The Villain Is My Sweetheart! [BL]

School life wasn't so bad with Marco and Eron by my side. Slowly, my friend circle began to widen. Meanwhile, Eron remained an introvert, just as the novel described. Give him a book, and he'd be content for the entire day. Sometimes, I wondered… is he a bookworm?

Marco, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Restless, loud, and filled with the kind of energy that made teachers sigh in defeat. After becoming bench mates, we somehow clicked.

"Aryan, what's your plan for the weekend?" Marco whispered, nudging my arm while our teacher droned on about algebra.

"Nothing. Why?"

"Want to go to the beach? I'm planning a trip."

The idea was tempting. The salty breeze, the waves crashing against the shore, the warmth of the sun... It had been a while since I last visited.

"I'd like to…" But my voice trailed off. Would Adam and Lisa even allow it?

When I was about to brought it up at dinner, Adam suddenly announced his two weeklong business trips.

I almost sighed. Without Adam, convincing Lisa was going to be near impossible—especially if I wanted to bring Eron along. So, I decide to cancel it.

That night, a storm raged outside, the wind howling against the windows. I turned in bed, listening to the relentless downpour, the occasional crack of thunder rattling the walls. For some reason, a thought nagged at me.

Eron.

I got up, walking toward his room. The moment I pushed the door open, my stomach twisted.

The bed was empty.

...

A few minutes earlier—Eron's room.

The thunder roared, shaking the windows, and each flash of lightning sent jagged shadows sprawling across the walls. The dim light of his bedside lamp flickered slightly, making the room feel even colder than it already was.

Eron sat curled up on the bed, his fingers pressed against his ears, but the thunder still reached him, rattling in his chest like an unwelcome echo of something far worse.

The storm outside wasn't what scared him.

It was the storm inside his mind.

The crackling thunder dragged him back to a different kind of darkness—the basement, damp and cold, the air thick with the scent of dust and loneliness. His mother's furious voice. The sharp pain that followed. His own sobs, swallowed by the empty walls.

He had screamed until his throat hurt. Begged until his voice gave out. But no one came.

And when the door had finally opened, his tiny heart had surged with hope—only for it to be shattered again when her hands struck him once more calling him annoying.

A sharp clap of thunder jerked him back to the present, his body flinching on instinct. His breath came in shallow gasps. His chest ached.

He wanted to run. Wanted to push open the door and go to Aryan. Aryan was warm, safe—his presence had become something steady, something he had started to trust.

But then the doubt crept in.

What if Aryan found him annoying? What if, one day, Aryan also looked at him with the same cold eyes his mother once had?

His hands trembled as he gripped the bedsheet and slid under it, curling in on himself. He shut his eyes tightly, willing the fear to pass.

The fabric of his T-shirt carried a faint, familiar scent—Aryan's scent.

He clung to it, breathing in deeply, pretending, just for a moment, that Aryan was right there. That he wasn't alone.

That thought alone was enough to keep him from falling apart. Even if it was just for tonight

...

At present—

I had been wondering where he went when, all of a sudden, a small hand grabbed my leg.

I swear, my soul nearly left my body.

My scream and the thunder crashed together, blending into the storm outside, making it impossible for anyone to hear the commotion. My heart pounded wildly as I looked down, only to find a tiny ghost covered in a white sheet hiding under the bed.

"Eron?" I blinked. "What are you doing there?"

Careful not to let his head bump against the edge of the bed, I pulled him out.

The next flash of lightning lit up the room, and before I could even react, Eron practically threw himself into my arms, gripping me tightly with his small fingers. His whole body trembled as he buried his face in my chest, his breath warm against my shirt.

For a moment, I didn't move.

This position—me holding him like this—felt oddly familiar, like a scene straight out of a novel. For the first time in my life, I understood why female leads always melted in the male lead's arms during dramatic moments.

I had no idea what kind of expression I was making right now.

With a soft sigh, I rubbed Eron's back and whispered, "You should have come to my room instead of hiding like this. Why are you trying to act brave when you're scared?"

He didn't answer.

"Didn't I tell you?" I continued gently. "It's not a shameful thing to admit how you feel. If you don't speak, how will anyone know?"

Still cradling him in my arms, I stood up and carried him to my room. Compared to his, mine was less eerie—warmer, safer. But the thunder still growled outside, making it impossible for Eron to sleep.

I could feel his grip on my shirt, the way he refused to let go, as if I would disappear if he loosened his hold.

To distract him, I reached for a random storybook from my shelf. Settling him in front of me so he could see the pictures, I cleared my throat and began reading.

"The Boy and the Beach."

Eron peeked at the book, his green eyes flickering with curiosity, though fear still lingered in them.

"There was once a boy who had never seen the ocean before," I read aloud. "He had only heard stories—how it stretched beyond the horizon, how the waves danced under the sun, and how the water sparkled like fallen stars. But to him, the ocean was just a story. Something too far away. Too unreal."

Eron remained silent, watching the illustrations of the little boy standing at the shore.

"One day, he finally got to visit the beach," I continued. "At first, he hesitated. The waves crashed loudly, and the endless water frightened him. 'What if it swallows me? What if it pulls me in?' he thought. But as he stood there, a gentle wave kissed his feet, and suddenly, he didn't feel so scared anymore."

Eron's grip on my sleeve loosened slightly.

"The boy took a step forward, letting the cool water wrap around his ankles. He laughed, feeling the wet sand beneath his toes, and ran along the shore, picking up seashells. And then… he found a small, smooth shell." I pointed at the picture. "They say if you hold a seashell to your ear, you can hear the ocean whisper."

I paused, glancing at Eron. "Do you know what the boy heard?"

His voice was soft. "What?"

I smiled. "'Welcome home,' the ocean said."

Eron stared at the picture, his small fingers tracing the seashell on the page. After a moment, he asked, "Did the boy ever go back to the beach?"

I nodded. "Again and again. Because he realized that even though it seemed scary at first, the ocean had been waiting for him all along."

Eron didn't speak, but he let out a slow breath, his body finally relaxing. I closed the book and gently patted his head.

"See?" I murmured. "Even scary things aren't so bad once you take the first step."

Silence stretched between us for a moment. Then, in a quiet voice, Eron whispered, "I also want to see the beach."

I froze.

It was the first time he had expressed wanting something for himself.

His green eyes lifted to mine, filled with longing. "Aryan… have you ever seen the ocean?"

I smiled at his curiosity. "Yeah. A few times."

His gaze brightened slightly. "How was it?"

Leaning back against the headboard, I thought for a moment. "It's… big. Bigger than anything you can imagine. The waves never stop moving. And when the sun sets, the water turns golden, like melted sunlight."

Eron listened intently, still holding onto my sleeve. "Did you play in the water?"

"Of course," I chuckled. "I ran into the waves, let them chase me back to shore. The water is cold at first, but after a while, it feels nice."

"Wow…" he breathed, his voice filled with quiet wonder.

I watched him carefully.

Do you want to see the beach? I almost asked. But looking at him now, I already knew the answer.

Eron's curiosity, his longing, made me rethink canceling my plans. If this was something he truly wanted…

Then I wanted to be the one to make it happen. Even if just for once, I wanted to be the person who fulfilled his wishes.

His fairy godmother.

His safe place.

His family.