Chapter Text
His first evening back at the Fount, Leo spent hours trying – with only a modicum of success – to memorize over a dozen spells. Near death experience or not, the Fount’s academic board demanded their standards be met.
Retaining the precise phrasing of other people’s spells had never been his strong suit. Since returning from the Unquiet Wood, Leo struggled to sit upright throughout the day, let alone attempt brute-force memorization.
Long after the words on the page began to blur and bleed together, Leo dimly registered the sensation of his head hitting the desk.
It had been like this ever since he cast Grandmagic. Magic comes at a cost, and he was fortunate to have kept his life. But there were echoes. His fingernails remained black as pitch. His eyes, now a lighter shade of blue, seemed to lose pigment much like how Grimm’s hair faded to pale gray. Most of all, Leo’s magical overexertion left an insatiable exhaustion deep in his bones.
Leo considered it some cosmic retribution for the many years he had spent doing everything in his power to avoid sleep.
The nightmares still came, if less frequently. But he dreaded the day his fears and regrets found him in the waking hours, when he would lack the privacy or security to voice his distress.
He slept in his slumped position for an indeterminate period of time, only to wake as the book he’d been reading was carefully slipped out from underneath him.
Blinking his eyes open, he saw Sebastian Grimm close the spell book and return it to a stack of study materials.
“It’s late,” Grimm said quietly.
Leo tried to shake off the lingering drowsiness that clung to him like a second skin. He nodded at Grimm in silent thanks, gathering his strength to stand.
“Yes, what a marvelous timekeeper you are, Grimm,” he said with a tired smile. “I’ll be off to bed once I return these books to their section.”
He turned to what he felt justified in calling a tower of books. Before he could reach for them, Grimm picked up the stack.
“I’ll put them away.”
Leo blinked, bewildered and half-convinced he was still dreaming.
“Pardon?”
Grimm cleared his throat, “Leave this to me. You should head back.”
Leo couldn’t quite read the look in Grimm’s eyes, though their intensity gave him pause. Then again, Grimm had always been obscenely noble, the sort of person who would aid anyone in recovery without hesitation.
“Thanks,” Leo said simply.
He glanced at his desk, finding a parchment listing the titles of his texts. He would cast a bit of magic, just a cantrip, really, to guide Grimm to each book's proper placement. Humming the first few notes of the spellsong, he barely began to summon the magic when his casting was abruptly cut off. Grimm grabbed his hand - the one holding the paper - with a sudden, firm grip.
From the corner of his eye, Leo saw the parchment flutter to the floor. His focus, however, was wholly on Grimm. The crease between Grimm’s brows betrayed his usual calm neutrality.
“What’s the matter?” Leo asked, his voice tinged with confusion.
Grimm didn’t reply immediately. He took a measured breath, his grip tightening briefly before he let go. His fingers lingered near Leo’s, as if he were weighing the cost of his actions.
“Just–” Another breath. “Don’t worry about it,” Grimm said finally.
Leo tilted his head, his brow raised. “I fear it’s you who needn’t worry. That cantrip would hardly bring me to death’s doorstep. It’s but a small discomfort.”
Leo thought his logic sound, but Grimm’s frown only deepened. Without a word, Grimm bent down and retrieved the fallen list, brushing off imaginary dust before straightening.
“It’s of no bother,” Grimm said, softer now. “Please, rest.”
Leo wondered if it had become habit for Grimm to phrase commands as requests when speaking to him. Leo smiled faintly. He did not miss the curse one bit, though Grimm’s continued concern was rather sweet.
With that thought, Leo felt it time to retire for the evening.
“Good night, Grimm.”
Leo was gone before he could hear Grimm’s reply.