apple remarks and cider barks
Usually, G’raha was frustrated on Thursdays, not Tuesdays.
Even when the student council demanded much of him, her senior was usually able to brush it off with a small smile and laugh, silently bemoaning the stress in private. By Friday, she helped him unwind—be it through physical intimacy or a simple chat over tea—so that he was back in shape by Saturday morning, ready to tackle the week ahead.
So for G’raha to be frustrated on a Tuesday meant that something must have gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Alisaie twirled the pencil between her fingers, unsure how to start. The atmosphere was tense, and she found it hard to swallow, let alone speak. She had grown accustomed to G’raha initiating the conversations, especially for predicaments like these—usually, at the receiving end as G’raha soothed away her worries—so her current predicament was rather foreign.
For luck, she grabbed a biscuit from the basket G’raha had prepared earlier, sweat on the back of her neck as she scarfed it down, not missing the way his tail flicked, his stare intense. “So,” she wiped the crumbs off her lip, “Did someone die…?”
He blinked, his expression confused.
Alisaie wanted to slap herself.
A deceased person usually wasn’t the cause of someone’s frustration.
“What I mean to say,” she tried to recover quickly, “Did something crawl in you and die?”
Wow, that’s a hundred times better. Way to go, Miss Prodigy.
But, to her pleasant surprise, G’raha covered his mouth, laughter spilling from behind his hand, tail quivering with mirth. She sighed, relieved to see the ire gone. With another biscuit in hand—she’d have to ask him what he used this time, the flavor practically melting in her mouth and leaving her tongue trembling with delight—Alisaie took a bite and offered him the rest. “Really,” the piece dangled from the corner of her mouth, “What’s eating at you today?”
Alisaie tried to think of all the things that could have possibly put G’raha in such a foul mood. She hadn’t stepped on the garden coming in today, nor had she tracked mud across his carpet—though he insisted he wasn’t still cross with her from that one time, Alisaie made sure never to repeat the incident—so she mentally checked those off. From what she had heard from Alphinaud, the student council’s work had increased almost tenfold, but G’raha usually didn’t let that bother him so early in the week, at the very least, never on Tuesdays.
She wiped her lips, thinking aloud, “Did your heat come early?”
G’raha choked on the biscuit, his face aflame. “I-It’s nothing of the sort!” he shouted, taking her by surprise.
“Oh…” she straightened out the creases in her skirt, “Right, I guess… you would have mentioned if it was that sort of frustration….”
(It had already been several moons since they had designated themselves as each other’s “stress relievers and bed warmers,” but even still, Alisaie found her face warming at the thought from time to time.
Not as much as G’raha, who insisted he’d take responsibility should anything happen—something he repeated with such frequency, she almost wondered if he wanted something to happen.)
G’raha sighed, his ears flattening. “It’s rather childish.”
Alisaie scoffed. “Most things are.” She pushed the basket toward him, repeating the words he often used to comfort her, “Doesn’t make it any less important.”
His face burned a deeper red, and she couldn’t help but laugh, reaching over the table to gently tug at his bangs. “It’s practically the same—”
G’raha pulled back and hissed.
She blinked.
He stared up at her, mortified.
“Oh… oh gods,” he covered his face, voice quivering and tail curled against his side, “Oh gods, what am I doing?!”
“G’raha…”
“I’m so sorry… I… It’s just that, well, it’s rather stupid—”
“G’raha.”
“—and it’s the most ridiculous reasoning! Especially with all the time you already bless me with, how selfish it is of me to—”
“G’raha.”
“Perhaps it is for the best we no longer meet. To be so audacious and speak to you in such a manner, I am the lowest of the lo—ouch!” Forced free from his hands, he was met with Alisaie’s furrowed brow and narrowed eyes which echoed his earlier irritation.
