. It was just a thought. I’m glad to see you.”
Neuvillette’s stiff shoulders relax and he shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to compose himself. He’s feeling oddly nervous for some reason.
“Back to the matter at hand,” he mumbles, shifting through the papers in his hands. “Everything you requested seemed normal when I was reviewing them–medical supplies, workshop tools and such. But, wedding decorations?” He looks up to see Wriothesley staring back sheepishly. “Could you describe what that entails?”
Wriothesley lets out a laugh at that. “Ah… the truth is that there are two inmates who met here. They simply want to get married in the Fortress of Meropide.”
Neuvillette straightens at that. “Really?” He asks, pleasantly surprised.
“Really.” Wriothesley nods, his hair bouncing fluffily on top of his head. “It’s fascinating don’t you think?” He chuckles. “To have them wanting to hold their wedding in a place like this?”
Neuvillette shifts in his seat, setting down the papers momentarily. He looks down, only to notice just how close they’re sitting now. He looks back up and gives Wriothesley a small smile–something that he’s not too familiar with, but he’s learning.
“I don’t see that much of a problem.”
“Oh?” Wriothesley’s lips pull up and his eyes sparkle, interested. “Honestly? So you would get married here if given the option?”
“Certainly,” Neuvillette responds. “As long as it’s with the right person, I would be delighted.”
Wriothesley leans back, regarding Neuvillette with a teasing look. It sends a sharp feeling through his chest, one that makes his face feel awfully warm and his usually cool hands sweaty. Neuvillette swallows, waiting for Wriothesley to say more.
“And who would be the right person for someone as graceful and esteemed as you?”
Graceful and esteemed.
It’s a common thing that Neuvillette often hears. Usually, he’s familiar with those words being spoken with a certain praise that puts him on a high pedestal. But the way Wriothesley says it is different. He says it almost playfully. Almost like he wants Neuvillette to loosen up more instead.
Neuvillette thinks back to the question. He sits there for a moment before eventually shaking his head. “I’m not exactly sure. Do you have someone in mind?”
The look in Wriothesley’s eyes changes just then. His eyes soften further and there’s almost a sense of longing in his gaze. A gaze that is directed straight at Neuvillette himself.
“I do, actually.”
Neuvillette’s eyebrows raise and he finds himself unconsciously shifting forward with curiosity. Wriothesley rarely ever mentions his personal love life. In fact, there are often rumors going around about whether he’s on a relationship or not. Neuvillette can’t help but overhear. Wriothesley leans back in response and the tips of his ears deepen in color. The older man opens his mouth, about to ask but Wriothesley is quick to catch on and he clears his throat loudly.
“Uh– but that’s not relevant right now,” the man scrambles to say, forcing out a painfully faked laugh.
Neuvillette blinks and he returns to his original position. There’s no reason for him to be that curious in the first place. “Right,” he speaks quietly.
Wriothesley stares at him expectantly, leading him to reach hastily for the papers again–anything to fill this awkward silence. Neuvillette doesn’t like to take pride in much. But, one of the few things that he does take pride in, is his ability to quickly compose himself. He crosses a leg over the other and continues with purely business.
“While I’m here, there are other things that we could go over,” he continues. He thumbs through the papers.
And then he does so again.
And once again.
It isn’t even a particularly large stack of papers yet Neuvillette finds himself looking through them as if it’s double the amount. He blinks profusely, trying to remember what he’s even looking for.
Ah. He sighs, the words blurring in his eyesight. It seems that fatigue has really caught up in the worst time of all. He hoped he could hold out a little longer.
He can feel Wriothesley’s stare. Moreover, he can feel his concern. But Neuvillette chooses to ignore it.
“Monsieur,” Wriothesley calls out, his voice surprisingly closer to his ear than he had thought. “Are you doing alright?”
“Hm?” Neuvillette turns to him, only to inhale sharply at just how little distance there is between them. “Yes, yes. I’m just a little worn out is all.” He frantically pulls out a random paper without reading the proper title. “Ah, I found it,” he lies. “Let me make sure it’s up to date.”
He does, in fact, try to read over the paper. But he fails numerous times. The words have started to mix together and the edges of the paper grow dark with how heavy his eyes feel.
“Neuvillette.”
“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette breathes, defeated. His hand that’s holding the paper falls back in his lap.
Wriothesley searches his face with a slight furrow in his eyebrows. He shifts even closer so that their bodies are almost touching.
“If it’s not life threatening, you might as well take a break here instead.”
“I’m fine,” Neuvillette firmly insists, turning back to the paper. This time, Wriothesley stays quiet though he still watches the man carefully. Stubbornly, Neuvillette tries to read the lines over again. But, instead of having some sort of epiphany, he only grows more frustrated. None of the words are making sense and his mind is clouded by the nagging thought to just sleep.
He grumbles to himself, his grip on the paper tightening. But then, a warm feeling suddenly encompasses him. His breath hitches as he looks to where a larger, more calloused hand has wrapped around his own. The touch is gentle, almost cautious, as it easily wraps around the entirety of his hand. Wriothesley’s other hand comes up to take the paper out of his grasp.
Neuvillette swallows thickly and looks up, only to face a fond expression with a small quirk of his lips.
“I really do think you need a break,” Wriothesley speaks with a soothing, deep tone. “You can barely think and your eyes keep closing. That’s a bit worrying, don’t you think?”
Neuvillette lets out a shaky breath. “I apologize. I’ve been like this for a number of days. It’s unlike me.” He begins to stare at their interconnected hands. Wriothesley’s touch has not once harshened a bit. It’s gentle, so gentle, the way his warm fingers thumb against Neuvillette’s contrastingly cool skin.
Wriothesley leans down to catch his eye. “Of course. Everyone acts differently when exhausted.”
A sense of guilt starts to fill Neuvillette’s gut. Everyone can be exhausted. Why should he stop his work just because he feels a bit tired? He regretfully pulls his hand out of Wriothesley’s hold and tries to reach for the paper again.
“Still, it’s just a few papers. I can–”
But then, a warm hand comes up to his cheek this time. Neuvillette chokes on his words and his hand hangs midair. The hand guides him back to look into Wriothesley’s blue eyes.
“You’re surprisingly stubborn, Monsieur.” He gives him a teasing look, his thumb now gently caressing his cheek. Neuvillette can’t help but feel like he’s stumbling–falling into the bliss of the man’s touch.
“What do you mean?” He tries to ignore the obnoxious beating of his chest.
The hand never once leaves his cheek, his warm skin soothing against Neuvillette.
“You don’t hesitate to take care of others. But, when it comes to yourself…”
He trails off and Neuvillette blinks his eyes open. But then, the realization shoots through him. He had just blinked his eyes open. His eyes were just closed. He had just closed his eyes after leaning into Wriothesley’s touch. When his vision clears, he feels an odd sense of embarrassment at the way the younger man only watches him, endeared.
“You’re human too,” Wriothesley continues.
“Well–”
“Or technically not,” he laughs. Neuvillette relaxes at that. Wriothesley is one of the few people who know his true identity. It must be a shocking finding, but to Wriothesley, he seemed completely unfazed, saying that it only made him more interesting. In a good way, he clarified. “But you’re in a human body, so I think you should at least put some effort in taking care of–”
Neuvillette dozes off again. He hears a fond chuckle and feels a nudge against his knee.
“Alright, follow me. Or do you want me to carry you?” He gives him a knowing look.
Neuvillette abruptly stands up and clears his throat, trying not to sway from the pure exhaustion he’s feeling. He mindlessly follows Wriothesley to his quarters. He stares unsurely when the man uncovers the sheets on his bed, inviting him in.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Wriothesley assures. “Don’t worry. Focus more on getting some rest.”
Hesitantly, Neuvillette climbs into it. He finds himself melting under the way Wriothesley gently brushes away the front pieces of his hair. His touch is light and soothing, despite the rough texture of his skin.
