Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Deuce stood in the doorway of his bedroom, shared with Ace, his heart pounding. He'd made up his mind. It was no longer possible, no longer could he hide what he was feeling. The weeks had stretched out like a long agony. Each smile from Ace, each moment shared, each burst of laughter, all broke his heart a little more.

He knew he was risking everything by revealing himself. But he couldn't go on pretending that everything was all right. He felt ready to face the truth, even if it would destroy him.

“Ace...” His voice trembled slightly, but he couldn't stop it. “I've got to talk to you. It's important.”

Ace, lying on his bed, looked up from his uninteresting deck of cards. He raised an eyebrow, a slight mocking smile forming on his lips.

“What? You've finally decided to confess your love to me?” His tone was light, almost playful, as if he were expecting one of those usual jokes. But Deuce didn't seem to be joking, and his face, flushed, seemed to make the redhead twitch.

Deuce approached, hands trembling, and sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fleeing Ace's. “H-hum... Well, actually... Yes. I-I do believe that... that I've fallen in love with you... I love you Ace.”

The words came out suddenly, like an electric shock. Deuce wanted to hide, to make himself small, but he didn't. He had to face the truth. He had to face the truth, even if it was difficult. Even if it meant breaking everything.

The redhead looked at him without a word. He felt his heart miss a beat, Deuce couldn't be serious. “Haha, you're stupid man. Come on, what did you want to talk to me about...”

Ace slowly straightened up, his smile disappearing almost instantly as he realized that Deuce was being all sincere. His eyes grew colder, harder, and he crossed his arms over his chest, as if an invisible barrier had just been erected between them.

“Y-you serious?” Ace didn't think. He dismissed the idea with disdain, as if he didn't even understand why Deuce was doing this. “You really think that's a good idea right now?”

Deuce swallowed hard, his heart beating in his chest like a drum.

“I... I just wanted you to know. It's eating me up to keep this from you.” His voice broke for a moment, but he forced himself to continue. “I know it's complicated, but I don't want to... lie anymore.”

Ace moved slightly away from him, his posture hardening. He stood up, an acid sneer escaping his lips.

“Seriously, what's your problem, Deuce?” He shook his head, almost incredulous. “You really want to tell me you feel good by throwing that kind of stuff at me? You're out of your mind.”

The words hit Deuce like violent slaps. Ace's every syllable, every word of rejection pierced his heart. He felt as if he were becoming invisible, as if everything he felt was an insult to Ace. But he stood there, forced to take in those words.

“That's... that's disgusting, Deuce. Are you being serious right now? Two boys who... who love each other?” Ace laughed nervously, but there was a coldness in his laugh that exuded immense pain. “You really haven't thought about what that means, have you? It's just not right. You're a guy, so am I, and you're trying to tell me it's okay?” He shook his head dismissively, his voice hardening. “That's not how it works. It's disgusting.”

Deuce froze. He'd hoped that maybe Ace felt the same way. But it was nothing but an illusion.

“You're an idiot.” Ace's voice grew more acerbic. “I don't give a shit how you feel, Deuce. What you're saying is just disgusting.” Ace turned away, arms crossed, as if he wanted to ward off any idea that what he'd just said might have any impact.

Deuce felt his world crumble around him. Ace's words hit him like a hammer, shattering every piece of his soul. Shame wormed its way into his veins, paralyzing him. Everything he had hoped for was crumbling under the brutality of rejection. He lowered his eyes, feeling the tears welling up, but he forcefully suppressed them.

“I'm sorry.” His voice was broken, barely audible, like a whisper of defeat. “I didn't mean to put you in an awkward situation... I didn't mean to... force you to accept anything.”

Ace turned his head, a look of contempt fixed on Deuce, but nothing in his face showed the slightest compassion. There was nothing, only outright rejection.

“You bore me with your bullshit. Go find someone else to play this with.” He turned his head away completely.

The dark-haired boy stood up hastily, his heart pounding in his chest at full speed, as if it were about to explode. He felt as if the whole weight of the earth rested on his shoulders. He rushed to the door, without another word. He couldn't stay there another second, not after what he'd just heard.

He jerked the door open, but before he could escape, he called out in a muffled voice. “I'm sorry, Ace. I'll... I'll go.”

He slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him with a thud. Everything around him was a blur, as if a thick fog had formed in his mind. He could hear nothing, his heart pounding in his ears.

Deuce fled down the corridors, his legs trembling beneath him, but he didn't stop. Not this time. He couldn't afford to stop. Not until he had left this place, not until he had completely disappeared from Ace's sight.

***

Deuce ran without looking where he was going, like an automaton. The familiar walls of the academy seemed to twist around him, distorted by the flood of his emotions. His vision was fogged by the tears he refused to let fall, his fists clenched so tightly that his fingernails dug into his skin.

He could no longer feel his legs, only the crushing weight in his chest. A mixture of shame, pain and a grief he didn't know how to handle. Why had I said that? Why had I thought he could understand me?

His thoughts went round and round, colliding with the cold reality: Ace had rejected him, brutally, ruthlessly. Worse, he'd looked at him as if he were a mistake, as if his love was nothing but an abomination.

“It's disgusting.”

Ace's words still echoed in his head, relentless. Each syllable was a hammer blow that cracked his heart a little more.

He reached a more secluded wing of the school, a place where no one came at this hour. There, in a small, dark alcove, he collapsed against the wall. His legs buckled beneath him, and he fell heavily to the floor.

He clutched his face in his hands, and this time he didn't hold back his tears. Silent sobs shook his shoulders, muffled by the urgency not to attract attention. He didn't want anyone to see him like this, broken, vulnerable.

***

In the room he shared with Deuce, Ace had remained motionless, frozen in an icy silence. His arms hung down his body, his eyes riveted on the door through which Deuce had escaped.

He wanted to speak, to scream perhaps, but no sound came from his throat. He dropped to the edge of the bed, running a trembling hand over his face.

“This is disgusting.”

The words he'd spat at Deuce swirled in his head like a haunting echo. Every time he heard them in his mind, they gave him a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knew he'd been cruel. He knew he'd crossed the line. But he couldn't help it. He'd seen the sincerity in Deuce's eyes, the fragile hope in his voice. And it had terrified him. Because it had awakened something in him that he'd been trying to deny for so long.

He stood up suddenly, furious, and kicked a chair that rocked with a crash.

“What's wrong with me?!” he shouted into the emptiness of the room.

He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at it as if trying to extricate this pain that was consuming him. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. Not for Deuce. Not for a boy.

And yet...

He let himself fall back against the bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Why does it hurt so much?

***

Deuce looked up as he heard footsteps in the hallway. He quickly dried his tears with the back of his sleeve, but his reddened eyes betrayed his state.

The footsteps stopped in front of him. A familiar figure bent slightly, and Epel's soft but firm voice broke the silence.

“Deuce? What are you doing here?”

Deuce blinked, trying to answer, but no words passed his lips. Epel crouched beside him, his gaze shining with concern.

“You're all pale... what's wrong?”

Deuce looked away, shaking his head. He didn't want to talk. Not right now.

But the Pomefiore student sat down next to him, his tone becoming more insistent.

“Look, I know you're the type to keep everything to yourself, but it doesn't work like that. If someone hurt you, you have to talk about it.”

Tears began to roll down Deuce's cheeks again, and he murmured in a broken voice:

“It's nothing... just me... I made a mistake.”

Epel frowned, trying to understand, but settled for placing a reassuring hand on Deuce's shoulder.

“You don't have to handle everything alone, you know. You've got friends.”

Epel's words pierced Deuce's armor, and for the first time since he'd left the room, he felt a tiny weight lift from his chest. But a part of him remained anchored in the pain, in Ace's words, and he still didn't know how to move forward.

He lowered his eyes, staring at his hands, which were trembling slightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but at first no sound came out. Fear paralyzed him, an invisible wall preventing him from confiding what he really felt.

“It's just... an argument with Ace,” he finally murmured, his voice hoarse.

Epel raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “An argument, eh? Sounds like more than that.”

Deuce clenched his fists, his gaze hardening slightly. “It's nothing serious. Just... words exchanged. It happens.”

He wanted to say it all, to let out the pain that weighed so heavily on his heart, but the fear of being rejected once again was too strong. What if Epel thinks like Ace? What if I lose another friend?

Epel sighed softly, watching Deuce with rare patience. He could see that his friend was avoiding the subject, that something much deeper was gnawing at him. But he also knew that forcing Deuce to talk would do no good.

“Okay, I won't insist,” he said finally, his voice soft but firm. “But you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here.”

Deuce nodded, without answering. Part of him was grateful for Epel's words, but another remained trapped by his fears.
Epel stood up, extending a hand to Deuce to help him to his feet.

“Listen, if you don't want to go back to your room tonight... I can ask Yuu and Grim if you can spend the night at Ramshackle. You'll get some peace and quiet, away from all this.”

Deuce looked up at him, surprised by the offer. “Would you do that?”

“Of course I would. You're my friend, Deuce. And I know that, sometimes, a little distance can help.”

Deuce's gaze flickered, a mixture of gratitude and sadness. He hesitated. Part of him didn't want to run, didn't want to look like he was letting Ace win, but the idea of spending the night in the same room with him... it was unbearable.

“All right.” he finally said, his voice weak. “Thanks, Epel.”

Epel patted him lightly on the shoulder, a reassuring smile on his lips. “Come on, then. We'll go ask Yuu. Grim will probably grumble a little, but he'll get over it.”

Deuce sketched a semblance of a smile, just enough to signal that he appreciated the effort. As they walked through the corridors, Deuce's mind remained mired in dark thoughts, but Epel's presence, however silent, was like a light that brightened his now darkened path a little.

***

Deuce sat down heavily on Ramshackle's old sofa, his hands clasped in his lap. His shoulders trembled slightly, though he tried to conceal his pain. Grim, sitting on the coffee table opposite him, watched him curiously, his feline gaze shining in the flickering light.

“Well, what happened? Do you look like you've seen a ghost, or what?” gasped Grim, his ears perking up.

