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"Loveage."
"Oh, come on, what was I supposed to do?"
"Give me anything else?"
"Where's the fun in that? Plus, I was scolded for you getting the spell wrong the first time, don't you think it's only fair that I do prove its effectiveness?"
Grimm didn't bother correcting him and instead pressed his lips in a line and looked over the paper again, frowning. Leo sat half turned towards him, one elbow on the desk, chin resting on the palm of his hand. A light smile tugged at the corners of his lips, growing into a grin each time Grimm gave him a look.
It was their first Duality class since the return from Dwull, and Leo still felt a little out of sorts. His nails never resumed their natural color, nor did he expect them to. The price was paid. They looked kind of stylish, in a way, if you don't think too deeply about it. Every time he looked at them, his mind drifted back to what happened in the Unquiet Wood—Grimm bleeding, uncomplaining, face as pale as his hair, asking Leo to leave him. Surely, the Grandmagic that Leo had performed was a result of more than the curse's influence. Does Grimm realize that? Likely not. The curse might be gone now, but the feeling in Leo's chest etched itself ever deeper every time Grimm came up the room to check on his recovery, or whenever Leo found himself frequenting Grimm's regular spots around the Fount, hoping (daring) to see him. Doing so out of his own free will, might he add.
But having a legitimate reason to see him and feel justified in every glance, every sentence directed at Grimm? That was exhilarating.
In front of them lay a stack of new spells Leo prepared for the class. Some were cantrips just to be a tease, others—tentative attempts at Grandmagic. At the very top rested a precious memento. Leo wouldn't let Grimm skip past casting this one.
Grimm sighed, having memorized the contents of the paper.
"Out loud, please," Leo said.
No, he wasn't nervous about it; he checked his own writing multiple times. Grim started reading without a reply which, Leo knew, would not have been nice anyway. Something about his penmanship, perhaps, or how not everyone loves the sound of their own voice. There is nothing wrong with enjoying one's voice, Leo thought. He should ask Grimm to read all of his spells out loud while they are at it: something in the way he pronounced consonants and prolonged the vowels was endearing, if not attractive.
The magic washed over him, and the feeling was gone in an instant. The paper burned in Grimm's steady hand while the sorcerer was avoiding Leo, tense in the shoulders but strangely tentative in the set of his jaw. When the smoke was waved off and the ash brushed aside, Leo fluttered his eyelashes like he did the first time he thought the spell was cast. Surely Grimm would see it out of the corner of his eye. Grimm still wasn't looking at him, frowning once more at the stack of papers.
"Oh, come on, must I ask again?"
"Ask what?"
"The color, Grimm, the color!"
Grimm's gaze shifted to him, reluctant and heavy, not unlike a squint but something akin to a careful prod. Leo felt his face heat up, but he surely didn't blush. And even if he did, he hoped that his face wasn't as obvious as the tips of Grimm's ears.
"They are your normal eyes." There was a rasp in Grimm's voice.
That gave Leo a pause. Normal eyes? What does he mean, normal eyes? He read the spell, and from what Leo could tell, nothing in his pronunciation was off. Could Leo have really produced a bad cantrip? He stopped short of assuming he should scrap all of his Grandmagic spells just in case. They'd been over that. He felt it in his bones that something else was amiss.
"Come again?"
Grimm reached out for the stack, but Leo was faster, slapping his hand away. Grimm looked at Leo incredulously, and Leo had to cast a quick glance at Phade to make sure he and Grimm weren't at the center of attention again. Grimm sighed.
"Your normal eyes, Loveage, before . . ." He gestured between them and cleared his throat.
It dawned on Leo.
"As in—"
"Before."
"Ah." How very articulate of the pair of them.
Leo's chest tightened as a familiar, unruly creature made its home inside. Grimm could've changed his eyes to anything else if he didn't want to remind Leo of the spell's cost. How else to explain the reluctance to answer? It wasn't a choice done out of malice, either, not with how guilty Grimm looked. Was it the first color that came to mind while casting because he was used to it? Or was it that he, for better or worse, was partial to blue-eyed beauties? At that thought, Leo flushed even more, and he couldn't decide if it infuriated him or made him nervous. He shouldn't feel nervous. He got to look his normal self for a day, or however long the cantrip would last. It was splendid! He could sneak into one of the taverns in the city, find himself somebody lucky, and—
And nothing. The thought, so natural during his first years at the Fount, no longer excited him.
Leo watched Grimm grab another spell and bury his face in the paper. Something inside Leo's chest was still leaping left and right, up and down, in rhythm with his heartbeat. It's not a tavern he needs. Leo's grin found its way back onto his lips.
"Mr. Loveage, what is so amusing if I may ask?" Phade's voice broke through the mist in Leo's mind, but it couldn't break the magic of the moment.
"Restoring my reputation," he replied.
He heard Grim huff out a quiet laugh from behind his barricade, and oh, Leo wished he could make him do it more often. His hand snaked to the top part of the paper Grimm was holding to bent it a little and take a peak at Grimm's face. Grimm's composure returned too fast for Leo's liking, and the sorcerer was about to huff a warning, most likely about them disturbing their classmates, but Leo pressed a finger to his own lips. Something about the gesture (please, let it not be the blush) made Grimm drop the comment. He raised an eyebrow.
"Thank you," said Leo.
Grim blinked a few times, eyes darting left and right, before he settled on a reply.
"I can't give back what was taken. I am sorry."
"You can cast this for me every morning and—"
"No."
"Ah, you wound me."
"Don't be dramatic. Can this wait until after the class?"
"What, you want to, gasp, spend time together? What would people say!"
"That you're bothering me."
Leo laughed and noted with delight that Grimm's lips also quirked up a little.
"The gardens, then. After."
It was clear that Grimm didn't think that Leo would take him up on that statement, and yet, he nodded, his ears—a persistent shade of pink.
"Please, let's finish work first."
"Gladly. You know what you're about to cast, this Grandmagic was my first attempt at—" . . .