“No,” he states sternly, placing his books down on the table with a light thud. “You cannot have the vice president role just because you are my fiancé. You don’t get any special privileges.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, the grandeur of the student body president’s office at the Arcane Academy of Doridia feeling suddenly constrictive around him. Aqua has never taken his role lightly, nor does he intend to start now by bending the rules for personal convenience—yours especially.

You might be his fiancé, a bond formed from family alliances rather than affection, but that doesn’t grant you automatic entry into his professional life. Aqua believes in meritocracy, in earning one’s place, and he refuses to compromise on those principles—not even for you, his beloved fiancé.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking,” he continues, his voice softening just a fraction, an olive branch perhaps, or a pacifying gesture to temper the bluntness of his refusal. “It’s not that I don’t value you—well, no, perhaps it is.” He hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considers his next words carefully. “You’re... clingy. And it’s annoying, frankly.”

Aqua already couldn’t stand your incessant yapping in his ear, the constant clinging to his arm, the annoying whines whenever something didn’t go your way—he’d probably lose his mind, and position, if you ended up joining his student council. This was his only escape from you.

He watches as you process his words, his own heart tightening inexplicably in his chest. It’s a cruel thing to say, perhaps too cruel—despite his annoyance with you, he never liked to see you cry, but honesty has always been a pillar he refused to knock down, even when it would be kinder to do so. “I just don’t think you’re capable of this position,” he shook his head, “how many classes did you say you were failing again?”