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letters-from-dekarios · 22 days

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tolerate it

summary: you and gale were growing apart. your usual cute routine slipped into becoming a mundane list of tasks you did, and the tension was slowly rising. it was high time something snapped between you two, it was just a matter of when.

or: you and gale get into an argument that ends.. badly.

word count: 2.8k

tags: established relationship, gale x gn!reader, angst, abrasive language, based on ‘tolerate it’ by tswift, lyrics used loosely, part of the mystra hate club

Gale Dekarios. Notorious ‘Wizard of Waterdeep’. Your boyfriend and the love of your life. You had been together for years now, you knew each other like the back of your hands.

There wasn’t a thing separating you from one another- until now. Until he started investing his time more and more into his studies. Until he started going away and into the weave for nights on end. Until he started ignoring you.

You had a nice routine going for a while. He’d get up, make you breakfast, and you’d start the shower for him. He’d get ready and you’d set the table, prepped with the dishes your friends gifted you when you moved in together. You’d go out to get the paper, and he’d be waiting for you to solve the latest crossword puzzle. You were always by his side, whether it was helping him point out certain notes in his books, or simply existing by him. Sometimes he’d cling to you, too, as you practiced in your artwork. If he had to leave for a while, you’d have dinner ready and made for him. Sometimes you’d do nothing at all and everything in the world together. You were inseparable.

But now? Now, that routine turned into daily tasks. Those tasks soon turned into chores, and finally, you dreaded waking up in the morning, only to feel your heart break over and over again. You tried to bring it up, tried to tell him how neglected you felt, but it was met with apathy, a wave of the hand, a “we’ll talk about this later”. You couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave- not after all the time you had spent on him. On together. Whatever your concept of “us” had become.

Today was no different than every day for the last three months. You sat at the table, watching Gale read over the paper you begrudgingly brought in. You watched his chest rise and fall unceremoniously, unfazed by the world around him. When he was done, he got up, put his dishes away, and left for his study to get back into things.

He didn’t even notice you hadn’t touched a thing on your plate.

A few hours went by, Gale left to go to the library, and you waited. You waited like a little kid, hoping that this time- this time would be different. This time he would come back and welcome you with open arms, this time he would kiss you like he used to, this time would be happy. This time he would love you.

He was gone for a few more hours, you made dinner, and you waited. Again and again, you waited. You waited for him to come home, to become the man he used to be. The longer you waited, the more he strayed from the path you thought you were on.

The day came and went, you made no move to attempt to talk about it. You were just tired of it all, now.

As you fell asleep, your back to his, you vowed you were over it. You swore to yourself that you were no longer going to sit and watch him, waiting idly for the day that he turned back around. You were not some lovesick puppy who, no matter how many times you were kicked or hit, continued to seek love from someone not willing to give it. You were done.

You didn’t get the paper the next morning. You didn’t set the table, or start the shower, you didn’t do anything you usually did. You got up, you got yourself ready for the day, and that was that. You needed time to think of how to approach him, so you went off to your area of the house and started working on a painting.

You were only left alone with your thoughts for a short time, though, before they were harshly interrupted.

“Why isn’t the table set?” He asked, his voice cold and fierce like he was lecturing a pet who’d done something wrong.

“Because I didn’t set it.” You answered, equally callous. You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing his words out of your mind. He wasn’t going to affect you. You swore on it. You vowed it.

“And why is that?” Why is that? You know why that is. You almost retorted, but instead, you took a breath and shrugged your shoulders.

“I didn’t feel like setting it.”

“Right. Of course.”

A hush fell within your space, you wondered if he was still there behind you. He was. You only knew from the loud sigh he let out, his footsteps trailing away and back out into the hall, that he finally left. You heard the dishes slam into the sink and his door smash shut. It shook your supplies. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream- at him, at the world, at whatever changed him in such a way that it created this monstrosity before you.

You did everything for him, everything to bring him happiness and comfort, and you were left with what? His disinterest in you?

Was it your body? Were you no longer enough for him? Was it the sex? Did you not satisfy him anymore? Or had he simply grown tired of you altogether? Would nothing you did change anything at all?

He left after a while, and you broke down. Your tears landed in the paints below you, your portrait of him becoming something vile right before your eyes. You hated it. You despised this. This was your home, too. You were supposed to belong here, and yet you felt like a stranger in the space you created with your own hands.

You were waiting for him when he came home. Not with dinner, not with the paper, or with the table set. You were waiting for him with nothing but your words and a desire to leave. You couldn’t keep doing this anymore.

You stood in the foyer, waiting. Time passed slower than ever. You sat in the kitchen, waiting. The moon rose over the hills. You moved to the couch, you lit candles. You went to bed, he wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there.

Your sleep was restless, colder than ever, harsher than the last few months had been. Your desire to leave nearly slipped away. Would you rather be unhappy and in his presence than sleeping soundly? Was that what it came down to?

He was there when you woke up, sat at the kitchen table with his breakfast and the paper.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” You stated, watching as his eyes scanned the words. He didn’t look up at you.

“I didn’t come to bed.”

“I know.”

Silence. You wanted so badly to break it, to smash it with a sledgehammer and send the shards flying across the room.

“Gale-“

“Can we do this after I’ve eaten?”

“No, we can’t.”

No. Had you ever told him that word before? Had it ever slipped off your tongue in the way it just did?

“No?” Now he looked at you. Now he acknowledged your presence, taking up space in his world. Now he let you back in. Only for this.

“I’m done waiting to talk about this. You keep pushing me off- pushing this off. I’m done breaking at your feet and being disappointed that you won’t sweep me up, Gale.” You stood tall, strong. You focused on him, yet kept the image of your happiness ahead of you.

“What kind of a metaphor is that?”

“A damn good one!” You raised your voice at him. You raised your voice at him.

“Don’t shout at me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Silence. Was this what you wanted? Was this how you wanted to do it?

“Fine then. Let’s talk.” He pushed himself out from the table, standing and facing you directly. The deck was in your hands, it was your turn to deal the cards. Had you shuffled them in your favor? Was fate leaning in your direction?

“Fine then.”

You took a breath, thinking of all the time spent on him— spent doting on him, reassuring him, adoring him with everything you had. Then your mind turned to all the times he’d done the same for you. So far and few in between, clarity hit you harder than ever.

“I’ve been doing everything for you for the last few months and this is how you return the favor?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowed together in frustration and despair.

“You’ve hardly done everything,” he retorted, your anger boiling over.

“Every day- every damn day, I wake up and I get the paper, I start your shower, I set the table. When you leave, I clean the house, I polish plates until they gleam and glisten, I make dinner, I wait for you- I waited for you all night.” Your voice started to shake, but you steadied yourself.

“If it’s all, somehow, in my head- please by all means tell me now. Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow. You act like I’ve done nothing for you when I do everything in the world.”

“And I haven’t done the same?”

“While you were out building other worlds, where was I? When you spent hours on end away from me, where was I? What did you do when you got back? Where’s that man who threw blankets over my barbed wire? Who’d come home and shower me with all the love in the world because he missed me?”

“I still love you.” He tried to interject, but you were past it. Your words were flowing faster than you could think, you had spent so much time cooped up with your thoughts that it all just came out at once.

“No, Gale. I made you my temple, my mural, my sky— now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life. It’s like I don’t even exist to you anymore. You haven’t kissed me in months, we haven’t had a meaningful conversation in weeks. It’s like I’m always taking up too much space or time,” you didn’t want to sound like it, but gods were you begging for him to just return to you.

“Y/N, this is ridiculous. I’ve just been busy. It’s not like we’ve been arguing. We’re fine- there’s been a lot going on,” He sighed, your heart breaking more with every defense he made.