“I’m sorry for intruding.”
“You’re not.”
As he falls asleep–almost immediately–he finds his last thought to be that he quite enjoys the way Wriothesley gently touches him. As odd as it may seem.
Neuvillette skillfully twirls a pen between his fingers as he reads over the large blocks of text on the paper in front of him. He admits that after sleeping in Wriothesley’s bed, he became almost a new person, finally being able to comprehend words and keep his eyes open. Though, he did find it wholeheartedly embarrassing waking up with his hair all mussed over while Wriothesley was sitting perfectly at his desk doing work for the morning. He remembers muttering a quiet thank you before leaving, not allowing the man to even say a goodbye.
Neuvillette lets out a sigh. Then, very slowly, he finds himself putting down the pen and letting his hand come up to the side of his face. His fingers have always been eerily cold so he flinches as they come in contact with his cheek. He finds himself longing for something else–someone else’s touch.
He imagines the warm hand that curled gently around his own and the way he cupped his face. His touch was ever so gentle and kind, as if Neuvillette was a teacup that could easily chip.
Just before, he was punching a punching bag until the seams of it were tearing. So why is it that when he was touching Neuvillette, he was so… careful?
He furrows his eyebrows and turns his attention back to his work. There are a couple of thumps heard just outside the building but Neuvillette pays it no mind. It’s probably a new delivery being dropped off.
That is, what he believes. And that is, until his door bursts open.
Neuvillette looks up with a raised eyebrow. It’s a rare occurrence that someone enters without knocking, too scared of his possible reprimanding. Of course, he’s too kind to actually get mad at something like that.
Sedene rushes in, her hands waving frantically. At the sight, the man stands up suddenly, almost knocking over the chair in the process. He walks hastily over to where the small Melusine is babbling barely comprehensible words.
“Monsieur– Neuvil–” She coughs, breathing heavily. Her hat is practically hanging off her head. “There’s a– situation outside. We need your assistance–” Her arms flail helplessly. “Fast!”
Neuvillette bends down to adjust her hat back between her ears. “Take a deep breath my dear,” he says, following her with fast steps out of his office. “What is the situation?” They head towards the door where Sedene speaks almost a mile a minute, still with her somewhat monotone voice.
“His Grace, Monsieur,” she responds. The name sends a shooting sting through Neuvillette’s chest. There’s something wrong? Is he okay? His mind rushes with frantic thoughts that he doesn’t even notice that they’re just about to reach the exit of the Palais Mermonia. “He–”
The doors open and Neuvillette’s eyes are blinded by the blaring sunlight. But, as his vision adjusts, he finds himself staring at a startling scene. He rushes closer, only to be stopped by a few Gardes simply trying to protect him. But he doesn’t care at the moment, his eyes completely trained on the sight before him.
Wriothesley’s still standing, thankfully. But he’s standing over a man, coughing on the floor. He looks a bit older and he has a gruff voice. He holds a clenched hand over his eye, almost like someone had punched it. There are cuts and bruises all over his face—definitely like someone had punched him.
Both of them are panting. Wriothesley glares down at the man who’s currently yelling incoherent things. Something glints on the floor, Neuvillette notices. Brass knuckles. They’re in the hand of the older man. Neuvillette inhales sharply and he looks back to Wriothesley, now noticing the large gash on his cheek.
Wriothesley barks out a laugh, seemingly to be responding to one of the man’s shouted words. “Look, you’ve brought in a whole crowd with your stupidity.” He looks around at all of the civilians, watching with wide eyes. The Gardes seem to be at a loss of what to do. It is the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide after all. “And the fact that you’ve managed to convince me all those months ago to let you come back to the surface.”
Neuvillette watches as he kneels down, grabbing the man by the collar, his almost limp body easily complying. “Aren’t you excited to go back to square one?” Wriothesley’s asks, his jaw twitching as he stares menacingly at the man being held in a chokehold.
The man sneers, completely red in the face. “I was merely speaking the truth,” he growls, his hands trying to pry Wriothesley’s open. “Your little friend and the Chief–”
Neuvillette swallows thickly at the way Wriothesley’s eyes only darken further. There’s a vicious look in his eyes that so obviously says, “I dare you to speak again.”
The man is quick to read into the gaze as he cowers and shuts his mouth. Wriothesley lets go of his collar, throwing him back to the floor, making the man yelp pitifully.
He dusts his hands off, his jaw still tight. “Well, it’s up to the Chief Justice what your second verdict will be. But for now, it’ll be me bringing you back to confinement.” His hands reach to his belt where his handcuffs are.
Neuvillette is quick to notice the way Wriothesley winces as his arm, full of bloody scratches, accidentally brushes against the sharp metal. Just then, he feels an odd sense of protectiveness as he lurches forward, pushing past the Gardes’ arms.
“I will send someone to do that for you,” he says, interrupting Wriothesley’s actions.
He turns to him, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Monsieur.”
A group of Gardes are already approaching, about to carry the man out. Though, it doesn’t seem like it’ll take much of an effort as the man is much too terrified to really move.
Then, Wriothesley’s lips quirk up almost proudly as he faces one of the Gardes. “Look, honestly leave it to me. This is no issue. I’ll take it from he–”
“Wriothesley.”
He turns back to Neuvillette who’s staring at him with stern eyes. He chokes and clears his throat at the same time. “Uh– I mean. Thank you.” He waves off the confused Garde who goes back to transferring the man back for another future trial.
“Come with me,” Neuvillette urges quietly, turning to head back to the Palais Mermonia. Wriothesley lets out a quiet huff as he follows, his steps reluctant.
Back in his office, Neuvillette leans against the front of his desk, his arms crossed over his chest. Wriothesley, on the other hand, is sitting on one of the couches.
Neuvillette’s already regarding the man with a reprimanding look but yet again, Wriothesley seems completely unfazed. He only responds with an innocent tilt of his head and his signature, teasing smile.
“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette finally speaks after a long period of silence.
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“I’ve known you for many years. So, I trust that you did this for a good reason.”
“Great,” Wriothesley grins even wider. “So there’s no problem here?”
He makes a move to stand up but Neuvillette hums and narrows his eyes. Wriothesley freezes at that and sits back down.
“That doesn’t mean I’m not curious as to what your reasoning is.” Neuvillette notices the way the younger man slightly jumps at his words, his hands rubbing anxiously against the fabric of his pants. Still, he continues, “so please, if you would be so kind, explain why you had just beaten up a man outside of this building. In broad daylight.”
It’s silent—painfully silent. Wriothesley tries his best to avoid eye contact but it’s almost like Neuvillette is some radiant figure because his gaze keeps finding its way back to his features. He gulps nervously and forces out a laugh.
“Look, I truly think I don't have to tell—“
“I think you should.” Neuvillette stares at him, clearly unimpressed. Wriothesley tries to protest but at the warning tone of his voice, he practically deflates and lets out a low sigh.
“…the man was an old inmate,” he begins to explain, his expression still full of reluctance. “He finished his term a while ago. I remember it like it was yesterday when he requested that he go back to the surface. Of course, I let him.”
Neuvillette listens quietly. So the man was a good guy. Why is that that he’s now probably in confinement, bloodied face and all?
Wriothesley pauses, waiting for him to process his words. Then, he continues to explain, “I happened to run into him on one of my own walks today. But guess what I found out?” As he speaks the last sentence, his jaw clenches and so do his fists.
Neuvillette still stays quiet.
“He was spreading rumors to everyone around him about Sigewinne—saying things about how she manipulates her patients or how she uses some blasphemy like witchcraft.” Wriothesley scoffs. “I mean, that little Melusine? The most she can do is give me food poisoning.”
