Chapter Text
Companionship wasn’t your most pressing concern when you first began university. You wanted plenty of time to acclimate to the waters of college life before swimming off with others. Besides, growing up, you were the socially acceptable weirdo: liked enough to not be bullied, but not normal enough to have any close friends. Sad as it was in theory, it never particularly bothered you; it was your modus operandi, and surface level chatter during class was enough to sustain you socially.
That all changed in second semester. In your Mythology as Philosophy elective, you were paired for a project with a rather zany student by the name Vladimir Pompescu. He was much akin to you in the socially acceptable weirdo sphere, unapologetically himself and a class clown at that. Not only did you and Vladimir ace the project, but you two stayed in touch as if the assignment never ended. Study sessions and project collaborations turned into joke-cracking at the dining hall.
He eventually introduced you to his two other—and only—friends, the academic Arthur Kirkland and the stoic Lukas Bondevik. For the first time, you were welcomed into a tight-knit friend group as more than a jester or temporary guest. What bonded all of them together, and what inducted you into their group bond, was their practice of magic.
Now in sophomore year, you were unquestionably a cornerstone of the trio-turned-quartet. With their help, you discovered your innate magic and your ability to cast spells. While each of them taught you some of their specialized magic, you had found yourself favoring the nature magic that you learned on your own (via Arthur’s small library of spell books and instructional tomes).
You weren’t sure how you survived before, but how grateful you were now to have such close, amazing friends. Vladimir was always a blast to be around, sending you memes when you two were apart and being his cheeky, impish self when you two were together. He loved being the center of attention and made it a point to playfully mess with you whenever possible.
While nowhere near as affectionate as their Romanian compatriot, Arthur and Lukas were kind in their own ways. The Brit always treated you with the utmost, almost comically, respect. Arthur loved to be of aid to you, whether it was helping you study or pulling out a chair for you. Then there was the Norwegian, never treating you coldly despite his standoffish personality. When he wasn’t similarly helping you with homework or casting spells, Lukas consistently checked in on you through text and sometimes surprised you with homemade cookies.
To you, you couldn’t have asked for any better friends in your life. To everyone else, it was three men vying for the same heart.
You sat alone in one of your dorm’s common rooms, bathing in the gradually intensifying afternoon sun as you played with one of your potted plants. Flexing your fingers, hyacinth turned into bougainvillea, then into lily of the valley: all different shapes and colors, radiantly hued with magic instead of artificial dyes. Across the room, a speaker played ambient music at a low volume.
The door suddenly opened, a familiar dirty blonde confidently striding in.
“What’s cooking, good looking?” Vladimir casually flirted, the signature shit-eating smirk remaining upon his face as he plopped down next to you.
“I ain’t cooking,” You responded smartly, glancing at him with a reciprocating smirk, “I’m clearly gardening.”
Vladimir’s bravado faded for only a moment, his face blanking before recovering itself as his sharp wit kicked in.
“What’s gardening, good modeling?”
You immediately erupted in laughter, clutching your stomach as your whole body shook.
“T-That doesn’t even r-rhyme, you shithead!” You squealed out between bouts of laughter so hard that you swore your diaphragm was being put into spasm. His expanding grin was Vladimir’s only response.
While he allowed you the dignity to recover from your giggling, Vladimir began to rummage through his courier bag.
“Finally got a hold of those reagents, y’know,” Vladimir began, digging rather fervently as your breath finally calmed, “The ones behind the locked counter in chemistry class. Had to bribe the TA with a good chunk of change, but I got them! And after some mixing and matching—“
“Oh God, Vlad, don’t tell me you tried to make that fire-breathing potion again.”
“No no no—Despite what you and the other two believe, I did learn my lesson. Nah, this is something different entirely. Behold,”
His hand revealed a corked Erlenmeyer flask, its contents half-full with a bright bubblegum pink liquid. He swirled it around, the low viscosity easily forming a vortex within the flask. On top of being a wizard, Vladimir also liked to infuse his magic with chemistry to create alchemical potions.
“…What is it then?”
“It’s a love potion~”
“Vlad, you’re not serious.”