“Really? You assume I’m fine but what would you do if I—“ you cut yourself off, choking back a sob as tears welled in your eyes. How could you say it? How could you even dare ask that question after all you’d been through?

“If you what?” He demanded to know, crossing his arms over his chest. He only wanted to know for himself, not for you, not for your “us” that was slowly crumbling at your feet.

“Break free from this- from us- leave us in ruins? You’re twisting this dagger in me time and time again, Gale. What would you do if I took it and removed it?” Your voice cracked as it raised, your hands gesturing with your words. He looked shocked, almost, that you would even suggest such a thing.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Believe me, I could do it!” You exclaimed, turning and grabbing a bag you had ready nearby in case things went south. You held it up to show him how serious you were about the situation.

“Y/N.”

“I know my love should be celebrated and yet- and yet, you tolerate it. I greet you with a battle hero’s welcome, I take your indiscretions all in good fun, I sit and listen— every day. Every day. And instead of loving me, thanking me for everything I do for you, I get ignored, tossed to the side like I mean nothing to you. You tolerate everything I do like I’m a burden to be around. You expect me to be able to just carry this weight of your disregard for my existence around like nothing. Well, I can’t carry it anymore.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, you noted his expression shift and change as he realized the significance of everything going on. It was like he was seeing how badly he screwed up just now and needed to stall to find out how to fix it.

“Don’t leave-“

“I’m done!”

“Y/N.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder, pushing past him and heading for the door. It hurt. It hurt more than anything in your life ever had but in a small, tucked away part of your heart, it felt better than ever.

“Y/N!” He raised his voice, you nearly stopped, but you kept going.

He called your name again, but you blocked him out. You blocked it all out- the damage, the outrage, the apprehension. You had no idea where you were going or what you were doing next but you didn’t care. You were free and you’d be damned if you weren’t happy about it.

Except it wasn’t that easy, of course it wasn’t. It never could be.

Suddenly, you were back in the house, unable to move. You were stuck in place, an emblem glowing around you. He cast a holding spell. You wanted to kick and scream and claw your way out, but you were helpless. You were nothing in comparison to him— did he have to make you aware of that?

“You wanted to talk. I hardly got a word in at all.”

You were released from the spell, not daring to look him in the eye. How could he? How dare he?

“How dare—“

“Don’t start.” He warned, his voice lowered to his seriousness. You became afraid. Afraid? You’d never been afraid of him. Afraid of losing him, sure. But afraid of him? Never. Except for now.

“My sincerest apologies go out to you for feeling this way. But I would never-“

“And yet you did!” You cried out, holding yourself together. You couldn’t pick yourself up if he just kept smashing you to pieces like this. You swore you could do this, that you would do this, but he was making it harder by the second.

“You can’t just leave like this!”

“I can and I will, goddamnit! I don’t want to be with someone who will never give me the peace of mind or recognition of my love that I deserve!”

“For Mystra’s sake..”

“Don’t bring her into this.”

“I’m not bringing anyone into anything. Nothing is happening! You’re not leaving!”

You both stared at each other, eyes narrowed with frustration at one another. You wanted this to be over. You needed it to be over.

“You know what, Gale. It’s really nice putting two-and-two together. Because ever since you started slipping away into the Weave, you’ve gotten more and more distant.”

“Don’t say what you’re about to say, y/n. You’ll regret it.”

“Oh? Will I? Will I regret it as much as I’ve regretted these last few years with you? Had I known I’d be standing here, begging to be let go, I would’ve never touched you in the first place. I would’ve never even laid eyes on you if I knew that, eventually, you’d let Mystra take hold of you. That you’d let her back into your life how she used to be— tell me, Gale, did you intertwine your soul with hers in those hours away? Did she convince you I was wrong for you? Did she steal you from me, or did you give yourself up willingly?”

He was silent, you had your answer.

No more waiting, no more serving hand and foot, no more. None of it. You gathered yourself up off the floor once more, straightened yourself out, and walked right out the door again. He didn’t try to stop you this time. He didn’t fight it.

Part of you wished he had, that he’d answer you in a way that fit the sad reality you wanted to twist. That it’d turn out he was just busy, that he was stressed and didn’t want to talk about it, and that he’d apologize for everything. Part of you wanted to find comfort in his arms, sob into his chest about how sorry you were for fighting, that you’d both do better. You yearned for him so badly that you were almost willing to turn around and give it all up again for him, but you didn’t. You valued your peace more than him. It would be an adjustment, you knew, but you could do it.

You could do it with a broken heart.

And in a few years, when you’d eventually cross paths again, you’d be happy. You’d have your peace and your love, and you’d be able to show him that you were worth it. You were worth the time and effort he could have put into you but didn’t. You’d be able to show him what he missed out on, and you wouldn’t be sad, or upset about it. You wouldn’t revert to that night, you’d stay the same, changed but strong, person you’d become.

Your love would be celebrated, not tolerated.

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artistalley · 6 months

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Baldur's Gate 3 Stickers by @myebi

True Souls... and animals! Enjoy these little stickers of your favorite companions who now have their own. And if you're feeling extra feisty, get yourself the Mystra Hate Club badge of honor.

Isn't this nice? Follow @myebi for more lovely original art.

#tumblr artist alley #myebi #baldur's gate 3 #stickers

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thedreamlessnights · 4 months

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what if i created a gale-centered discord server called mystra's #1 hate club. what then

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dreamingofthewild · 1 month

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Hi there! I was just reading your post on Mystra grooming and I thought it was very well articulated I just had one question on it. You mentioned that Elminster reached out to Gale when Gale was 8 years old and I haven't seen that mentioned in the game or in other lore for the game. Would you mind letting me know where that was sourced? Mostly because I'm interested on reading on that more, thank you

Hello there kingtycoon13

SPOILER ALERT: EPILOUGE

The reference to Elminster reaching out to Gale comes from a letter that Elminster writes to Gale when he ascends to Godhood. The letter can be found in a basket full of letters the player can read in the epilogue.

More under the cut

In the Forgotten Realms Wiki, it does say that Elminster took on apprentices from time-to-time. Sometimes they were by Mystra's request.

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Elminster#Apprentices

We do not know why Elminster appeared on Gale's doorstop when he was eight years old. We do know that Gale was a child prodigy who could summon rabbits when since he was toddler (I cannot find the dialogue for this on the web). If magic was unstable at the time this makes his power an even more impressive feat.

So Elminster had connection with the Blackstaff and was prominent in Waterdeep.

There is every potential that he heard about a boy prodigy who was living with non-magically inclined parents and rocked up to their doorstep to offer help. He might have been thinking about how Mystra will need more chosen when she returns, or he might have just decided that it was time for another apprentice.

On the forgotten realms Wiki it says that Elminster spoke to Mystra who possessed the body of a bear and asked him to find new candidate's to become her chosen. Gale would have been 22 at the time if we go with his cannon age of 35.

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Mystra_(Midnight)

I think that Elminster may have suggested Gale as a candidate when Gale was 22. Elminster has helped train her chosen before, such as Sammaster.

There is also a very interesting tidbit I found upon looking him up where he says he left the encounter feeling as though he and Mystra were in love;

https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Sammaster

I do not know to what extent Mystra's presence could be felt whilst she was gone. But Midnight was said to have felt a 'presence' and her spells which might've failed succeeded and she felt like she was being groomed, before becoming the next Mystra. I cannot find any evidence to support a theory that Mystra was behind Gale's ability to cast magic at such a young age. But it is an interesting theory nonetheless.

Anyway, back to my original point. When I said that Elminster had a part to play, I meant that he is a renowned wizard and former chosen of Mystra. And he inserted himself into Gale's life when he was 8. It is implied that he did help him, and potentially recommended him if she did not already have her eyes on him herself.

