"And I was giving you props for fitting in so well?" You ask, huffing or rather scoffing with an arched brow of mixed frustration and curiosity — laced annoyance beneath your tone in which Mal winced at.

See; it wasn't meant to go like this, the... what? Third date? Of the week, at least. A picnic — leading to you having found the book of magic spells she owned.

Mal attempted to tell you she'd threw it in super last minute — only in case it rained on the perfect date she planned so, so dearly.

She only merely gulped and darted her eyes to meet yours — bringing up a hand slowly to seemingly hypnotise you; trying to at least, "...Take this moment that has passed, return it.. no— reverse it—"

"Are you trying to spell me right now?" You accuse, rushing to get out of your seat.

Mal hurriedly stood up from her seat right after you; copying your swift actions as if afraid to lose you; and, she was. Completely and utterly terrified of exactly that, "It's been so hard—" Wrong words, she guesses.

Having found her spell book through the picnic basket; the first pages you flickered through — though having luckily not found of the love spell she'd casted upon you.

Unbeknownst to you — Mal solely didn't know how to love; reason being instead of admitting her feelings — she hid behind a lie just to capture her fairy tale — you.

But now it was all crumbling down.

Because now you instead was having a go at her for having to use spells to fix herself, such as her appearance; turning her hair blonde — and using a cooking spell just to bake for this picnic; all your favourite pastries and dishes.

She was a complete, and utter lie; and you were about to find out. After everything she'd did — or; well, maybe the spell book did — but... but that's not the point!

"I thought we were doing this together, Mal!"

"We are doing this... us, together!" She reassures as she motions between you and her — desperate. She can't let you go. You taught her what love is.