He gave a hearty chuckle and stilled his hand, holding up the potion for you to take, “Don’t be too worried now, it ain’t what you think. I specifically brewed it to not be rapey.”
Cautiously, you pinched the flask by its neck. The glass was warm to the touch, the liquid almost shimmering as you held it up to the light. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means that it doesn’t force feelings,” Vladimir grumbled, responding as if the answer was obvious, “How it works is simple: when someone drinks it, their barriers for expressing romantic feelings are dropped. However, it is only relaxed for people who that someone likes and who feel the same way.”
Your brows furrowed as you listened to his explanation, giving the liquid your own tentative swirl, “…So it doesn’t create feelings?”
“Nope, just makes what feelings you do have stronger and guarantees that the object of your feelings feels the same way.”
Reluctantly, you lowered the flask to remove its cork. Just as you were taught in chemistry class, you wafted it with your hand: smelt like bubblegum too.
“I thought we could try it together—“
“Try what?”
Having coincidentally finished their advanced calculus class early, Arthur emerged into the common room followed by Lukas. Instinctually attuned to his best friend’s mischief, both the Brit and the Norwegian looked unamused.
Vladimir tried to play it off as it was nothing, waving his hand and muttering passively about it just being “a potion”. But his nonchalant attitude didn’t fool either of the men.
“You bloody git, I know a love potion when I see one! What are you thinking!?”
“Calm down, I’m not trying to trick anyone! I modified the—“
“Fat chance, Dracula! Last time you said that, my mouth salivated with maple syrup for a whole week!”
“He’s telling the truth!” You barked, disarming the confrontation, “From how Vlad explained it, it’s basically bulletproof alcohol: lowers the inhibition and guarantees whoever you like likes you back.”
At your explanation, Arthur’s exasperated expression calmed; he was still a tinge irritated, but your answer seemed to satisfy him. The amount of fuck no on Lukas’ expression, however, remained.
“…Clever, I will admit, but you’re seriously not going to try it, are you?”
You sighed at the targeted question, glancing down as your hand idly swirled the potion yet again, “I do owe Vlad one…”
After a moment of silence—underneath the gazes of an eager Vladimir, a concerned Arthur, and a grimacing Lukas—you had made your decision.
“Fine, I’ll try it. But just me, Vlad, not you too. One less person to worry about if you’ve managed to fuck it up—“
“Hey!”
The flask made contact with your lips, one last moment of hesitation taken before tipping it back. Unsurprisingly, it tasted like bubblegum, albeit mixed with herbs that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. After ingesting the flask’s entire volume, you set it down.
For the first time since entering the room, Lukas spoke up, his expression disconcerted, “How are you feeling?”
“Yeah, I feel fine, but… I’m not feeling anything.”
“It’ll take a few minutes to kick in,” Vladimir said, crossing his arms and looking at you almost expectantly, “And when it does, you’ll feel cool as a… uhh… What’s the English expression?”
“Cucumber, you wanker.”
Minutes pass without sensible results before finally, on the third or fourth minute, you were slammed with intense symptoms. It hit you like a train… but the train was so fluffy and squishy: never before had you felt this zenned out. Your cognition and your awareness alike were still sharp, but this inexplicable calm engulfed you. Not a single knot existed in your back, nor did any worries—even reasonable ones, like your exams or the potion you just drank—exist. Thoughts were discernable from the static, but it was the most contenting static your synapses ever had the pleasure of conducting.
Guided by ease alone, you stood up from your seat and, without elaboration, began to waltz toward the speakers. Your gait was near liquid in fluidity, a simultaneous sway, skip, and prance to the music.
All three reacted differently. While Vladimir gazed upon you with proud eyes, Arthur’s reflected interest—a faux meagerness at that—and Lukas’ swirled torrentially with concern and anger toward Vladimir.
“Handling okay over there?” Vladimir spoke up, casually leaning back as he watched you turn the speaker volume up.
"I'm feeling pretty alright, great even. Like I'm walking on clouds." You hummed, finding yourself passively dancing to the music without a care in the world. Under the potion’s spell and censored by nothing, your heart could finally speak.
"I just only wonder..."