Elminster does mention making a mistake in his letter, so could that be the mistake he refers to?

We don't know if Mystra sought Gale out as her chosen because of Elminster or vice versa. She may have set her eyes on him regardless but perhaps at a later stage. Either way, Elminster had a part to play in Gale being selected as her chosen.

My idea also stemmed from a post a read a while back where someone wrote Meta's on each BG3 character;

The final point I wanted to make was that grooming does not always involve one person. It can be an organisation or an entire industry which is set up to suck the souls out of people who have talent. Be it academia, sports, the film and music industries or the fictional industry of Wizardry.

But in general the process of becoming a chosen is exploitative and manipulative. We witness that in game with Shadowheart and Lae'zel. They were all groomed in different ways.

#bg3 #gale dekarios #My attempt at a lore dive #It's not that deep this is headcannon based on lore information I have read and things in the game #Because the game leaves a lot to interpretation #I am going to regret posting this #It's still grooming #gale of waterdeep #gale defense #mystra hate club #bg3 Gale #bg3 discourse

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letters-from-dekarios · 18 days

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midnight tears

summary: stricken with grief, anxiety, and the shadow of his former, prouder, self, gale takes to seeking comfort in the swift end he dreamt up many moons ago. tav finds him before it’s too late.

or: gale considers exploding and tav stops him

word count: 2.1k

tags: PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: this story contains themes of self-harm/suicide. it is not my intention to trigger or harm anyone who comes across this story, but, rather, to share a side of a fictional character I’ve taken a liking to. please do NOT read if these themes, discussed in a reasonable concept of detail, could potentially harm your mental state.

other tags include; gn!tav, act 1 storyline, major gale angst, im still a part of the mystra hate club

He had it all planned out. Written down. He had a failsafe in case things went wrong. Timed it down to the letter, against all the knowledge he had on the orb within him. If worse came to worst, Gods he hoped it wouldn’t, he knew precisely how he wanted to go.

When he first gathered the understanding of the Netherese orb within him, its desperate need to consume the Weave, he was confused. Which was a rare occurrence for him. He was always so knowledgeable that confusion rarely ever happened. He’d question things and soon find an answer, but with this.. no, this was different.

In his quest to prove his love, he only proved his egotism. Something he had tried to stay away from and here he was, indulging in it. How proud was he that he could be able to love the Goddess and Mother of all magic and still be unhappy? Still try to attain more power, more love? How dare he, a mortal man, try and capture the Weave for himself?

Was it really out of love, or was the idea of power and the concept of Godhood too tempting to be toyed with? How did he get this far? How did he manage to do it in the first place, if not by his handling of the Weave itself? He had all the power he could hold and still wanted more.

He was the epitome of a power-hungry, egotistical, jackass.

He deserved the consequences he now had to suffer. He could blame no one other than himself for Mystra’s decision to make him live with it. She could have, very well, killed him right there. But she, by her merciful graces (or what the larger part of Gale perceived as merciful), allowed him to live. He would sacrifice himself to right the wrongs he had created.

As he lay in his tent, one uneventful night, staring at the stars, he pondered the plan he had in his back pocket. He had it figured out for years now, so it wasn’t a question, but he questioned the actual statistics of it. He pulled out a little vial from his bag and turned it over in his hands, reading the neat handwriting over and over again. Midnight tears. A poison whose consequences would only take effect at midnight exactly. If he consumed it in the early morning, traveled far into the Underdark and waited, he would avoid injuring any innocents in the process.

It was a desirable end to his misery, he concluded. If he woke before Tav and the rest of the group, he could be gone before they arose. He doubted they would notice he was missing.

He knew Tav had accepted him for his faults, his lies, and everything else with him. They had encouraged him to stay traveling with them, but he didn’t feel as though he deserved to.

He wondered what the poison would feel like, how it would taste. The seller who gave it to him was vague on the details, and Gale didn’t know if he preferred that or the horrid truth of receiving every component.

He set the poison to the side and conjured a dagger in his hands. He twisted it between his palms, considering the other option to poison. It wasn’t the preferred way to go, but it was his failsafe in case the poison went bad. All he had to do was plunge the magic knife into his chest, and off he would go.

It wouldn’t be the prettiest, he knew that, but it would be better than nothing. His blood pooling out onto the ground, pained cries filling the air- he’d apologize again and again to Mystra, his goddess, his first love, telling her how sorry he was for the stupid mistakes he’d made.

His mouth would taste like copper, eventually, and by then he’d begin slipping away. His body would go numb, he figured, and then his hands would drop. He would fall onto his back, staring up into the vast sky of Faerún, before everything disappeared.

He had a letter written already for his soul to pass on to Tav and the others. He’d apologize to them, too, for letting them down. For not becoming the man they hoped and wished he was. For everything. There wasn’t enough time in all the realms where he could be forgiven for his mistakes.

The longer he sat there, with his thoughts, the more he twisted the knife between his hands. The more he sunk into himself, the harder he pushed it in his palms.

He didn’t even realize he was bleeding until he felt his hands become oddly slippery. He sat up and looked down, his eyes going wide as he saw the blood trickling down his fingers. His heart began to race, his chest becoming tight. He couldn’t live with himself if he died now and took out all his companions with him. Though, maybe he was just being dramatic.

The knife in his hands disappeared and he looked clearer at the cuts on his hands, cursing himself under his breath. He grabbed a nearby carafe of water and poured it over his hands, hissing in pain while they stung.

“Goddess forgive me..” he sighed under his breath, looking around for some cloth he could use to cover his wounds. Then, during one of their battles, he could play it off as an injury received. Why did he do this?

Why was he like this?

He could never know the answer to those questions. The questions that pulled at his heart and broke down in his mind- they had no real answers, they never were able to be answered to begin with. In all his years living as some high, extraordinary Chosen of Mystra, he never found the courage to become insightful of himself. He never understood why he was never enough, or why he couldn’t do things right. Why did he feel the need to lie to cover his imperfections? Why was he so scared that if he messed up, he would never be exonerated?

Mystra had planted the seed in his head that he was not worthy of forgiveness, that death would be the only thing to balance his scale. It got to him. Terribly so, Gale began to believe that she was right. After all, how could one commit such a sin against a God and not be considered unworthy of their forgiveness? He had tried to usurp her authority, whether for love or pride, and had to deal with her wrath. She had every right to not pardon him. She had every right to make him feel how he did.

Though he was rather calm in these situations, no matter what was happening around him, right now he was panicking. His breath picked up, his chest rising and falling faster by the second. Why couldn’t he find a damn cloth?

“Gale?” Tav’s sweet voice broke him from his thoughts. Was he crying, too? He couldn’t tell anymore. He was a whole mess and a half.

“Tav-“

“What happened?” The way they spoke, so much concern in their voice, he couldn’t help but be ashamed of what he had become. How could he sit here, hurting, and hurt others around him? The look Tav gave him was enough to break a thousand realms over again, and he felt awful for making them deal with him.

“I- I don’t know…” he replied, the panic in his eyes as evident as ever.

Tav disappeared for a moment but quickly returned with more water and some towels. They sat down beside him, sighing softly as they took his hands in their own.

He winced, pulling back for a moment before Tav eased him, gently cleaning the wounds.

“Gale..” they started again, and he looked away, ignoring the wounds on his hands. Gods, he was so stupid.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” he replied, taking a breath as Tav made sure his hands were okay.

“Gale,” they repeated, glancing down suspiciously at the poison beside him.

He looked to his side, sighed, and then opened his mouth to speak. How could he even begin?

“You promised me,” Tav sighed, waving their hands and muttering a small healing spell. Soon enough, the wounds closed, and his hands were clean again.