Yuu, standing by the fireplace, gave Grim a stern look. “Grim, let him breathe.”

“But I want to know!” protested Grim, crossing his little paws.

Deuce looked up, briefly meeting Grim's gaze before looking away. “It's nothing,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I just needed to get out... of my room.”

Yuu frowned, but didn't push further. Instead, he headed for the kitchen, quickly preparing a cup of hot tea. When he returned, he handed the cup to Deuce, who took it with a trembling hand.

“You don't have to explain everything, Deuce. But you can stay here as long as you like. Grim and I are here.”

Deuce nodded, an almost imperceptible movement. He brought the cup to his lips, but his throat was so tight he could barely swallow a sip.

“It's Ace, isn't it? Did you have a fight?” asked Yuu softly, sitting down next to him.

Ace's name echoed through the room, and Deuce felt a sharp pain shoot through his chest. His fingers tightened around the cup, but he didn't respond.

Grim, however, intervened with his usual lack of tact. “Bah, if Ace pissed you off, just ignore him! He's an idiot anyway. I beat him at every game, so he's less of a jerk to me.”

Despite himself, a furtive smile passed over the Heartslabyul student's lips. He was weak, fragile, but Grim had managed to slightly break through the wall of pain surrounding him. “You're really impossible, Grim.” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Yuu placed a hand on Deuce's shoulder, a simple gesture but one filled with comfort.

“It's normal to be upset, Deuce. Sometimes taking a step back, away from the source of the problem, helps. If you want, you can stay here tonight. Grim and I will find a place for you.”

Grim immediately took offense. “Hey, there's no way he's taking my bed, though! I sleep on my favorite pillow!”

Deuce, for the first time since he'd entered, let out a slight laugh, though his eyes were still bright with held-back tears. “I'll sleep on the couch, Grim. Don't worry.”

Yuu shook his head with an indulgent smile. “We'll figure something out. You don't have to worry about that.”

Deuce lowered his eyes, staring at the cup in his hands. He felt grateful for their kindness, but part of him was still struggling with the weight of Ace's words. He wanted to tell them everything, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Yuu seemed to sense his hesitation and gently patted his shoulder. “You don't have to talk now, Deuce. Take your time.”

Silence fell, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. For the first time since what had happened, Deuce felt a slight relief, as if a tiny part of his pain had dissipated. Grim was still mumbling in his corner, but his words had a strange soothing effect, like a familiar background sound.

As the evening wore on, Deuce finally stretched out on the sofa, an old plaid laid over him by Yuu. His thoughts remained restless, but surrounded by the warmth of his friends, he felt his eyelids grow heavy.

Before sinking into a restless sleep, a single thought crossed his mind: Perhaps one day, this pain will become bearable.

***

The room was plunged into a heavy silence, one that Ace found hard to bear. He stood by his bed, his fists clenched at his sides, his gaze lost in the darkness that reigned in the room. He'd closed the curtains earlier, hoping to cut himself off from the outside world, but he couldn't cut himself off.

His thoughts whirled in a loop, clinging to the scene from the night before, to Deuce's words that had hit him like a slap in the face. “I love you, Ace.” Those words echoed in his mind, but more than anything, what tortured him was the acceptance of those feelings Deuce had offered him so sincerely. Why had he had to say it? He'd ruined everything.

Ace kicked an empty chair, sending it tumbling against the wall with unheard-of violence. He could no longer contain his anger.

“Why did he have to do that to me?” he screamed, his voice strangled by rage and confusion. “Why did he have to put me in this shitty situation?!”

His fists clenched even tighter, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He wanted to smash everything, destroy everything around him, to try and externalize this disgust he felt for himself. It wasn't Deuce he hated, he knew that deep down. No, it was him, it was his own weakness that he could no longer ignore.

Ace turned abruptly to the mirror above his desk, staring into his own reflection. His eyes were wild, filled with indefinable anger, but also confusion. He felt an inner struggle he could no longer ignore, something bubbling up inside him, fighting against everything he'd thought was the norm.

“I'm not like that... I'm not like him...” he muttered through clenched teeth. “It's disgusting, it's not normal.”

His hands shook as he caught his head in his hands, his mind a whirlwind of contradictory thoughts. He'd rejected Deuce, but it was himself he was rejecting above all else. He knew he shouldn't have answered like that, but fear had overcome him. A visceral fear of what he felt and of what he couldn't understand.

Worst of all, even in his anger, he couldn't forget the image of Deuce, the pain in his eyes, the vulnerability in his gaze. It was all this that had unsettled him. Why, why had Deuce chosen him? Why him? Why not someone else, someone “normal”, someone who wouldn't make him feel this shit?

Ace turned abruptly to the window, his gaze lost in the dark night. He could see the school lights in the distance, and he wondered if Deuce was still thinking about him, if Deuce was suffering like he was. But there was no point, was there? There couldn't be.

He'd made it clear. He'd rejected him. He'd shown Deuce he could never accept him. Whether it was him or anyone else, that wasn't how it worked. Not in this world. Not with the way he felt.

Ace hated himself. He hated himself for not being able to accept what he felt. For not being able to accept that he'd had a second when he'd wanted to answer Deuce. But he knew it was impossible. He couldn't be who he was, not here, not in this place where he'd built everything around the image of a carefree, confident boy, a boy who would never be the one to feel “weird” things for another boy.

“It's not fucking possible.” His voice cracked under the intensity of his pent-up emotions. “I can't...”

He walked over to his desk, picking up a random object and hurling it against the wall with such force that it shattered into pieces. The room was full of this savage energy, this need to destroy everything so as to no longer feel the pain that was devouring his insides.

Ace dropped onto his bed, eyes closed, exhausted by anger and confusion. He no longer knew what to think. All he knew was that he hated the way he felt. He hated the fear of his own emotions. He hated the fact that he'd rejected Deuce, this boy who'd asked nothing of him except to be honest with him.

The rage slowly subsided, but the shame remained. It seeped into every fiber of his being.
In the silence that followed, Ace lay back, his eyes blank, and for the first time in a long time, the question he'd ignored for so long resurfaced: What if it were true?

Chapter Text

Deuce walked through the corridors, head down, trying to avoid stares and whispers. Over the past few days, rumors of his confession had spread like wildfire. Every corridor corner seemed to whisper his name, and with every glance he met, he felt embarrassment, judgment, mockery. He didn't have the courage to meet anyone's eyes. His heart was pounding, his thoughts in chaos, but he kept moving, hoping not to attract too much attention.

But laughter and murmurs were inevitable. As he advanced, he could hear the voices of the other students rising behind his back, barely concealed, as if they were making sure he could hear everything.

“You know, I think they told me he fell in love with Ace. What an idiot.” dropped a mocking voice. Deuce felt the heat of shame rise up inside him, but he didn't answer. He lowered his head a little more, hoping to go unnoticed.

Another burst of laughter, even more acerbic. “Did he really think Ace was going to look at him? That's pathetic.”

Deuce closed his eyes for a moment, striving to keep his composure. Every word was like a stab in his chest, but he couldn't react. Not now. Not here.

Suddenly, a student from Savanaclaw, a tall boy with a contemptuous look on his face, stepped in his direction. Deuce tried to ignore him, but he felt the other's hand come down sharply on his arm, with deliberate force.

“So, is it true what they say? Did you really think Ace could love you?” The student's voice was filled with disgust, every word cracking like a whip. “You're a fucking whack job, aren't you?”

Deuce tried to wriggle free, but the student held him firmly, his gaze lighting up with a sadistic gleam. “You want us to make you understand once and for all, faggot?” He squeezed his arm a little tighter, and Deuce felt his heart racing, his breathing quickening. This was no longer teasing, it was threatening.

He tried to pull away again, but before he could react, the student raised his hand and struck him in the ribs. A cry of pain escaped his lips, and he staggered under the impact, his whole body tensing under the pain. The student burst out laughing, a cruel, triumphant laugh.

“This is what you deserve, you moron.” he added, before pushing him back violently, letting him fall against the wall.

Deuce sat up slowly, the pain in his ribs almost taking his breath away. His arm trembled where the student had grabbed it, and a metallic taste invaded his mouth. But he did nothing. He didn't scream, didn't fight back. He didn't want to attract more attention, he didn't want to give himself this weakness.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, every fiber of his being screaming with rage, but he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer. The taunts continued, he could still hear laughter behind him, but it all seemed far away. All he could see was the ground beneath his feet, and every thought he had about Ace weighed even more heavily on him. His ribs ached, and so did his heart.

He tried to straighten up and walk faster, hoping to reach the safety of the classroom without running into more people. But part of him knew he wasn't through yet. The pain wasn't just coming from his body, it was taking root in his soul, in every little memory of Ace that came back like an unwelcome ghost. And he couldn't shake it off.

The space around him seemed to stretch, and he tried not to show how broken he was, not to cry, not to let the humiliation wash over him completely. But he knew he carried this pain with him, and there was no one to help him, not here, not now.

Deuce sat back in his seat, trying to concentrate on the course unfolding before him. But every movement, every breath, reminded him painfully of the blow he'd received a few minutes earlier. His rib seemed to burn every time he moved, and the pain spread up his arms, like waves that kept breaking. His thoughts were jumbled, agitated. He wanted to concentrate, but the pain, the laughter of the students in the corridor, the humiliation... All of this prevented him from focusing on what the teacher was saying.

He bit his lower lip to keep from groaning, but his fingers gripped the edge of his desk tightly, as if trying to hold on to something concrete. The air in the room seemed heavier, stifling. His eyes kept darting forward, but he couldn't concentrate on the teacher's words, or even on what was happening around him. His thoughts, chained and disturbed, turned solely to what he had suffered earlier and the pain that persisted.

He glanced furtively at his side. Ace. His gaze rested on him for a moment. Ace seemed... distant, indifferent even. Maybe he hadn't even seen him, or maybe he just didn't care what happened to Deuce. It was probably for the best. Deuce looked away quickly, but something in his heart broke a little more. He wished Ace would notice him, take care of him, but that wasn't going to happen. Not after what he'd told him. Not after the brutal rejection.

