A/N: Hi everyone! So I know I'm late by a couple of hours (that's because I'm working in a different timezone now eep so since I always update 10pm at wherever I am, being in London means I'm going to be updating seven hours later than usual. But here is the usual chapter!

Sorry I wasn't able to put up the half chapter on Inkitt :( I wrote most of this on Thursday and Friday. Hopefully I'll be able to do it for the next update! Eep. I'll be updating you guys on my progress on Instagram (hisangelchip) so that you don't always have to be thinking: omgomgomgwhenisleupdate???

Enjoy the chapter!

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[Leroy]

He felt like a snowflake in my arms; a breathing one that smelled like chamomile and nothing else. And when he'd pulled back and felt for his heart after hearing the thundering that was me, I nearly laughed. Why he never seemed to believe anything I say wasn't part of the plan, but it was him nevertheless. He thinks I'm teasing him, sure. It's not like I knew how to make it any more obvious than it already was, it's just. Our thing.

It was the way we were.

Then there are the times I forget about holding back and fingers move on their own. That's before knowing the closest they would ever get was the forehead and that's where they end up most of the time. It was the fireworks, then. Easy to blame for the beat; the cue; the leaning in and then stopping with my eyes closed. Waiting for the green.

I wanted to see how he'd react to something like this. Someone leaning into his space and closing their eyes an inch away before pausing. I saw in the middle of it all—how his eyes had widened and then started darting. Up, down. Left, right. Centre. You could hear the panic in his head and how the alarms going off were driving him crazy in just that one second.

Still, I would be doing something wrong if he wasn't ready, so. Waiting was the only option. Waiting and counting. On three, I felt nothing. And unless Vanilla's lips happened to feel and taste like the ash in the sky, it was how I'd expected it to turn out until I felt something.

A breath. Trembling.

I opened an eye and saw that his were closed. He hadn't moved an inch; not away, and not towards me but just staying where I'd left him, only now he had his eyes scrunched shut and lips drawn a little thinner than before. I stared. Was this a green?

He was close enough for me to see the tips of his lashes quivering, and without the pair of glasses he usually had to mask his eyes that were an easy read, I could tell that he was nervous. That, or actually afraid since it wouldn't take genius to know this was going to be his first. But he wasn't pulling away.

I tested further, waiting and reaching for the back of his neck for a glimpse of his reaction to being pulled a little closer. He froze at my touch and stayed that way without a clue as to what he should be doing next; eyes—still closed.

So it was. It was a green and this was him giving me the final decision but as much as breathing in his scent and musing over his defenceless state wasn't doing any good for my self-control, I knew he wasn't ready. The truth was that I had expected the opposite. A face so startled and shocked that it turned away with fear in his eyes and the likelihood of being repulsed by it all.

And his scent. It was nothing like the honeyed notes I'd thought it would be; nothing syrupy or heavy like the kind of scented candles that advertised fucking cupcakes or ice cream. He was floral from the tea, mixed with an icy sharpness that was almost bitter and so addictive that it was hard to keep my hands where they were.

I felt an oncoming smile. The kind that was hard to hide considering the amount of energy I had to use just forcing my switch the other way and as much as I wanted to stare at this cute face all night, I reached out on instinct and gave him the usual.

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[Vanilla]

"...upset with a tie? I mean I know you wanted... but maybe Birchwood bought the judges over too, so... hey, does this mean you're... too? 'Cuz I'm not really used to this talking to myself thing with you and I'm feeling pretty left out at the moment." I jumped at the nudge on my shoulder.

Turning, I took in the most disappointment I'd ever seen on Si Yin's face and scrambled for answers at once. "Oh no, no I'm not leaving you out of—what would I be leaving you out of? And I'm sure Miss Birchwood had the dignity not to be buying anyone over and I certainly never wanted her to be buying anyone over but is that what you're referring to? Am I making any sense?" This was all in response to the bits and pieces I'd picked up earlier on and pieced together, which certainly did not seem to be hitting the mark with Si Yin since everything on her face was spelling out a general sentiment of 'that's not what I was talking about but ok.'