“I wasn’t going to-“

“Gale-“ they sighed again, running a hand over their face. “Why do you even have it? We discussed this. It won’t come down to that.”

“We don’t know that.”

Tav looked at him with those sad, puppy-dog eyes. Hurt laced their words, how could Gale be so cruel to himself?

“It’s for safety.”

“Safety of who, Gale? What happens if you accidentally drink it instead of a healing potion? What happens if it ends up in your food?” They asked, eyebrows furrowed together.

“I wouldn’t do that-“

“Oh, come on. We’ve all done it. These damn bottles look so alike! I hardly know the difference between a feather fall and an angelic sleep spell, Gale. It could happen to any of us.” Tav replied, their words rather sharp. Gale flinched, looking down at his fully restored hands.

“I cannot live on if I do not have a clear source of escape should things turn the wrong way,” Gale replied, honest-hearted words clashing with the things he was actually thinking. Yes, he felt that way, but did he think that way? Hardly.

Truth be told, Gale was angry with Mystra. At least, a small part of him was. He had done everything to love her, to prove his love, going so far as bestowing this upon himself, and instead of helping, she cast him aside. If she truly loved him as she claimed to, would he even be here? Why had she left him like this- surely death would have been much kinder. This was just plain cruel.

“I don’t want you to think like that, Gale. I want you with me, with our party, for as long as you can be. You’re supposed to stay by our side, not have a plan to leave us,” Tav took his hands in their own again, looking him in the eye. “Please, Gale. I want you to live. I need you to live. Planning your demise does no one any good, especially not yourself.”

“Mystra-“

“Enough about Mystra!” Tav dropped his hands, frustrated now. “We know. I know. Why are you so devoted to her when all she’s done is bring you pain? It makes no sense to me that you would continue to suffer in her name. You need to be free, Gale. Netherese orb or not, and whether you like it or not, you’re in this tadpole journey with us. I don’t give two damns what Mystra thinks or feels. This is about you, not her.”

Those words struck him. Yes, that tiny part of him agreed, Mystra was harsh for leaving him like this. She was rather harsh to toss him aside after doting on him and his abilities for so many years. But the larger part of him outweighed that piece, and he could only help but feel guilty for thinking such things about her.

“But-“

“No buts, Gale. You’re going to stop this stupid ‘I’m going to blow myself up for Mystra’ nonsense. I know it’s a part of who you are, we all have things we have to deal with, but please. For me, for all of us, you can’t go on with this weight on your back.” Tav sighed, taking his face gently in their hands and wiping away his tears.

“I’ll try to do better, I promise,” Gale replied, letting his face rest in their soothing hands. Why did he always hurt those that he loved? He couldn’t answer that. He never could.

“The next time you start contemplating your death, please, Gale, talk to me. Talk to any of us! We all want to be here for you, and I know I would be so incredibly miserable if we lost you,” They looked into his eyes and pulled his head against their own. Their foreheads touched, Gale’s eyes shut, and for a brief moment, he felt at peace. No matter what happened he knew he had friends to rely on. And for that, he was thankful.

Tav made sure he was alright before returning to the campfire to rest. He tucked the poison into the furthest part of his bag, laid himself to rest, and let his mind slip away into the night.

He would keep the poison and the letter handy, just in case, and it would take quite some time for him to be fully able to talk to the others when he was feeling like exploding, but it would happen. Eventually, he would be okay. Eventually, he would find peace.

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letters-from-dekarios · 1 day

Text

so high school

summary: you’re the high school’s star football player. never would you have imagined that your eyes would set on the dorky english club head and class president during the hottest party of the year, but some things are meant to be.

or: you flirt with gale at a party

word count: 7.5k

tags: modern high school!au, 18!gale x 18!reader, m!reader, some VERY minor suggested NSFW, another t!swift inspired fic, all the people are in this one somehow, football coach halsin, english teacher mystra (still part of the hate club), high school tropes, kind of underaged drinking (i don’t condone!)

Being the best wasn’t easy. Whether it was sports, academics, or the streets, dealing with the pressure of staying on top of everything was about the most difficult thing someone could do. Having to do all of that, while still being young and impressionable, just made it all the more arduous.

Yet, here you stood— star of the football team, the greatest quarterback your school had in years. You were already being offered full-ride scholarships to play for some of the most formidable teams. Naturally, everything was going tremendously. How you’d managed to get this far was just astounding, especially considering you weren’t exactly known for being intellectual or getting all a’s. It spoke volumes to receive the stacks of offers from different colleges despite all that. A part of you couldn’t help but feel guilty for it, taking away the opportunities from someone who’d grow up to do much greater things in life than you. But the other part of you was just glad to be recognized for the hard work you put into your body.

After all, you were tall, lean, and incredibly fit. All the girls fawned over you like they were going to lose you if they didn’t. And you were hot, so that helped, too. Even some of the guys looked at you twice, despite the fact you were about 70% sure you didn’t swing that way. At least, you didn’t for the guys you caught looking at you. The other 30% was reserved for guys who looked like Flynn Rider, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and a few of your teammates who you’d always joked that you’d date if you were a girl.

You were well-liked, popular, and knew anybody who was anybody in your hometown. You had connections thick and thin, and, really, you were the teamiest player who could play teams. Okay, that was stupid, but you were a teenage boy— virtually everything you said that wasn’t about football was.

It was getting to that time of year when all the school dances and after-parties were happening, and you were being invited to all of them. You, of course, were also accepting every invitation that came your way, making promises you knew you’d try, and fail, to keep. But, hey, at least you tried.

And then there was Gale. He was… well, a dork to say the least. He was handsome, sure, but he didn’t stand out to anyone besides being the class president and English club head. He was geeky, nerdy, and whatever other adjective you could think of for people who spent their free time analyzing the psychological effects of cannibalism in literature. Yeah, he was liked by the other nerds who were in the same club as him, but he wasn’t exactly popular. He was elected class president mostly as a joke, and you hated to admit that you were one of those votes. He was a nice guy and didn’t do anyone any harm but, alas, high school is a feeding ground for the wildest of beasts.

The most riveting thing about him was that there were rumors of him and the English teacher doing it in her classroom. With the way she looked at him and gave him unique treatment, it almost wasn’t even gossip. Everyone in the school believed it, and everyone in the school meant you, too. It wasn’t unheard of before, teachers going after their students, but that didn’t make it ethical or legal. Still, people talked about it like it was some article in the Sunday newspaper to be marveled at. Mostly, he kept to himself aside from the occasional class meeting that required him to talk to everyone, and was generally quiet.

This particular day happened to be one of his required meetings. You, and your grades’ peers, were gathered in the gymnasium for “information” on the school prom. Despite graduation coming so close, prom felt a million miles away.

You and your friends sat and joked with one another about mindless things, idiotic things, as you waited for whatever announcement was to come.

“Dude, when do you think it started?” Your friend, Wyll, asked you.

“What started?” You questioned, watching as he pointed to Mystra’s longing gaze directed behind the curtain. “Oh my god, we have this conversation like sixteen times a week. Can we please talk about something else?” You groaned, gaining a disapproving shove from Wyll.

“Oh, yes, I’d much rather talk about what we’re each going to have for dinner,” Astarion sarcastically remarked from behind you, kicking you softly. “Don’t be so dull! We have to get through this pointless meeting one way or another,” he pouted, and you nearly wanted to punch his perfect little face in.

“Don’t be so snide, Astarion. I’d much rather talk about that than the sex lives of our teachers,” Jenevelle retorted, rolling her eyes at all three of you.

“Tchk, boys. That is all they care about. Sticking their little wands into whatever hole will open for them,” Lae’zel added on, and all four of you audibly cringed at that. “What? Do I not speak the truth?”