He swallowed his saliva, feeling the warmth of his eyes fill with tears he couldn't let flow. The feeling of loneliness drowned him. Here he was, in the middle of the class, surrounded by people, and yet he felt more isolated than ever. He shook his head slightly, trying to refocus.

Then, without warning, he met Ace's gaze again. A mere instant, but it seemed to drag on forever. That look... Ace's eyes were fixed on him. A shiver ran down Deuce's spine. But he couldn't bear the connection, the eye contact. He felt as if every fiber of his being was screaming at him to flee, to no longer bear this weight he felt.

“Professor Trein...” He tried to keep his voice calm, but it trembled slightly. “I... I don't feel well. Can I go to the infirmary?”

Professor Trein, who was bent over his papers, slowly looked up in Deuce's direction. He scanned him for a moment, his piercing gaze seeming to probe what lay beyond the simple request. He didn't seem to be simply tired or ill like the other students requesting leave. No, something was wrong. Deuce's attitude, his shifty gaze, the tension in his gestures... all betrayed more than mere physical symptoms.

Mozus Trein remained silent for a moment, then nodded slightly, his tone calm but firm, giving no hint of his concern. “Very well, Deuce. You're free to go. But if you need to talk, I'm here after class. Go ahead.”

Deuce thanked him with a quick, almost automatic nod, and hurried out of the room, seeking to escape attention and hide in the warmth of the infirmary. However, as he walked away, a whispering noise was heard behind him, immediately followed by mocking laughter.

“Look at him, poor thing... He's running off to the infirmary to cry,” one of them chided.

“What do you bet he'll come back with some lame excuse?” added another, bursting into laughter.

Deuce gritted his teeth, feeling a cold anger seize him. This laughter, this mockery, was getting to him even more than he'd like to admit. It was as if his insecurities and doubts were materializing in the form of those bursts of laughter, growing stronger with every cruel word.

The voices could be heard in the silence of the corridor, sharp, cruel. Deuce felt a pang of shame come over him, and he clenched his fists, but didn't dare turn around. It wasn't the right time. He didn't have the strength to face them.

But just before he stepped through the doorway, a calm, authoritative voice came from behind him, interrupting the laughter.

“Silence.” Professor Trein's voice echoed clearly down the hall. “You will immediately be quiet and attend class. If you continue to behave in such a disrespectful manner, you will all be punished.”

The laughter stopped abruptly. Professor Trein's voice was firm and authoritative, and there was no room for rebellion. He didn't need to shout, but his tone exuded such weight that there was no question of resisting it. The students, suddenly silent, sat back in their seats, embarrassed and guilt-ridden under the teacher's inquisitive gaze.

Deuce didn't have time to turn around to see if anyone had reacted, but a slight, albeit fleeting, relief invaded his heart. He wasn't totally invisible. There were still people who cared about him, even if he wasn't fully convinced.

He continued on his way, forcing himself not to run, not to show that he was in pain, that he was ashamed. All he wanted was to escape the cruel gaze of others, to get away from it all, away from the pain, and hope that maybe, one day, it would all fade away.

Ace watched in silence as Deuce hurried out of the room, his clumsy movements betraying the pain he seemed to be trying to hide. An unpleasant shiver ran down the redhead's spine, but he didn't react, just stared at his desk.

He wondered for a moment why Deuce had rushed off like that, but immediately diverted his thoughts. That's... not my problem. He concentrated on his own preoccupations, on the irritation he felt towards himself and Deuce, while pushing back the wave of questions rising in his chest.

He already had too much anxiety to deal with to worry about a hasty departure. Yet something, a little voice deep inside him, whispered that he should have done something, that he should have cared more. But Ace suppressed this voice, forcing himself to concentrate on the course, ignoring the furtive glances of his classmates who were also watching him.

Deuce entered the infirmary, his legs trembling and his mind invaded by a heavy haze of pain and confusion. The room was empty, as usual at this hour. The nurse wasn't there, and the solitude that reigned in the room seemed perfectly in keeping with what he was feeling inside. He made his way to a free bed and let himself fall into it, his heart heavy, as if the whole weight of the situation were becoming more and more unbearable.

It wasn't so much the physical pain, but the pain of everything he'd endured over the last few days: the taunts of the other students, Ace's words of rejection, the feeling of being rejected by the whole world.

His hands were shaking, and he realized he'd been clutching them so tightly they were aching. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. But the emptiness in his chest, the abyss of despair he felt, only widened. Nothing seemed to be able to soothe him, and the pain, though physical, seemed almost welcome.

His mind spun in a loop, unable to stop. The pain in his chest intensified, an enormous mass that made him feel tiny, useless. His eyes drifted to the nurse's desk, where some of his tools lay.

Without thinking, he leapt to his feet and grabbed them. It's just to see if it silences all this...
His thoughts were confused, almost noisy, but part of him knew what he was doing was stupid. Yet his fingers trembled as he laid the blade against his arm, just beneath his sleeve. The first scratch did almost nothing, just a cold sensation. But the second... it made him jump. The pain was real, tangible, and for a brief moment, it eclipsed the chaos in his head.

But it wasn't enough.

He pressed a little harder, ready to do it again, again and again until that elusive pain turned into physical pain.

“Deuce?”

Jack's deep, calm voice broke the silence. Deuce raised his head, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Jack, accompanied by Epel, stopped short, his gaze instantly landing on the blade in Deuce's hand and the red lines on his arm.

“Deuce, what are you... what are you doing?” asked Epel.

“Nothing. I was just... it's nothing.” Deuce hesitated, unable to think of an excuse.

The purple-haired boy squinted, his gaze shifting from the blade to Deuce's half-exposed arm. He advanced slowly, his small stature contrasting with the intensity of his presence.

“Nothing? Seriously, Deuce? You've got a blade in your hand, and you're trying to tell us it's okay? You think I'm just going to pretend I didn't see that?”

“Shit... Deuce, put that down.” Jack's voice was firm, but not accusatory. He stepped forward slowly, as if afraid of frightening Deuce. The wolf crouched in front of him, keeping some distance but extending a hand. “Give me that. Please, Deuce.”

Deuce clutched the blade a moment longer, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I don't know what to do. Everything I feel... it hurts. All the time. And nobody understands. I... I confessed my feelings to Ace... and he rejected me, and he was right. I should have never... said anything. I'm just... a problem.”

His voice broke on the last words, and he clenched his fists to hold back his tears.

Epel stared at him for a moment, silent. Then, with a slow gesture, he placed his hand on Deuce's, preventing him from closing it further.

“Listen to me, Deuce. Ace is an idiot, okay? What he told you isn't the truth. It's just his fear talking. But you... you, you didn't do anything wrong.”

Deuce looked up, surprised by Epel's confident tone. Jack remained calm, his gaze sincere and filled with compassion.

“Epel's right, what you're feeling isn't a problem. But hurting yourself like this isn't going to fix what ails you. You're not alone, Deuce. Epel and I are here.”

The boy stared at his friends, hesitating, before finally dropping the blade. Jack picked him up gently and set him down beside it, out of reach.

The wolf continued, placing a comforting hand on Deuce's shoulder.

“I know it's hard. But if you keep it all to yourself, it'll eat you up inside. If it's not with me, talk to someone. Epel, a teacher, anyone. But stop punishing yourself for things you have no control over, and that are in no way a problem.”

“You don't have to go through this alone. If it hurts, talk, yell, scream, break something if it makes you feel better. Just don't do it, Deuce. Promise me.” Pomefiore's boy added.

Deuce remained silent, his throat tight. But after a moment, he nodded slowly.

“Okay... I promise...I...I'm sorry...”

“You don't have to apologize.” Jack straightened, holding out a hand to help him to his feet. “Come on. We'll clean this up, and you'll get some rest. We'll talk about all this later, okay?”

Deuce hesitated, but eventually took Jack's hand. For the first time in days, he felt a tiny weight lifted from his shoulders. Maybe he wasn't so alone after all. Surrounded by his two friends, he healed his wounds, and touched by their words, it was perhaps many other wounds they were healing.

Chapter Text

It was a cold morning, and the school corridors were crowded with students rushing to and fro, each absorbed in their own thoughts or concerns. Ace walked briskly, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the ground. He still couldn't shake the image of Deuce running away from his rejection, his eyes filled with pain, his heart broken by his cruel words.

It had been a few days now, and even though he tried to pretend everything was normal, he felt a heaviness in his chest, a persistent pain he couldn't ignore. It wasn't guilt that was tormenting him - at least, not directly. He didn't want to admit he was wrong, but something inside him boiled at every thought of Deuce.

As he crossed the hall, he spotted Epel chatting with Yuu and Grim near the stairs. The moment Ace noticed them, he felt an irresistible need to know how Deuce was doing. Maybe because his silence was too heavy, or maybe because he still felt responsible for the situation. He approached Epel.

“Hey, Epel, d'you know if Deuce's doing any better?” asked Ace, in a voice he wanted to be detached but which betrayed a nervousness he couldn't conceal.

Epel abruptly turned his head towards Ace, a glint of anger in his eyes. He raised himself on tiptoe, as if to make himself taller in Ace's face.

“Deuce?!” Epel exclaimed, a dry laugh escaping his mouth. “You finally care about him after everything you threw at him? After treating him like shit?”

Ace froze, surprised by the poison apple's reaction. This wasn't what he'd expected. He was about to reply, but the purple boy didn't give him the time.

“You know, I understand if you're not interested in him, eh. To each his own. But you don't have to insult him like that, Ace.” Epel crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes flashing. “Deuce, he's not a toy. And you know what? You broke his heart, and you let him get hammered without intervening. You're a coward.”

Ace felt a surge of adrenalin in his throat. Epel's words had hit him like a punch, but he couldn't react right away, as if paralyzed by the truth that crept into his words. He searched for an answer, but his words drowned in a swirl of shame and anger.

“I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt him.” he tried to say in a lower voice.

