Aelric flew as fast as his wings could carry him, the cool night air whipping against his face and stinging his eyes—not that it mattered, given that his tears had already blurred his vision. He didn't care where he was going; he just needed to get away. Away from the room, from Helena's smug smile, and, most of all, from Bronn's confused and concerned gaze.
He finally landed in the academy gardens, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over the flowers and trees. It was quiet here, the only sounds coming from the soft rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of crickets. Aelric collapsed onto a stone bench, burying his face in his hands as his emotions crashed over him like a tidal wave.
How had it come to this? How had he, the ever-cheerful, teasing, and carefree Aelric, fallen so deeply in love with someone as infuriatingly stoic and oblivious as Bronn?
He sighed, his wings drooping as he leaned back against the bench and stared up at the stars. It wasn't as though he'd planned for this to happen. He hadn't woken up one day and thought, You know what? I think I'll fall head over heels for my best friend today. No, it had been a slow, sneaky thing—like a seed planted in his heart that had grown roots before he even realized it was there.
When Aelric first met Bronn, he thought the vampire was a walking thundercloud. All sharp glares, furrowed brows, and a quiet intensity that seemed to repel everyone around him. Naturally, Aelric had taken it as a challenge.
"Hey, gloomy!" Aelric had called out on their first day as seatmates in the academy's history class. He'd fluttered his wings dramatically, leaning halfway over Bronn's desk with a mischievous grin. "Do you even talk, or are you saving your words for a special occasion?"
Bronn had stared at him for a long moment, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. Then, in the flattest tone imaginable, he'd said, "I talk when there's something worth saying."
Aelric had gasped, clutching his chest like he'd been mortally wounded. "Ouch. You wound me. What, am I not worth your words?"
Bronn had said nothing, but from that day on, Aelric made it his mission to get Bronn to open up. He'd pester him with silly questions, leave doodles on his notes, and bring him little snacks during study sessions. Slowly but surely, Bronn started to respond. It wasn't much at first—just a raised eyebrow here, a muttered comment there—but it was progress.
The turning point had come on a particularly rainy afternoon.
Aelric had always thought Bronn was untouchable—an enigma wrapped in stoicism and bathed in shadows. The kind of person who walked through life with a barrier so thick no one dared to breach it. But that rainy afternoon had changed everything.
He'd been stuck outside the academy after class, his wings drenched and drooping under the relentless downpour. Every attempt to wring them out had only made things worse, leaving him stranded, cold, and thoroughly miserable.
He hadn't even noticed Bronn approaching until a shadow loomed over him.
"You'll catch a cold," Bronn had said, holding out an umbrella.
Aelric had blinked up at him, startled. His usual quick wit had faltered under the sheer surprise of Bronn's unexpected kindness. "Wait... Am I hallucinating?"
Bronn had rolled his eyes, but his hand stayed steady, the umbrella unwavering in its offering. "Just take it, Aelric."
It was such a small gesture, but the weight of it had settled in Aelric's chest like a stone skipping across a still pond, leaving ripples in its wake. The way Bronn had looked at him—not with exasperation, but with genuine concern—had done something to him. It had made him see Bronn not as a storm, but as shelter from it.
From that moment on, Aelric had started noticing the little things.
There was the time during combat training when Aelric had taken a nasty tumble, his wings catching awkwardly against a low wall. He'd barely had time to process the pain before Bronn was there, scooping him up with an ease that belied his gruff demeanor.
"You're reckless," Bronn had muttered, his voice a mix of irritation and worry. "You're going to get yourself killed one day."
Aelric had tried to laugh it off, but the steadiness of Bronn's arms and the protective way he'd held him had lingered in his mind long after the pain had faded.
Then there was the night they'd spent in the library, working on a group project that only the two of them had bothered to show up for. Aelric, as always, had been full of energy, chatting away about everything and nothing while Bronn focused on their work.
At some point, Aelric had fallen asleep, his head resting on a pile of books. When he'd woken up, it was to the warmth of Bronn's coat draped over him.
He'd stared at it for a long moment, his heart fluttering in a way he couldn't quite explain.
And then there was the night under the stars.
Aelric had dragged Bronn outside after a long study session, insisting they needed a break. They'd ended up lying side by side on the cool grass, the sky above them a tapestry of twinkling lights.
"Do you ever wonder what's out there?" Aelric had asked, pointing at a particularly bright star.
Bronn had been quiet for a long moment, his crimson eyes reflecting the starlight. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost contemplative. "Sometimes. But I think what's here is more important."
Aelric had turned to look at him, his breath catching in his throat. The way Bronn had said it—like the world in front of him was all that mattered—had sent a warmth spreading through Aelric's chest. For the first time, he'd felt like he might actually understand Bronn's quiet, grounded world.
Now, sitting alone in the academy's moonlit garden, Aelric felt like his heart was breaking.
He leaned forward on the bench, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared down at the ground. His wings hung limply behind him, the usual sparkle of his fairy dust dulled by the weight of his emotions.
Why had it come to this? Why had his feelings spiraled so far out of control?
The memories replayed in his mind like a bittersweet melody. Every look, every word, every fleeting moment of connection he'd shared with Bronn felt both precious and unbearably painful now.
"I'm such an idiot," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind rustling through the garden.
It wasn't just the humiliation of Helena's taunts or Bronn's baffled expression that haunted him. It was the realization that he'd let himself hope. Somewhere deep down, he'd dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, Bronn might feel the same way.
But Bronn didn't. He couldn't.
The logical part of Aelric's mind knew that. He'd always known it. But his heart—his stupid, fluttering heart—refused to let go.
His gaze drifted upward to the stars, the same stars they'd looked at together that night. They seemed so far away now, distant and indifferent to his turmoil.
"I wish I could stop feeling this way," he murmured, his voice trembling. But even as the words left his lips, he knew they weren't true.
Because as much as it hurt, loving Bronn had become as much a part of him as his wings, as his very breath. It wasn't something he could simply stop, no matter how much he wanted to.
He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. Maybe he could keep going like this—keep pretending, keep hiding his feelings. It was better than the alternative. Better than risking the friendship that meant everything to him.
But deep down, he knew the truth. He could only run for so long before his heart would demand an answer. And when that day came, he wasn't sure he'd be strong enough to face it.
For now, all he could do was sit beneath the stars, trying to piece himself back together, one fragile shard at a time.