You sighed, waving a hand to dismiss everyone’s comments. “Look, I want to figure out what our stupid prom theme is going to be and get out of here. Let’s talk sex when it won’t get us kicked out,” you told them, and a warning look from your coach, Halsin, signified your conversation was not as private as you thought.

“That’s enough, Mister Y/L/N,” Halsin called up to you, and you bowed your head in acknowledgement. Wyll nudged you playfully, and you snapped at him under your breath to cut it out.

“It is my pleasure and honor to introduce your beloved class president- Gale Dekarios!” Mystra, unmistakably, introduced Gale to the class who gave half-assed applause.

“Hello-“ Gale cleared his throat, glancing down at the notes he had written down. You always found it funny how anxious he’d get on stage. You’d see him start messing with the hem of his shirt, on the side, rubbing it repetitively between his fingertips, and then he’d start talking. This interaction was not foreign.

“On behalf of the students and faculty, it’s my pleasure to be able to announce this year’s prom theme with you all,” Gale began, and you heard some douchebag start booing him. He was quickly shut up by a teacher quickly shushing him, and Gale began again. “The faculty present at this event requested I start with the regulations first. So let’s get into that,” he smiled at everyone, turned a page, and went on.

“Oh brother, this guy stinks!” You heard one of your teammates reference behind you, a small chorus of laughter emitting from his section, you included. Gale went on about how there was no drinking, no aggressive or verbally offensive music, and definitely no sex. Some other rules were mentioned about dress and grooming but nobody ever paid any attention to those.

“This year’s prom theme is…” he allowed tension to build for a brief second, and then smiled as he looked up at everyone, “Midnight Masquerade!”

Your class erupted with both relief and joy. The previous year had ‘Under the Sea’ as their theme and it was a dumpster fire disaster. You all feared what the teachers and principal would decide but, thankfully, it seemed they pulled through this year.

“Looks like you might finally get laid, Lae’zel,” Jenevelle teased, only to be met with a hardened glare. “It’s only a joke, cut that out.”

Once the meeting was dismissed, everyone began discussing what their outfits would be. You had a few weeks to prepare, and you were already forming ideas in your head.

Those few weeks soon turned into days, and then hours as you and all your friends piled into a limo Wyll’s dad had rented for you all.

“Move over, asshole!” You finally got comfortable in the limo with some shifting about, everyone’s dates beside them. For the most part, at least.

“Dude, I thought you were going with Alfira? What happened to that?” Wyll asked you, and you shrugged.

“Dude,” you mocked, “We talked about this. She’s into girls, she’s going out with that one from the D&D club,” you reminded him, and he nodded in distinction.

“Damn, Y/N, going to the prom with no date? And I thought you were mister popular,” Astarion poked fun at you, while you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure I’ll be going to the afterparty with someone, don’t doubt me on that,” you chuckled, and Wyll whacked your arm playfully.

“That’s the spirit! Or, hey, maybe you’ll meet someone at the afterparty instead. I heard there’s supposed to be booze,” Wyll grinned at you, and you kicked him back.

“Yeah, 'cause it’s happening at your bigass mansion,” you joked, then you and your party were off.

You each slipped on your intricate masks as you drove into the parking lot. Yours matched your suit, a navy blue color that had intricate black designs hand-sewn into it. The patterns made out flowers and daggers, twisting together into an amalgamation. The mask itself was also a navy blue color, with black lace lined over top. Your tie was the reverse, black lace on blue fabric, and you wore a black shirt that complemented the entire outfit. You were the star of the show, as expected.

You ate, danced, took stupid photo booth pictures with your friends all crammed into the tiny box— you had a good time. Eventually, the voting opened for the prom royalties and you knew immediately who would win.

The night went on, and people partnered for the slower songs that played over the speakers. Somehow, you were pushed up against a guy and encouraged to dance together. You shrugged, pulled him against your waist, and followed the motions of those around you.

“You look nice,” he complimented, his hands resting up at your shoulders.

“So do you,” you returned his adoration and observed his suit. It was a deep purple color that matched his skin tone. Much like your own, it was stitched with a lighter purple and gold that made intricate starry designs. The mask hiding his face was also like yours, matching the color of his suit and overlaid with golden lace.

You leaned down towards him, pulling his waist flush against you as you whispered low into his ear. “You look like royalty,” you hummed, feeling his hands tighten at your shoulders.

“Thank you…” he smiled softly as your lips brushed against his cheek. The warmth radiated off of his face and pulled into your own, his blushing far from hidden even under the mask. “I don’t think you’d say that without the disguise, though..” he laughed awkwardly and you stood straight up again.

“Oh? Why do you say that?” You asked, continuing to move around the dance floor with him, moving between other couples.

“Just a… general observation,” he shrugged, messing with your hair gently.

You lowered down near him again, brushing your noses together while looking into his eyes. “I’m going to take that as a challenge,” you grinned, glancing down at his lips and then back up at his eyes. “I’ll find out who you are and you’ll be mine by the end of the school year,” you smirked, and he gave a half-smile back.

“You can certainly try,” he teased and then began to pull away from you as the song came to a close. He stepped back towards his group, eyes still trained on you.

“Oh, I will,” you nodded in recognition before going back to your friends, who were laughing hysterically at you.

There was something magical about the energy he had, one that couldn't be replicated so easily. Despite the minor interaction, you were drawn directly to him. You knew that he’d stick in your mind like a bad stain you couldn’t wash out, clinging to the foreground of your mind. You wouldn’t escape him even if you tried, and you didn’t exactly want to.

“What?” You asked, taking a drink handed to you from Jen as you returned.

“What do you mean ‘what’? You were practically making out with that guy!” Wyll laughed, patting your shoulder reassuringly.

“You pushed me to him!” You defended, hands in the air as if you were on trial.

“That doesn’t mean you have to cause a scene,” Jen teased, nudging you in the side.

“You guys are just jealous I have more game than you,” you chuckled, everyone hitting you playfully.

“Mate, if you have more game than me then that means I’m dead,” Karlach cackled, the girl at her side giggling at her comments.

“Screw all of you. Seriously.” You shook your head at them, striking up a different conversation while the music slowly quieted. The lights moved from the dance floor to the stage as one of the teachers walked on stage.

“Homecoming and prom, let’s do this,” you smiled down at Jenevelle as the votes were beginning to be counted. Hands interlocked, you’d been praying for this for weeks. It didn’t mean anything academically, but it was the event that counted. The two of you had won the year prior at your junior homecoming and were slated to win prom, too. You had been childhood best friends, none the wiser, and always voted each other for things like this. You shared every joyous moment like blood siblings, and you believed this would be another to add to your memories.

“Alright students, gather around!” All the masked teens huddled near the stage, everyone whispering about who would be voted up this year.

“This year’s prom royalties are…” Since it was a masquerade, they got around saying names by simply pointing you out in a crowd. Both winners were shown with a bright spotlight highlighting them.

You, unsurprisingly, were one of them. You turned to Jen, expecting her to be lit up like you were, but found her shrouded in darkness instead. You looked up at the teacher, beaming at the crowd and motioning for you to step on stage. You were confident you and Jen were going on stage together! But as your eyes found the other light, twinkling in the back of the crowd, you saw it shining on another boy.

Another guy? Who voted for him? And how did he get enough votes to kick Jen out of her spot you were so sure was secured?

Your heart broke for a moment realizing that you’d lost out on this with her. What was supposed to be your final bow turned into breaking ankles. It didn’t feel right.

Jen pat your arm reassuringly and motioned you up to the stage. You smiled despite the hurt, walked through the crowd, and stepped up in front of everyone. The other winner followed a moment after, his friends encouraging him to make his way up. You recognised the suit belonging to the mystery dancer from before, a piece of you glad for it to be him and not a stranger. Even though he was, still, a stranger.