Neuvillette shifts on his feet, cocking his head to the side. It is understandable… to an extent. Of course, he himself is known for showing his utmost protection for Melusines. And it’s just at the sound of a person bad mouthing Sigewinne that sets his own protective instincts alight. But he is also still the Chief Justice—the one whose duty is to uphold order for both Melusines and humans.
He shuts his eyes momentarily. “So that is why you punched him?”
Suddenly, it’s noticeable that Wriothesley’s ears are red. Under the afternoon sun, the tint of it is so incredibly obvious, even for Neuvillette who often looks over the physical aspect of emotions.
“Well, no…” He trails off. “I was holding back, promise. I was just going to talk to him and give him a warning or whatever. But he—“ He huffs in an almost endearing demeanor. “He started talking about you. And… I don’t know— something just snapped and, well, you know.” He shrugs, flustered and refuses to elaborate further.
Now, Neuvillette’s breath hitches. He looks over Wriothesley with a strong intensity as if that will magically make him start laughing and say something like “it’s just a joke, Monsieur.” He does often say something in the lines of that whenever Neuvillette doesn’t catch onto his teasing. But now? Why isn’t he doing that? Why isn’t he chuckling or why isn’t there a mischievous glint behind his eyes? He looks serious. He is serious.
“You punched him over…” Neuvillette lets out a shaky breath. “Me?”
Wriothesley shifts uncomfortably on his seat and nods.
“Why?” Neuvillette can’t help but ask. “Why am I the reason?”
The other man looks up and there’s a slight change in his expression. It’s almost softer, gentler, the way he looks at him. “Because he said some stupid shit about you. Is that not a valid enough reason?”
Neuvillette blinks at him, utterly confused. “I don’t…”
Wriothesley quickly recovers from his previous embarrassment. He leans back against the couch, and he gives Neuvillette a captivating smile. But, Neuvillette is more focused on the scratches all over his arms and the gash on his cheek. And also the sight of his hair ruffled, making him look, yet again, almost like a puppy.
“I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal. I have no regrets, if you were wondering.” And then he winks. He winks at the Chief Justice of Fontaine. Neuvillette raises an eyebrow before approaching the man, standing just before him. It’s quiet now, the only sound being heard is the slight commotion of the crowd still formed outside.
“Of course you don’t. That’s just how you are,” Neuvillette responds with a softer voice. “But you do know that there is no such law that says it’s illegal to badmouth me, right?”
“Well I think there should.”
Neuvillette can’t help but feel a small smile form on his lips. He’s always liked Wriothesley’s determination, especially when it comes to those he cares for. Neuvillette just didn’t really expect that he would be one of them.
“We’ll see about that,” he laughs quietly.
Wriothesley’s eyes widen slightly at the sound and his smile grows. “Good.”
Neuvillette gives him a small smile back.
“May I ask what he said about me?”
Wriothesley frowns and slowly gets up from his seat. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you sure you want to hear such things?”
Neuvillette shrugs without much emotion. “I’m quite accustomed to hearing things about me. I’m sure this isn’t any different.”
Wriothesley stares at him as if to confirm that he really is sure. When Neuvillette gives him an encouraging nod, he explains, “he said things about how the justice system is broken and that you’re the reason why.”
Neuvillette hums. “Well, he isn’t wrong in thinking that the system is flawed.”
Wriothesley stares at him in astonishment. “But you’re going to ignore the fact that he said it’s your fault?”
Neuvillette only gives him an amused look, making him sigh.
“And don’t even get me started on what he said about your appearance. It’s ridiculous. He truly doesn’t understand your… ah– how do I say it…” His words falter and a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “Your beauty.”
Neuvillette lets out a fond huff at his words. It’s quite common for Wriothesley to get this worked up. But seeing him worked up over him is another story. It’s almost endearing.
“You flatter me,” Neuvillette says. Impulsively, he reaches a hand up to adjust his collar, smoothing the crumpled fabric. The tips of his fingers accidentally brush against his skin and he can visibly see the way Wriothesley gulps.
“Certainly, I would love to flatter you,” Wriothesley whispers. “But I’m also telling the truth.”
“My beauty?” Neuvillette’s lips quirk up. “Personally, it has never crossed my mind. And it’s certainly not something that you should punch someone over.”
Wriothesley looks like he’s about to protest but he ultimately stays quiet. Neuvillette’s hand lingers on his collar, toying with the edges of it, distracted. It moves across it, feeling the way the fabric hugs his muscular build. He’s enamored by Wriothesley. And it’s not just in the way he smiles, though it’s certainly an attractive sight to see, or in the way he cares for those around him subtly. But it’s also in the way he exists–the way his chest moves up-and-down soothingly when he breathes and the way his body always seems to run warm despite carrying a Cryo vision.
“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley chimes in, softly. He leans down so that he’s making eye-contact with him. That’s when Neuvillette gasps and pulls his hand away, unaware of what he was just doing. “I know you’re distracted, but I think I should take my leave now. I’ve kept you for too long.” He turns towards the door.
Neuvillette’s hand hastily comes up to Wriothesley’s sleeve, pulling him back down to sit. When the man stares at him in pure astonishment, he bluntly states, “No. You’re injured.”
Wriothesley only looks even more perplexed. “It’s nothing serious though.” He brings a hand up to swipe at the gash on his cheek. He winces when blood smears across his fingers. “Or not. I don’t know.”
“You’re still injured, Wriothesley. So let me.”
Neuvillette walks away, opening one of the cabinets and pulling out a first-aid kit, usually kept for the Melusines who like to play and occasionally trip on the concrete.
“Oh,” Wriothesley breathes as Neuvillette stands before him again. As his gloved fingers come under his chin, guiding his face up to look at him, he can practically hear Wriothesley’s thumping pulse like the crashing waves of the ocean. He furrows his eyebrows with concentration as he begins cleaning the large cut on his cheek.
Wriothesley sits there with bated breath and yet again, red-tinted ears. The afternoon sun filtering through the windows shines slightly on his features and Neuvillette can’t help but think that Wriothesley truly is a fine-looking man–the slope of his nose sharp and the arch of his eyebrows strong.
But his usual keen eyes are now soft as he gazes up at Neuvillette.
Neuvillette swallows and looks away. Why is it that he’s watching him with so much adoration?
When Neuvillette touches a certain area of the gash, Wriothesley hisses and flinches away. Neuvillette clicks his tongue.
“Next time, control your temper or you’ll end up back in a prison cell,” he mutters with a frown.
“Sorry, dear Neuvillette,” Wriothesley says. But when Neuvillette looks back into his eyes, he can tell very clearly that he is not sorry. Of course, that isn’t really much of a surprise.
As Neuvillette bends down slightly to place a bandage on the exposed area, he finds himself lost in the man’s eyes once again. Their faces are so close now–close enough that if someone leaned in…
Neuvillette clears his throat. Still, Wriothesley continues to persist in staring at him with utmost affection. Just before, when he was standing over that man, his eyes were sharp and intimidating. Even Navia had mentioned before that “he always had this scary look in his eyes.” So why is it that he’s looking at Neuvillette like he’s the only light in the whole wide world?
“Too handsome for you, Monsieur?” Wriothesley teases. Even when joking around, he still stares at Neuvillette with that stupidly soft look in his eyes.
Why, why, why… Neuvillette needs to look away now. He hastily shakes his head and sits down on the couch this time so that he can turn his attention to Wriothesley’s arms. They’re already covered in scars and it pains Neuvillette to know that there’s a chance for more.
He avoids eye contact this time, too embarrassed to face Wriothesley’s fond and warm gaze.
He tries to focus, focus on the matter at hand, focus on the ointment that he’s applying to Wriothesley’s warm skin. He’s bent over his arm, hair falling over his face because he doesn’t dare look up lest he face Wriotheseley’s teasing smirk again.
But his focus strays once again and his heart begins to feel like it’s thumping faster than usual.
