~Author's Note~

Hey Ya! I stayed up late writting this so I hope you all enjoy and it isn't riddled with mistakes. I do apologize for the last chapter; it was horribly written as there were grammar mistakes everywhere. Gomen! Perdon! Sorry! Pardonnez-moi! Welp! Enjoy this angsty? chapter~!

Sincerely,

~Ms. AtomicBomb

P.S. This chapter is waaaayyyy much shorter than the other one but the average length I make chapters. ;)

Arturia was beyond delighted to be standing in Diarmuid's living room at the given moment, for sure this beat hiding under a desk in case someone came in. She had made sure to lock the door after Diarmuid had tried to lead her to said living room. She looked outside the huge window and watched as the cold weather enraptured the city.

The male was currently making hot chocolate for the both of them and Arturia was—innocently—undressing. She had left her school blazer at the front closet and now she was untying her tie and pulling her knee-highs to her ankles. It wasn't as if she was doing it to seduce the man, but if that happened along the way, she definitely would not mind.

She let her hair fall free from the pony tail and she knew that there was a huge ump in her hair because of it. Trying to pat down the bump, she was interrupted by Diarmuid clearing his throat, "Oh, here, let me help you." Arturia walked towards the man, offering to take a mug from his hand but he refused and insisted he set them on the coffee table instead.

"What happened with your uniform?" His brows were furrowed as he looked her up and down, "It almost seems as if you got attacked or something." He was laughing lightly.

"I take it the seducing did not work," she frowned, "I was hoping you could lend me a change of clothes because there's so much I can do in a skirt and I feel a bit restricted in this shirt…"

He snuck a glance at her—not so subtly—and nodded, "I'll see what I can do."

Arturia smiled as she watched the man leave and go up the stairs. She proceeded to unbuttoning her white dress shirt—obviously having an undershirt. By the time he came down the stairs, he stopped in his tracks right as he saw her and quickly turned around, "I apologize for intruding."

"You can turn around; it is not as if I am naked." Arturia laughed as she walked towards him. An idea popped into her mind and she snaked her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly, "You're too cute."

He shuffled about in her arms and lifted her face up so she could face him. He dropped the change of clothes and pulled her into a hug, "You are as well."

Her heart fluttered, and she tightened her grip around him, "Thank you," her voice was muffled by his chest as she snuggled her head into it, "I like you."

She felt a kiss on her head and he seemed to have muffled something else before slowly pulling away from her, "Okay, come on and get changed." He was smiling down at her, handsome and kind.

Her hands were still resting on his waist and she looked up at him, her green eyes locking with his amber ones, "Who's Youth?" She recalled the name from when Morgana was mentioning how he was untouchable back in high school.

It seemed that the question triggered something within him and he slid from her arms—as gently as he could—and quickly caught attention of his hot chocolate, "Did they get cold?" He asked himself.

Frowning, she sighed and understood that she was not going to get an answer from him any time soon, so she gave up, sitting down on the couch and grabbing a blue mug, "No, they're still warm," She pursed her lips together, "Can I change here? Bathrooms are tedious."

"Then I'll get us a slice of cake." He immediately walked out and she went through with what she had asked. By the time he returned with a vanilla cake in hands, she was dressed in a green t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, her clothes neatly folded on the armchair.

He smiled at seeing how small and delicate she looked in his clothes, it was very refreshing. He noted her hair was up in a ponytail again and he gave a little sighed, "I think you look very pretty with your hair down."

She looked at him through her eyelashes and she slowly gave a nod, "I can take it down, if you want."

Diarmuid shook his head, "Oh, no, if you feel comfortable with it up, I have no say in the matter."

She untied it again, as he too a seat next to her and then she leaned against him, "Can I hug you?" She asked, her voice soft as she held onto the warm mug tightly, as if her life depended on it.

"Of course," he nodded, "you don't have to ask permission about these things."

Arturia set the mug back on the table and then wrapped her arms around his waist again, she felt the warmth in her heart radiate and fill her entire body. She snuggled closer and she realized that—when he returned the hug and held her in his arms—she had not felt so lonely when she was around him. Her grip around him tightened and she had to speak, "My nightmare," she breathed, "it was about my mother."

Diarmuid was rubbing circles on her back and she felt a little comforted, "It's alright, don't force yourself."

"I hate what I had said to her, but I know it is not my fault. I loved my mother, but I spited the things that she had set out for me. I was afraid of unhappiness, and that ended up being what I landed in for a long time. It took Jeanne a year and a few moths to get me out of that pit I dug myself into." Her voice was a bit shaky, but she held herself together, "I value Jeanne a lot. She's my best friend and she has always been there for me to support me; I love her, for sure."