The lot of us were in the midst of dragging ourselves around the airport, towards the boarding gate in the wee hours of the morning without a clue as to where we were heading to. And while the phone in my back pocket had been vibrating non-stop all morning with texts from the Chronicle group chat I eventually muted and a bunch of congratulatory messages from strangers on Facebook, I had not the slither of will to entertain or thank them in return.

"I've just happy we weren't disqualified, you know?" Si Yin gave her boarding pass a fifth glance before looking around, after which I simply helped her out by pointing out the gate number above us. A gate number I most definitely could not make out with the current state of my vision. "Second isn't what you wanted but I think we did super good considering it's Chen we're tied with. I'm just not used to you being all... I don't know. Blank and daydreamy because that's me. Not you.

"So does this have anything to do with not being at the campfire dance all night?" She narrowed in at once and I could tell from the look on her face that she'd been dying to pose this very question since the beginning of time. "Did you... maybe, meet your, I mean, some man? Not your man. Some man."

I sighed, looking away. "No."

She was onto me at once and, well, who wouldn't be? I was an open book without my glasses and every mild semblance of irritation or confusion would appear to my companion clear as day so naturally, Si Yin wasn't too far off. Quiet, I typed out a general gist of what happened and showed it to her, unwilling to say it aloud in a place full of ears.

In the next minute, her eyes grew in radius and circumference alike—alternating between me and the text in the most comic fashion. I waited.

"You two almost ki—"

I had to sandwich her cheeks between my hands and execute my deadliest glare in order to keep her in check. It was no easy task.

"Nothing happened," I told her. "That was it. And then I hit him on the head with my teacup, finished my tea, and returned to the institute without a hint of awkwardness," was what I believed to have happened. "It was like nothing happened and we were having a completely normal conversation about the trajectory of fireworks. Which is what happened, really. Nothing. Was what happened."

Past the boarding gates and onto the plane, Si Yin refused to let me off the hook and continued to demand further elaborative descriptions of last night till I was distracted enough to fall asleep for an hour. By the time we arrived, she'd finally moved away from listing interpretations of the forehead flick Leroy had given me instead of the... the other thing to complaining about Birchwood winning the cross-year against all odds.

"I mean, to do it with nearly five critics on her team is an incredible feat," I admitted upon landing, unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching up to take my belongings from the overhead bin. "She must deserve it, then."

"Well yeah but," my best friend (I hope) wasn't having any of it and was insisting otherwise. "Isn't it suspicious? And what about the Layla person? How could she be last?"

I assured her that a feedback report would be given to the captains of every team by the end of this week so that her, and everyone else's surprise and queries, would have some answers at the very least. "It might have been a one-point difference, for all we know. The scores will be included in the feedback."

Each class had their homeroom instructors dismiss them at the arrival gate as soon as we retrieved our bags and were ready to leave. Some were directed to the busses headed for school and others were joining the line for a cab or the pick-up area where their families were. Si Yin, whose butler apparently doubled up as her personal chauffeur, spotted him waiting for her right outside the arrival gate with a trolley for her bags. She waved and called him over in a heartbeat.

"Vanilla, this is Sebastian. Bas boy, this is Vanilla Julian White with the most amazing tongue any human can ever dream of having."

I managed a stiff laugh, rounding it off with a wave of similar nature. "Hello. I don't... I mean, that's not the most accurate description of my tongue, but."

My bags were practically ripped out of my hands in the very next second and by the time I'd looked up and registered them gone, Sebastian was bulldozing ahead with a trolley full of bags and Si Yin was asking if I'd like a ride home. For the question to be posed before the kidnapping of my bags was the real problem at hand. And so, having had the choice to decline confiscated in a moment of confusion, I thanked her without any fuss. After all, the initial plan had been to join the line for a cab or take the express railway, but a free ride had so kindly presented itself to me on a silver platter, so.

"Hey," Si Yin was pointing at something beyond the longest car window to ever exist. "Isn't that your man?" I followed her gaze.

"Well... I can't see. But that's his bag, alright," I made out the awful clashing colours at once. "Absolutely hideous isn't it?"

My companion got to rolling down the right window of her limousine (and rolling her eyes at the same time, just because). "He looks like he's waiting for someone. Do you think that's you? WhAT the!" I was prying her fingers away from the door as soon as she could do anything silly that would cause our already infamous reputation to sink.

"Si Yin!" I held her back at once. "Si Yin, don't you dare call out to him."