“Ah, really ?!” Epel shrugged, his tone now almost casual. “Maybe if you'd told him you weren't interested, just that, instead of humiliating him like that... But you preferred to let him destroy himself.”

A heavy silence settled between the two first years. Ace looked down, his throat tight, his face flushed with frustration. He didn't dare admit that Epel was right. Deuce wasn't just a friend. He was more, much more than that. But admitting that out loud meant accepting something he wasn't ready to face. Something that terrified him.

“You know what, Epel...” Ace finally murmured, his voice broken. “I'm not ready for this. I'm... I'm not ready for all this. It's too much for me. But that doesn't mean I don't care about him.”

Epel, calmer now but as sincere as ever, stared at him with his piercing eyes.

“That's not acceptance, Ace, that's called selfishness. You preferred to crush his feelings to protect your own skin. So now you have to take responsibility.”

Epel's gaze softened for a moment, but he remained firm.

“If you really want to apologize, you shouldn't say it to me, but to Deuce. He needs your words. Not your default apology. But do it before he loses himself completely.”

Epel's words resonated deeply in Ace's mind. Anger, confusion, fear... It all jostled inside him. But deep down, he knew he'd ruined everything. And now there was only one thing left to do: fix what he'd broken. But how?

Epel, after letting a heavy silence hang between them, turned to Yuu and Grim. Before leaving, he said, almost reluctantly:

“You'd better do well, Ace. Because I know Deuce deserves better than this.”

Ace stood there, speechless, as Epel walked away, letting a familiar ache settle in his chest.

***

The sound of balls bouncing on the pitch echoed around Ace, but he couldn't concentrate. Every dribble, every pass, every shot seemed meaningless. His mind was elsewhere, immersed in Epel's words, and the guilt that had crept into him like poison.
Deuce.

He couldn't get the image of his face out of his head, his eyes full of pain and despair. Epel's words looped around: “You preferred to crush his feelings to protect your own skin.”

He felt an enormous weight on his shoulders. He felt as if he'd buried himself under layers of shame and anger. He didn't even know why he was reacting the way he was, why he'd behaved so brutally with Deuce. He wasn't ready, he'd told himself, but was that really the reason? Or was it just fear? Fear of the unknown, fear of how he felt, of what he might lose if he accepted this truth.

He tried to force himself to play, to concentrate on training, but his thoughts were too invasive. He missed a pass, his shot narrowly missed the basket, and the coach lectured him again. Every movement seemed mechanical and soulless, and he felt as if he had become a mere spectator of his own body.

When practice was over, he hurried off the court, as if staying any longer would have been torture. He had no desire to talk to anyone, let alone meet the judgmental glances of his teammates. He slipped silently into the dressing room, his mind still elsewhere.

As soon as he found himself alone in the locker room, with no one to see him, he gave way to a fit of rage. His fists struck the walls again and again, the sound of the impact echoing through the empty room. With each blow, he felt a little better, as if the physical pain could soothe some of the mental torment gnawing at him. He cursed himself, hitting himself in an attempt to punish himself, to make himself pay for his mistakes.

But the more he struck, the more pain mixed with frustration, confusion and deep guilt. These blows on the wall were the only way he'd found to externalize a little of everything that was destroying him.

Ace felt as if he were drowning in his own emotions. Everything revolved around that moment when Deuce had confessed his feelings to him. He hadn't known how to respond, so he'd dropped that cruel, cutting word he bitterly regretted now: “Disgusting.”

But the truth, he knew. It wasn't Deuce he found disgusting. It was himself. He let out a nervous, desperate laugh.

“What are you doing, crabby?”

Ace gasped and jerked his head up to see Floyd Leech leaning against the door, a mischievous grin stretching his lips. Floyd wasn't someone to be ignored. He had that unpredictable, dangerous aura that always put Ace on his guard.

“Floyd... What do you want?” asked Ace, trying to hide his hands behind his back.

Floyd tilted his head, his eyes beady, like a curious predator.

“Me? Nothing important. But you look weird. I'm usually the one who doesn't concentrate on training. Yet you're the one who looked like a lost tadpole.”

He stepped forward, his gait supple and almost nonchalant, and sat down on the bench opposite Ace.

“So tell me, crabby. Why are you making that dead fish face?”

Ace looked away, annoyed.

"Leave me alone, Floyd. I don't feel like talking.”

But the moray eel didn't move. He rested an elbow on his knee and stared. “Mmmh... You're lyin', aren't ya? You've done somethin' not pretty-pretty, haven't ya?”

His gaze drifted to Ace's hands, which he was hiding awkwardly. With unexpected speed, Floyd grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards him. Ace struggled, but the sophomore was much stronger.

“Oh?” whispered Floyd as he saw the red, pock-marked skin against the wall.

Ace felt a wave of shame wash over him and reached for his arm to retrieve it, but Floyd didn't let go.

“What's that, crabby? Are you tryin' to hurt yourself? What for?” Floyd's tone had changed. It was no longer mocking, but curious, almost concerned.

Ace lowered his eyes, unable to hold his gaze. “You don't belong here, Floyd. Go bother someone else.”

But the Leech twin shook his head, his smile slowly reappearing, though not as wide as usual.

“Mh... Nope. Sorry, crabby, but you're way too interestin' now. I want to know why you're doing this. Come on, talk!”

Ace gritted his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes despite himself. “Because I'm an asshole, okay? I said some horrible things to Deuce, and... and now I can't even breathe when I think about it. So if I do this at least I can think about something else.”

Floyd blinked, and for once remained silent for a moment. Then he gently released Ace's wrist, his expression becoming more serious.

“That's silly.”

Ace looked up, shocked by the abrupt answer. “What?!”

Floyd shrugged.

“I'm not saying you're an idiot. Mh... well actually I am, but hurting yourself because you fucked up? There's no point. If you screwed up with macky, go talk to him. Apologize. Do something useful, instead of pounding the walls.”

Ace opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't think of anything to say. Floyd wasn't looking at him with contempt or anger. Just with that brutal sincerity that was peculiar to him.

“You know, me too, I sometimes want to smash things up when I'm pissed off or sad. But to hurt me? Nah. There's no point.” Floyd tilted his head, smiling again. “You're lucky I came along, crabby. What would'cha have done if I hadn't stopped you, huh?”

Ace looked away, feeling his throat tighten again.

“I don't know...” he murmured.

Floyd patted him on the shoulder, a surprisingly comforting gesture. “Well, listen. If you feel like punching somethin', come to me. I can take it. But stop messing around like that, 'kay?”

Ace nodded slowly, unable to answer. Floyd stood up, stretching.

“Come on. Let's take a walk, get your mind off things. Then you can talk to macky. No need to wait.”

Ace hesitated, but eventually followed Floyd out of the room. Maybe he didn't deserve to forgive himself yet, but with Floyd by his side, at least he felt he wasn't totally alone.

The duo walked along the outdoor gardens of Night Raven College. Floyd, true to himself, walked in silence, hands in pockets, occasionally casting a sidelong glance at his comrade.

After a few minutes, he finally broke the silence. “So? What did you say to macky to get you in such a state?”

Ace lowered his eyes, clenching his fists in his pockets. “It's not important.”

“Liar.” Floyd turned his head toward him, a smirk on his lips. “If it wasn't important, you wouldn't have tried to butcher your fist. Come on, spit it out.”

Ace hesitated. He'd never been good at talking about his emotions. But he felt he no longer had the strength to keep it all to himself.

“Deuce... he told me he... he loved me.”

Floyd raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised, but said nothing, letting him continue.

“And me, I... I panicked, okay? I didn't know what to say. So I said it was disgusting.”

He spat out the last word as if it burned his tongue.

“I saw it in his eyes. It destroyed him. And now I feel like the worst asshole on Earth. But it's not just that, Floyd. It's not just because I hurt Deuce.”

Floyd slowed his walk slightly, listening to him carefully.

“It's because... I understand how he feels.” Ace clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms again. “And it scares the shit out of me. Loving a boy... it's not normal, is it? The others would laugh at me. They'd say it's weird. Ever since we were little, we've been told that boys should like girls. It's all there is to it! Fairy tales, movies, everything! And when someone comes out of that, people mock, they criticize, they call you a freak!”

His voice broke, and he collapsed onto a nearby bench, holding his head in his hands.

“I don't want to be like that, Floyd. I don't want people looking at me like I'm... a goddamn freak.”

Floyd stopped suddenly, and Ace took a few steps before turning to look at him. His elder expression had changed. His smile had faded, replaced by a mixture of seriousness and unexpected gentleness.

“Crabby... You've really got a dead fish in your brain, haven't ya?”

Ace blinked, confused.

“What?”

Floyd crossed his arms, leaning slightly toward Ace to stare him straight in the eye. “It's normal, yeah. Loving someone is always normal, no matter who it is. You're the one getting your brain in knots over nothin'.”

Ace opened his mouth to protest, but Floyd raised a hand to silence him.

“And if you're still not convinced, let me tell you something.” He stepped back slightly, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, though his tone was still serious. “Me, I like boys. I've always liked boys.”

Ace froze, the shock of the revelation cutting him off. “You... wait, what?”

Floyd shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah. What's the big deal? Doesn't change a thing, does it? I'm still Floyd Leech. Still the guy who beats your ass at basketball and loves to mess with people.”

Ace blinked, trying to digest the information. “But... the others? Don't they say anything?”

Floyd burst into a hearty laugh. “Oh, yeah, some of 'em tried to comment. But y'know me, crabby. I crushed them like mollusks.”

“It's easy for you, you're always so sure of yourself!”

Floyd let out a short, bitter laugh. “That's what I want people to believe. Because if I start asking myself too many questions, if I start listening to the stupid things some idiots say... I might turn out like you.”

Ace blinked, shocked. “Like me?”

“Yeah, like you. Someone who thinks what he feels is a disease. Someone who tortures himself because he doesn't want to accept a simple truth.” Floyd leaned slightly toward Ace, staring him straight in the eye. “There's nothing wrong with loving who you want to love. The world doesn't decide what's normal, crabby. It's you.”

