I Am The Greatest Femboy Mage

Okay, truth to be told. Elian had completely failed on the part where he was supposed to have his wits about him.

Not due to the impending doom he felt because of what Milena had said, but because of the sheer amount of people that were trying to strike up a conversation with him in the crowd that had formed around him on the way to cafeteria.

"Hello Elian!"

"Elian, is it true you awakened it without knowing the basics of mana manipulation?"

"Are you actually a Valcourt, because my cousin swore your line went extinct."

"Elian-!"

He lost track of how many hands got extended toward him before he’d made it three steps into the dining hall. Somewhere around the sixth person, he stopped trying to match names to faces and just nodded a lot, which seemed to work fine, since nobody appeared to actually want an answer so much as they wanted to have asked.

Milena had vanished at some point in the crush, which he was choosing to interpret as tactical rather than personal.

"You’re doing the thing," said a voice at his elbow, cheerful and entirely unbothered by the chaos around them.

"The nodding thing, good work actually! It’s very convincing, for what it’s worth. Nobody can tell you’re dying inside."

Elian turned. The boy beside him was roughly his own age, same height too, dressed in robes that had clearly been altered from standard issue into something with considerably more flair than the school probably intended, hair styled with the kind of deliberate carelessness that took real effort to fake, almost eerily similar to the kind of hairstyle Elian himself had.

"I’m not dying," Elian said.

"You’re a little dying." The boy grinned, entirely unrepentant.

"I’m Bellamy Sterling. I believe we’re roommates."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I bribed a very tired registrar with a compliment about his handwriting this morning."

"You bribed him with a compliment...?"

"Worked, didn’t it?"

Bellamy fell into step beside him without asking, steering them both toward an empty stretch of table, through the crowd, with the confidence of someone who’d never once doubted a room would make space for him.

"Also, I should say, I already know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. You awakened a dead relic in front of a famous scout and then showed up with a haircut that’s currently causing at least three separate arguments in the east wing."

"Arguments...?"

"Good ones. Don’t worry."

Bellamy dropped onto the bench, patting the spot beside him like Elian had already agreed to sit there, which, apparently, he had when he sat without asking any questions.

"So. Roommate. Best friend. Personal hype man. I’m very good at all three, you’ll find, and I come with minimal warning labels."

Elian sat, mostly because standing while being stared at by half the dining hall had lost its appeal several minutes ago, and looked at the boy beside him—unbothered, unhidden, entirely comfortable being exactly whatever he wanted to be at any given moment—and felt something in his chest do a complicated, unfamiliar thing that wasn’t quite envy and wasn’t quite relief.

"Minimal," he repeated, not exactly sure how to engage with the boy.

"I said minimal, not none." Bellamy was already reaching across him for the bread basket like he’d been eating at this table his whole life.

"Anyways, back to your haircut. You couldn’t have possibly done it all by yourself right? There’s rumors that you used magic to get it to look so... ahh never-mind that, why don’t you get something to eat!"

Elian reached for the nearest plate mostly to have something to do with his hands, and Bellamy took that as tacit permission to keep going.

"So," Bellamy said, taking a bite from his bread.

"The haircut. Magic? no magic? I need to know, because if it’s magic I’m going to need the spell immediately, my hair’s been in a rebellious phase since the start of spring and nothing I’ve tried has worked."

He didn’t pause for an answer.

"Also you’re shorter than I expected."

He looked him up and down, eyes widening when he realized something.

"Not bad-short! Just...I built you up in my head as taller, and more... it was just based on the rumors don’t worry. People do that. Six generations of dormant relic tends to inflate a guy a lot."

"It was scissors, the hair cut." Elian said, finally seizing an opportunity on a pause. "Just scissors."

"Boooring, but I respect the honesty."

Bellamy stole a piece of bread directly off Elian’s plate without breaking eye contact, entirely unbothered by the theft.

"Okay, next question—"

"Wait."

"What?"

"You’ve asked four questions already."

"Five, if you count the tall one, which I do." Bellamy waved this off like a technicality.

"Next question. The staff. Does it talk? Rumors say it talks. I need to know if I’m rooming with someone who has a haunted walking stick, i might have to go have a conversation with the registrar if i am"

Elian opened his mouth, closed it, and decided that particular answer was not one he was prepared to hand over between bites of breakfast to someone he’d known for four minutes.

"It’s complicated."

"Complicated is basically a yes."

Bellamy looked delighted by this, which seemed to be his default state regardless of input.

"This is the best first day I’ve had in years, I hope you know that."

"Glad I could help." He said, not exactly understanding how a first year like him can have any other first day.

"You’re doing great, by the way."

Bellamy said it with the easy, unearned warmth of someone handing out a participation ribbon, and somehow it didn’t feel condescending at all—just genuinely, baselessly encouraging, the way he seemed to hand out most of his opinions.

"You’re being loud," said a new voice, flat and entirely unimpressed,

Elian looked up.

Milena had appeared at the end of the table with a tray in hand, expression already settling into the specific weariness of someone who’d clocked the situation from twenty feet away and come over anyway.

Bellamy, entirely undeterred, brightened further.

"Oh! Seems like we have company, is this your friend Elian?"

He gestured between them like he was completing some kind of transaction, flashing a bright smile towards Milena.

"Sit, sit, we’re discussing the haircut."

"I’ve heard enough about the haircut for one morning." She let out a tired sigh.

Milena set her tray down regardless, sliding onto the bench across from them with the air of someone choosing the lesser of two chaoses. Her eyes flicked to Elian, something almost sympathetic in it.

"He talked your ear off already?"

"Some of it’s still attached."

"Barely," Bellamy said cheerfully, already reaching for more bread.

"I guess." Elian added, quietly.