In less than a moment's wait for thoughtful action, the girl had scrambled up front and told her driver to pull us over at once—right in front of the curb with Leroy standing idle with his hands in his pockets and gaze locked on something not far away. The next minute was a long one; Sebastian proceeded down the driver's window and greet, in the most indifferent manner, the 'sir' and elaborately convey his mistress' wishes.

"Missy would like to offer you a ride back to wherever you may wish. Should you take her up on that offer, you may entrust me with your bags. Ahbabababa do not touch the door! Don't steal my job!" The butler burst out of his seat at Leroy's vague removing of his hands from his pockets. The image of him holding up a hand to decline had formed early in my mind.

A dash of salted misfortune came in the form of Sebastian opening the backseat door on my side of the limousine. With the guise of tinted windows no more, I found myself staring at a presently amused Leroy Cox who'd caught me in the middle of my stiff and awkward sitting position, frozen in place. Unable to move.

"Your bags, sir?" Sebastian was short of reaching for Leroy's, patiently waiting for a second cue of sorts. To my left, Si Yin was overcome by a fit of whisper-shouting, something about me having to move over for a man.

"So... you gonna move over or do I sit on your lap?" He had the gall to tease with a playful flicker of the candle in his eyes and good god was he in dire need of lessons on basic manners. So after clearing my throat and throwing the usual glare his way, I moved over to the middle of the semi-circle seats before realizing that I could simply go further up front and settle for more space on the backward-facing seats. Thank heavens for the additional space.

"Wait, where are you going?" Si Yin stopped me at once, tugging on my wrist. "That seat's... not... for, uh, sitting. You can't sit on there."

I blinked. "O-oh. What about that one? Or there?" I resorted to pointing out the remaining seats lined on the sides of the vehicle to which she sealed the deal with a firm: "Those too."

Aside, Leroy appeared to musing quietly to himself. Like he always seemed to be doing. Indignant and eager to put some distance between us, I gathered my belongings and made for the final alternative.

"Ah. Is there, um... some problem with the seats?" I was ready with my legs crossed and Sebastian was already back in the driver's seat. "I don't mind sitting on the floor—"

"The floor is lava."

At once, both Leroy and I turned to Si Yin with blank faces, which soon morphed into one of further entertainment and confusion respectively. After patiently demonstrating that the floor was, indeed, safe and lava-free, I sat in the middle of the empty space, on what I would otherwise consider as soft and comfortable carpeting. This would ideally last throughout the entire ride.

"There's no seatbelt, dumbass," Leroy grabbed my day bag off the floor and placed it back on the empty space beside him. "Can't handle sitting between two people?"

This rude lad was provoking me with words and that smirk of his, adding to that a show of gesturing to the open space beside him and even patting it like I was some sort of pet to be called! Absurd! Ridiculous! And to keep my composure amidst all these emotions I was feeling was next level meditation.

Quietly fuming but with the knowledge that Sebastian was waiting for me to be seated, I swallowed my pride and strapped myself to the middle seat, careful not to reveal any form of indignance or reluctance. "There. Done. Can we go now?"

"Y-y-y-yes yes," Si Yin was clearly under some demonic possession to be nervous. What with the floor being lava and speech that was quite unlike herself, I wasn't too sure if she was just acting up or behaving strangely for a genuine reason.

I'd decided to clarify this by text, which then led to the turning on of my phone and the subsequent flooding of notifications. Including the non-stop vibrating. This caused the passengers on both my sides to look over, hence furthering my embarrassment. I pretended not to notice and continued to stare at the two-five-seven plastered above the icon of my chats and the eight-six above Facebook. And then there were the missed calls... oh no, Chip tried to call me seven times.

Again, things were not going as planned because the next thing I knew, the screen of my phone was flashing my godfather's picture on the Caller ID (it was him trying to balance a strawberry on the tip of his nose). I stopped and stared; for a little too long because I was sure Leroy and Si Yin was close enough to get a glimpse of the screen. Unable to decline a call that was literally heaven-sent even in the worst possible time, I held it up to my ear.

"Hi. Um, Chip?"