“I like when you take care of me like this,” Wriothesley suddenly says, shifting even closer to Neuvillette. “Makes me feel special, you know?”
“I think you’re a special man already,” Neuvillette replies with honesty. “It pains me to see you hurt. And the fact that you got hurt over me…” He bites his lip as he finishes up the one of the last scratches.
Wriothesley breathes in at that. “Hey,” he speaks with a kind, softer tone. “I really didn’t mean to worry you. It’s just that I care for you, Neuvillette.” He pauses and his voice quiets down to just a whisper. “More than you think.”
Neuvillette looks up in shock at that. Just then, he forgets just how close they’re sitting, facing each other. They almost bump noses and he can almost feel Wriothesley’s warm body against his. He gulps and tries not to let his eyes trail down to his lips. Instead, he focuses more on his eyes. But that isn’t really much of a help either because yet again, Wriotheseley’s staring at him like he’s the most beautiful person in the world.
Unconsciously, almost like he’s put in a trance, Neuvillette begins to lean forward. Curiosity begins to get the best of him. He wonders what Wriothesley’s lips would feel against his. He wonders if–
“I apologize,” Neuvillette blurts out, stopping himself. He pulls away abruptly, making Wriothesley lean forward and chase after him. “That was– I don’t know what came over me.” His hands are clumsy as he packs away the first-aid kit. “I’m finished.”
Wriothesley nods and his cheeks are tinted a slight pink. “It’s alright. Uh– I have some… things to attend to. So I’ll go now.”
“Okay,” Neuvillette breathes, adjusting his tie because the room suddenly feels much too hot.
“Thank you for tending to me,” Wriothesley smiles as he gets up awkwardly and makes his way to the door. But just before he reaches for the handle, Neuvillette finds himself stepping forward.
“Wait,” he calls out, making Wriothesley freeze and his back stiffen. “I…” Neuvillette’s pulse is beginning to feel more and more human. It feels so incredibly strong in his chest, something that he’s never really experienced before. “Would you like to– to go out for lunch together one day?”
Wriothesley visibly relaxes at that and he turns around with an eager and almost adorable expression. “Yes, yes,” he breathes. “I would love to, Neuvillette.”
Neuvillette smiles, relieved. Then, he waves him off. “Go on then. And no more fights or you’ll truly face consequences.”
Wriothesley shrugs with a twinkle in his eyes. “Can’t say I’ll keep that promise but I’ll try only for you.”
Only for you. Neuvillette likes the sound of that.
“I’m sure I can find my way by now, thank you.” Neuvillette offers a polite smile to yet another guard who has offered to escort him through the Fortress. He’s starting to get the hand of navigating the place. Plus, it’s early in the morning–perfect timing where most of the inmates should still be asleep and not accidentally bump into him.
Wriothesley’s office is just up ahead. He adjusts the folders in hand as he continues to walk forward. But, he stops in his tracks at the sound of a loud groan from an unfamiliar voice.
There seems to be two inmates hiding away in a corner. Though, they don’t seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary. They’re just having a conversation.
“My room has a horrible leak,” one complains. “I swear, my bed is soaking at this point.”
“Must be draining.” There’s an awkward pause. And then a mischievous laugh. “Get it?”
“You’re obnoxious,” the inmate sighs. “Shouldn’t I ask the Duke to fix it? I heard he handles these things like clockwork.”
“That’s true,” the other gasps. “I saw him fix a whole broken pipe in just under five minutes. Wait but–”
The inmate hums. “What?”
“I don’t know… maybe ask him in a few days. There’s been some talk going around about how he seems to be in a sour mood right now. You can even visibly see it…”
Someone bumps straight into Neuvillette’s back, forcing the man to keep moving. It seems that he’s underestimated just how early some people wake up. Even at this hour, the place is bustling. He continues walking as he begins to wonder if what he just heard is true. He would hate to bother the man even more. Still, he makes his way to his office.
Yet again, his path is cut off. This time, on his own accord.
Neuvillette catches the sight, just across from where he stands, of Wriothesley talking to a group of younger inmates. They seem to be sulking while some are arguing. Wriothesley stands tall over them, speaking to them sternly. Then, he lets out a sigh and pinches the area between his eyebrows.
When Neuvillette squints his eyes, he notices just how stiff his body seems. His shoulders are taut and his hands are clenched into fists, though not to punch, but rather to contain his stress.
He’s reminded not just of what the two previous inmates were talking about, but also what Sigewinne previously passed on to Sedene that day he overheard the Melusines’ conversation.
“Apparently, whenever she does checkups on him recently, she finds that his whole body is– is stiff!”
Neuvillette stands there for a moment, simply observing the man. Then, he decides to enter the office, drop off the folders, and walk back out. Just as he does, the young group of inmates have disappeared and Wriothesley still stands there, seemingly contemplating something.
Neuvillette walks over to him.
Wriothesley notices him almost immediately and it baffles Neuvillette just how quickly his eyes seem to soften just at the sight of him.
“Ah, what brings you here?” Wriothesley asks, his voice still tense from before.
“I was just here to drop off some papers. The ones you mentioned a few days ago.”
“Huh,” Wriothesley breathes. He lets out yet another sigh, almost like he’s annoyed at himself. “That crossed my mind. I’m sorry. I’ll get to them as soon as possible.”
“It’s okay,” Neuvillette immediately replies. “They aren’t too important.” His eyes wander down to where Wriothesley’s body still looks incredibly stiff. “There must be a lot on your mind right now,” he observes quietly.
“Still.” Wriothesley gives him a guilty look. Suddenly, he takes Neuvillette’s wrist in his, pulling him out of the way of an inmate who just rushes by. Before Neuvillette can even process what just happened, the younger continues, “this is my job. I would hate to keep you waiting.”
“Would you like to take up my offer?”
Wriothesley freezes at his words. His hand still holds onto Neuvillette’s wrist, albeit never tight enough to hurt. Rather, it just wraps around it like an anchor to a ship, his calloused fingers warm against his skin.
“What offer?” He asks slowly, cautiously.
Neuvillette tilts his head. “The one about lunch. Us, together.”
“Ah…” Wriothesley leans his head back in acknowledgment. “The one about the–” His head snaps back down as he stares at Neuvillette, suddenly flustered. “Right now?”
“Yes,” Neuvillette responds, unfazed. “You seemed troubled when I was observing you. I thought that lunch would be a way for you to unwind.”
Wriothesley stares at him, his eyes searching his features as if to make sure he’s not lying. Then, a fond huff escapes his lips and his eyes begin to twinkle. A teasing smile begins to appear and he steps closer, still never letting go of Neuvillette’s wrist.
Neuvillette stares back, with widened eyes. Did he say something wrong? Why’s he staring at him like that? Why is he looking at him with such a fond expression? Neuvillette can’t even begin to put an emotion to it.
“Well aren’t you full of surprises,” Wriothesley finally murmurs. He tilts his head down with a sweet, sweet gaze.
“Pardon?” Neuvillette swallows and it suddenly starts to feel awfully warm. He steps backward, only for Wriothesley to step forward, his thumb beginning to caress the side of his wrist.
“You were observing me,” Wriothesley begins, taking a few more steps forward. Neuvillette still tries to back up. “And now you’re asking me out to lunch?”
Neuvillette feels his heart thump erratically. They’re practically the same height yet it still feels like he towers over him. He tries to say something but his words are caught in his throat, too distracted by the man leaning just over him and practically backing him up against a nearby wall.
“I…”
Wriothesley lets go of his wrist, instead opting for bringing a hand up to the side of his face, tucking a stray hair around his ear.
“And before you try to back out now,” he whispers, both his eyes and smile equally soft. “I would love to go for lunch with you today.” He chuckles quietly at the way Neuvillette stares at him with wide eyes. “Apologies for teasing you.”