Ace looked away, but Floyd didn't let go.

“You know, there's always some fool who'll judge, no matter what you do. If it's not because you like a boy, it'll be because you're too loud, or too short, or too whatever. So why are you torturing yourself for people who don't give a shit about you?”

Ace opened his mouth to reply, but realized he had nothing to say. Floyd was right, of course, but it was so much easier to hide behind his fears than to face them.

He lowered his eyes, the weight of his own emotions becoming almost unbearable. “I'm so scared, Floyd. Afraid of what this might change. Of what Deuce might think...now that I've said this.”

Floyd laid a firm hand on Ace's shoulder. “You did shit, yeah. But that doesn't mean you ruined it. What ya gotta do is apologize. Tell him the truth. And above all, stop hating yourself for what you are. It's not a crime, crabby. It's just... you.”

Ace slowly raised his eyes to Floyd, searching for something in his gaze.

“What if it makes things worse? If... if Deuce can ever forgive me?”

Floyd shrugged with a smile. “Ehh well you'll find a solution, you'll just have to face how you feel and own up to your bullshit. That's how you fix things, isn't it?”

Ace let out a shaky sigh, but for the first time in days, he felt a semblance of clarity in the fog of his thoughts.

“I'll give it a try. Thanks, Floyd.”

Floyd ruffled his hair with a burst of laughter.

“Ya welcome, crabby. But if ya still feel like punching somethin', I'm always available. You won't stand a chance, though.”

Ace smiled in spite of himself. For the first time, he felt a little less alone.

Chapter Text

The sun shone high in the sky, warming the academy's main courtyard. Deuce walked beside Jack and Epel, forcing himself to smile despite the heaviness weighing on his heart. Since the incident in the infirmary, he'd tried to focus on the little things around him, hoping for a little peace. The students' taunts had diminished, but he still felt a heavy weight in the air, like a threatening cloud that never quite dissipated.

Jack walked calmly and purposefully, his presence reassuring Deuce. Epel, for his part, seemed to be in rather jovial form, his gentle smile on his lips as always. Deuce, though enjoying his friends' company, couldn't help looking over his shoulder at regular intervals, as if waiting for something or someone to break the fragile tranquility.

And he was right: a group of Savanaclaw boys burst into their field of vision. Deuce immediately felt his heart clench. These same students, the ones who had harassed him a few days earlier, stood before them, arms folded, contemptuous smiles on their lips.

One of the students stepped forward, a small, evil smile on his face.

“Well, look who it is,” he quipped. “Little Deuce, with his friends.” He turned to his comrades and they burst out laughing. “Or rather his boyfriends? Unless they're just here to make fun of you.”

Deuce clenched his fists, but held his head high, refusing to give them the satisfaction. He felt Jack's gaze settle on him, protective and silent, but it was Epel who spoke first.

“You really think you're funny, don't you?” said Epel, his gaze hard and his posture more than ready to retaliate. “We don't give a damn about your remarks. Don't you have anything better to do?”

Savanaclaw's student took a step towards Epel, challenging him with his gaze.

“Oh, you want to talk about it? Because you're just a pretentious, fragile little pupil like the ones in your dorm?” the student retorted with a venomous grin. “I hope you're ready to see what it feels like to take it out on us.”

Jack abruptly stepped between them, his arms crossed and his gaze icy.

“If you're looking to go after them, you're going to have to deal with me.” he said calmly, his voice low, but firm. There was no hesitation in his tone. “You'd better turn back before things turn ugly for you.”

The other Savanaclaw students exchanged glances, seeming to assess the situation. Another boy stepped forward in turn, this time a smile on his lips.

“So, what shall we do? Play fight?” he challenged, his eyes shining with defiance. “Because there's three of you and five of us. You don't want to start a war you can't win, do you?”

Deuce felt panic overcome him. He'd endured these verbal attacks before, but he knew full well that Savanaclaw students weren't the type to limit themselves to words. A feeling of helplessness rose in him. But this time, he wasn't alone. He forced himself to stand up straight beside his friends. He wasn't alone, and he didn't have to run away.

But this feeling of security didn't last long.

Suddenly, the Savanaclaw students began to murmur incantatory words, their hands raised in the air. Deuce felt his heart quicken at the sight of magic spreading around them. The flashes of light and energy erupting from their hands were clearly threatening.

“Now you'll see what it feels like to rebel,” one of the boys called out before casting a spell in Jack's direction.

Everything happened quickly. Jack lunged forward to block the spell, but he was unprepared for the force with which the magic had been cast. A burst of energy vibrated the air around them, a shockwave hitting the ground, sending Deuce reeling.

The other Savanaclaw students closed in, their spells intensifying, and the trio found themselves surrounded. The students' mocking laughter echoed in the air.

Deuce felt an icy panic take hold of him. He was trapped, just like last time. He turned his head slowly towards Epel and Jack, and in their eyes he read determination. They weren't ready to run away this time.

But things were about to get much more serious...

Tension mounted again, with both groups seemingly on the verge of coming to blows, when a chilling voice crossed the courtyard.

“What kind of circus is this?”

Everyone turned to see Vil Schoenheit, accompanied by Lilia Vanrouge, approaching at a slow but determined pace. The Savanaclaw students exchanged nervous glances, but one of them tried to maintain his self-assurance.

“We're just having a chat, nothing more.”

Vil turned a sharp gaze on them, crossing his arms.

“Chatting? That's interesting. To me, it sounded more like bullying.” He took another step, his imposing presence enough to make them back off slightly. “Do you really think that kind of behavior is acceptable in this school?”

One of the Savanaclaw boys glared at Vil in surprise, but he didn't disengage immediately.

“It's none of your business, turn back, or we'll sort you out right here.”

Vil crossed his arms, his face as impassive as a statue, but his eyes shone with a calculating gleam. “If you really feel like fighting, I suggest you take on someone who's a match for you.” He slowly turned his gaze to Lilia, who stood at his side.

“Or someone who can teach you a lesson you won't soon forget~.” Lilia added, his mocking tone emphasizing the threat. He raised an arm, and his magic pen appeared in his hand, glowing menacingly. “We're not interested in small-time hustlers. But you, you like to play with fire, don't you?”

Vil, with frightening calm, did the same. His own magic pen slipped into his hand. He twirled it nonchalantly between his fingers.

“So, what do you say you take us on? You seem in the mood to let off some steam.” He let his words float in the air, like a deliberate invitation to provoke.

Vil's cold, merciless gaze and Lilia's imposing presence had transformed the situation into something even more threatening than the Savanaclaw students had anticipated. They exchanged nervous glances, hesitating, unsure of what to do next.

A heavy silence settled over the corridor.

The tallest Savanaclaw boy glanced furtively at his classmates. He tried to hide his fear, but his hands were trembling slightly. He finally turned to Vil and Lilia, and the fear was clear on his face.

“A-... are you serious?” he stammered, taking a step back. “We... we just wanted to have fun, right now!”

The other students, too, seemed to realize the gravity of the situation. They had been ready to play the bully, but now that the tables had turned, they seemed less sure of themselves.

Vil took a step closer, his eyes staring at the young men with icy intensity.

“No, you don't want to 'have fun'. You're just looking to do harm so you can feel powerful. So now, I'm going to give you one last chance.” He leaned forward slightly, arms still crossed, his gaze fixed on their faces. “If you don't leave now, you'll understand what the housewarden of a dorm of 'pretentious weaklings' is capable of accomplishing.”

Lilia, for his part, was as casual as ever, but his smile had become slightly more terrifying.

The boys looked at each other, a gleam of panic creeping into their eyes. Clearly, they hadn't planned to face such adversaries. Faced with Lilia and Vil, they were nothing.

One by one, they lowered their eyes, their faces red with shame. Finally, without another word, they backed away hastily, eager to disappear into the crowd of students.

“Let's get out of here.”

They turned on their heels and fled as quickly as they had arrived, leaving Deuce, Jack and Epel in deafening silence.

Lilia lowered his arm, his magic pen disappearing in a flash of light, and he approached Deuce, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asked, this time with a gentler smile, though still tinged with his quirky style.

Deuce nodded slowly, still in shock at what had just happened. “Thank you... really, thank you.”

Vil, meanwhile, turned to Jack and Epel, his gaze softening slightly.

“You've reacted well. But don't forget that violence isn't always the answer.” He gave Deuce one last look. “And never forget, no one has the right to make you feel inferior.”

Deuce felt a little lighter, a little stronger, but part of him knew he still had some way to go to rid himself of the shame that had overtaken him in recent days. Thanks to Vil and Lilia, however, he understood better what it meant to have true allies.

They had acted for him. And that counted for something.

Ace arrived in the courtyard, out of breath after running, the echo of the scene he'd just missed echoing in his head. He'd heard the outbursts, but hadn't arrived until the humiliated Savanaclaw students were walking away under the piercing gazes of Vil and Lilia. As he caught sight of the group, he felt his heart clench, a strange pain twisting his stomach.

Deuce, still standing beside Jack and Epel, seemed calmer, but Ace could see in his eyes that it wasn't inner peace, but rather a form of temporary relief. He wasn't cured, not yet. A shiver ran down Ace's spine, and a knot formed in his throat.

He stepped forward hesitantly, his gaze briefly darting to Jack and Epel's faces, then lingering on Deuce. Deuce avoided his gaze, turning his head slightly. The tension between them was palpable, even in the light air of the courtyard.

Vil turned to the redhead with an enigmatic smile, his violet eyes scanning the scene calmly.

“You missed the party, Ace.” he said, his words imbued with that mocking but not malicious tone.

Ace suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He clenched his fists, and his gaze dropped briefly to the floor, as if to avoid looking Deuce in the eye.

“I... I'm sorry.” he said, the words coming out of his mouth more slowly than he would have liked. He wanted to add something more, but he didn't know what, or how. The words were stuck in his throat.