"She is a lovely person." Diarmuid agreed, holding Arturia a little closer to himself, although he was embarrassed, he felt the need to protect her with all his might.

The blonde gave a nod, "She is, isn't she? Her advice, it cheers me up, and her loving nature is really what I needed to even begin to heal the wound of my mother's death. I still feel hurt, but I know that Jeanne won't let me fall back in the pit because she'll protect me from all that."

Arturia seemed to have finished her small talk about her mother and Diarmuid decided to speak, "Youth was my ex-girlfriend, I guess you know that much about her, what with Morgana telling you." Somewhere along the talk, he had landed his head on her lap and she was running her hands through his hair—which was soft but tangled every now and again, "I don't exactly remember how we met, we just did. She was beautiful, nice," She watched him roll his orange eyes, "We were together for eons. Grade ten, I think, until third year university." He counted his fingers, mumbling 'eleven', 'twelve' and so on until he hit third year university, "Five, five years; that was quite the time."

"That's a long time," she looked down at him, hands still in his hair, "We've only been together for two months if you count summer." She had wondered how his hair had felt for months now and her dream had finally come true, his head on her lap and her hand running through his dark locks.

"I gave it all to her, anything and everything." He reached his hand up to touch her hair, for it was like a golden curtain hanging down.

"Everything?" Arturia lifted an eyebrow.

He took a deep breath, smelling the hot chocolate that seemed to linger around them, with a hint of her lavender perfume, "Everything. Anything that belonged to me, it became hers. I regret many things that I gave up to her, because she did not deserve a lot of those things."

"What do you mean?" She was starting to get the gist of things, but she still wanted to keep oblivious to it unless it was spelled out for her.

Diarmuid sat up, leaving Arturia's thighs cold and her heart stuck in half a beat, "Maybe we shouldn't talk about her." He huffed and then ran a hand through his hair.

Arturia watched his back muscles as they tried to relax while he rolled his shoulders, "Why so?" Truth be told, she was a bit jealous because it seemed that there was something in Diarmuid's heart that still belonged to Youth and not her.

"Because," he turned around to look at her, his jaw clenched and his eyes staring straight into hers. He shuffled about and was completely facing her, he took her face between his hands, "You're my girlfriend now and she isn't important." He started to bring Arturia's face closer to himself. He felt an ache at the depths of his heart and he wanted to rid himself of it, and he knew that if he kissed her, it would surely be eased for the day.

Jeanne had not agreed to enter Cú's car because he did not have his license, but he proved her wrong when he pulled out a blue card from his wallet, thus, he had driven her to a theater. Oh no, not the movies, the theater.

Cú smiled down at the female, messaging his shoulder muscles as they found their seat on a balcony in the theater, "I did some research on you, of course, and it seemed that all your friends said you liked Christmas and Theater, so I thought maybe an opera… but there seemed to be none happening around this time so I hope you like The Nutcracker."

"The Nutcracker?" Jeanne looked over at Cú, her eyes were glossy and suddenly a little red, "We're watching The Nutcracker?"

"Don't tell me that you're scared of nutcrackers. Aw shit, I'm so sorry." Nothing was going his way, was it?

Jeanne giggled as she shook her head, rubbing her cheeks so that she wouldn't cry, "No, I love this ballet. Igraine brought Arturia and I here once and I fell in love with theater because of this ballet, it's just that they're beautiful memories and I'm really happy that you were the one who brought me."

Cú grinned, so things were going smoothly. "How you ever played lacrosse?" He asked as they waited for the show to begin.

She shook her head, "Nope, but don't you like rugby?"

His cheeks lit up, and she noticed, "Ha, yeah, but I like Lacrosse better." That damn mistake was constantly biting him in the ass, "I was wondering if you would like to learn, like, I teach you sort of thing."

His hands were on the arm rests on either side of him and Jeanne landed her small hand on his right hand, "I'd love to."

Alright, so if this isn't accepting my feelings then I don't know what is, Cú was smiling at her, but he was the one that needed to make her blush not the other way around.

The lights dimmed and they knew it was time to shut their mouths as the music began to fill the theater walls.

Half the time, Cú was just looking at Jeanne—the play was the least of his worries. Her expressions were phenomenal, how she reacted to every little detail of the ballet assured him that he truly did like her, that he truly felt his heart flutter when she smiled at him. Her violet eyes were getting to him and this was a much more prominent feeling he got than before. Back in Ireland, it was just butterflies but Jeanne gave him mixed feelings. He was oh-so calm but so nervous at the same time. Her smile caused his heart to become like a raging sea, and his mind to shut down and relax. Her giggles made his heart melt and goosebumps form over his body—she was special, and he knew that very well.

"Um, Cú?" She was facing him now, the lights were back up and the play had ended, "Should we be off?"