Chapter Text
Things Idia didn’t get: social cues (overrated, anyway), the limited-edition Cyrene skin in HSR (lowk mid since it was just a cosmetic change for her bow), and how NRC was supposed to be the GOAT of arcane academies if they shut down all of campus ‘cause of one lousy snowstorm. Thaaaaat somehow affected not just all of Sage’s Island, but every dorm dimension as well.
… OK, TBF, the headmage had said it was a magical snowstorm—W/E that meant—and therefore couldn’t be dealt with via spellwork or normal weather mage responses. Or normal responses, period.
Which is how Idia found himself stuck in Heartslabyul one snowy night. And he guessed he didn’t wanna brave the outside, anyway. Even just standing near the entrance, he could hear the wind howling—and who knew what it looked like beyond the heart-shaped doors? All the windows were frosted over! He was p’ sure the snow outside would’ve buried him, though.
According to Crowley, the ARU would be coming in to do something to dial down the temps and melt the snow tomorrow, but for now? All students were under strict advisement to STAY INSIDE wherever they were. Whee hee hee, sucks to suck for the plebs who’ll have to slum it up in those drafty-ass History of Magic lecture halls, ‘cause the benches there feel like they were designed by a final-boss evil chiropractor.
Lucky for him, Idia had come to Heartslabyul to help his goofy diamonds-for-brains boyfriend mass-like all the posts of a certain influencer on Magicam who was doing a Christmas giveaway, so he’d be ALG for the night, but, hnngh, he missed his PC. Having a tablet and Cater’s rinky-dink laptop was beyond bogus!!!!
Idia flopped back sideways onto Cater’s bed with more drama than was necessary. “Actual torture,” he muttered, nodding at Cater’s laptop as if it were contaminated. Which it was. With Flamin’ Hot Cheeto crumbs of yore. “Full offense: why does your CPU sound like it’s crying?”
Cater only hummed cheerfully from his desk, where he was putting the final touches on a video he’d planned on posting three weeks from now (normal behavior, obvs).“She’s just vibing~!” he replied, wrapping his sweater tighter around himself. “And she’s probs cold, poor thing, since, sigh, magestone heating means zip in this storm.”
As if encouraged by his words, a gust of wind slammed into the frosted window. Through the sliver of glass that wasn’t entirely opaque, Idia watched a barrage of snow pelt the sill as if the storm had just landed a cryo AoE crit IRL with zero courtesy telegraphing. A sharp crack of wind rattled Heartslabyul’s walls, and Idia flinched as if the storm had personally adjusted its auto-aim on him. Gods, this whole card-castle-dorm-thing felt swallowed by winter ATP.
Grinning, Cater clambered off his chair and wrestled a blanket over Idia. He settled beside him on the bed so that they were shoulder to shoulder as they leaned back against the wall.
“Cozy, right?” Cater grinned the kinda grin that Idia was sure’d be on his “Seasonal 5★ Toasty Hearth” rate-up splash art if he were a videogame character. But Cater’s smile hadn’t even finished sparkling before he suddenly gasped, popped upright, and declared, “Wait, OMG? I just remembered something.” Idia blinked as Cater launched himself off the bed and out the door, blanket trailing behind him like some deranged holiday comet, with a breezy “BRB!”
The sound of Cater’s hurried footsteps faded down the hallway. Chased by Riddle’s exasperated, “Cater! Queen of Hearts Rule #710: No running in the hallway!” Cater’s cheerful, “OK, but I’m speedwalking, so it’s totes fine!” echoed back, and Idia wondered what it was like to have a housewarden who actually housewardened. Maybe he should try it, lawl.
He yanked the blanket tighter around himself, burrito-style, and settled further into its warmth. Cozy. Yeah. Maybe. If the whole building were to stop sounding like it was about to get TPK’d by a level 16 Ice Golem.
Cater reappeared moments later, holding two steaming mugs. “Ta-da! Do not tell Trey I went through the spice cabinet, kthx?”
Idia accepted his cautiously. “Hot cocoa? Grk, dude, I thought you didn’t even like sweets.” That was how he managed to score those stupid-rare sticker sheets: by trading off candy he couldn’t stand, after all.
The mattress creaked as Cater sat beside him again. “I don’t,” he chirped. “Which is why this,” he lifted his mug, “is, like, ninety-five percent cinnamon and nutmeg.”
Idia sipped his own, which provided the exact kinda tooth-rotting sugar rush he needed. “So TL;DR: you’re drinking spicy mud.”
“UM, spicy festive mud,” Cater corrected. “Get it right.”
Outside, another gust screamed past. Inside, the heat of the mug seeped into Idia’s hands. +40 Ice Resistance, FTW. And, like, +1000 warm fuzzy feelings, too, he guessed.
Cater nudged his knee. “Wanna watch something? I was queuing up a movie in the background before you started bullying my laptop.”
“It deserved it,” Idia mumbled, but he didn’t resist when Cater pulled the overly-warm device (now he knew what he had to get him for Christmas :P) onto their laps and lifted the blanket to tent over them both. The laptop whirred like it’d been cruising at 1 HP for longer than it should’ve, but the movie loaded anyway. Cater’s thigh pressed solidly against his as he clicked play.
Halfway through, Idia realized Cater had tilted toward him, cheek brushing his shoulder, cinnamon-scented steam curling between them. The storm continued to snarl, but, just then, everything felt muted and gentle and—yeah. Cozy.