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Abel invited Abyss to stay in his dorm out of kindness more than anything else. He still remembers exactly how it happened, and he thinks of it now as Easton Magic Academy’s grounds turn white with snow.
One look at the shabby living conditions the school had prepared for the blue-haired wizard told him that Abyss deserved something better. He joked about “a good tool needing a good case,” but really, it was the kindness his mother passed down that inspired him. When Abyss’s scant belongings occupy the other side of the room, Abel sat down and cradled the doll he always carries. Ten minutes of observation told him Abyss had no idea what to do now that he was there. “Since you are my tool and are following my orders, I have one.”
“What is it, Abel-sama?”
Abel drew a slow breath. “Make yourself at home.”
Abyss remained still for an instant, then lowered his head. His blue hair glistened in their now shared room’s pale light. “I understand, Abel-sama.”
That was the first time he saw Abyss Razor smile, and since then, it has become one of his favorite things. Whether they’re sharing their usual breakfast of black coffee (Abel always eats a vegetable omelet), studying for class, or meeting with the rest of their group, Abel always craves to see that smile in some way. Abyss’s loyalty transcends all of his expectations. His fellow wizard lights up at the slightest amount of praise. Eventually, Abel begins to expect it’s not just because of his promise, either.
One night just before his fight with Mash, he unexpectedly realizes something as he’s trying to fall asleep. We are in a regular “and they were roommates” situation.
Across the room, Abyss sleeps facing the wall, his hair free of its usual high ponytail, flowing gracefully over his face like a fluid piece of sky. Abel watches him for another moment before giving up and going to his desk to study. He dreamed of his mother dying again, so there’s really no point in trying to sleep any longer.
Abyss, of course, notices his weariness the next day and keeps gently shaking his arm to keep him from nodding off in class. When the lectures end and they return to their room, Abyss murmurs, “Abel-sama—”
“If you’re going to say you’re worried,” he cuts in, rubbing the sleep out of one eye. “Don’t be. This happens occasionally. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
The footsteps following him pause, and Abel turns to find Abyss staring at the ground, a deep frown etched in his face. “It was out of line.”
“It wasn’t,” Abel reassures him in his usual monotone.
“Then…” Abyss turns a deep shade of red out of nowhere. “Maybe… I should sleep in your bed tonight.”
The logistics of that bed being overcrowded, of the dangers that young men their age face with physical contact, mean absolutely nothing. “Very well.” He expects Abyss to smile, but he doesn’t. “Unless you aren't interested in—”
“Abel-sama, it would be my greatest honor to sleep beside you, but—”
I clearly didn’t sleep enough, he thinks, wobbling where he is. At least he lands against something warm.
“I…”
His eyes open at Abyss’s murmur.
“Given… certain factors, I’m not entirely sure it’s appropriate.”
“Your feelings, you mean,” Abel observes, watching Abyss flush and stammer. “I’m not a woman. You can be direct with me.”
“But it’s not—how—”
“I’m not familiar with this,” Abel confesses. “But I’m no fool.”
Abyss says nothing, and he nods off, dreaming of the red leaves they passed under to get back to their dorm room. Later, he wakes up with his head in Abyss’s lap and Abyss’s hand in his hair.
That’s how it all comes out between them. They don’t really talk about it, but Abel feels the change in their interactions. They're not just roommates. They’re not exactly friends… or rather something more intense. Sometimes, they sleep in the same bed. Sometimes, they hold hands.
The first time Abyss kisses him, he pulls away and murmurs, “I might be dying.” Before Abyss can grow alarmed, he blurts, “Because you’re making my heart pound so hard.”
“Is it… uncomfortable for you, Abel-sama?”
Frowning, Abel swallows. It is, but it’s not the kind of discomfort he’d run from. For once, he sets the doll down. For once, he lets himself feel with his actions, not just his heart. He returns to a startled Abyss and says, “I can’t let you stop at one.”
They do such things frequently enough, but they always do them alone. To everyone else, their interactions suggest they’re nothing but classmates. Even Magia Lupis remains oblivious. It’s not like they need to know, anyway.
That doesn’t mean Abel doesn’t think about what it would be like to walk arm in arm with Abyss where people could see them or lean over and kiss his cheek. He wonders a little too often what Abyss would think.
He doesn’t get a chance to ask until the seasons change, and their school is blanketed in snow. It’s hard to believe this has gone on longer than Magia Lupis. We’ll graduate soon, he realizes, his heart sinking. And then what?
If he could create a puppet that could capture the “then what,” he would do it in a heartbeat. If there was a way to freeze time so Abyss could stay in his dorm… but maybe that’s not what Abyss wants.
Instead of asking that question when Abyss looks at him, he observes, “You’re not wearing gloves,” he observes.
Abyss blows into his hands. “It’s not something you need to worry about Abel-sama. It’s more… since I took the mask off, I just don’t like hiding certain parts of myself.”
Abel studies his roommate (among other things) and notes the redness in his cheeks.
“Besides, I want my hands to always be at your service, Abel-sama.”
He arches a brow without meaning to.
The instant Abyss processes that situation, he bursts out, “I didn’t mean it like that, honest! I only meant—”
“Hand.” He watches Abyss blink and lifts his own fingers. “Give me your hand, Abyss.”
Abyss’s fingers stretch towards his, then fall back at the last minute. “Someone might see.” After a long pause, Abyss’s eyes—both stunning in their own way if anyone is asking Abel—shift to his. “I don’t want people speaking ill of you, Abel-sama, especially not because of me.”
With a puzzled blink, Abel looks down to the doll in his arms. His mother never let the risk of gossip stop her from being kind, but this isn’t just kindness. It’s a whim turned desire. He wonders how he might present that possibility in a way Abyss is receptive to.
“I’m okay, really,” Abyss reassures him. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll just—”
“I’m going to teach you a spell,” he announces.
Abyss tips his head.
“A special one,” he continues, reaching until his gloved fingertips brush Abyss’s bare ones. “To warm what the world made cold.” After watching Abyss’s eyes widen, Abel lowers his own head, his mind practically screaming about how beautiful this man is. “It’s a simple spell, but it’s one I don’t want to cast unless you’re okay with it.” When he looks up again, he finds Abyss staring at him. All the words he could offer either feel unnecessary or excessive, so he leaves his fingers spread out and waits.
Eventually, Abyss’s hand inches towards his own, until their fingertips meet. Abel closes his own hand carefully, sliding his fingers through the spaces between Abyss’s.
“Abel-sama, you’re smiling. What—”
Drawing a breath, he steps closer. and leans against Abyss’s chest.
“Abel-sama…”
He lifts his head. “Because…” He squeezes the hand in his and watches Abyss’s face turn redder. “I thought I was the one casting this spell. It turns out it was you all along.”
Thankfully, Abyss doesn’t leave him smiling alone. Hand in hand, they continue walking, Abyss asking him something about class earlier as if he’s no longer scared of being seen.
Abel never was in the first place. Better still, as they exchange words with their fingers interlaced, he feels a cold in himself begin to thaw.