“Wriothesley…” He finally manages out. “Now is not the time to act indecent.” He tries to look at least a little angry but it only makes the other grin even wider, his eyes crinkling prettily at the corners.
“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs. “It’s just too fun, Monsieur.”
“There are people around,” Neuvillette hisses, trying his best to avoid eye contact as he pulls at his own collar. The Fortress is supposed to be cool but for Neuvillette, it feels like it's boiling.
Wriothesley looks like he’s about to make yet another teasing remark but when he notices the way Neuvillette nervously stiffens and how he shuts his eyes tightly, he simply lets out a fond sigh and steps away. Neuvillette finally relaxes and straightens up, putting on his most familiar front—a stern, emotionless face.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Wriothesley replies earnestly.
“Of course,” Neuvillette begins walking in the direction of the exit. He still looks a bit flustered.
Wriothesley easily catches up to him, his steps lighter now. He leans towards Neuvillette, innocently bumping his shoulder lightly.
“Are you alright?” He asks with a coy smile.
“What makes you think I’m not?” Neuvillette clears his throat. He fumbles with his sleeves momentarily.
“I don’t know.” Wriothesley shrugs. They begin walking at the same pace, ignoring the shock of the people gathered around. “Just wanted to make sure I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable back there. If I did, I’m sorry.”
Neuvillette pauses in his steps and Wriothesley follows suit, almost tripping in the process. He thinks for a moment before continuing walking.
“It’s okay.” He gives Wriothesley a gentle smile. “I’m… not accustomed to close proximity but I’m not against it.”
“Oh?”
“And if it means that you enjoy it and feel more relaxed then, by all means.”
To prove his point, Neuvillette takes hold of Wriothesley’s hand and pulls him closer so that their shoulders are now touching as they walk. Wriothesley stares down at their connected hands and there’s a faint blush on his cheeks when Neuvillette looks at him. The Iudex is quick to let go.
“Uh—“ He coughs. “That’s great,” he breathes. “And very bold of you.” He lets out a quiet laugh.
Neuvillette smiles again as they reach the exit. He feels himself lean into Wriothesley’s side further as they wait for the doors to open.
As they walk along the streets of Fontaine, Neuvillette can’t help but feel almost giddy. It’s silent for the most part though, with the occasional small talk that tends to turn into business pretty quickly. But then, Wriothesley turns to him again as they pass another boutique shop.
“…you said you’re not against it, right?”
Neuvillette hums a yes.
“So, could I try something? And let’s say…” He huffs out a laugh. “It’ll make me feel more relaxed. Like you said.”
The older man looks at him with surprise and he quickly nods his head. “Of course, today is your day. You can do as you pleas—” His breath gets caught in his throat at the feeling of a warm hand enveloping his. This isn’t the first time it's happened but this particular instance is different. Wriothesley takes the time to properly intertwine their fingers and tighten his hold warmly.
“Oh,” Neuvillette whispers, looking down. He looks back up, only to come to face an uncharacteristically unsure Wriothesley.
“Is this okay?” He questions.
Neuvillette gulps, seemingly forgetting that they’re still in the middle of the street.
“Yes,” he says quietly. He wiggles his fingers slightly just to feel Wriothesley’s skin against his.
They begin their stroll yet again, but this time with their hands connected and their expressions watered down to shy smiles.
People stare, a journalist snaps a picture, and a Melusine gasps. But neither of them pay any mind. Instead, the two men focus solely on each other, beginning to chat less and less about business, and more about themselves.
Neuvillette never has been too fond of lunch. Not because he doesn’t like eating it, but moreover because he just doesn’t have to.
But when he eats with Wriothesley, he finds that he finally understands the appeal of eating with people he’s fond of. He found himself laughing a lot more than usual (which is once or zero times a day), smiling more than usual (about three polite smiles a day), and consuming something other than just a glass of water. He discovered that he’s quite fond of one of the pastries at the restaurant they ate at.
“I’ve never seen you this at ease before, Monsieur,” Wriothesley says as they walk along the streets once again. The sun is already setting. It seems that time does fly.
“I should say the same for you too.”
“Well, it’s because I enjoyed the lunch that you invited me to. What’s your reason, dear Neuvillette?”
“You,” he honestly replies, making Wriothesley laugh loudly. Neuvillette furrows his eyebrows, complexed. “What’s so amusing?”
“I don’t know,” he chuckles, flashing Neuvillette with yet another handsome smile. “It just caught me off guard.”
Neuvillette hums and continues, “It is the truth, though. I find that when I’m with you, I feel that most of my troubles are lifted. I enjoy being with you.”
They’ve reached the bridge that leads to the Fortress of Meropide, where Wriothesley will soon let go of his hand and leave for the evening—where the soothing warmth leaves a lonely cold. The sight is beautiful. The orange-hued sky makes a glittering reflection along the surrounding water. And it seems that the sunlight reflects beautifully across both of their differing features—Neuvillette’s sharp eyes and Wriothesley’s downturned ones.
They face each other and Wriothesley looks at him with so much admiration that it makes Neuvillette not shy away, but rather do the same.
“Who knew you had such a way with words,” Wriothesley mumbles. “I should thank you again though. You took the time to take me out and allowed me to hold your hand just because I was stressed.”
Then, he steps forward and he wraps his arms around Neuvillette. He pulls him into a hug, resting his chin on his shoulder. Neuvillette takes in a sharp breath but ultimately relaxes in his embrace. And unlike before, he finds that his body doesn’t feel stiff anymore like Sigewinne warned or as his own inmates observed, but rather completely limp as he leans into Neuvillette.
“You always mentioned that you aren’t great at emotions and tending to them,” Wriothesley speaks softly, his hands tightening against his waist. “But I think you do a fine job.”
“That’s relieving to hear.” Neuvillette’s eyes close as he allows himself to just enjoy the moment. “This feels quite good.” His arms also wound around the other’s broad body.
“Hm?” Wriothesley teases but doesn’t say anything further.
Neuvillette thinks about what Wriothesley just said. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride—that he can understand emotions to some extent. But he also believes it’s also under certain circumstances.
“But I think that it’s primarily because it’s you,” he whispers. “I want to try to understand you and your emotions the most.” He leans into the crook of Wriothesley’s neck. It’s warm and smells faintly of his typical cologne with a hint of leather.
“You charm me.” Wriothesley grins, choosing to hug Neuvillette even closer. “But I have to disagree. I’ve seen the way you care for Melusines and for the Traveler.”
“But you are a special case, I assure you.” Neuvillette takes a deep breath and steps away from the hug. However, he doesn’t distance from Wriothesley’s touch, his hand coming down to hold onto his. “I find that I also care for you, more than one would think.”
Wriothesley lets out a shaky breath at that and it isn’t hard for Neuvillette’s keen eyes to catch the way his gaze falls down to his lips.
Neuvillette swallows and lets his hand trail up to Wriothesley’s left shoulder. Wriothesley stares at him curiously and intently as he runs his fingers slowly across it, feeling the broad muscles. “Look, you’re not as stiff anymore.” He tilts his head, almost teasingly. “Because of me or the lunch, as you said previously?”
His hand travels over his shoulder and to his upper back. At the contact, Wriothesley stumbles forward and there’s now only a few mere inches between them. Neuvillette stares up at the man with a questioning look.
Wriothesley can only gaze back with wide eyes. His focus seems clouded as if he’s only paying attention to Neuvillette’s beauty, which, it seems that he is when his own hand comes up to brush a strand of hair out of the way.
“Wriothesley?”
“Okay,” the man blurts.
Neuvillette stares at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. It’s loud—one that sends Wriothesley in disbelief. As Neuvillette catches his breath, he finds that Wriothesley is only staring at him with that lovesick expression again.
“I’ve never seen you laugh like that,” he says in awe.
“Well,” Neuvillette breathes. “It’s because you didn’t properly answer my question before.”
