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fond fools serve mad jealousy

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"So… a fiancee, huh?"


"No, no, it's fine."

Qwenthur curled himself more into a ball, facing the wall on the top bunk of the bunk bed they shared. "I know, this is war, 'we' are only a thing until the end of the war, etcetera… just… never mind,"

Havia heard the shifting of the sheets as Qwenthur moved as close to the wall as possible, something he knew the blond only did when he was feeling down.

"Qwenthur-" he attempted to begin again, only to be cut off promptly.

"I'm sorry."

This was so confusing, Havia thought, as he spoke.

"For what?"

"I know I shouldn't care, I shouldn't have a reason to… but I, I…."

Havia sighed, throwing the sheets off himself and climbing the sturdy ladder that connected their beds. He parked himself on the second rail, face to face with the back of Qwenthur's head.

"C'mon, look at me."

Qwenthur turned slightly, just enough to peek at his roommate out of the corner of his eye.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?"

On many occasions, Havia had found that being gentle with his questions often helped Qwenthur solve the problem himself. He chose to follow the same method this time as well, resting his elbows on Qwenthur's mattress.

Qwenthur shifted a little more, so that Havia could look at him better.

"I don't know… I'm angry I didn't know of your fiancee, but I don't think that's it."

"About that… it was all something our parents decided when we were children. I honestly see her as a sister before anything else… even if I did marry her, which I won't, I wouldn't love her."

"She doesn't seem to understand that though."

Havia heaved a bigger sigh, and sat down beside Qwenthur, threading a few strands of his hair between his fingers. This was going to be a long conversation, he could feel it.

"I know, all she thinks when she says me is husband material. It's not her fault; she was raised that way, and there was that promise we made-"

"What promise?"

Havia turned to look at Qwenthur, a little surprised at being cut off by him of all people. Qwenthur was shifting his gaze, looking everywhere except at him, body tense against the wall.

"Didn't I tell you? My promise to change the rotten government."

He felt the tension leave Qwenthur's body almost as if it was a real, solid thing, although why that would have relaxed the prodigy was beyond him.

"Anyway, I promised her that as a friend, and she took it the wrong way. And I couldn't really just tell her 'Sorry, I'm not attracted to you in the slightest', y'know? Gotta think of the family, man."

"I see," Qwenthur responded dryly when Havia realized he was babbling.

"Why does it bother you so much anyway? Most kids from rich houses are engaged as soon as they're born, which I know you know. So why?"

In response, Qwenthur pulled the blanket over his head.


"I'm jealous." came the muffled reply.


"I said I'm jealous of her!"

"But… but why?" he asked, bewildered.

Qwenthur pulled the sheets down just upto his nose, so he could glare daggers at his roommate.

"Do you really not know, or are you just pulling my leg, Havia?"

"Why would I-"

"Then what is this," Qwenthur flatly continued, gesturing through the blanket to both of them, "this thing we have? Am I just a casual fuck, or are you serious about me? I don't care either way, Havia, but I want to know my place, so tell me."

He says he doesn't care, but his eyes are wet, and his voice is trembling…

Qwenthur continued when he kept silent, shocked at what the prodigy had said.

"Do you… do you love her, if so why do this with me? If you love me, why didn't you tell me you were engaged, Havia?"

The boy's voice had gone softer, emotions driving it deep inside his throat where he had to force it past the lump they created.

'No," Havia breathed, eyes wide, and Qwenthur braced himself for what was sure to come next, mentally noted that he'd have to ask Miss Frolaytia to assign him to a different room.

"Gods, no, I don't love her. I honestly didn't think it would matter to you whether I was engaged or not,"

He ran a hand through his hair, continuing. "Wait, no, I'm fucking this up."

"What I mean to say is, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was so important to you, and I'm sorry for that. But I do want what we have, I don't know what it is or what will become of us in the future but right now, I do want to keep being more than friends.

"I know we only started dating, if that's what we're doing, some four months ago but I never regretted a single moment of it."

Qwenthur turned to face him, finally. He lifted his head off his pillow and thumped it back on Havia's lap.

"Thank you…" he mumbled.

Havia laughed, patting his head.

"I must say though, I am surprised. I had no idea my Knight was capable of such admissions- fuck, Qwenthur!" he yelled as said boy headbutted him straight in the stomach.

The foreign student returned to his pillow, and Havia gazed at him for a while, surprised at how unexpectedly cute he looked when embarrassed.

Well, that's the end of that, he thought, and was getting ready to go back to his own bed when Qwenthur's hand shot out and caught his sleeve, stopping him as he stood on the ladder.

Qwenthur didn't let go, and used his other hand to slowly pat the space beside him twice.


"Well if you're going to tease me about it-"

"No, no, I could never," he joked, climbing back up.

The military standard beds were narrow, but just enough for the two of them if they squeezed. Havia settled down, taking the role of the big spoon as Qwenthur slipped an arm around him.

"Reports show that someone is being very affectionate today-" he began, which earned him an elbow to the sides. All it did was crack him up harder.

Qwenthur spoke, comfortably nestled in the crook of Havia's neck. "I really am sorry. I was just… I mean, we've been together for only four months and this chick who literally plans to spend the rest of her life with you shows up - can you blame me?"

Havia hummed in content. "If you put it that way, I suppose not. I get jealous of- ahem. Forget I was saying anything."

Qwenthur's eyes widened. "Havia."

"Knight, please…"


"Alright, alright! I was going to say princess!"

"You get jealous of the princess? Whatever for?'

Havia sighed. "Because… I mean… well, she's…"

Qwenthur watched impatiently as he stumbled over his words.

"Well - she wants to spend the rest of her days with you, you know! It makes me insecure, okay?!"

Beside him Qwenthur propped himself up on an elbow to stare at him in surprise.


"I said she likes-"

"No, not that part! It makes you what?"

Havia squirmed uncomfortably, trapped under his partner's piercing gaze.



"I just feel like she'll steal you away from me!"

Qwenthur buried his face in the crook of Havia's neck.

"How do you say it so easily…?"


"That, that's exactly what I felt when I heard about your fiancee."

Havia took a moment to digest this before he responded, shrugging.

"Well, at any rate I wasn't half as cute as you about it."

Qwenthur smacked him on the head.

Outside the siren for lights out blared, and all the lights in the base turned off all at once.

Laughing, Havia bent his neck to kiss the top of Qwenthur's head.

"Sleep well, Knight."

Qwenthur repositioned his arm around Havia, craning his neck so he could catch Havia's lips in a goodnight kiss.

"You too, idiot."