“Let’s give a hand to our royals!” The teacher stepped away from the mic to clap, allowing the other faculty member to place the plastic crowns on each of your heads. You glanced over at the other, who was clearly uncomfortable, and sighed internally. You’d make this easy for him, at least.

“Just follow my lead,” You told him, taking his hand and holding each of yours up with your award-winning smile. You waved with your free hand and pulled him down the stairs and to the dance floor. He barely contested with you, allowing you to guide him. You pondered over the challenge you’d proposed, wondering how you’d find out who he was. You only had so long to do it, of course, so you had to be on your toes to memorize any detail you could about him.

“Now, our traditional slow dance!” The same teacher called into the microphone before the music faded back in over the speakers.

“Just like before, yeah?” Raising a suggestive eyebrow at him, you wrapped your arm tightly around his waist, hand planted firmly against his lower back. His hands went back up to your shoulders like they had before, steadying himself against you.

“I didn’t mean to steal this from her,” the boy apologized, and you made a face to brush off the comment.

“You didn’t exactly look thrilled to do this, so I can’t assume you voted for yourself,” you shrugged, tugging him close by the waist. You took one of his hands, spun him away from you, and then back in. “Besides, I can get more clues from you this way. And put on a little show,” your eyes flicked towards the people recording, and the boy in your arms nodded in understanding.

“Thanks, for this,” he replied, smiling faintly at you. You could only nod your head to accept his gratitude, though you would have done the same no matter who was there with you.

When it finally ended, you two parted ways without much discussion and returned to your friend groups yet again. Though, the air was different this time.

“That was the same guy. Who is he?” Jen asked, and you shrugged. You had no idea, but you wanted to find out.

“I have no idea, but he’s cool,” you took the crown off your head and popped it on hers, smiling down at Jen. “There, now you can experience it,” you joked.

She took the crown off, and handed it back to you, flattening out her hair. “Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want to get head lice from you,” she shook her head, freeing herself of the thought.

“You’re so dramatic,” you laughed, ruffling her hair slightly, causing her to whack your arm.

“Hey! That was crazy!” Karlach came running over, another girl in her arms, tossing her other across your shoulders. Sometimes you wondered why she wasn’t the quarterback, but she much preferred other sports.

“You going to the afterparty?” You asked over the music as it got louder again, consuming your thoughts.

“Hells yeah I am! You?” She asked, shaking you slightly in excitement.

“Wouldn’t be me if I didn’t go!” You laughed with her, though you could never understand her excitement half the time. She was good company, and you knew the afterparty would be ten times more enjoyable with her there, so who were you to complain?

Your group noticed people starting to leave and took that as your queue to head out. You slipped back into the limo, the party continuing on with the drive back to Wyll’s.

With everyone linked up with their significant others, or their dates for only the one night, you couldn’t help feeling lonely. Each of your friends had a partner, and you were just.. there. Fame meant nothing if there was nobody to share it with. And, no, you weren’t going to not share it with your friends— but sharing it with a lover was so much different. It would’ve been nice to have someone to joke with about dancing with another person that wasn’t them. Yeah, you claimed you didn’t really “swing that way” but, maybe, you kind of did? After all, you’d just essentially flirted with a guy for half the night. Maybe you wouldn’t mind it if it meant you had a partner who fit against you like the missing piece of your puzzle.

“You look spaced out, Y/N, you good?” Wyll asked suddenly, and you snapped out of the daze you’d been in.

“Huh? Oh- yeah! I’m just thinking about how tired we’re going to be tomorrow,” you laughed, and Jen patted your knee in agreement. With all the thoughts bouncing around your head, you were sure you’d leave almost immediately after arriving. But at least you tried!

In the back of the limo, as you all pulled up to the event, each of you began shimmying out of your tight-fitting clothes. Thankfully, you had on an undershirt and pants stored in the car so your change was rather easy. You stuck your suit under the seat to grab later while you changed out of your shoes.

“Hey, Wyll, thank your dad for getting this bigass limo for us!” Karlach shouted as she helped Jen out of her dress, everyone tangled within one another as they changed.

“Yeah, and for hosting the afterparty,” you added, everyone cheering because you knew you’d have a good time.

Once you pulled up, you were back to being stupid, wild teenagers again. Some people stayed in their outfits, but not many, and most had gotten comfortable long before they got there.

Once again, music cut through your thoughts as you entered. You flipped a switch instantaneously, smiling and waving at people who knew you as you passed through. You caught up in idle conversations here and there, laughing with your teammates and drinking back the lingering feeling you had earlier. But the longer the party went on, the lonelier you got.

You were so adored by everyone that nobody considered loving you. How does that even happen?

Maybe you were just notorious for turning girls down- claiming you didn’t want anything serious. It’s not like you slept around, either. You tried to be a gentleman, but the girls who always wanted you only wanted to change you. They wanted you for their little football player fantasies, and when they couldn’t have you they moved on to someone else. It was weird. You shined and sparkled like the night sky, but who was your moon to ignite the atoms that made you who you were?

Eventually, in your tipsy state, you ended up alone in a library, seeking solace from the throbbing of the world around you. Red solo cup in hand, slumped down on the white leather couch, you scrolled aimlessly through your phone. You didn’t hear the door creak open until it was shut, and someone sat on the couch next to you.

“Oh- sorry. I hope you don’t mind,” you turned your head to look at who had joined you, only to find Gale seated there.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, taking another sip and going back to your phone. “Trying to find quiet from the party?” You asked, not bothering to look up.

“Ah… yes. I wasn’t exactly expecting to receive an invitation and I’m quite dreading the fact I said yes and showed up,” he chuckled, and you saw him messing with his shirt like usual out of the corner of your eye.

“You do that a lot,” you remarked suddenly, and he looked confused.

“Apologies? I do what a lot?” He asked, head tilted at you.

“The shirt thing. When you get nervous you rub the corner hem of your shirt between your fingers.”

“You noticed that?”

You blinked at your phone, realizing what you’d said aloud. You didn’t mean it in a bad way, it was just an observation of his habits. After all, you had to stare at him while he talked about class politics and whatnot for hours during the semesters- you saw him do it all the time.

“I don’t.. sorry, I…” you cleared your throat, taking a sip of the drink in your cup with a small shrug. “Don’t mean it in a bad way, I guess. I just noticed it,”

“Oh. Okay.”

Gale pulled out his phone, knee bouncing as he got comfortable and assumed a position similar to yours.

“Congratulations, by the way,” he added after a second, and you weren’t sure what he meant.

“On what?”

“Being prom king. It was expected, but congratulations anyway,” he smiled over at you, and you returned it half-heartedly.

“Thanks. I have no clue who was up there with me, though,” you laughed slightly, though the confusion was genuine. Something felt so right about dancing there with that boy that you weren’t sure what it was. Fate, or simply that nagging longing in the back of your mind looking for someone to fill the void?

Gale was about to respond, but several of your teammates came barging in, all yelling and talking over one another.

“Dude! Lae’zel just got dared to jump in the pool from the roof and she’s gonna do it!” You finally made out, and your face changed as you ran out with them to watch her.

Chaos resumed and your thoughts were no longer your own again, instead they belonged to the teenage relevancy of idiotic decisions and crazed actions. When you all returned inside, dry, save for Lae’zel, you kept up with the party once more.

But your eyes kept flickering back to the library, and then around the room. Gale had such an interesting aura about him, you couldn’t put a finger on it. Then, your mind wandered and you wondered if you could tell who your mystery dancer was, like Cinderella’s prince.