“Sorry, what was the question again?” Wriothesley looks at him sheepishly.
“Your shoulders aren’t as stiff. Is it because of me or the lunch that I invited you to?”
“You,” he immediately responds, looking at Neuvillette like an eager puppy. “It’s not the lunch. I lied. It’s all you. You are the source of my light. You—“
Neuvillette leans up and presses a chaste kiss on his cheek.
Wriothesley stutters as the other man pulls away with a small smile. Then, he steps away, taking away his hand that was still resting on his shoulder.
“Good night, Wriothesley.”
He turns around and begins heading back to the Palais Mermonia. He takes step after step, imagining the expression on Wriothesley’s face—a slight flush on his cheeks and big eyes. He imagines him standing there completely frozen, his hand resting on his cheek.
And when Neuvillette turns around, he finds that his vision is completely accurate.
Wriothesley visits Neuvillette again. But this time, for no particular reason. The only one he did get was a letter with a scribbled, “Will be there soon.”
And so there Neuvillette is, sitting at his desk and staring at the door. It’s past dinner already, all the staff are gone and resting at home. But, he usually stays after to finish up some work. He received the letter about half an hour ago and considering how long it takes for it to be delivered, he should be here any minute now.
He taps his pen. Then he crosses a leg over the other. Then, uncrosses it and crosses the other one. He could have spent this time signing documents and such but he’s much too focused on Wriothesley’s anticipated arrival. One could say that he’s almost… excited.
There’s a knock on the door.
Neuvillette stands up abruptly and then sits back down. He huffs.
“Come in,” his voice strains to contain more emotion than usual.
Wriothesley peaks his head in with a playful smile.
“I knew you’d still be here by this time,” he says, stepping into his office.
“Of course.” Neuvillette nods, his gaze trailing up to where Wriothesley’s hair is slightly ruffled from the wind. “And correct me if I’m wrong but when you make an appointment with me, a reason would be sufficient, yes?”
Wriothesley scratches at the back of his head sheepishly. “Right, and you know I’ve kept that up for the past few appointments.”
“So what’s different this time?”
“I didn’t really have a… uh—” He laughs shyly, looking away. “A good reason.”
Neuvillette raises an eyebrow. “So it’s a bad one? Shouldn’t such matters at the Fortress of Meropide come to my attention?”
“It’s not about the Fortress of Meropide.”
“Then what?”
“I missed you.”
Neuvillette freezes. His hands twitch in his lap as his eyes follow Wriothesley who’s walking across the office and towards him. He stands before his desk and Neuvillette has to look up to face him.
“What?” His voice weakens at the end.
“See?” Wriothesley chuckles. “I told you it’s not a good reason.”
“No,” Neuvillette hurries to say. “I think it’s a good one.”
Wriothesley looks at him with slight surprise. “Really?”
“Yes,” the Iudex breathes. “I’m not working anymore, so I see no issue in you visiting me.”
“Because I missed you?”
“Because you missed me.” When Neuvillette repeats it himself, he finds himself feeling awfully flustered. He runs the words over and over in his head. He missed me. Wriothesley missed me. “Why?” He can’t help but ask.
Wriothesley laughs and his voice is just the most soothing. “You say it’s a good reason so why should I elaborate further?”
“Can’t you indulge in someone who’s curious?” Neuvillette tilts his head up to look straight into Wriothesley’s eyes.
Wriothesley inhales at the way his eyes almost plead. Then he sighs. “I mean, I…” He shifts on his feet nervously and pulls at his collar. “I don’t know.”
Neuvillette cocks his head to the side. “You don’t know? Or you don’t want to tell me?”
Wriothesley winces and there’s a slight tint of pink on his cheeks. “See as the Chief Justice, I know you’re great at interpreting a person’s words but can you let me off just this once?”
Neuvillette huffs out a laugh. “I can tell you’re trying to stray from the topic.”
Wriothesley frowns and looks away—anywhere but at Neuvillette. He stares at a nearby bouquet of flowers as he swallows thickly, seemingly trying to gather courage. Then, he groans suddenly, causing Neuvillette’s eyes to widen.
“I mean how can you kiss me on the cheek and leave so abruptly?”
Neuvillette lets out a quiet sound of surprise.
“What?“
“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley sighs as he begins pacing the room. “You can’t just leave me hanging like that.” The tips of his ears begin to match the hue of a rose petal.
Neuvillette is silent. He tries to interpret everything. His words—he feels strongly about the cheek kiss. His body language—he’s flustered. But it all persistently fails to make any kind of sense.
“I didn’t know it affected you so much,” Neuvillette whispers.
“Considering that I couldn’t sleep that day, it certainly did.”
Neuvillette blinks. “I’m sorry.”
Wriothesley pauses in his tracks. He whips around to face Neuvillette again. “Sorry? For what?”
“I suddenly left you after I gave you that kiss. I’ve been meaning to— kiss you. For a while. But I was unsure that you would enjoy it. Hence, I planned to leave soon after.” When he was imagining Wriothesley flustered, that was only the wishful side of his thinking. Part of him was afraid that he would turn around and face a look of disgust or contempt. Up to this point, he’s unsure if the expression he saw that day was just a daydream of his own wanting.
Neuvillette lets out a deep breath. “So, I’m sorry. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Wriothesley lets out a quiet, “huh.” There’s the sound of footsteps and Neuvillette realizes that the other man is now circling his desk so that he’s right in front of Neuvillette. He stands tall and almost intimidating, which makes Neuvillette look down at his lap nervously, preparing himself for the all-out rejection that he’s about to receive.
But to his surprise, Wriothesley kneels down before him. It’s not Neuvillette looking up at the other anymore, but rather Wriothesley, with his gentle, observant gaze. Then, his hand comes up to take Neuvillette that was previously resting in his lap. He wraps his fingers around it, pulling it closer so that it rests just on his broad chest, above where his heart lies.
Neuvillette inhales quietly and he feels a familiar thumping in the back of his throat.
“I’m afraid you’ve misinterpreted my words,” Wriothesley finally says, his tone endeared. Neuvillette pushes his palm forward and he can feel the firmness of his chest, his fingers prodding curiously. Wriothesley smiles at his actions and his hand engulfs Neuvillette’s, holding it even closer to his body.
“How so?” Neuvillette mumbles, slightly distracted.
“Remember when I said that I came here because I missed you?”
“Yes.” Neuvillette shifts forward in his chair, all too enchanted by the way Wriothesley’s chest moves against his hand as he breathes.
“When you kissed me on the cheek,” Wriothesley continues. “That is what made me miss you. Ever since you did that, I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”
Neuvillette pauses and he looks up, only to meet Wriothesley’s knowing smile. “You liked it? I… I was unsure you did.”
Wriothesley leans forward. It seems he doesn’t mind at all that he’s leaning all of his body weight on his knees as he kneels before Neuvillette. He tilts his head and his eyes are soft and gentle on him.
“I loved it, Neuvillette.”
Wriothesley’s hand wraps further around Neuvillette’s and he pushes their joined hands firmer against his chest. And that is when it finally crosses Neuvillette’s mind. Wriothesley doesn’t want him to feel the outside of him—his chest. Rather, he wants him to witness the sensation of the inside—the desperate pounding of his heart. It’s so… human. It’s beautiful and mesmerizing. It is pounding for him.
“Oh,” Neuvillette shakily breathes out. He can’t bring himself to say anything else after that. His eyes travel slowly over the man kneeling before him. He tries to commit everything he observes to memory.
Wriothesley is gentle.
He is not intimidating like others say, nor is he rough.
He is gentle.
Neuvillette thinks back to the Garde who was ever so hesitant to deliver a set of papers out of fear that Wriothesley’s rough hands might accidentally knock him over. Yet when he looks down to where Wriothesley holds his own hand, all he sees is the gentle caress of his fingers against Neuvillette’s paler skin and the way his palm cautiously fits against his own knuckles.