Deuce remained silent, not even looking up at him. Shame still burned inside him, and he didn't have the energy to respond or even accept his apology. His heart was beating faster, but not because of anger. It was something else, something he couldn't explain.

“I'm sorry... really.” repeated Ace, his eyes desperately searching Deuce's, but Deuce continued to avoid his gaze.

Lilia, for his part, glanced quickly at Deuce, his gaze intrigued by the young man's behavior. He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this situation of palpable tension.

“Hmmm, Ace, you look... disturbed. What's going on?” he asked, his voice teasing but also a little more serious.

Ace clenched his fists again, hesitating, then huffed.

“I... I screwed up.” His words were heavy, as if he had trouble putting them into words. “I went too far with what I said. But I... I don't even know why I acted the way I did.”

Vil crossed his arms, his gaze piercing but not accusatory.

“Shame, perhaps?” he said in a soft but cutting voice, as if he'd seen right through him. “You're ashamed of yourself, Ace. Not of Deuce.”

Ace froze, his eyes wide with surprise. He'd never thought of it that way, but now that Vil had said it, it seemed so obvious. The shame he felt wasn't directed at Deuce, but at himself. At what he felt, what he'd never wanted to admit.

He turned his head to avoid Vil's gaze, but as he sank into this thought, he felt like a heavy weight in his heart, a weight he'd never known how to deal with. He'd never known how to accept his own feelings, and he hated the way they made him suffer.

“You're not wrong...” he murmured in an almost inaudible breath, the pain in his voice palpable. “I...”

Deuce, who hadn't moved, listened in silence, his friend's words echoing painfully in his mind. Confusion added to pain.

Ace felt a sudden impulse rise up inside him, a mixture of guilt, frustration and something else he couldn't quite define. Without much thought, he took a step forward and grabbed Deuce's arm, his fingers tightening slightly around his wrist.

“Come with me.” he said, his voice low but urgent.

Deuce finally looked up at him, surprised, but also wary. He hesitated for a moment, but Ace didn't wait for an answer. He gently but firmly pulled him aside, under the intrigued gazes of Vil, Lilia, Jack and Epel. Diasomnia's vice dorm-leader smiled in amusement, but no one intervened, leaving the two boys to wander off into a more secluded corner of the courtyard.

Chapter Text

Eventually, they stopped behind a building where no one could see or hear them. Ace finally released Deuce's wrist, but remained in front of him, arms crossed, as if to protect himself.

Deuce looked at him with a mixture of anger and confusion, lightly massaging his wrist.

“What do you want, Ace?” he asked in a hoarse, tired voice.

Ace opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. He looked away, staring at an invisible point in the distance, as if searching for the right words. But he couldn't find any. Frustration rose in him, and he slammed his fist lightly against the wall beside it.

“I...” He inhaled deeply, his shoulders heaving with tension. “I know I've been a jerk. I know I've said stuff I should never have said.”

Deuce stared at him, his gaze hardened. Ace's words weren't enough to erase the pain he still felt.

“Why did you tell me that, Ace?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. “Why were you so cruel? I... I thought we were friends.”

He lowered his head, still avoiding Deuce's gaze. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly on it, as if to relieve the pressure.

“I don't know...” he murmured. “Well... yes, I do.”

He looked up at Deuce, his gaze filled with a pain he couldn't mask.

“It's because it scared me.” he confessed, his voice broken. “When you told me how you felt... it terrified me. Not because it was you, not because it was a boy, but because it forced me to look at stuff inside me that I didn't want to see. Things I didn't want to accept.”

Deuce froze, his eyes widening slightly. He'd never imagined he'd hear Ace say that.

Ace resumed, his words becoming more hurried, as if afraid to stop.

“I said those horrible things because... because I wanted to push you away. Because if I pushed you away, I could convince myself that I wasn't like that. That I was 'normal'.”

He let out a bitter laugh, crossing his arms again, but this time it was to protect himself from himself.

“But you know what? It didn't make me feel 'normal'. It just made me feel like the world's worst asshole.”

Deuce felt his heart clench. The pain he'd felt after Ace's words was still there, but hearing this confession, he couldn't help but feel a complex mix of emotions. Anger, yes, but also sadness and, somewhere, a hint of empathy.

“Ace...” he murmured, his voice softening despite himself.

But the ginger cut him off before he could continue.

“No, let me finish.” he said, raising his eyes to finally meet Deuce's gaze. “I wanted to tell you that... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I said to you. I didn't mean to hurt you like that. But I know it doesn't excuse anything.”

A tense silence settled between them, interrupted only by the wind blowing gently across the courtyard. Ace looked vulnerable, almost broken, but he waited, holding his breath, as if fearing Deuce's reaction.

Deuce inhaled deeply, Ace's words swirling in his head. Part of him wanted to scream at him, to tell him that his apology wouldn't erase the pain. But another, calmer part saw the sincerity in his friend's eyes, and that part wanted to believe that there was still something to be salvaged between them.

While the silence still hung between them, Ace moved mechanically, his gaze sliding over Deuce with no precise intention. Then he noticed something. The sleeves of Deuce's uniform, raised slightly because of his wrist, which he was rubbing nervously, revealed red marks, still fresh, which contrasted with the paleness of his skin.

Ace felt his stomach knot. His heart missed a beat, and a wave of guilt washed over him like an uncontrollable tide.

“Deuce...” he murmured, his voice trembling in spite of himself.

The latter frowned, surprised by the change in tone, looked down and suddenly realized what Ace had seen. His heart raced, and he hastily pulled at his sleeve to cover the scars, but it was too late.

Ace took a step forward, holding out a hand hesitantly, as if to check he wasn't dreaming. But he stopped halfway, his fingers trembling slightly. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. A wave of panic mixed with shame rose inside him.

“You... you did this to yourself...” he said at last, in a low voice, almost as if he didn't want those words to exist. “Because of me?”

Deuce looked away, unable to sustain Ace's gaze. His throat tightened, and he remained silent, the weight of the question pressing heavily on his shoulders. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to answer either.

But the redhead sensed the answer in the silence. It was like a punch in the gut. He took a step back, his arms falling limply along his body, his face contorted with pain.

“It can't be true...” he muttered, more to himself than to Deuce. He shook his head, as if he could deny what he was seeing. “This isn't what I wanted. I didn't want you... to do this to yourself.”

Deuce looked up, his face marked by a mixture of anger and sadness.

“You think that I wanted this?” he retorted, his voice trembling. “Do you think it gave me pleasure to come to this?”

Ace opened his mouth to reply, but he had no answer. He felt his throat tighten, and his thoughts swirled in a chaos impossible to organize. He hated himself, but he didn't know how to say it. He didn't even know if he had the right.

“I'm sorry...” he murmured, his gaze pleading. “Deuce I'm so sorry...”

“What difference does it make, Ace?” retorted Deuce, tears welling up in his eyes. “The words you said to me, the looks on other people's faces, all of it... it destroyed me. And now, what? You apologize and everything's supposed to be better?”

Ace froze, tears threatening to fall. He wanted to tell him he meant it, that he regretted every word, every act, every second of pain he'd caused. But he knew his apology wouldn't be enough.

He finally knelt, his hands covering his face as he let out a shaky breath.

“I know it's not enough...” he said at last, his voice breaking. “But I'll do everything I can to fix this, Deuce. I promise... I promise I'll change. I want to be there for you, even if you hate me. Even if I deserve for you to hate me.”

Deuce remained silent for a moment, his tears rolling gently down his cheeks. Part of him still wanted to yell at Ace, to tell him it wasn't that simple. But another part saw the sincerity in his words, saw the pain he was now carrying in turn.

Finally, he sighed and looked away.

“It's not as simple as saying you'll change, Ace.” he replied, his voice low. “But... thank you.”

Ace gently raised his head, his eyes shining with mingled hope and guilt. It was a step, a small step, but a step nonetheless.

Ace took a deep breath, trying to gather his courage. His fingers trembled slightly as he wiped his face, trying to steady his voice. He looked up at Deuce, who was still staring at him with mistrust mixed with fatigue.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking.” he began softly, his voice wavering slightly. “Ever since that day... ever since I told you all those horrible things. I haven't stopped thinking about it, Deuce. Not for a second.”

Deuce frowned slightly, his arms crossed against him like an invisible barrier.

“And what difference does it make?” he asked hesitantly.

Ace ran a nervous hand through his hair, searching for the right words, the ones that could express what he was feeling without spoiling everything further.

“I... I talked to Floyd.” he finally confessed. “I know, he's not necessarily the first person you'd think of for advice... But he said some things that really made me think. He told me about himself, how he feels, how he sees things.”

Deuce raised an eyebrow, surprised. Floyd Leech wasn't exactly known for his deep confessions or philosophical outbursts.

“And what did he tell you?”

Ace looked away for a moment, as if struggling to admit what was coming next. Eventually he sighed and crossed his arms, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“He made me understand that... that what I'm feeling isn't abnormal. That it's just... human. That it's no different to love someone, no matter what their gender.”

He looked up at Deuce, a sincere gleam in his eye.

“I spent so much time trying to push away what I felt, convincing myself that it was... weird, or wrong. But it wasn't. All I did was destroy myself and hurt you. And for that, I'm sorry.”

Deuce opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. He was taken aback by Ace's confession, by the vulnerability he showed, something so rare in him. He could see in his eyes that he wasn't lying.

“Why are you telling me this now?” he finally whispered.

Ace hesitated, searching for his words.

“Because I don't want to lose you Deuce.” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Not like this. I've been an idiot, and I know it's going to take time, but I want... I want us to be able to rebuild something. Even if it's just a friendship. Even if that's all you can give me.”

Silence fell between them again, heavy but charged with emotion. Deuce swallowed, his hands clasping his arms, as if to protect himself from the impact of Ace's words.

He didn't know what to say. Everything still seemed so recent, so painful. But somewhere, deep inside him, he saw a light in what Ace was saying, a glimmer of hope he hadn't felt in a long time.

Deuce looked away, staring at the ground between them. His thoughts raced, mixing anger, pain and a small spark of hope he was afraid to accept. Finally, he shook his head slightly, more to himself than to Ace.

