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Lacy, oh, Lacy, skin like puff pastry
Aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?
Idia Shroud existed in the silent space between breaths, behind the glowing blue of screens, in the moments where the world softens for just a fraction of a second to let something so incredibly beautiful in; A thing so beautiful it could even be described as ethereal.
That beautiful thing to Idia was was Azul Ashengrotto.
Azul and his skin as perfect as puff pastry - It was almost as if one careless touch would cause the entire thing to either collapse or rise higher than it ever had before.
There was something so effortlessly soft about the way Azul treated Idia; the way sharpness and sweetness co-existed, the way every time Idia was in his presence it felt like staring at the sun, the moon, and the stars all at the same time.
Wasn't he the sweetest thing on this side of sage island?
—
Idia didn't mean to say his name out loud in the middle of club activities; it sort of just slipped out.
“A- Azul,” he mumbled. Idia honestly feared that if he were to say it any louder, it would get stuck in his throat.
Azul looked up from the chessboard between them, his eyebrows knitting together to form a cute crease, only to be met with a blank stare from Idia - almost as if he hadn't said anything at all. So, he looked back down at the game in front of him, his eyes calculating the best move.
—
They met in the small moments: moments where Azul wasn’t scheming something, moments where Idia could go without worrying who was watching him, and moments where they could both just be.
The little table in the back of the club room and the shared board games were his domain. Azul liked games he could control; in fact, everything about Azul was intentional, even his silences.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Dear angel Lacy, eyes white as daisies
Did I ever tell you that I'm not doing well?
Azul lingered in Idia’s mind like a prayer he was afraid to finish. The more Idia looked at Azul, the more things he noticed about him; like how Azul’s eyes were this stunning light blue colour. It was almost as if a piece of the sky had been taken out just for him. There was also a beauty in the way Azul looked at him; it was as if Idia was made of something holy and blessed, something that made Idia want to confess every truth he had ever swallowed down.
Being near Azul felt like standing on the edge of something sacred.
—
Idia started calling Azul an angel in his head before he ever dared to say it aloud; that was just how Idia felt when Azul sat across from him, his elbows leaning on the table, head rested in hands like he had all the time in the world.
—
Azul’s eyes – his stunning blue eyes – followed his movement as Idia rolled the small pair of green dice and moved his token across the board.
"Are you okay?" Azul asked, tilting his head in that adorable way.
No, I’m totally and utterly in love with you.
"Y-yeah, your turn."
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Ooh, I care, I care, I care
Like perfume that you wear
I linger all the time
Watchin', hidden in plain sight
Idia cared more than he ever planned to - even more than he knew how to admit, if he was being honest with himself. He cared in the quiet ways, the ways that didn’t demand affection or attention but never left.
—
Azul somehow always had a specific scent to him—not like Idia was purposely smelling him or anything; he may be a total loser, but he wasn't that weird—it was nothing sharp or expensive. It was more like something that smelled of aged bourbon and sea salt. It clung to the air after Azul left, and Idia caught himself breathing it in when he leaned close. Later, when he was alone in the comfort of his dorm room, he swore to the sevens above that he could still smell it on his jacket.
Idia lingered too, always a step behind Azul, never quite crossing the line of being too close to be considered stalking. He walked the long way back to his dorm just so he could cross paths with Azul. He sat in a position where he could see him without making it glaringly obvious. He was practically watching, hidden in plain sight. Idia hated himself for how easily he slipped into Azul's orbit without asking if the other man wanted him there.
Sometimes Azul would glance back, like he felt it—like he knew Idia was watching him. His smile would soften just for a moment. It felt like Azul was letting him see something private. Those small moments were enough to keep Idia feeling terrified, hopeful, and suspended all at once.
Idia wanted to tell Azul he liked him. He really did! But if he said it out loud, it would become real, and real things could be lost.
So instead, Idia stayed. He listened. He remembered the insane types of tea Azul enjoyed and the songs he hummed under his breath. Idia let himself exist quietly, surrounding Azul without touching.
Maybe love—or whatever this was—didn't always announce itself. Maybe it just waits for the right moment, hidden in plain sight.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Ooh, I try, I try, I try
But it takes over my life
I see you everywhere
The sweetest torture one could bear
Idia tried to keep his feelings in check; he truly did, almost as if he was delusional enough to think effort alone could stop something that had rooted itself deep within his chest. He told himself he was being dramatic, that Azul was just a friend, and that this wasn't the kind of thing that took over his life if he ignored it for long enough.
It didn’t work.
It did not work one little bit.