He remembers Navia’s words about how it’s hard to hold a conversation with him because his eyes are so sharp and daunting. Yet when his gaze comes up to Wriothesley’s eyes, all he can perceive is the soft gaze that’s become all too familiar whenever they make eye contact. He looks at the Chief Justice, the Iudex, the one who holds reign over all of Fontaine, like he’s a beautiful flower who deserves the freshest rainwater of all.
And then he’s reminded of what the group of Melusines have mentioned. He’s often stiff and alert, his body repeatedly looking rigid. Yet when he’s around Neuvillette, when he touches Neuvillette, he melts against him. He puts trust into him and he leans into him whenever there’s a chance.
Neuvillette’s breath hitches the more he looks at the man. There’s an emotion that he’s never been familiar with—love. Yet when he is with Wriothesley, when he looks at him gently, touches him gently, leans into him gently, he feels that he is slowly learning what it is.
“Monsieur,” a faint voice calls out.
Neuvillette feels an unusual warmth spread through his body. His hand moves across Wriothesley’s chest slightly but still stays above his thumping heart.
“My dear Neuvillette,” the voice says again, this time a little louder.
This time, Neuvillette blinks. He finds that Wriothesley’s looking at him with a certain awe and curiosity. Neuvillette isn’t entirely sure why.
“Wriothesley,” he says quietly.
“Neuvillette, are you…” Wriothesley tilts his head admiringly. “Are you blushing?”
Neuvillette sits up abruptly and he’s quick to yank his hand out of Wriothesley’s grasp and off his chest. He then uses both of his hands to cover his face.
“Blushing?” He asks, alarmed. “I am not.”
He hears a quiet chuckle from the other man. “No, I think you are,” he playfully replies. “It’s quite clear.” Neuvillette still refuses to take his hands off his face. Still, he can hear Wriothesley stand up so that he can lean over Neuvillette who tries to shrink back into his chair.
Neuvillette refuses to say anything.
Except… for a quiet yelp when Wriothesley softly takes his hands away from his face. He has a knowing smirk on his face as he peers at him. “Mmm… I don’t know,” he teases. “It does seem that your beautiful face is a bit red right now.”
Neuvillette looks away. For all the years that he’s been here, he has never blushed. He’s seen it a few times, especially with loving couples during warmer seasons. But on himself? Never. Yet–
“I don’t know what’s coming over me,” he mumbles. “It must be the temperature.”
“And not because of me?”
Neuvillette freezes. Then he sighs.
“I think it is because of you.”
“Wow,” Wriothesley coughs. “Didn’t think you would admit that so fast.”
Neuvillette winces and makes a move to get up from his chair. Wriothesley easily complies, allowing him space. His knees feel weak as he stands before the man. Wriothesley looks at him with a hint of concern as Neuvillette bites his lip in contemplation.
“I… I don’t understand something.”
Wriothesley quirks his head to the side. “What, the blushing? Usually that happens when you feel flustered or—“
“No,” Neuvillette interrupts, furrowing his eyebrows. “Another thing.”
“And that is…” Wriothesley narrows his eyes with confusion.
“Why is it that you treat me with such… gentleness?”
Neuvillette’s hands fall to his side, defeated. He feels himself tremor with a sense of relief that he’s finally asked the question that’s been occupying his mind for far too long. But, he also tremors in fear that he severely misinterpreted the whole situation.
Wriothesley hums.
Neuvillette tries to explain further, “Like, when you touch me or look at me, it’s almost like—”
“No, no,” Wriothesley laughs quietly. “I know what you’re talking about. And no, you did not misinterpret anything, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Ah,” Neuvillette breathes. “So it is on purpose.”
“Of course it is.”
“You touch me gently and look at me like that on purpose?” He knows he’s repeating but he just can’t seem to help it.
“Like this?” Wriothesley’s hand now rests on Neuvillette’s waist. And again, just like the topic at hand, his touch is fleeting and soft. When he looks up, he’s met with that same gaze.
“Yes.”
“Yeah,” Wriothesley whispers and confirms. “It’s on purpose.”
Neuvillette gulps. “Why?”
“Why?” Wriothesley repeats, his voice soft and barely above a whisper. “Are you sure you want to know why?”
Neuvillette is quiet.
“Because just like this particular meeting, I don’t think it’s a reason you would expect.”
“Enlighten me either way.”
Wriothesley steps even closer. Neuvillette stays still, but in turn, lifts his gaze boldly to look straight into man’s eyes. The hand that rests on his waist hasn’t moved away once.
“Because I want you.”
Neuvillette’s breath hitches sharply. He hears the thumping of his own heart reach up to his ears as he feels himself go slightly lightheaded.
“Wriothesley.”
“I yearn for you,” the man continues. “Neuvillette, I can’t be harsh with someone I love.”
When Neuvillette peers closer, he can see that Wriothesley’s pupils shake ever so slightly.
“Wriothesley,” he whispers once again. “You… love me?”
“I always have.” Wriothesley softens at the sight of Neuvillette stiffening with confusion. “If…” His other hand comes up to cup Neuvillette’s jaw, tilting him back up to look at him. “...that’s okay with you.”
“I…” Neuvillette’s at a complete lost for words. Love, is an emotion that is difficult to study. It comes in so many forms–familial, platonic, romantic. It’s been right in front of him, yet he’s failed to notice. Every action, every word, every gaze that Wriothesley offered to him had its purpose–some with multiple. Yet all of it pointed to one thing. One, that he’s neglected coming to terms with. Love.
He breathes out shakily.
Wriothesley’s hand slightly falls from his waist. His touch becomes hesitant. “Are you okay? You don’t have to return my feelings, you know.”
“No.” Neuvillette shakes his head. “I’m fine. I just– I’m sorry, I don’t have much experience with this.” His cheeks burn and he’s sure it’s visible to the man standing before him.
“Of course,” Wriothesley speaks softly. “I don’t mean to put any pressure on you. I just wanted to tell you at some point.” When Neuvillette only stares at him skeptically, he grins albeit with a bitter sentiment. “I’m serious. Reject me now if you want. At least I got it out there, you know?” His eyes are distant as he says the last sentence. It becomes clear just how long Wriothesley has been waiting, wanting.
Neuvillette’s eyes flicker.
“But I think that I may… love you too.”
Now, it’s Wriothesley’s turn to stiffen with shock. His eyes snap back to look at Neuvillette and that distant look almost completely dissipates. Now, there’s a glimmer of hope and behind that, the everlasting glow of love–one that Neuvillette can tell has lasted many, many years.
“What?” He whispers. “You do?”
Neuvillette’s hand blindly finds Wriothesley’s, readjusting it back onto his waist and even pressing down to tighten his hold on his body. “Yes,” he responds. “I really do enjoy it when you look at me like that. And when you touch me like this.” His eyes flutter down to the hand that’s now protectively gripping onto his hip. Still, his touch remains tender. “I enjoy being with you, Wriothesley. I think about you often, even embarrassingly, during inappropriate times.”
“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley says in disbelief.
“And, I’m unsure if this is exactly what love is,” Neuvillette honestly continues. “But if it is, then I’m willing to– no, I want to experience love with you.”
Wriothesley’s eyes soften as he stares at Neuvillette like the brightest star in the sky. “Love is different for everyone. To me, it’s when you give me a small smile that makes my chest feel tight. It’s when you take care of me with such tenderness though my hands are rough. It’s the opportunity to get to know you more.”
Neuvillette’s smile grows. “And to me, it’s…” He squints his eyes, his lips pursing with thought. “It’s… I’m not very sure. But I enjoy being with you every second that we have together. Could that be love?”
“Certainly.”
“I smile when I think about you. Can that be love?”
A shy laugh. “Yes, it can.”
“I would like to kiss you. Is that also love?”
