100 Prompt Challenge - Astelle

Prompt: Request by R.B the anime addict

Noelle was a cold hearted, distant, and unfeeling person. Or so she thought, until a certain boy entered her life.

—

Noelle had never believed in warmth.

Not the kind people spoke about, at least. The kind in stories, where families held hands and laughed around dinner tables. Where friends crowded close, whispering secrets under the glow of streetlights. Where love existed as more than an abstract concept she observed from a distance, like a child pressing her fingers against the glass of a locked display case.

While, she was emotionally tortured, battered, and abused for supposedly killing a woman she never met.

No, Noelle had never believed in warmth.

She had never been given a reason to.

—

She left home without looking back.

The city was an unfamiliar mass of cold concrete and flickering lights, but it was nothing compared to the frigid walls of the Silva estate.

Noelle had spent her entire life walking through rooms filled with people who barely acknowledged her existence. At best, she was an afterthought. At worst, she was a mistake—one they barely tolerated.

It didn't matter anymore.

She was here now, at a university hours away from the suffocating walls of her childhood home.

Alone.

Exactly how she had always been.

—

Her first encounter with him happened in the most inconvenient way possible.

She had been walking back to her dorm, exhausted from a long day of lectures, when she bumped into something—someone—solid.

A thud. A stumble. A barely withheld curse.

Then—

"Whoa! Sorry about that!"

Noelle looked up, and for the first time, she saw him.

Bright eyes.

A stupidly enthusiastic grin.

And a presence so loud she felt like he had punched his way into her world without permission.

It was annoying.

She took a step back. "Watch where you're going."

If her tone was sharp, he didn't seem to notice.

Or maybe he just didn't care.

"Ah, my bad!" He scratched the back of his head, looking entirely unbothered. "I'm Asta, by the way! You a freshman too?"

She blinked.

What part of her expression—her stiff posture, her blank stare, the sheer unwillingness oozing off her—made him think she wanted to have a conversation?

Still, she answered, if only to get rid of him. "Yeah."

"Nice! What's your name?"

"…Noelle."

"Well, Noelle, it's nice to meet ya!"

He grinned at her like this was the start of something.

She hated it.

So she turned and walked away without another word.

—

It should have ended there.

But it didn't.

No matter how many times she brushed him off, ignored his greetings, or shot him icy looks that sent most people running, Asta never left her alone.

He wasn't insistent about it—wasn't suffocating or forceful. He simply existed in her space, always appearing at the most random times, like some unshakable force of nature.

Sometimes, it was in the cafeteria, where he'd wave at her from across the room like they were friends.

Sometimes, it was after lectures, when he'd conveniently end up walking beside her, chatting about something or another, even when she never replied.

And sometimes, it was when she least expected it.

Like the time she sat alone in the library, drowning in exhaustion, only to have a bottle of water placed in front of her.

She had looked up, and there he was, grinning.

"You look like you need this."

She had wanted to ignore him. To turn away, to keep pretending he didn't exist.

But she had been thirsty.

So, without a word, she took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and drank.

When she finished, she expected him to gloat. To smirk like he had won some silent battle.

But all he did was nod, say, "See ya later, Noelle," and walk away.

She stared at the empty space he left behind.

And for the first time in years, she felt something other than cold.

It wasn't warmth.

Not yet.

But it was something.

And she didn't know whether to hate him for it—or not.

—

Noelle had always known loneliness.

It clung to her like a second skin, something too deep, too ingrained to ever truly leave.

Even here, away from the house that never felt like home, away from the people who had never loved her, she remained alone.

And that was fine.

That was better.

Because loneliness was safe.

It was predictable. Expected.

But then Asta happened.

And suddenly, loneliness didn't feel as comfortable as it used to.

—

He never pushed.

Never forced his way into her life.

He simply existed—loud and bright and impossible to ignore.

She told herself she didn't care.

But the days where she didn't see him felt emptier than they should have.

And the days where he did appear, grinning like they were friends, made something inside her chest shift in a way she couldn't understand.

Couldn't name.

Didn't want to name.

Noelle missed life before Asta.

Where life made sense.

But now she couldn't bear the thought of life without Asta.

