—

♡

A crush can spiral into something else. Say, an obsession.

Isidor could not name the moment when his heart had started to beat faster, fuller, harder — when he thought of the (h/c)-haired male. It seemed almost inevitable to him that he would have fallen deeply in love with Y/n — it was like fate to him, kismet, the momentous collision of the stars weaving his fate. Isidor Sierra had always been orbiting around Y/n, placed within his reach like the ring that surrounded Saturn.

And oh, Y/n was so lovely. Whether it was the way his (s/c) skin looked bare when his shirt was hitched by a small bit, whether it was the way his eyelashes fluttered daintily and prettily when he closed his eyes, pulling himself into a deep sleep. There was just something so perfect about Y/n — it was not just the mannerisms he displayed that was lovely, but also the way his cheeks became pink after a slightly flirtatious remark (Now that, Isidor knew, was rare. Usually Y/n met his remarks with indifference. But it wasn't weaponised indifference, it was more of a soft indifference that told Isidor that Y/n was simply too lazy to react) or even — even the more subtle ones, like the way Y/n would rub his eyes sleepily after a nap.

Isidor had fallen head-first. Incessantly, maddeningly, obsessively. The two were childhood friends, and both had...well, sane (of course, not to dismiss the occasional bad events that happened) childhoods — yet Y/n kept him grounded, kept him being wanted by someone. Whether it was the way Y/n tugged his shirt when he looked blearily upon the world, clearly confused by the day's happenings (so adorable, really, he was like a newborn chicken who had yet to venture about the world) or when he would use his lap — his lap! — as a pillow.

The thing about Y/n was that he was so impervious to the stares he got, oblivious to the way he was watched. Now, Isidor didn't just annihilate anyone who displayed a curious interest in Y/n — he chose his prey methodically, as one would choose a meat ready for butchering. There were some good-natured people who would aid Y/n along, whose crush would fizzle and fade with passing time — now those were acceptable. But then there were the annoying pests like Jonathan who could not take a hint.

Isidor tapped his finger along the mahogany table. Across it was Annie, who happened to be his sister. Technically his sister — they had simply grown up together as children (She was the daughter of another Duchy, similar to Y/n's background. But her family was far more well known for it had lasted for generations) but their relationship differed far greater from the nature of Y/n and his relationship. Annie knew of his...less than desirable behaviour, as some would say — but she ignored it completely. As far as Isidor was concerned, the girl had far crazier thoughts in her head especially when it came to things of interest.

"Jonathan disappeared yesterday," Annie declared suddenly, absentmindedly pulling at her red hair. She tangled it; unknotted it; before she repeated the cycle. "Really makes you wonder where he went, right?"

"You know the answer." A sigh spilled from Isidor's relationship, propping his face up with his fist. There was a smug smile on his face. "Why bother asking?"

"So what was the method this time? Stabbing? Fire? Poison, for a painful, drawn death?"

"Stabbing. And a little fire as intimidation." Isidor said smoothly.

"Hm...delightful," Annie said sarcastically. "Sure. But keep on under wraps. Y/n has overprotective brothers of his own, you know. Not sure what they will feel about their little brother's pursuer being a murderer."

Isidor remained unbothered. "They too, have blood on their hands."

"Jesus. What did Y/n do in his last life to get landed with these obsessed lot? His parents are plenty protective, and topped up with his brothers and his overbearing friend..." Annie shot a cursory glance at Isidor, tone amused. "Perhaps he is lazy because he cannot find any energy within him to entertain such a demanding — group of people."

Isidor bristled. "I am far from demanding."

Annie chortled. Her violet eyes glimmered with disbelief as she spoke in a mocking tone, "You seem to clearly demand for sex to happen when you undress him with your eyes."

"That was highly inappropriate."

"Right. Playing the princely role. And might I remind you, it's highly inappropriate to think about bedroom activities during meetings. Hypocrite."

Isidor ignored this completely. Even now, he was thinking of Y/n — of how the (h/c)-haired male would look pinned under him, of how Y/n would be when Isidor helped him in every way possible — you won't even have to lift a single finger, Isidor thought, his thoughts brewing in his mind. To a normal person, it would seem that he was brooding. I will pamper you, Y/n, I will shower you with everything you want in this world, including my obsessive love. Including my need to possess you. Just be mine.