"HEY ICE CREAM BOY CONGRATS ON YOUR WIN HA!" I moved away from the speaker at once and held the entire device at arm's length before ensuring the skateboard-loving girl was no longer shouting into the mic. "Miki says he likes the bamboo idea but I'm dying to try the fish ribs so come back and make them for me okay??"

"Yes, uh. Hi Rory. Oh um we didn't win by the way, we're tied with another team for second place. I'll make you the fish ribs soon, alright?" I offered with the best laugh I could manage in front of the intimidating one. She was a handful for someone like myself and the amount of respect I had for Chip and his husband tripled the moment I met her a couple of years back. "Is your dad there? Oh, and I'm glad you like the food."

"I saw the livestream and y'all looked ancient but are you sure you didn't win? Chip was in a really good mood this morning and even said I could have the strawberry and he never lets me having the strawberry pudding. Xander's in the shower by the way. Oh, wait up. Atlas wants to talk to you—"

Already, I was struggling to pretend that everything was going exactly how I'd intended it to go and the people seated beside me appeared increasingly curious in the conversation I was having over the phone. "W-wait, Rory I meant your—"

"Hi I'm Atlas. Your godbrother, thing. Quick question: who is the guy who deman—made you try to feed him and did you feed him because they turned the camera away last second and I couldn't see a damn thing so it was like a cliffhanger. Also, were you sleeping in tents and was feed-me-guy in the same tent as you? Was there a bath sce—did you guys even bathe or was there no such thing involved? It's for research."

At once, I felt the back of my neck burn and in scrambling for answers, I was fortunately saved by Chip resuming control over his phone.

"Vanilla? Is that you?" Had been what he'd started off with in the usual fluffy manner when he decided to clear his throat all of a sudden and under a false expression of disappointment, claim that he wasn't fond of my keeping secrets.

"I called to tell you that I'm angry. You should have told your Uncle and me about being chosen for the cross-year segment! Your Uncle's very proud of you and I'm—I'm... proud... too but also angry! Very angry that you didn't tell us about it. And I want you to know to whatever it is your Uncle might be saying to you next doesn't really count and he was the one coming to me with tears in his eyes, okay? I'm sure you already know this but it doesn't matter if you're first or second or third. I'm sure the journey was memorable and packed full of the knowledge you'd liked to have, so. I-I'm just calling to tell you that. Oh, and Xander said the food looked good and that he'd like to try it one day."

To be acknowledged by Chip's husband was a feat so unremarkable that it would often knock people off their feet. Though I was presently seated and plastered to the leather cushions by a belt, I felt the words knock the wind out of my lungs. On instinct, I'd turned to Leroy then—the only other person in the car who'd ever caught a glimpse of the underworld.

This... wasn't exactly the best idea. Upon blanking out at the stare he was, already, directing my way, I'd forgotten to respond to my godfather on the other end.

"H-hello? Vanilla? Is everything alright?"

"Well—uh, yes. Sorry I was just. Just a little shocked about the... um. Xander. Giving compliments." Meanwhile, Si Yin was using my lap as a table for a silent discussion between Leroy and herself. She had placed her phone on my lap and the screen had on a group chat named 'We had nine dishes—good lord! The language after that was questionable. Members of the chat seemed to be going on about the results and Violet Birchwood's name had been spelt wrongly at least four times so I pointed at it and gestured for Si Yin to correct the spelling.

"Haha! Xander's gotten used to giving compliments over the years you know. He's getting really good at it now," Chip sounded as though he was multi-tasking, probably getting ready to send the kids off at the bus stop before heading to the bakery. "Text your uncle as soon as you can alright? He's very worried. Also, tell me more about the cross-year as soon as you can! A-and about the question you asked the other time, um, y-you know, the... the boy thing... is he the—"

"I'm so sorry Chip, I, um, I can't seem to hear you very well. I'll give you a call when I get back to my apartment," was all I managed to whisper into the phone before guiltily ending the call.

*

As much as Si Yin wanted to drop herself off and leave Leroy and I in the car alone for awkward conversation, it was simply logically erroneous. In the end, Sebastian's route took us first to my apartment building, which made it impossible for me to confront my best friend about her odd behaviour. I'd thanked her for the ride regardless before heading up to my place with an empty stomach but without the will to do anything about it.

