Just Like That | "The Moth Prince" fanfic

3. The Laundry

"Oh," Fern muttered, his tone full of disappointment, before hiding his hands in the pockets of Arcade's jacket as if trying to involuntarily protect it. "Do you really have to?"

Did he really have to? Fern's dejected posture made Arcade want to reconsider every single decision that had brought him to that moment, but one look at the jacket they had on, at the dirt all around the hems and the hood, was enough to remind him what he needed to focus on: clothes needed washing, and the jacket was extremely overdue in that regard. So, yes. He really had to take the jacket from Fern to wash it, despite their discontent.

Arcade had already delayed it for way too long. He'd spent his days and nights thinking about how nice Fern looked with the jacket on, instead of noticing how dirty it was getting, and after more than a week in the forest, it was only a matter of time until it was impossible to ignore. However, despite knowing that he had to take the jacket back to the dorms for laundry because having clean things was important, Fern's voice still made him think it would be cruel to separate them from it.

They sounded sad.

Arcade hated it when Fern was sad.

His default response was to do everything in his power to make them smile again. He would've let them keep the jacket until the end of the world, he would've invented a way to make dirt disappear without having to take the jacket from them. But... he couldn't do any of that, and Fern's discouraged aura was driving him crazy. He had to start reminding himself, time and time again, that the prince would be way happier with a clean, softer jacket that smelled nicer. That their discouraged expression was just temporary. That it was for an important cause.

«So please, Fern, don't be sad.»

"Hey, why do you look like a puppy just died?" Arcade asked with a joking tone, trying to lighten up the mood, trying to get even the smallest of changes in the prince's posture so his heart didn't feel so heavy and cold. But Fern's only response was to stare at him with confusion in their eyes, frowning slightly like they didn't know what Arcade was talking about.

"A puppy?" they said, and just then it occurred to him that Fern probably didn't know what a puppy was. They hadn't even seen a dog before. He felt like an idiot, his cheeks warming up in embarrassment, and suddenly had to fight the urge to take back everything he'd said that afternoon, turn around, and simply leave Fern to their own business. "If it dies, is it a good or a bad thing?"

"Never mind that," he answered, sounding defeated, deciding that it was better to just go back to their original topic. "Just... the jacket, please?" he said, softly, reminding Fern that he needed to take it off, and that sad expression appeared on their face again. When he didn't move nor say anything, Arcade stretched his hand towards them, slowly, trying to look encouraging but not demanding. "Hey, don't worry. I promise I'll give bring it back," he said, as earnestly as possible.

Fern stared at his stretched hand for half a second before looking up at his eyes again. The hesitation in his movements was evident, but Arcade dedicated them a small smile to try and make them feel better. It seemed to be enough to relax their posture: the underlying tension on his shoulders disappeared, their frown eased until it was nothing but a little pout, and although Arcade couldn't see their hands, hidden in the pockets as they were, he could've sworn Fern loosened his fists too.

They didn't look as sad anymore, but the discontent still didn't leave his features. "Fine," he said, doing his best to sound nonchalant while he took the jacket off and handed it to Arcade.

But his expression ended up looking grumpy instead of annoyed, and it didn't help much that they involuntarily shivered the second the fabric wasn't enveloping them anymore. As if they were cold again, suddenly, unexpectedly. They looked exposed. Almost... vulnerable. And then, in a movement that seemed unconscious too, Fern rubbed their forearm a couple of times before crossing their arms close to their chest, trying to keep warm.