She huffed, releasing his bangs on the condition he didn’t hide. “Would you please just tell me what’s going on? Gods know I’ve argued with you over the smallest of matters, and you always receive me with warmth.” She crossed her arms, turning her head as she muttered, “Besides, what sort of friend do you believe me to be, Raha? It wouldn’t sit with me to leave you in such a state.”
“Alisaie…” he sniffed, wiping the tears that had sprung in his eyes. “Thank you.”
She shifted her weight, embarrassed. “It’s not that big of a deal. Now,” she began, “Speak.”
G’raha’s pressed his fingers together, almost shy. “Alisaie… would it be alright to ask for a favor?”
She frowned, trying to see how this correlated to his worries. “Within reason, of course.”
(Within reason always meant yes.)
He swallowed audibly, eyes screwed shut, “May I hold you?”
“...what?”
“M…” his shoulders seemed to sag, “May I h—”
She shook her head. “No, I heard that. G’raha,” she looked at him with a face of bewilderment. “We screw each other on a weekly basis, sometimes at school… and you’re asking to hold me?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
She couldn’t help it and slapped her forehead. “My gods, you’re more of a virgin now than before. How is that even possible?” Without sparing him a second to answer, she moved over to his side and held her arms out. “Well, go on.”
G’raha’s eyes sparkled, his tail shaking. He wrapped his arms around her with barely suppressed trembles coursing through his body and began to nuzzle his face into her neck, his tail rubbing against her thighs, Alisaie squirming at the ticklish sensation.
She sighed, at the very least relieved that he was back to normal.
“I like it best when you smell like this,” G’raha mumbled against her ear, Alisaie leaning into the touch.
“Hah, I just smell like your house. It’s nothing new.”
He purred against her ear, and she rolled her eyes, indulging him for now as he continued to press close, practically in her lap.
As she combed her fingers through his hair, a deep purr humming from his throat when they brushed over his ears, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was nothing more than an overgrown housecat parading around as a man.
“I’m sure mother will want to know the recipe to these,” she said as she held the basket close, the biscuits inside still warm and exuding a delightful aroma. G’raha smiled, adjusting the scarf around her neck. He had offered to walk her home since it had begun to snow, but she insisted she’d be fine.
(Was the decision in part because she had grown tired of being held like a stuffed animal for the past two hours?
Perhaps, but she wasn’t so heartless to tell him that.
Not today, anyhow.)
“Of course, anything for my lady’s mother,” he said, cheerful as ever, as he pressed the umbrella to her free hand, ears flickering when snow fell on them. “Let me know when you’ve arrived safely.”
“Yes, yes, mother,” she said, teasing. G’raha smiled wider and pressed his cheek to hers, rubbing them together. She let him, appreciating his body heat as the snow chilled her exposed skin. Perhaps she should have taken him up on his offer to borrow his pants. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.
“Alisaie.”
“Hm?”
“Thank you,” he said, and she shifted nervously under the weight of his fond gaze, a fluttering sensation curling inside her as he continued, “You truly are amazing. I am blessed every second we share.”
“Yes, yes, same here,” hastily, she turned on her heel, unsure why she felt so light, “See you tomorrow!”
“Oh, wait, Alisaie!”
She paused, glancing back at him.
The tips of his fangs were visible from behind his lips as G’raha beamed at her. “Please send my regards to Zenos and Estinien next time.”
“Ah, sure?” she said, adjusting the umbrella and turning back around. “Well, see you.”
“Farewell,” he called out, no doubt planning on staying out till she became a speck on the horizon, ever watchful over her.
Her boots crunched across the snow, and Alisaie hummed to herself, eager to dig into the biscuits, considering the day a success even in spite of all the unfinished assignments in her bag.
It wasn’t until she reached the gate of her house that Alisaie paused, the cold iron reminding her of G’raha’s warm embrace and odd behavior earlier. She frowned, mulling over her thoughts as she looked toward the basket, the patterned cloth peeking out.
“...I don’t ever recall mentioning the club meeting with Zenos and Estinien today?”