Just be mine. What beautiful, charming three words. Isidor was determined to see it become true, by hook, or by crook. He would steal all of Y/n's breaths through heated, rushed, feverish kisses — he would lock it beneath his tongue, watch as Y/n's breaths became ragged. Listen as his breaths spilled out. Yes. That was a very inviting scene indeed...

"There's class later," Annie broke the silence, looking at Isidor's gaze with mild, faint awe — (was there a person all earth who could have it so bad?) — "You're coming, right?"

"I have to," Isidor said reluctantly.

"I have to," Annie mimicked, rolling her eyes. She was used to this antics of Isidor — killing someone...then pretending nothing happened. In the end, despite all the gripes and complaints and homicidal behaviour (who could forget his deep, deep devotion) — Isidor was still...a lovesick person. Well, not quite a teenager, not quite an adult — all of them were currently nineteen. And that meant that Isidor was just a guy who happened to be the crown prince who was nursing a little crush. After all, weren't crushes part and parcel of life?

Well, Annie had thought it was puppy love, at first, when she saw the way Isidor slipped a hand into Y/n's arm. She assumed it was infatuation, young love, when she was Isidor sneak a kiss on his cheek. And now she saw it the way it was: a maddening obsession.

And yet, the prince was still just a teenager having a normal crush.

Right.

So normal.

—

Y/n found that he had slept through all his classes, and had awoke to brilliant sun rays, streaming in through the dorm window. He rubbed his eyes blearily, shoving his feet into cushioned slippers as he ambled about listlessly. On the table there were two envelopes, which meant that the letters from his family had been delivered.

Hopefully it's another excuse letter from my parents so I can skip more classes, Y/n thought. He knew his family babied him, but he didn't mind.

First, the one from his brothers. Y/n hesitated a little before opening it — he knew straight up there would be a lot of word to read; and sure enough, there was.

Dear Brother; I hope this letter finds you well. Aurelius cannot stop buying things here for you. Well, I do get the sentiment, considering that you are our dearest youngest brother, but—

Y/n closed the envelope. Then he moved on wordlessly to his mother's. Now, his mother knew him inside out — her letter was short and concise, and got straight to the point.

Your father wrote you an excuse letter. Rest well. Come back soon. Will send you cupcakes.

Y/n smiled, folded the envelopes, and neatly slotted it into his file. The file was bursting, in fact, filled to the brim of letters that his family had sent over the years. Some already had faded words, others were becoming yellow from age — but still, Y/n kept them close to his heart. He knew that in noble families, having a true familial bond could be rather difficult—he had gotten immensely lucky. He knew Isidor was close to his own mother, but for the prince's father...

Y/n wrinkled his nose. Ew. No one liked cheating douchebags.

"Slept again, huh," A voice interrupted him, and Y/n turned out defensively, ready to retort (with as little words as possible) — "Isidor is a goddamn enabler of your behaviour."

There was only a few people who could call Isidor by his name rather than title. Annie.

"What behaviour?" Y/n said nonchalantly, before he sat down. "I'm doing nothing."

"Key word: nothing," Annie sounded fondly exasperated. "Your family too. All enablers."

"You're..." Y/n lazily sprawled on the floor. "Jealous."

"Of course, Y/n," Annie said, amused. "Who wouldn't be jealous of your lifestyle?"

"Hey," Y/n decided to humour her a little. "Try being violently sick." He meant that as a joke, but Annie's face became downcast. Because you haven't seen yourself, Annie wanted to tell him, you haven't seen yourself when you would cough up fits of blood every time you exerted yourself; when you would faint, listless, looking like you died—

But Y/n had a different look on his childhood. Granted, as a kid, he did have death scares where his breathing would stop after a while, and where his heartbeat would flatline. But soon blood would start pulsing through his veins again, and warmth would bleed into his fingertips. Hm. Maybe that was a reason why Isidor was so adamant on his wellbeing. It was because...but whatever, in the long run, having illness was — was — was good, right? Magic Practical? Sick. Exam? Sick. Everything was convenient.

"You," Annie interrupted, her tone strange, "do you have any crushes?"

Y/n furrowed his eyebrows at the strange question. "...No?"

"No, like think seriously. Because I can't stand seeing that bastard pine."

"Pine," Y/n repeated — "Pine cone. Pine tree....wait, what was the question again?" His mind didn't seem to want to work — it was against his will. He closed his eyes, allowing the seconds to bleed into the minutes, before he could feel himself drowsy and slipping away —

"Ow!" Y/n yelled, as Annie pinched his arm. "Fragile."