Noelle hated that feeling. 

—

It was a slow thing.

A gradual erosion of the walls she had spent years building.

She didn't even realize it was happening until one day, she caught herself looking for him in a crowd.

The realization hit her like a punch to the stomach.

She almost hated him for it.

But not enough to leave.

She'd never hate him.

She'd only ever hate herself.

For letting herself feel this way.

And for opening her heart again.

A heart that would undoubtedly be torn to shred once more.

Or so she thought.

—The first time she laughed, it startled them both.

She had been sitting with him in the courtyard, a place they somehow ended up together more often than not. He had been rambling about something ridiculous—one of his endless gym stories, probably—when he threw his arms up in exasperation and smacked himself in the face.

It wasn't even that funny.

But the sound, the sheer dumbfounded look on his face—

It slipped out before she could stop it.

A laugh.

A real, genuine, breathless laugh.

Asta froze.

Then his face lit up.

"Holy crap, was that a laugh?!"

Noelle immediately shut her mouth, turning away as if that could undo what just happened.

"Nope," she lied.

"Noelle!" He practically bounced in place. "You laughed!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I heard it!" His grin stretched wide, so damn proud, like he had just discovered some rare phenomenon. "You should do that more often!"

She scowled. "Absolutely not."

"C'mon, just one more! I'll even do the faceplant again if it helps."

"Go away."

But there was no real heat in her words.

And he knew it.

Because he just grinned wider, like he had won something—something important.

And for the first time in her life, the failure and disappointment of House Silva, Noelle, didn't even mind losing.

—

It was easier after that.

Talking to him. Sitting with him. Letting him be a presence in her life without resisting it so much.

She still wasn't warm.

Not like he was.

But she wasn't frozen anymore, either.

And maybe—maybe that was enough.

For now.

—

The first time she smiled, it wasn't even for any grand reason.

They had been walking home together after a long day, and Asta, ever the stubborn idiot, had been carrying her books despite her insistence that she could do it herself.

"You don't have to do that," she told him, not for the first time.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off, "but I want to."

She sighed. "You're insufferable."

"And you love it."

She rolled her eyes.

And then—before she could even think about it—

She smiled.

Small. Barely there.

But real.

Asta nearly dropped her books.

His mouth fell open, eyes going wide like he had just witnessed the impossible.

"Wait—do that again."

Noelle blinked. "What?"

"You just smiled."

"I did not."

"You did." His voice was breathless. "And it was beautiful."

She turned away, face heating. "You're seeing things."

Asta laughed, bright and unshakable.

"Maybe," he said.

But he looked at her like he knew the truth.

Like he had won.

And Noelle—once again—let him have it.

Noelle didn't care if the person defeating her or winning over her was Asta.

Because for some reason Asta's victories felt like hers.

She wondered if he felt the same way.

—

Warmth wasn't something Noelle had ever believed in.

Not before.

Not when she had spent her entire life frozen in the cold.

But then Asta happened.

And for the first time, she thought—

Maybe.

Just maybe.

She could believe.

—

Winter was harsh and unforgiving.

It never deceived—it came in full force, ruthless in its intent to make one bleed, starve, and lose everything.

The brilliant sun of summer, more often than not, blinded people to the truth with its searing heat. A sun that claimed to be a friend, a guiding light, yet could ruin you far worse than any snowstorm.

Noelle had always taken comfort in winter's embrace—the cold indifference of ice, the way snow repelled life without the need for friendly pretense.

But then he came along.

With eyes the color of summer fields, so full of warmth, so achingly bright, he made her yearn.

For warmth. For light.

For him.

And so, Noelle reached out—tentative at first, hesitant, fearful—until she found herself grasping for that star.

Her star.

Because that's what he was.

The singularity that shone so inexplicably bright in her life.

And if she could have him, she didn't care if she had nothing else.

All she wanted was Asta.

All she needed was Asta.

And though doubt gnawed at her, though fear whispered that she had no right to something so brilliant, a part of her knew—Asta didn't mind.

Didn't mind being her star.

Didn't mind being hers.

So, for the first time in her life—Noelle reached for something.

Aspired for something.

Let herself be selfish.