“You don't know how much that hurt me...” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Everything you said to me that day... It was like you wanted to destroy me.”

Ace closed his eyes for a moment, his throat tightening with guilt. He nodded slowly.

“I know.” he said softly. “And believe me, I hate myself for it. I thought if I kept you away, if I made you think you were the problem, it would help convince me that I was normal. But I wasn't. Everything was wrong, and you... you, you didn't do anything wrong. You never did.”

Deuce looked up, surprised by the honesty in Ace's voice. For a moment, he saw a side of him he didn't know, a boy who wasn't as confident and carefree as he let on.

“But why now ?” asked Deuce, the pain still palpable in his voice. “Why are you apologizing now, after all I've had to put up with?”

Ace inhaled deeply, his fists clenching slightly at his sides. He felt that this moment was crucial, that he couldn't run away this time.

“Because I was afraid.” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I was afraid of what it meant to me, afraid of what other people would think. I've spent my life trying to be what others expect me to be. But... seeing what you're going through, what I've put you through, has opened my eyes. It wasn't you who had to change, it was me.”

Deuce looked at him, torn between his desire to believe these words and the pain that refused to leave him. Ace took a step forward, reaching out slightly as if to touch him, but stopped, hesitating.

“I'm not asking you to forgive me now.” he said sincerely. “I know I have to earn that right. But I want you to know that I'm sorry. And that I want to be better, for you, for me... for us.”

A tense silence fell between them again, interrupted only by the light wind blowing through the trees around them. Deuce clenched his fists, his thoughts still muddled. Part of him wanted to reject Ace, to push him away as he had done. But another, deeper part saw the pain and sincerity in his eyes, and he couldn't ignore that little voice telling him that maybe, just maybe, Ace deserved a second chance.

“It'll take time...” said Deuce finally, his voice soft but firm. “A lot of time.”

Ace nodded, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. He knew he still had a long way to go, but these words were all he needed to start moving forward.

Deuce looked away, crossing his arms as if to shield himself from an emotion he wasn't yet ready to share. Ace, for his part, remained motionless, not wanting to break the fragile balance between them. Every word seemed to hang in the air, like a leaf ready to fall.

“You should go back to class.” Deuce murmured, staring at the floor in front of him. “I'll... I'll try to catch my breath a little here.”

Ace opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated. He wanted to stay, to show he wasn't running away anymore. But he knew that forcing his presence might do more harm than good. So, reluctantly, he nodded.

“If you need anything... I'm here.” he said, his voice full of awkward sincerity. He took a step back, then another, before finally turning on his heels. He paused one last time, his gaze lost on the path ahead, before murmuring, almost to himself, “Take care, Deuce.”

The dark-haired boy watched him go, a lump in his throat. He wished it had all been simpler, that the apology would miraculously erase the pain. But he knew it wasn't that easy. Still, a small part of him, buried beneath the anger and sadness, recognized that this apology was a start. Maybe one day, he'd really be able to accept them.

He stood there alone for a moment, listening to the rustle of leaves in the wind. His gaze wandered to the horizon, where the sun's rays pierced through the branches. This moment of calm, though fragile, was the first he'd felt in days.

Chapter Text

The sun filtered through the curtains of the room Ace and Deuce shared in Heartslabyul. Ace's familiar clutter spread to his side, contrasting with Deuce's impeccable rigor. Everything seemed back to normal, but there was a new dynamic in the air. There was an unspoken respect, an attentiveness in gesture and word that they'd never really shared before.

Deuce adjusted his tie in front of the mirror, his expression focused. Ace, stretched out on his bed, one arm thrown behind his head, watched him in silence. Deuce's slight frown as he struggled to tie the fabric correctly drew a smile from him. Finally, he leapt to his feet.

“Seriously, man? You still can't do that? Give me that.”

Before Deuce had time to protest, Ace had reached over and grabbed the tie. With quick, precise movements, he tied a perfect knot, tugging lightly on it to adjust the height. He looked up at Deuce, a mocking smile on his lips.

“There you go. No need to thank me, I know I'm a hero.”

Deuce rolled his eyes, but a sincere smile spread across his face.

“Thanks anyway.”

Ace shrugged, an amused twinkle in his eye, before returning to his bed.

Later that day, as they crossed the courtyard to join their classes, a familiar tension filled the air. A group of students, leaning against the central fountain, were whispering to each other, glancing sharply at Deuce. One of them, more daring, threw out a dig, loud enough to be heard.

“Well, Spade? Still up to your weird delirium? Watch out, the others will think you're up to no good.”

A greasy laugh accompanied the remark, but it was quickly interrupted. Before Deuce could react, Ace had already stepped forward, his face closed.

“Say that again, will ya?” he said, his voice cold and sharp.

Silence fell instantly. The group leader, taken aback, attempted a provocative smile.

“Oh, relax, Trappola. We're just joking around.”

“Yeah? Well, find someone else for your lame jokes. Because if I hear one more thing like that, we're gonna settle this another way. Got it?”

Ace held the boy's gaze, and he looked away, embarrassed. Murmuring among themselves, the group moved quickly away, throwing a few glances over their shoulders.

Deuce, standing back, seemed surprised. He stared at Ace, at a loss for words. The latter turned to him, raising his eyebrows.

“What?”

Deuce opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Finally, he simply nodded. A discreet but sincere smile stretched his lips.

They resumed their journey side by side, a peaceful silence between them.

***

The next day seemed to pass slowly. Deuce and Ace had shared a few moments together, but the conversation had remained light. Ace seemed more relaxed than usual, and Deuce felt less heavy, as if an invisible weight had disappeared. They were just two friends, sharing an ordinary day.

At the end of the day, Deuce suggested that Ace go to Ramshackle, as they sometimes did. Yuu and Grim always had energy to spare, and this was the perfect opportunity to relax.

Arriving at the door to the old dormitory, Grim opened it abruptly, a broad smile on his face.

“Ah, at last! You're here! We were going to start without you!”

Yuu, lying on a sofa, looked up from his book and smiled back.

“You're just in time, we've got some games to play. Grim, didn't you say we were going to play that game where we have to guess words? It'll be perfect for them.”

Deuce smiled, finally relaxing. He hadn't had a chance to play this kind of game in a while. This was the perfect opportunity to take his mind off things. Ace, looking more relaxed than before, let himself be drawn into the living room.

“What are we playing?” asked Ace, looking a little lost.

“It's a guessing game! You write words on paper and the other person has to guess what they are.” explained Yuu.

Grim added: “It's great fun! And you can cheat, if you want!”

“Ah, I know the type.” Ace burst out laughing, relaxing a little more.

The evening passed in a warm, relaxed atmosphere. Laughter flowed as Ace and Deuce found themselves guessing outlandish words. Yuu was a master of strategy, but Grim kept cheating, which made them burst out laughing. Deuce found himself relaxing, forgetting, if only for a moment, the heaviness of reality. Ace seemed to be in the same frame of mind, and it was good to see him smiling.

The rules were simple: each person wrote a word or phrase on a piece of paper, and the other had to guess what it was. There was no shortage of wacky suggestions, and some words became recurring jokes throughout the evening.

“Okay, your turn, Ace!” quipped Yuu with a smirk.

Ace picked up a piece of paper and read in a low voice before looking up, looking concentrated. He frowned slightly, then turned to Deuce.

“Uh... is this an object...?”

Deuce thought for a moment, then shook his head. The game was simple, but the words often unpredictable. Ace seemed to be enjoying himself, and so did Deuce. They were a bit like kids, each trying to guess the clue the other was throwing at them. Even Grim's little cheats added a touch of fun.

At one point, Grim jumped onto the couch, all excited, and shook a paper he'd retrieved from the pile.

“Aaaaah, I know! It's... it's... a unicorn! No, a dragon!”

Laughter filled the room. Ace, who had been a little more reserved at the start of the evening, had allowed himself to be taken in by the humor of the situation. He was no longer the uptight Ace he'd been these past few weeks. He was just Ace, a friend enjoying the moment.

Towards the end of the evening, as everyone stretched out, tired but happy, Yuu launched one last game.

“We're going to have a quick drawing contest! You've got ten seconds to draw an animal!”

The two boys looked at each other, surprised, but decided to play along. Deuce grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. He wasn't particularly good at drawing, but it was fun to participate. Ace, for his part, seemed a little more concentrated, but his drawing style was childlike.

After ten seconds, all the drawings were placed on the table. Yuu observed the drawings with an expression of mock seriousness.

“Well, there's room for improvement, but it wasn't bad. Ace, did you draw an... old frog? And Deuce, is that... a hamster?”

Deuce bit his lip, bursting out laughing.

“It's not a hamster! It's supposed to be a panda!” he protested, but he was already laughing.

“It's cute, but not really a panda.” Yuu raised his eyebrows mockingly.

The evening continued on an even more relaxed note as the four friends let themselves be carried away by the enthusiasm of the game. The sound of laughter echoed through the walls of Ramshackle, taking with it everything that had troubled Deuce in recent weeks. It was as if, for a moment, the weight of the last few weeks had gone somewhere far away.

“Come on, last round!” exclaimed Grim, his eyes shining with mischief. “This time, you've got one minute to draw something completely crazy. Something totally improbable!”

Ace and Deuce looked at each other, a knowing smile lighting up their faces. They weren't afraid of this kind of challenge. Deuce grabbed the pencil with a confidence he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt good. Not perfect, not painless, but good, right there with his friends.

Ace, at his side, had already started scribbling on his own paper, concentrated and silent. Deuce glanced quickly at him, and something in his gaze gave him the impression that the dark-haired man was more relaxed than usual, more approachable. Maybe not everything was settled yet, but that evening there was something obvious in the way they understood each other without a word. As if, without even realizing it, their bond had strengthened, slowly but surely.

Yuu watched the scene, an amused smile on his lips.

“And that's it! Time's up!” he announced, while Grim was already pouncing on the drawings to observe them. “What have you guys been drawing?”

