I’m Her Favorite Character (in a Reverse World)

The fight has been set up for tomorrow. Octavia and I enter my bedroom together. I am seething with anger for her. The whole walk home, we didn’t speak a word. The silence between us was heavy, charged with unspoken accusations and hurt feelings. Each step across campus had felt like walking through molasses, my legs leaden with anger and fear.

Now, as the door clicks shut behind us, the dam finally breaks.

Octavia looks at me with a frown, her golden eyes swimming with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. “Please don’t be mad at me,” she says, her voice uncharacteristically small.

“No, I think I am going to be mad at you,” I reply, my voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger without even considering what I wanted.”

She barks back defensively, “She dared to demand your hand in marriage!”

“So what?!” I yell, my voice rising to fill the room. “I’m committed to you! Mother already likes you!”

Octavia’s golden eyes flash with indignation. “She besmirched your honor, Elwin! She dragged your name through the mud and then had the audacity to demand your hand in marriage over your sister’s corpse!” Her hands clench into fists at her sides, trembling with barely contained fury.@@novelbin@@

I cross the distance between us in three quick strides. My hands come up to cradle her face, fingers pressing into her skin with desperate intensity. I have to look up to meet her gaze, the height difference between us suddenly feeling symbolic of how out of reach she’ll be if something happens to her.

“She killed my sister,” I say, my voice breaking on the words. “Do you have any fucking idea how hard it would be to lose you too?”

Octavia’s expression softens slightly, her golden eyes widening at the raw emotion in my voice.

“We’re still early in this relationship,” I continue, my thumbs gently stroking her cheeks, “but I already love you so much. I don’t care if you think you can beat her easily. Rowena thought that too.”

The memory of my sister, lying broken and bloodied on the ground, flashes before my eyes. The scent of her blood, the vacant stare in her once-vibrant eyes, the terrible stillness of her body, it all comes rushing back with such clarity that I feel physically ill.

“Please don’t take such chances for the sake of pride,” I plead, my voice dropping to a whisper.

Octavia’s hands come up to cover mine, her touch warm and reassuring against my skin. For a moment, she says nothing, her golden eyes searching mine as if trying to read the depths of my soul.

“My mother only initiated the duel because she probably wants to see you fight,” I add, desperation coloring my words. “Had you not stepped in, she would have told them to fuck off.”

Octavia’s face crumples at my words, her golden eyes filling with tears. The fierce, confident warrior who faced down Rolo with such deadly calm suddenly looks vulnerable and small.

“Please stop being mad at me,” she whispers, her voice catching on a sob. Her lower lip trembles and a single tear spills over, tracing a glistening path down her cheek. “I can’t bear it if you’re angry with me.”

The sight of her tears hits me like a physical blow. My anger dissipates, replaced by a deep ache in my chest. I take her hand and gently lead her to the bed, sitting down and pulling her into my arms. She comes willingly, her body folding against mine as if she belongs there.

I cradle her against my chest, one hand stroking her silky white hair.

“I’m mad at you because I care about you, Octavia,” I murmur against her temple. “The thought of losing you guts me to my core.”

Suddenly, Octavia stiffens in my arms. Her breathing becomes rapid and shallow, her heartbeat thundering against my chest. She pulls back to look at me, and what I see in her eyes chills me to the bone.

Raw panic.

Her pupils are dilated, nearly swallowing the gold of her irises. Her face is ashen, a sheen of sweat breaking out across her forehead. She clutches at my shirt with desperate fingers, the fabric bunching in her white-knuckled grip.

“If you’re mad at me, you might leave me,” she gasps, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. Her entire body is trembling now, fine tremors that shake her from head to toe. “Please don’t leave me, Elwin. Please.”

“I would never leave you,” I say firmly, tightening my hold on her. “Never, Octavia.”

But my words don’t seem to reach her. She’s shaking in my arms, her eyes distant and unfocused as if seeing something beyond the confines of this room. Her breathing becomes more erratic, each inhale a desperate gasp for air.

“I can’t be alone again, Elwin,” she sobs, her voice breaking into fragments of raw emotion. “You were all I had then. I don’t know what I’d do if you rejected me. Please don’t leave me.”

The desperation in her voice tears at my heart. Her golden eyes are wide and glistening with unshed tears. Her fingers dig into my arms with bruising force, as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she loosens her grip even slightly.

“I would never, ever leave you, Octavia,” I say, the words ringing with absolute conviction.

My words once again fall on deaf ears.

Unable to bear the sight of her anguish any longer, I lean forward and press my lips to hers, silencing her desperate pleas. For a moment, she freezes, her eyes widening in surprise. Then, as understanding dawns, she melts into the kiss, her body sagging against mine with palpable relief.

What begins as a gentle reassurance quickly transforms into something more intense. Octavia kisses me as if her very existence depends on it as if she’s trying to pour every ounce of her being into this single connection between us. Her lips move against mine with desperate hunger, seeking confirmation that I’m real, that I’m here, that I’m not going anywhere.

I taste the salt of her tears on her lips, feel the trembling of her body against mine. My hands come up to cradle her face, thumbs gently wiping away the moisture from her cheeks. The tenderness of my touch seems to ground her back to reality.

I pull back from the kiss, breathless, my heart pounding against my ribs. Suddenly, as if becoming aware of herself, Octavia straightens. She runs her fingers through her hair, smoothing the strands that our embrace had disheveled.

She clears her throat, the sound awkward in the intimate silence we’ve created. “Ah, sorry for that very unfeminine display right there,” she says, her voice still slightly rough from crying. “I know most men wouldn’t want their girlfriends to whine so openly.”