Annie wasn't impressed by his attempts at one word sentences. "I bet you never had a hand laid on you in your life. Coddled ass."

Y/n didn't bother to correct her crude language. "Mmmh. I was just about to doze off..."

"So, do you have a crush?"

"No." Y/n persisted stubbornly. He gazed at the ceiling, feeling the cold breeze from the window caress his cheek. The floor was always a nice place to lay on — the marble was always pleasantly, delightfully cool pressed against his skin (he was wearing a thin shirt currently: the kind of thin that could be stretched out and fitted loosely on his frame) — and it made for a good sleeping spot. But technically, he viewed everything as a good sleeping spot. "Too much trouble."

"Hmm." Annie said, surprisingly magnanimous. "Okay."

Y/n closed his eyes. "Why?"

"No, just asking," Annie said suspiciously. "There's a guy who does a-lot of things for you. Just saying, Lord Y/n."

Y/n frowned. "My dad? Why would I have a crush on my dad?"

Annie stared. "You know what? I'm heading out. You'll get easily sick, lying in the floor like that. Want me to help you up?"

Y/n gave no answer. He gave a small sigh, pressing his cheek down to the cold marble. His shirt hitched up a little, exposing his (s/c) skin — it was all the more lovely, to feel more skin against the chill floor. His body felt limp and heavy...from doing nothing. He didn't know what time it was, and he didn't care. As far as he knew, Y/n was in his own little world, looking forward to the cupcakes that his mother had promised him.

He felt a blanket drop over him. Y/n gave a small sound of protest. Now it was warm...

The door shut behind him, and Y/n kicked off the blanket. Then, with the coldness seeping into his skin, Y/n felt himself get pulled into a dreamless, weightless sleep.

—

"Y/n," the words were very soft. The (h/c)-haired male stirred. The voice sounded cheerful, ebullient, and the touch was tender, soft, as a hand nudged him. "You have a fever."

"Huh...?" Y/n was admittedly confused when he found himself on the bed — a coat placed around his shoulders. He shivered — the nice welcoming sun had dissolved into angry pelts of rain, the strewing breeze sending chills running up his already chattering bones. "It's — cold —" He found his teeth chattering as he spoke, hugging the coat tighter to himself. It was Isidor's, Y/n realised after a moment, its...warm.

"Slight fever," Isidor clicked his tongue, "I've made you some tea. Have you had any food yet?"

Y/n felt dizzy. It was a common thing he felt — thanks to his despicably and pathetically weak immune system. "Cupcakes," he rasped out. "My mother said...cupcakes."

Isidor's voice was drenched with fondness as he spoke. "You cannot eat cupcakes."

Y/n shook his head. He wasn't hungry. He felt an assuring hand press to his forehead, blinking his eyes blearily. "What's the temperature?"

"Thirty nine degrees. Fairly high," Isidor frowned. "I've got you the medicine. We can't conduct any healing spells on you," he stressed, "remember what the doctor said?"

Right. His family had been in despair after they realised Y/n was practically impervious to healing spells — meaning he had to heal the traditional...slow way. Which made his colds all the more miserable.

"So I don't have to go to class tomorrow?" Y/n asked hopefully.

Isidor gave him a hard stare. "No, Y/n. That's preposterous. Of course you don't go."

"This might be worth it, then," Y/n cheered up. A hand  stroked his cheek. It's not, Isidor thought fervently, it's not, not at all. Not when I see you all the time with flushed cheeks, with your quivering lips, with your messy hair and your pallor...

Isidor would have liked to see such a face in a different scenario. "Annie told me you just slept on the floor. Didn't she—"

"—She did put a blanket on..." Y/n trailed off. "But then I got warm."

"Is it warm now?"

To Isidor's surprise, Y/n nodded his head. The (h/c)-haired male had chattering teeth, however, and his delicate hands felt so weak — so cold — when the prince took his hands in his own. But Y/n smiled, tilting his head innocently, his words of honest inflection. He seemed unaware of the weight of his own words as he spoke, "it's warm with you. You make everything warm."

Fuck.

Fuck, Isidor's brain went into overdrive. His heart swelled, and he longed to bury Y/n in his arms.

♡

This chapter felt a lot better and easier to write! This fic has no overarching plot it's just...development and relationship and family bonding. Isidor, Annie, and Y/n are a trio! Hope you liked it, and remember to add this to your library!

How was it?