You tried to recall the details of the masked man, the way his eyes creased with your jokes, laughing like you were the best comedian there could be. The way his lips turned with his emotions, covering but not concealing what he was truly thinking.

“Dude, did you see Gale showed up? We all thought he’d be all up in Mystra by now!” One of your friends cackled, and you laughed slightly, but not really wholeheartedly this time.

“You know that’s not really that funny,” you stated, and the looks you got were borderline dangerous. It was like jumping into a pit of snakes and stepping on their tails- you had stepped into hazardous territory with your challenge.

“What?”

“I said it’s not funny.”

“Are you serious right now? Since when did you care about Gale? We joke about him all the time!” That struck a nerve. The guy had been nothing but nice to everyone and this is how he got treated? You almost felt sick. But why now? Why did it suddenly matter?

“Just- drop it, okay? Let’s have fun without screwing people over,” you waved their discussion off and moved to play beer pong with some people. The party began to dwindle, and you caught Gale in a group of some people looking like he was enjoying himself. At least he had that going for him.

Eventually, there were only a few people left in the room, and someone had the bright idea to play spin the bottle mixed with truth or dare.

“Alright, we need some ground rules here,” Jen said as she folded her legs neatly while she sat on the floor.

“Either truth or dare, or you kiss the person who spun you,” someone else said, and everyone seemed to agree on that.

Shots were handed out and, with newfound confidence, you and the small group were enjoying yourselves. Stupid pranks were being pulled, dumb secrets were being untold, and things were getting heated. Kind of, at least. Some people had gone home, which left you, Wyll, Lae’zel, Jenevelle, Karlach, Astarion, and Gale. Astarion was just kissing everyone whenever he didn’t like the dare, Karlach was full-throttle choosing dare every time, Jen only picked truth until someone forced her to pick dare, and between Wyll and Lae’zel you couldn’t tell who was more balanced in choices. Though, Lae’zel had less clothes on than anyone so perhaps her scales were tilted. Gale, he was the odd one. He’d stay away from choosing to kiss someone and hadn’t kissed anyone at all. You realized you hadn’t either, and the two of you kept going back between truths and dares so nobody forced you to do so.

“Gods, this is getting boring! Someone needs to make out.” Astarion yawned, draped over Karlach with his shirt tossed off to the side.

Wyll spun the empty bottle in the center of your group and it landed on you once it finally slowed to a stop. Within seconds, he got a bright idea in his head. There was no way you’d end up kissing him, not in a million years, and Astarion wanted action. What better way to do so than messing with you?

“Truth or dare, mate,” he grinned at you, and you sighed. You hadn’t picked dare in a while, so it was time.

“Dare. Give it to me good, jackass,” you smiled right back at him and watched in abject horror as his grin turned into a smirk.

“I dare you to do seven minutes in heaven with…”

He paused, looked at the crew of people left, and then met Gale’s shy gaze. “Gale.”

“What?” You both asked in unison, almost making the same face at him.

“Go on. Or you can kiss me, but, I don’t think you want to do that,” he smirked, and you cursed everything in him that made him that way.

“You’re an asshole.”

“There’s a bedroom right around the corner, might as well take that one,” he ushered you two up, and you both begrudgingly stood. “Your timer starts... Now!” He closed the door after walking you inside and locked it almost immediately.

“Look, we don’t have to-“

“It’s alright,” Gale interrupted you, waving a hand to dismiss your concern as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll mess up my hair and shirt in a few moments and they’ll be none the wiser if you do the same.” He smiled, and you recognized the pain behind the eyes. Too bright to be looked at without burning, he sought nearly the same thing as you. “I’m only here as a joke anyway, right?” He chuckled sadly, shrugging. “You don’t have to make me feel like more of one.”

“That’s not—“

“I overheard you talking about me. Quite plenty of people forget that I, too, have ears. You all believe I’m imperiously deafened to the rumors you spread in the halls. I hear them all, you know. I know where they begin and I know the last person who’s been touched by them. There’s no stopping the wildfire that’s been set ablaze in my wake, the vicious jokes made in my name, the roughened edges I’ve created to save myself from it all. But please, I ask that you not twist the dagger any more than it’s already been plunged inside me.”

You blinked at him, not… exactly sure of what to say to that. As you decoded the poetic words in your mind, you understood his point clearer.

“I’m sorry, about all of that,” you began, sitting down beside him and messing with your hands. “I don’t really know why they—“

“You say it too.”

You cleared your throat and began again, “Why we… say all that stuff. It’s just bullshit to keep us entertained, I guess,” you shrugged, head low as you thought of all the people you indirectly hurt climbing your way to the top. How many others like him did you turn to gold with your Midas touch? Forever banning them to a life of solitude in your shadow, forcing them under your submission, and rarely quashing the arbitrary lies that were told under you? How many people had you turned into stone statues with your headdress of snakes? Those who claimed to identify as friends but ruined your peace in the process? Would you ever find out? Would you ever have the time to apologize for letting your kingdom go so cold as the heat of your infamy died down?

“It hurts, so you’re aware. Mystra.. she’s not what you all believe her to be. She’s quite the teacher, and she sees the potential that I have in her class,” Gale sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just want to do right by people, whether or not I’m put in positions of power as a sick prank. I could have declined, but who else would take my place? Who would have stepped up and made the changes for all of you like I had? I fight for the good and get treated like the dirt beneath everyone’s feet.” He coughed and then shook his head. “I know it’s not just you. But I heard you tonight, so right now it’s about you and everyone else, too. I don’t mean to discard these feelings on you but…” he trailed off.

“I tried defending you. I don’t think you’re a bad person and you definitely haven’t gotten as much recognition as you should have,” you started, trying to find the words. “I didn’t… get to know you, and just made opinions based on stupid rumors. I’m sorry. About that.” You cleared your throat once more, and a quiet hush fell between the space that separated you. He didn’t owe you a thanks for your apologies over your hurtful actions, and he wasn’t about to offer one, either.

“You’re really… uh… what’s the word?”

“Eloquent?”

“Yeah, eloquent. I see it.. now,” you smiled over at him and then looked to the floor once more.

“Thanks,” he returned your grin, and then quiet fell into the bedroom once more.

“Three-minute warning!” You heard Wyll call from outside the door, and the two of you groaned in unison.

“You have a girlfriend?” You asked him, and he shook his head no. “Are you… not into girls?”

“What-“ his face flushed and he looked at you with wide eyes.

“Like, are you gay? I mean, it’s cool, there’s a shit ton of gay people at our school. I was just asking,” you shrugged.

“I… I’m not exactly..”

“Out of the closet?”

“Can you let the words come from my mouth before you finish my sentences?” He huffed, and you made the motion of locking your lips. “I do like women. But I also like men. And I like whatever is the in-between of it all,” he started again and then sighed. “To me, it’s more about connection and personality. I can have a romantic relationship with just about anyone, but it’s not because of their gender. It’s because of who they are as a person, do you understand?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you nodded, looking over at his shoes. A striking familiarity crossed in your mind, as you connected the shoes he was wearing to the man you’d danced with earlier in the night. You gazed up at his face, studying it intently.

“Do I have something on me?” He asked, wiping at his face.

“You’re him…” you replied, leaning closer toward him.

“What- who..?”

You gently grabbed his chin, turning his face towards your own as you studied the details of him. You couldn’t be mistaken, you’d recognize those eyes anywhere. You laughed slightly, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip.

“What…” You could see it in his eyes, he knew exactly what you meant. But could he dare indulge in it? In the idea of you?

“The one I danced with tonight, the other royal…” you hummed, smirking softly as you leaned back again. “You knew it was me, didn’t you?”

He stuttered in an attempt to find a lie, an excuse, but gave up after a moment of embarrassment. “Who couldn’t?” He replied, lowering his head in shame.