The vulnerability in her eyes, the way she tries to compose herself as if she’s afraid her moment of weakness might somehow diminish her in my eyes, breaks my heart. In that instant, I realize just how much she’s been hiding behind her confident exterior, how much fear and insecurity she’s been carrying alone.

I cradle her face in my hands again, tilting it down so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. Her golden eyes search mine, looking for reassurance, for acceptance.

“Octavia,” I say, my voice soft but firm, “I’m yours. I’m all in. I don’t care if you cry or if you get scared. I want to see everything.” My thumbs gently stroke her cheeks, wiping away the remnants of her tears. “I’m going to be here for you always. So please, tomorrow, please don’t die.”

The last words come out as a whisper, thick with emotion. The thought of losing her, of watching her fall as Rowena did, is unbearable. My hands tremble slightly against her skin, betraying the depth of my fear.

For a long moment, Octavia says nothing. Then, slowly, the tension seems to drain from her body. Her shoulders relax, her breathing evens out, and a sense of calm settles over her like a protective cloak.

“I’m not joking when I say Rolo is no match for me,” she says, her voice steady and sure now, without a trace of her earlier panic.

I shake my head, frustration bubbling up inside me again. “But that’s what Rowena probably thought, too,” I say, my voice soft but insistent. “She was confident. She was skilled. And now she’s dead.”

Octavia’s golden eyes soften at the pain in my voice. She takes my hands in hers, her fingers intertwining with mine in a gentle but firm grip.

“I want you to trust me, okay?” she says, her voice a tender whisper that wraps around me like a silk ribbon. “This isn’t just pride or bravado. I know what I’m capable of.”

I search her face, looking for any sign of doubt or fear. But all I see is calm certainty, a bedrock of confidence that seems unshakable.

“Fine. It’s not like I can stop it now anyways,” I concede finally. The weight of worry still presses down on me, but there’s a strange comfort in her absolute conviction. “But going forward, I do not want you making a pattern out of this. I’m not going to watch you get all womanly and decide to pridefully try to kill everyone who hates me.”

A smile tugs at the corners of Octavia’s lips, transforming her face. She pulls me into an embrace, her arms wrapping around me like protective wings.

“Okay,” she murmurs against my hair, her breath warm against my scalp.

Then she pulls back slightly, just enough to look into my eyes. A mischievous smirk plays across her lips, a spark of playfulness dancing in her golden gaze. The sudden shift in her mood is like watching clouds part to reveal the sun, unexpected but welcome.

“But would you really blame me?” she asks, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my back, each touch sending tiny shivers of pleasure down my spine. “I mean, what if someone called me a whore?”

I feel the rage of a thousand suns. The mere thought of someone insulting Octavia makes my blood boil, a molten heat spreading through my veins until I can feel it pounding in my temples. My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails digging crescents into my palms.

‘I’d destroy them. I’d use the power of my family if I had to.’

“Well, uh, I don’t know,” I stammer out, not wanting to admit it right now.

Octavia’s golden eyes seem to see right through my weak deflection. She leans closer, her face inches from mine, her white hair falling forward to create a curtain around us, a private world where only we exist.

“Look into my eyes, Elwin,” she commands softly.

I obey, unable to do anything else. Her eyes are mesmerizing, pools of liquid gold that seem to contain entire universes. Within their depths, I see a love stronger than the truck that killed me.

“You look like you’d go to any length to keep me, wouldn’t you?” she whispers, her breath warm against my lips.

Something in her words, in the way she’s looking at me, ignites a primal response within me. I grab her suddenly, my hands gripping her upper arms with an intensity that surprises even me. I pull her closer, eliminating what little space remains between us.

“You’re kinda crazy, aren’t you?” she says, her voice tinged with wonder rather than fear.

I shake my head, my grip on her loosening slightly but not releasing. “Don’t word it like that,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “It’s not crazy to want to protect someone you love.”

“Weren’t you just crying about me leaving you?” I ask, my voice tinged with confusion and a hint of amusement. The rapid shift in her emotions leaves me feeling like I’m trying to navigate a storm-tossed sea without a compass.

She laughs. “Yeah, but you did such a good job reassuring me that now I’m over-confident.” Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, feather-light and tender. There’s a playfulness in her touch that wasn’t there before, as if my words have lifted some invisible weight from her shoulders.

I laugh and squeeze her tight, my arms encircling her waist and pulling her flush against me.

“As long as you can feel how much I love you, that’s good enough,” I murmur into her hair.

Octavia nestles closer, molding herself against me as if trying to eliminate any space between us. Her hands slide up my back, fingers splaying across my shoulder blades. There’s a possessiveness in her touch that should perhaps concern me, but instead, it makes me feel cherished, protected, wanted in the way ive always dreamed of.

“I do feel it,” she whispers, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of my neck. “Every day, in everything you do. Nobody has ever loved me the way you do, Elwin.”

*****

[Octavia’s POV]

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow across Elwin’s sleeping form. His head rests on my chest, his brown hair splayed out like a fan against my skin. His breathing is deep and even, each exhale a warm caress against my collarbone.

I can’t sleep. Not with the duel looming just hours away. Not with Elwin’s precious weight pressing me into the mattress, reminding me of everything I have to lose.

I run my fingers through his hair, marveling at its softness. He shifts slightly in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent before settling back down, his arm tightening around my waist. My heart swells with such overwhelming love that it feels like it might burst from my chest.

‘I can’t believe he’s here. Real. Alive. Mine.’

My Elwin. My favorite anime character brought to life, flesh and blood and beating heart. Only he’s not a character anymore, is he? He’s a person with thoughts and feelings and a soul that shines so brightly it sometimes hurts to look at him.

‘To think I used to take my Elwin figure and shove it up my cunt just to feel close to him.’ I smile, looking at his cute face. ‘Now I can just shove his cock up there when I want to feel close.’