“Ah.” Wriothesley stares at him, plainly. But then, his lips struggle to hold back a shy smile as he laughs lightly. “So we have that in common.”
“Hm?” Neuvillette gazes at him playfully, his hand coming up to toy with the man’s tie.
Suddenly, Wriothesley tightens his hold on Neuvillette, pulling him close enough so that he can lean down and rest his head on his shoulder. It seems sort of like a hug, but it’s mostly an excuse for Wriothesley to hide his face in the crook of his neck. Neuvillette feels a familiar warmth spread across his chest.
“Mm,” he hums quietly. “You’re driving me crazy, Monsieur.”
“I am?” Neuvillette bites back a smile as Wriothesley pulls back to look at him fondly. “You do as well.”
The air between them is thick with tension. Gravity in Teyvat works vertically—that is, it is what keeps a person on the ground. Yet there seems to be an extra force that is pushing the two of them together. They resist though, silently hesitating and asking each other for consent.
“When you treat me so gently…” Neuvillette mumbles, his heart feeling like it’ll beat completely out of his chest. “You do know that I am not so fragile that I will break, correct?”
“I know.” Wriothesley grins charmingly. “But I like doing it anyway.”
Neuvillette huffs and almost rolls his eyes, though with no malice. “This human form is made of flesh and bones. My dragon form, I guarantee you is even more impenetrable.”
“And do you think that’ll stop me?”
Neuvillette inhales at that. He’s never been very fond of talking about his true identity. He finds himself slightly nervous that he’ll spark a sense of fear when he speaks of his other form. Yet… yet—Wriothesley doesn’t seem to mind at all. He finds himself falling further.
Wriothesley speaks again, “I’ll love you, no matter what form you take. I promise I’ll find you beautiful no matter what. I will always treat you with such care.”
Neuvillette’s cheeks redden and he stares right into Wriothesley’s eyes with a new sense of want.
“Please kiss me,” he blurts. It’s clumsy—the way he says it. But at this moment, he cannot care anymore.
Wriothesley is quick to lean in, though their lips don’t touch yet. He whispers against his lips, “I’ve been waiting for your cue, you know.” Neuvillette shuts his eyes tightly and waits for the feeling of the other’s lips, but still, nothing. Wriothesley chuckles, his breath fanning against his lips. “But I think that you should start first.”
And without any further contemplation, Neuvillette is the one who connects their lips. It’s so natural, how their mouths slot together. When Wriothesley lets out a satisfied groan, Neuvillette smiles against his lips and places his arms around his neck, pulling them closer as he tilts his head further.
His hands wander up to tangle his fingers in Wriothesley’s hair. He thinks about all the times that he’s found it adorable whenever his hair was messed up. To think that he can be a reason for that is even more thrilling. Wriothesley somehow senses Neuvillette’s thinking and he deepens the kiss, making Neuvillette forget any coherent thought in his mind shortly after. His usual quiet office is now filled with satisfied sighs and the sounds of lips being pressed together, over and over again.
Wriothesley holds him so warmly, his large hands wandering yet vowing to protect him from any harm as he kisses Neuvillette like he deserves the world. Sometimes, he’ll be rough as if to convey his yearning, but other times, he’ll kiss him softly and unsurely, as if to wonder if this is really real. At some point, both of Wriothesley’s arms are wrapped around Neuvillette’s waist and he feels himself being lifted up. Then, he hears the sound of something being knocked over.
Neuvillette’s eyes peek open.
“Wriothesley?” He pants, while Wriothesley continues to kiss him hungrily.
“Sorry,” he breathes, his eyes full of need. “Give me a second.”
And then Neuvillette feels his world shift as he’s being placed on the desk. Wriothesley must have knocked something over in clearing the area.
The man steps in between his legs and he cups Neuvillette’s jaw and pulls him again. Their hands wander messily—Neuvillette’s in the other’s hair and his chest; Wriothesley’s on his lower back and jaw. Neuvillette breathes heavily as they continue kissing as if their life depends on it.
He pulls away for moment to catch a breath and also to hook his legs around younger man’s waist. He lays back against the desk, pulling Wriothesley on top, the man supporting himself with his hands.
“Fuck,” Wriothesley whispers. He stares down at Neuvillette with hooded eyes.
“Language,” Neuvillette teases.
“But I love you,” Wriothesley immediately replies back. “I meant fuck, as in I love you.”
Neuvillette’s laughs and his eyes sparkle. “I love you too.”
“So you’ve confirmed it really is love for you?”
“Yes, so please kiss me again.”
Wriothesley laughs and he leans back in.
Neuvillette adjusts his collar as he steps out of their office, Wriothesley following close behind. He combs through his messy hair and he can hear Wriothesley trying to smooth down his wrinkled clothes.
It’s completely dark out—they must have lost track of time after kissing so… much.
Neuvillette turns around. “You should head ba—”
“Oh!” A squeak is heard from behind.
They whip around and face a very surprised Navia. She has her hand brought up to her mouth in shock, her eyes comically wide. She seems to be holding a stack of files, probably to drop off.
“Miss Navia.” Neuvillette swallows thickly. Her hands drop down to her sides, a few papers flying out and onto the ground.
“Oh, I—“ She shuts her dropped jaw and offers a polite smile. “You two must be having an important meeting. Sorry if I interrupted.”
Wriothesley clears his throat and looks away.
“It’s fine.” Neuvillette smiles painfully. “We were just finished… discussing work.”
“Ah, I see.” She nods. Her eyes seem to be wandering. Neuvillette believes that he took extra care to make sure his appearance wasn’t too disheveled. She shouldn’t notice. She holds up the papers. “Well, I guess I’ll just leave these on the table over there.”
She sidles past the two of them and places them down.
“Ah, Monsieur Neuvillette?” She calls out.
“Yes, Navia?”
She holds back a snicker. “There’s a new sale for concealer at the nearby cosmetics shop.”
Wriothesley coughs loudly.
“Oh.” He nods. “For Clorinde, I assume? I heard she’s taken a new liking to makeup these days.”
“No,” she breathes, amused. “For you.”
“For me? I apologize. I don’t find that much interest in—”
“Trust me.” She grins. With a tilt of her head, she waves and walks out the door, her golden hair bouncing elegantly.
Neuvillette furrows his eyebrows and turns to Wriothesley. Before he can even ask what that was about, Wriothesley speaks first.
“It’s a shame your complexion is so pale,” he groans. He steps forward and his hand comes up to pull down Neuvillette’s collar. He winces at the sight.
And that’s when it hits Neuvillette. His cheeks quickly flush as his hand comes up to his neck to touch the tender skin where Wriothesley had continuously kissed and occasionally bit. He shivers at the memory–the involuntary noises he let out and the weird feeling in his lower stomach as Wriothesley focused on a specific spot on his neck.
“Ah. It’s visible, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be mad,” Wriothesley pleads.
Neuvillette chuckles quietly. “I didn’t anticipate Miss Navia’s visit. I have no reason to be mad.”
Wriothesley smiles sweetly. “That’s good. I promise I’ll be more mindful next time.” The lights are dim in the Palais Mermonia. They stare at each other with so much love that it would be sickening even to Cupid on Valentine’s Day. Wriothesley tentatively leans in and kisses Neuvillette again. “So how about we go on a date tomorrow?” He whispers.
“I’d like that,” Neuvillette whispers back, giddily. Despite their age, the two of them act almost like young teenagers new to love.
Wriothesley laughs, his eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. Neuvillette smiles in return. This time, it’s his turn to take Wriothesley’s hand in his, gently caressing the back of it because with the newfound realization of love, Neuvillette now understands the meaning behind one’s gentle touch. He will gladly return the sentiment. He looks up at the other man with a shy expression.
He tightens his hand slightly as in to say without words, “I love you.”
Wriothesley’s eyes soften.
“I love you too.”