“You know—“

“Just kiss me.”

You blinked, glancing over at him. He made eye contact with you, strong and unwavering, and you raised a brow.

“Don’t lead me on to something I know is never going to happen. Don’t set your sights on me and leave me high and dry. It’s not fair for you to make me feel a certain way and then hang me on your line of people you’ve caught in the traps you unknowingly laid. Please, just get it over with bec-“

You grabbed his face, pressing your lips together hastily. Why? Did you just want to get this over with so you could each move on?

You didn’t know him as well as your friends, but this aching feeling came bursting through your chest. It desired to be let go, set free into the world. You needed him, your other half, to balance you out. Something in you knew this wasn’t just a one-off moment to save him the heartbreak, you knew you were now tied to one another whether you’d like it or not. But you could pretend to be “getting it over with” for the sake of this interaction.

His hand steadied himself on your shoulder, and you wrapped an arm around his waist. Swiftly, you pulled him into you and onto your lap, your other hand on the back of his head to keep him there. He made a small noise you could akin to satisfaction, and you laughed against his lips. Your head tilted to the side, leaning up into him as the kiss continued. Your hands moved down to his sides, grabbing his waist tightly.

He broke it off after a second, his breathing heavy as he looked down at you. His eyes screamed love and lust all in one, wrapped in a delicate bow, those soft eyes of his and the lingering smile tying it all together.

“You…”

“Hm?” You tilted your head at him, bringing his chin down to grab his attention. He focused entirely on you, eyes connected and unbreaking.

“You’re really good at that…” he laughed nervously, adjusting the way he sat in your lap. You felt him up against you, and a sly smirk found its way onto your face.

“Yeah? You think so?” You asked, pulling his hips forward, hands slipping around to his ass.

“I mean, I have a practiced tongue with what I read, but..”

“A practiced tongue?” You laughed at him, squeezing where you could as you threw your head back.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!” He whacked your chest, which only made you laugh more.

“What, you get practice rolling your r’s over those fancy words of yours?” You cackled, leaning up towards him once again.

“You’re so childish,” he tsk-ed, lowering his head down to you, your noses touching again.

“But you seem to be into it,” you claimed, raising the argument with him.

“This feels just… so high school,” he stated, and you tilted your head as to what that meant. He noted your confusion and continued, “Truth or dare, spin the bottle… you know how to ball, I know Aristotle…” he raised both eyebrows, hoping you understood the trope he was getting at.

You laughed again at his comment, shaking your head at him. “You’re so funny,”

“It’s true! Swear, scouts honor,” he leaned into you, brushing his lips against yours. Then, out of pure adrenaline, he said something he never would’ve imagined ever stating to anyone else. “I want you to touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto…”

You smirked at that, connecting your lips briefly. “You’re gonna have to stifle your sighs for that one,” you teased, kissing him again. He returned your kiss, allowing you to trace your lips down his neck.

“Times u-“ Wyll burst in, and then stared directly at both of you. You were rather unfazed by it, but Gale turned to stone in your arms. You continued kissing his neck, ignoring Wyll just… standing there. Hello? Say something!

“Fuck off, Wyll.”

“Yeah! Yep! I’m- ahuh!” Wyll turned back around and closed the door again, shell-shocked from what he perceived as a horror before him. Not that gay people scared him, but you were kissing Gale? He didn’t actually expect you two to be like that.

“Y/N-“ Gale pleaded, gently pushing at your shoulders.

“Hmm?” You switched sides, slipping your hands under his shirt and holding tight onto his waist.

“Please-“ He pushed again on your shoulders, and you got the hint. You pulled back and looked up at him, in awe of his beauty.

“This was really, really nice. But I don’t.. want to do this if it’s just to prove a point,” he slipped out of your hold and stood up, fixing his hair and his shirt.

“That’s not-“

“Again, spare me. Spare me from the horrors that will unfold from your pursuit of this. Whatever reason you might have, I don’t desire to be the object of any more jokes,” he cleared his throat, clearly holding back the pain he felt.

“Gale-“

“Please,” He begged, his voice quiet. He didn’t want to become a laughingstock if things went south.

“Okay, okay,” you put your hands up defensively. You stood, running a hand through your hair. He was about to leave, but you grabbed his hand before he could. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you paused, letting go of his hand as you looked down at him.

“But I do… want to get to know you. We can be friends, yeah?” You pulled out your phone from your pocket, holding it towards him to input his number. “Doesn’t have to be anything else. And I can probably get people to stop making rumors,” you offered, and Gale sighed at you.

“Are you going to marry, kiss, or kill me?” He asked quizzically as he inputted his number. What was that supposed to mean?

“It’s just a game-“

“But really,” he looked up at you, sighing once again. “I’m betting on all three for us two.” He handed your phone back, his hand slipping down to rub the edge of his shirt. He laughed a little bit at the idea of marriage. Gods, no. “No one’s ever had me, not like you. I don’t want things to go south if we head into things too strongly,” he pushed his hands into his pockets, all too aware of his anxious stimming. “I’d appreciate it if you’d get rid of the rumors. We can be friends, but that’s all I’d like for right now.”

“Can we make out every once in a while because I’m kinda getting the practiced tongue thing now-“ you joked, only to be met with Gale shoving you slightly.

“What did I just say, Prometheus?”

“Alright, alright. I get it.” You saved his number in your phone and then opened the door for him to leave. Skipping past everyone, you led Gale out to his car. “Uh.. who’s Prometheus? Asking for a friend, definitely not for me,”

“You don’t know who Prometheus is?” Gale stopped walking entirely to look at you with horror and hurt, a look worse than when he talked about the rumors. Jesus, this guy cared about literature more than anything.

“Is it an English club thing? I only ‘know how to ball’,” you recounted his former comment, laughing as he made a face of annoyance now, walking to his car without another word.

“Oh, come on! That was a funny sentence!” You followed him as he got into the driver’s seat, and you leaned against the window while he started the car. You knocked on the window, pouting at him softly.

He rolled the window down and you took the opportunity to reach in, open the door from the inside, and lean on the top of the car while keeping him from closing it again. “Don’t be mad at me, Dekarios,” you grinned at him, but that didn’t change the annoyance in his eyes.

“Is this how you treat all your friends?” He cocked an eyebrow at you, arms crossed tight over his chest now.

“Just the ones I really like…” you lowered yourself down towards his face, biting your bottom lip slightly. He pushed your face to the side, ignoring the temptation.

“I’d prefer if you liked me a little less, just for now,” he retorted, and you laughed at his joke wholeheartedly.

“I’ll try,” you nodded, hitting the top of the car as you stepped back and closed the door for him. “Get home safe, yeah? I’m going to send you my number.”

“I’ll try,” he copied, and you couldn’t help but want to kiss his pretty little face again and again and again and- okay, we get the idea.

As you watched him drive off, your heart felt a little less lonely. You weren’t technically dating, and it would take a goddamn long time before you’d get there, but you had a friend with hope for you. A not-so-more-than-friends, friend.

You entered back into the mansion with a stupid grin on your face that was instantly wiped away as you saw everyone staring at you.

“So, you made out with Gale, huh?”

“I actually fucking hate you guys,” you laughed as you rejoined the group, recounting the entire event that was getting to make out with Gale Dekarios.

Maybe it was the brink of a wrinkle in time, bittersweet endings, and brand new beginnings. You couldn’t tell what possessed you to be like that with him, and Gale wondered the same on his way home.

In a few years, where would you find yourselves? You hoped you’d be waking up to your poet wrapped in your arms, comfortable in the space you’d created together. But you were still in high school, and lots of things could change between now and then.

For now? You’d just be happy with what you had.

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