The redhead leaned back, satisfied with his work, before looking at his friend's. He couldn't help but smile when he saw the drawing. Deuce had made a dragon that seemed... to have a personality. It was a slightly clumsy dragon, but in an endearing way. A touch of his character, like a sort of signature.

Deuce, for his part, observed Ace's drawing, a little surprised at first. He'd depicted an epic battle scene, but in a cartoonish way, with characters who looked like they'd stepped out of a manga. It was a mixture of the absurd and the impressive. It was so... Ace. A spontaneous laugh escaped Deuce as he watched the characters grimace in ridiculous postures.

“It's... a bit overdramatic, isn't it?” giggled Deuce, his eyes sparkling.

“It's epic, you'll admit!” Ace replied, falsely serious.

The two boys looked at each other, their smiles crossing, and for a moment, it seemed that time was slowing down around them. Yuu, teasing as ever, didn't let the opportunity pass.

“Deuce, you've got a pretty cute dragon... Ace, did you draw a superhero fight? Honestly, you guys really suck!” joked Yuu.

“Shh, it's art!” retorted Ace with a falsely indignant air.

The laughter continued for a while longer. The evening stretched on merrily until the evening wind began to make itself felt in the old walls of Ramshackle. It was late, but none of them seemed to want to go home just yet. The atmosphere was relaxed, warm, as if the worries of the outside world couldn't penetrate this place, let alone this evening.

Grim, tired by the long evening, yawned loudly, and Yuu, for his part, seemed on the verge of falling asleep on his sofa. Deuce stood up slowly, stretching his arms.

“That was a really good evening...” he said, a sincere smile on his lips.

“Yeah...” nodded Ace, his tone calmer than usual. “You know, we should do this more often.”

Deuce nodded, happy to see that the new-found complicity was still there, and that the barriers that had stood between them were beginning to fall. Not totally, but enough to make him feel a little lighter, a little less isolated.

Grim, who stood up abruptly, announced in a tired voice: “Well, I'm off to bed before I fall asleep here!”

“You're damn right you are.” replied Yuu, rising in turn. “Come on, guys, it's time for us too. It's been a great evening.”

The four friends headed for the door. Outside, night had settled in, calm and gentle. The starry sky seemed to reflect the peaceful, almost unreal atmosphere of the evening.

Before leaving, Ace and Deuce exchanged a silent glance and a smile that spoke volumes. There was no more talk of regrets or embarrassed silences. Tonight, they had shared a simple but precious moment. And for the first time in a long time, Deuce felt ready to move on, to rebuild what had been broken, not just with Ace, but with himself.

“See you tomorrow guys!” said Deuce, giving them one last smile.

“See ya!” replied Yuu and Grim heartily, the door closing behind them in a burst of laughter that, for a moment, warmed the whole world.

The cool night wind blew gently across the Night Raven College campus as Ace and Deuce walked side by side, their footsteps echoing faintly down the deserted street leading to Heartslabyul. The starry sky shone above them, illuminating their faces with a soft, calm light, creating a tranquil atmosphere after the lively evening at Yuu's.

Deuce broke the silence, a smile on his lips.

“It was really nice tonight. You know, I'm glad I spent time with all of you.”

Ace turned his head toward him, a slight but sincere smile on his face.

“Yeah, me too. We really should do this more often. It was... nice.” He shrugged as if minimizing the importance of his words, but his gaze remained a little softer than usual.

Deuce, feeling a little more at ease, continued.

“I haven't felt like it's been this... normal between us for a while. Like it used to be.” He lowered his eyes, searching for his words. “You know, before all this...” He pointed vaguely to the distance between them and the complicity they'd lost, before the difficult events that had marked their relationship.

Ace turned his head in turn, his eyes settling on Deuce for a moment before quickly turning away.

“Don't worry, I know what you mean. We've been through some... not-so-nice stuff.” He added jokingly, “But you know, we've always been the same two idiots. That doesn't change.”

Deuce laughed softly at this remark, looking up to meet Ace's gaze.

“That's true. I guess we really are meant to be idiots together, aren't we?” He smirked, but a slight heat rose to his cheeks. He wasn't used to being so open with Ace, even if he was feeling more relaxed lately.

Ace, without relinquishing his smile, slowed his pace a little and moved slightly closer.

“Idiots, but effective idiots.” He let a slightly longer silence pass, then added in a lighter, almost teasing tone: “Remember that day we had to work together in Octavinelle under Azul's contract? You were more serious than usual, but I could tell you didn't like it. You've always been a little too... square, Deuce.”

Deuce bit his lip, a slight embarrassment showing in his eyes. He remembered that day, when he'd been forced to work under Azul, and the palpable tension between him and Ace at the time. But deep down, he also remembered how, despite everything, Ace was always there to help him, as if he never wanted to let him down.

“You didn't look any better than I did, with your anemone on your head,” he replied, amused. “And I'm not sure we made a good impression with our method of working... but hey, we got by.”

The teasing tone between the two boys floated in the air, a light sensation that made the atmosphere less tense than before. Ace leaned slightly toward him, a gaze shining with mischief.

“You're so right. We're pros at improvisation.” He paused for a moment, looking Deuce up and down, eyes sparkling. “You know, you've got hidden talents. Sometimes you're more... impressive than you let on.”

The boy felt slightly taken aback by the remark, but forced himself to remain calm, his heart beating a little harder in his chest.

“Oh, stop flattering me.” He turned his head, embarrassed, but couldn't help smiling. “It's just because we had to help each other. That's all.”

Ace raised his eyebrows, a smirk betraying his amusement. He moved a little closer to Deuce still, as if the distance between them could only shrink.

“Really?” he asked, a gleam of irony in his eyes. “Because I think you do it pretty well. You know, you've got a... charming side when you put your mind to it.”

Deuce felt his face flush, but he couldn't take his eyes off his friend, who seemed to be having fun teasing him without really saying it. It was strange, this attention, but something in his belly was knotting up nicely. He replied, his tone softer than before.

“Stop it, you're going to make me blush.”

Ace finally stopped walking, turning fully toward him. His gaze was intense, but there was a hidden tenderness behind his mocking smile.

“You always look tough, but you're more sensitive than you let on.” He moved closer again, almost imperceptibly. “And I confess... I'm glad we can finally talk like this, without those awkward silences.”

Deuce, a little unsettled by Ace's closeness and the softness of his words, took a deep breath.

“Me too...” he murmured, before forcing himself to smile. “But if you keep this up, I'm going to have to challenge you, Ace.”

A challenge? Deuce's remark made Ace smile wider, and he straightened up, his gaze sparkling with defiance.

“I'm all ears, Deucey~. To challenge Ace Trappola is to take the risk of being beaten to a pulp!”

Deuce leaned a little closer, and his smile grew a little more mischievous.

“A speed challenge, to see who can run faster.” He turned with a jerk, ready to take off running toward the dormitory, but before he dashed off, he tossed Ace a defiant grin, “Are you following me, or are you too scared to lose?”

Ace, without hesitating for a second, charged after him, laughing out loud.

“You're screwed, Deuce! Get ready to see me catch you in the blink of an eye!”

The race began, and Deuce felt freer than ever, a smile on his lips, running alongside Ace in this newfound complicity. Wordplay, laughter and light flirtation were now second nature, and for the first time in a long time, Deuce felt he really belonged, next to Ace, and in his own skin.

Deuce ran at full speed, a proud smile on his lips as he heard his friend's footsteps behind him. He could feel the heat of the race, his heart beating hard in his chest, and despite the friendly competition, he felt light. Ace, though fast and agile, couldn't catch up. Deuce was focused, his muscles in motion, and he felt like never before: fast, free, almost invincible.

Behind him, Ace was giving everything he had, but every time he thought he was about to catch up, Deuce found a little more speed. Finally, he crossed the imaginary line that marked the end of their little race with a burst of laughter, out of breath, but victorious.

“You're lagging behind, Ace!” exclaimed Deuce, all smiles, as he turned to face his friend.

Ace finally reached him, panting and slightly exasperated, but with a big smile across his face. He stopped right next to Deuce, exhausted, his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“You ran good, Deuce. You're... a lot faster than I thought.” Ace huffed for a moment, and when he looked up at Deuce, a gleam of defiance but also pride shone in his eyes. “You've won, here's your reward.”

Before Deuce could react, Ace suddenly approached him, his eyes locked on his with an intensity that raised the tension between them. Then, in an unexpected move, Ace placed a gentle hand on his cheek, drawing Deuce to him in a gesture that was both shy and confident.

The kiss he placed on Deuce's lips wasn't violent or hurried, but gentle and a little hesitant, as if he feared spoiling everything. But it was sincere. Deuce, taken by surprise, didn't know how to react at first. His eyes widened for a moment before he closed his eyes, letting his body relax in this unexpected moment, and kissed him back.

The kiss lingered for a few moments, a new warmth spreading through Deuce's chest, a whirlwind of contradictory but pleasantly powerful feelings. When Ace finally drew back, there was a certain hesitation in his eyes, as if he were trying to see Deuce's reaction, to know if this gesture had been well understood, well received.

“This is... for your victory.” said Ace, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You deserved this, even if I would have liked to have won.”
Deuce, still a little in shock, but with a shy smile, murmured.

“Thanks... but you didn't need to...” He was silent for a moment, then added, laughing softly. “You just had to run faster, I guess!”

Their eyes met, and for the first time in a long time, there was this sensation of something new between them. Something unexpected, but deeply sincere.

“I'll do better next time.” Ace replied in a slightly softer voice, his confidence restored. “But for now, I think it's safe to say you've won.”

Deuce smiled, and instead of replying immediately, he simply moved a little closer to Ace, his heart beating even a little harder than before. A moment suspended in the air, and the two boys, despite the uncertainty that sometimes inhabited them, felt closer than ever.

The road ahead now seemed less difficult to travel. And as they approached Heartslabyul, the two boys exchanged one last smile, more serene than before. It was only a beginning, but it was a beginning that counted.

And for the first time, Deuce was no longer afraid of the unknown.