Azul followed Idia everywhere. Not physically—Sevens, Idia wasn't that far gone—but in the little spaces: in the empty seat across from him, in the whistle of the kettle as it boiled, and in every boring lesson where his mind wandered without permission. Idia could be halfway through his day when he would realize he was thinking about the way Azul said his name, or the way his eyes would crinkle when he laughed.
Idia saw him everywhere: in other students with the same posture, in pale blue and purple flowers growing through gaps in the pavement, and in songs that lured people in, like they were trying to make a deal. Idia was starting to believe that it was genuinely impossible to escape Azul, and worse—Idia didn't actually want to.
It was the kind of thing that hurt to hold onto. The kind that made his ache, not because it was bad so per say, but because it mattered.
—
One evening, after club activities, Idia and Azul walked to the Hall of Mirrors together. They're steps falling in line without even trying. The air was cool for this time in spring, and Azul was close enough that their sleeves brushed every now and then. Every time it happened, Idia’s heart would jump out of his chest.
“Hey” Azul said suddenly, stopping. He looked nervous—really nervous, that scared Idia more then anything else
“Yeah?” Idia replied
Azul hesitated, then smiled, soft and uncertain. “Do you ever feel like something's been following you, because it wants to be seen?”
Idia’s breath caught. He wondered if his feelings were about to be acknowledged.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Smart sexy Lacy, I'm losing it lately
I feel your compliments like bullets on skin
Azul didn’t try to be impressive—that was a lie. Azul always strove to be the best. He was smart in an observant way, he noticed patterns, remembered conversations from weeks ago, asked questions that made Idia feel interesting by just answering them.
—
‘How have I fallen for this SSR tier trouble maker’ Idia thought one afternoon as they sat at a desk in the library, sitting opposite to one another. Idia was absolutely losing it lately. His thoughts kept circling back to Azul. He was reading, glasses slipping down his nose, completely unaware of the spiral he was causing.
“You’re really good at explaining things,” Azul said suddenly, breaking the silence and looking up at Idia.
“You make complicated stuff feel manageable”
The words hit harder than they should have. Idia laughed it off but his insides felt like he just took a bullet straight to the chest. Azul’s compliments always landed like that, sharp and precise—almost like bullets on skin. Soft enough to not hurt but hard enough make them impossible to ignore. Each one left a mark, a reminder that Azul saw him more clearly than Idia was ready for.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate
Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?
Azul had this way of shining without trying. Some days, when the light hit him just right, he looked unreal, like he’d stepped out of another era entirely. The thought came uninvited—dramatic and sincere all at once. He rolled his eyes when people annoyed him, but there was something cinematic about the way he moved through the world: confidence wrapped in grace.
They were sitting on Idia’s bed in the Ignihyde dorm when it happened. Azul was talking about a film he loved, hands moving as he spoke, excitement brightening his face. Idia barely heard the words; he was too busy watching Azul exist so effortlessly that it hurt to look at.
“You know,” Azul said, pausing, eyes flicking to Idia, “you’re kind of incredible.”
Idia laughed, reflexive and disbelieving. “You don’t have to say things like that.”
“I do,” Azul replied gently. “Because they’re true.”
The air felt thinner after that. Idia’s chest tightened, overwhelmed by the sudden, undeniable urge to say something back—something honest and terrifying. He looked at Azul, really looked at him, and the thought crashed through him fully formed: Aren’t you the greatest thing to ever exist?
He didn’t say it out loud. Not yet. But it was there in the way Idia leaned closer, in the way his voice softened when he answered. Azul’s smile faltered for just a second, like he felt the weight of it, too.
For the first time, Idia sensed they were standing at the edge of something. Not just admiration. Not just longing. Something shared.
Azul nudged his shoulder lightly. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Idia said, and this time it wasn’t a lie. His heart was racing, but it wasn’t panic anymore; it was anticipation.
If Azul was a star, then Idia had already been orbiting him for a long time. And maybe, just maybe, Azul was finally starting to notice.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Ooh, I care, I care, I care
Like ribbons in your hair
My stomach's all in knots
You got the one thing that I want
Idia cared in ways that felt embarrassingly obvious now. There was no denying it anymore, not after the way his chest tightened whenever Azul smiled at him like that. Azul had tied a ribbon in his hair that morning—thin and pale, holding it back from his face. It was such a small thing, but it lodged itself in Idia’s mind and refused to leave. Like ribbons in hair: decorative, delicate, impossible not to notice.
Idia kept fidgeting beside him, hands twisting together, his stomach a mess of nerves. Every laugh, every accidental brush of Azul’s knee against his sent another jolt through him. His body knew before his brain could admit it—Idia Shroud was in too deep. His stomach was in knots, and there was no undoing it.
Azul noticed, of course. He always did. “You’re quiet,” he said softly. Not accusing, just curious.