Then, it was searching my apartment for the spare pair of glasses I'd kept hidden in one of the drawers. Hideously out of fashion, but. Nothing I could do. And finally, the nap that followed suit... perhaps of a legendary scale. By the time my consciousness had the energy to return back to reality, the sun was setting.

__________________

From: Just Let Me Impress You

Hey

_________________

From: Just Let Me Impress You

Are you mad at me?

__________________

I'd reached for my phone on the bedside table to check the time but was met with the numerous abandoned duties I had put aside for a luxurious nap and despite the hundreds of notifications I was receiving on group chats and social media, I was foolish enough to look at something completely irrelevant.

The nerve of him to ask!

Forcing myself to close the chat window and run through the rest of my private messages, I sent several apologies to the Chronicle and got to working on my four articles—all due tomorrow. Strictly speaking, it was my fault that the deadline seemed awfully demonic since I'd chosen to spend that night distracted on the river cruise instead of gathering my pointers and outlines.

On social media, I was surprised to see that the notifications had nothing to do with myself or the entire team. The talk of the town was now Violet Birchwood, the first freshman to ever lead a team to victory in the history of cross-year segments and how Layla Tenner had fallen to third place.

As a dedicated and trained journalist, I figured that this entire outcome was simply beyond any form of reasoning and thus required some professional snooping around. Eager to start on a full blow-by-blow analysis, I took to Facebook posts, livestream records and Instagram stories that would aid myself in forming a gist of what had happened in the other teams.

But um, don't get me wrong—I have nothing against Violet Birchwood's team emerging victorious despite the slings and arrows put against her. I simply found it hard to believe that the school's number one, had lost to all three other teams when she should have had us drilled into the ground with her skills. Razor-thin margin or not, there was something odd about last night's delay; the results; and the long wait for a proper explanation.

Something wasn't quite right.

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I'd spent the night coming up with a list of events and necessary fact-checking to do in which should corroborate with the former. In the case that they do not, I considered raising the issue to a responsible member of the Chronicle for further details. To a certain extent, turning everything into news stories wasn't exactly the most conducive environment for a student-run press. Ultimately, the truth factor was key and while uncovering the tracks of juicy fruit desperately trying to hide was exciting for any newbie in the press room, there were dangers that often came with professional digging. This, my uncle had to experience first-hand.

"Hey!" My shoulder received an abrupt punch that was completely uncalled for and I turned to look at the fool who dared offset my balance. After all, the sidewalk up the main road to school was the bane of my existence, set at a steady twenty-degree incline. "You're that critic guy on Cox's team. You guys were pretty good."

I held up a hand. "I see. Thank you." And walked on.

"I was on Chen's team," he went on, catching up in a couple of strides. He didn't seem to understand that I was trying my best to shake him off. "And we did our best but Birchwood was good too, so. You guys have a lot of talent. Chen keeps talking about you—I think he's got something to tell you. Heard he was looking for you at the airport yesterday."

Vaguely registering what he had to say and nearly short-circuiting at the sight of the other bane of my existence (and sleepless nights, more specifically), my attention was nowhere near the conversation we were having.

"Sorry, um... I didn't quite catch that. Chen's looking for me?" I had to confirm and the moment the words left my lips was the moment I saw him turn and stare.

To think it all happened in an instant; Leroy looking up, meeting my gaze before glancing at the stranger beside me and then back—and then finally looking away altogether, tightening his grip on the strap of his rucksack and continuing past the gate.

His reaction had me utterly bewildered. How I'd gotten to this point, being so confident that someone like him would never in the right mind turn away and ignore my presence, was unimaginable. Mind boggled by the supposed norm that I'd somehow gotten used to, I felt the immediate need to resolve the issue. Hence, I excused myself from the conversation (if it was, in fact, a conversation) and headed straight for Leroy's back, tapping him on the shoulder before actually thinking through what I would be saying next.

His reaction startled me further; a slow turn that revealed a fire in his eyes. One that was burning low. He slowed to a stop, waiting.

"U-um, you. I see that you're... good morning," precisely why I should always run simulations of a conversation before actually starting it. Added to that my sudden inability to look him in the eye, I found my gaze resting somewhere lower and in my direct line of sight. "Your tie is loose."

I hadn't quite realized I'd said it out loud until I dared a glimpse back up at his eyes and caught a hint of what seemed like surprise. For a brief second, I was convinced he'd let his guard down until he returned with an expression I was familiar with. "It's done. What are you talking about?" He hadn't even looked at his tie.

"Well it's done but," I couldn't resist the urge to gawk at his awful job. "It's loose and that should not be how a done tie looks like."

He only snorted, glancing at something over my shoulder before resting his gaze on my tie. "So does it look like yours?"

I gave my tie a triple check. "Yes of course."

"Do it for me then," he proceeded to lean close, downwards so that his tie was better within my reach. The look on his face said it all. "If you're so good at it."

Naturally, I wasn't the kind of person who appreciated being bossed around but neither was I the kind of person who'd upped and leave, backing down from being provoked. I shot him a glare, hesitating before reaching up and undoing the unholy knot.

"This is ridiculous. I am not your servant."

"Who said you were my servant?" I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me—one that I refused to meet. Every bit of me was bent on completing the task at hand. "I thought we were married."

There he was! Doing it again. Well Leroy, lesson learnt—I won't be falling for his tricks ever again.

"You need to get your facts right," I finished in less than a minute, taking one last look at his now-perfect, straight, tightly-knotted tie. The owner was surprisingly compliant, showing no sign of discomfort or any attempt to loosen it. Unfortunately for me, not quite knowing what else to say and seeming to have forgotten how to look a human being in the eye, I was left with the option to start walking away and toward Roth Hall where my first class of the day was.

I heard him fall into step.

"Spare?" He tapped the side of my frames and I nearly bolted on instinct, stopping and turning with a stare.

"You! Don't... don't do things like that all of a sudden." I could only bring myself to look away as soon as our eyes met, desperately hoping that the heat I was feeling on my face wasn't showing up in the form of colour. Oddly enough, Leroy hadn't even done anything too personal or invasive since all he did was, well, practically speaking, touch the glasses on my face and not my face but. It did cause quite the earthquake in me.

"And yes," I quickly reverted back to the topic at hand in hopes of distracting him from my strange levels of sensitivity. "You don't have to say it—I know they look hideous. Mind you, they were in fashion three years ago, when round, circular frames were about everywhere."

"I didn't say anything," was all he had in response, snorting and looking quite amused. "The other one was sexier but," he shrugged, "this works too."

Again, the nerve of him to—! Clearly, I wasn't in the right mind to be thinking beyond a veil of outrage and so at once, I couldn't resist the urge to snap back.

"You're doing it again," I forced some space between us, making for the stairs but he closed it with minimal strides. "Teasing me. That's not very nice considering the fact that I don't do very well with teasing, so—you are un-nice. Is what I'm trying to say and I simply couldn't care less if you fail AB at this point."

He'd been able to keep up all this time (while I was, admittedly, close to running at the speed I was going, brisk-walking down the hallway to my next class) but had all of a sudden slowed to a stop. "You're giving up on me?"

I was stunned. He'd put it in a way that villainised my words and, well, while they were, indeed, a... a little harsh, I... I hadn't really meant it so literally.

"That was not what I meant so don't go misinterpreting my words like that Leroy Cox," I turned around to say only to see fallen shoulders and a lopsided smile. One that was rare and contained the warmth of a candle snuffed out. "You... you can't be serious. Why would I—surely, you don't think of me as that sort of person? It's just! You've been... very hard to understand so I. I'm trying my best. To understand what you mean because I... because you're very... important. To me."

And no matter how vast my mental dictionary was and how quickly my mind tended to piece things together, I found myself struggling. Struggling to convey the exact thoughts that were running around inside; struggling to speak the unspoken words and let myself be heard.

"Me too."

Was all he had to say in response to my outburst of vulnerability and I was even more lost than I was before. I stared at him, stared down the empty hallway not realizing that class had started ten minutes ago and here we both were, in the middle of everything.

"Can you come over today?" He walked up to me with something in his hands. A bar of rum and raisin chocolate. "It's page eleven again. Can't solve it."

"The first chapter of your textbook doesn't start until page twenty-three you mo—"

I paused.

Oh.

He stared. Waiting.

"Really?" I finished with a sigh. "Is that all the excuses you can come up with?"

He laughed shortly. Low and attractive, which could either be mildly or very problematic depending on the context. "Please?"