“I’m thinking,” Idia replied, which was true, but not nearly the whole truth. What he didn’t say was that he was thinking about Azul—about the way he looked at Idia like he was someone worth wanting. About how every compliment, every shared silence, had led him right here, to this unbearable, fragile moment.
Azul tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, fingers brushing the ribbon. Idia swallowed hard.
There was a pause. It was thick, humming with unspoken words. Azul shifted closer, close enough that their knees pressed together fully now. Idia didn’t move away. He couldn’t.
“Can I tell you something?” Azul asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Idia’s heart pounded so loudly he was sure Azul could hear it. He nodded, breath caught in his throat.
Whatever Azul was about to say, Idia knew it would change everything. The waiting, the knots, the quiet ache—it all felt like it was pulling tight, winding them toward something neither of them could pretend not to want anymore.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Ooh, I try, I try, I try
Try to rationalize
People are people
But it's like you're made of angel dust
Azul was everywhere again, but this time it hurt. Not because he meant to—never because of that—but because Idia’s feelings had sharpened into something dangerous. He laughed with someone else across the room, head tipped back, eyes bright, and it felt like a direct hit.
Azul poisoned every little thing that Idia did without even trying. Conversations blurred when he wasn’t part of them. Music sounded wrong if it wasn’t something he liked. Even joy felt borrowed, temporary, because it all circled back to him eventually. Idia hated that about himself. Hated how much power he had just by existing.
Azul hadn’t done anything wrong. He was still kind. Still gentle. Still Azul. The problem was Idia, his chest tightening, his smile going stiff whenever someone else caught his attention.
Idia despised his jealous eyes most of all. The way they tracked him without even realising. The way they lingered on every touch that wasn’t his to want. He saw the world tilt toward Azul, and he resented it for being right. Idia hadn’t tripped—he’d collapsed, headfirst, no hands out to catch himself.
Later, when it was just them again, the quiet air felt heavier than usual. Azul studied Idia like he always did, but this time there was concern etched into his expression.
“Did I do something?” he asked softly.
The question broke something open inside of Idia. He shook his head too quickly. “No. Never.”
Azul didn’t look convinced. He reached out, fingers brushing Idia’s wrist—light, careful. His breath stuttered.
“I don’t want to be someone that hurts you,” he said.
Idia looked at him then, really looked, and felt the truth ache behind his ribs: Azul wasn’t hurting Idia. Loving him was.
And the worst part was—Idia still wouldn’t trade it for anything.
—
It all finally came apart on an ordinary night. No music swelling. No perfect timing. Just Azul and him sitting on the floor of Idia’s messy dorm room, the lights low, the quiet pressing in.
He’d been distant all evening. Azul noticed—of course he did.
“You’ve been somewhere else,” he said gently. “Did I do something again?”
Something in Idia snapped, not sharp but exhausted. He laughed once, breathless and rough. “No. You didn’t.” He dragged a hand down his face. “It’s me. I just-” Idia stopped, then forced Himself to finish. “I-i Really really like y-you.”
The words hung there, fragile and terrifying.
And then Idia’s brain lagged, malfunctioned and bluescreened all at once.
“Y- you don’t n- need to say it b- back” His voice cracked. Sevens fucking damn it Idia, you’re better then this. This is SO embarrassing. “I j-just thought you s- should know.”
Azul didn’t move right away. He just looked at Idia, eyes soft, searching, not shocked. Not uncomfortable. If anything, Azul looked …relieved?.
“You think that’s one-sided?” he asked quietly.
Idia’s heart stuttered. “A- Azul-”
“I’ve been trying not to push,” he said, voice steady but earnest. “Trying to be normal about you. But I think about you all the time. I notice when you pull away. I miss you when you’re right next to me.” He smiled, small and nervous. “I really like you too. I just didn’t know if you wanted that.”
Idia stared at him, chest aching, mouth agape.
“I do,” Idia said. “Sevens, I do.”
Azul didn’t rush it. He reached out slowly, giving Idia time to pull back. He didn’t. Azul's hand brushed Idia’s cheek, warm and grounding, and when he leaned in, it felt like something clicking into place.
The kiss was soft, careful, like they were both afraid of breaking the moment. Azul's lips were warm, hesitant at first, then surer when Idia kissed him back. He breathed Azul in, relief flooding through him.
When they pulled apart, foreheads touching, Azul smiled. “Hi,” he whispered.
Idia laughed, shaky and happy. “Hi.”
For the first time, Idia’s mind was quiet. Whatever it was that worshipped Azul didn’t feel rotten anymore.
It felt like love—and this time, it was finally shared.
Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you