"Just drink the potion, Laurence!"
Laurence groaned and buried his face in the couch. "No!"
Laurence had gotten undeniably sick. So sick that none of the medicine worked, so sick his friends avoided him, so sick he thought he was going to die. So in his desperation, he had dragged his ill self to Lucinda's house and asked if she had anything that could make him better.
Sure, he didn't trust her witchcraft for a moment. But he was desperate, and he would rather be sick as a cat than as a human at that point.
But the moment she had put the nearly glowing cup of a pink liquid down in front of him, he decided he had made a mistake.
"It's not going to kill you." Lucinda sighed, looking back down at the potion she was stirring.
He doubted that.
"Thanks," Laurence tried to push himself off the couch, but failed, falling back, "But I'm good."
Lucinda growled at him. "Drink the potion or I swear to Irene I will shove it down your throat."
He gulped and grabbed the cup. He would rather die from whatever was in the potion than face the wrath of the angry witch. Ignoring the screaming in his head to not do it, he chugged down the tea.
The first thing he felt was relief, admittedly. He opened his mouth to say something, but as he locked eyes with Lucinda, he felt an odd urge overcome him suddenly.
"Hey, Lucy," He mumbled, pushing himself off the couch.
"Yes?"
He nearly fell over and grasped the table for support. Lucinda gasped and hurried over to him. The brown-haired male laughed drunkenly and squinted at her.
"You're... really prettyyyy," He slurred.
"Laurence, you need to lay down!" Lucinda pushed him onto the couch gently.
He laid back onto the couch, laughing hysterically. Why was she pushing him away? He liked her, and he knew she liked him. They should be... kissing! Yes, kissing!
"Let's kiss!" He threw his arms around her neck and pulled her to him. Before Lucinda could react, they were kissing.
She pushed him away and pulled back, her face bright red. "Laurence! What has go- oh."
It looked as though she had realised something, and she rushed to pick up a vial lying on a nearby table. But all Laurence could think about was how she pushed him away. Did she not like him?
"I gave you the wrong potion!" She screeched, searching the table desperately.
"Wronggg potion?" He questioned sluggishly.
Muttering, the orange haired witch grabbed another vial, a few herbs, and few bottles. She lit the burner underneath a large cauldron and threw in the herbs and some strangely-colored liquid.
She shook her head. "Stupid, stupid... knew I shouldn't have left that love potion lying around!"
Laurence perked at the word "love". She did love him! He lugged himself off the couch and made his way towards her turned back, as she was facing the cauldron.
"Lucyyyyy," he sang deliriously, wrapping his arms around her waist, "Don't you love me?"
She let out a yelp and peeled his arms off her. "Laurence, go lay down!"
"Don't you love meeeee," he frowned. The room was starting to spin.
And just before everything went black, he heard a faint, "yes."
Laurence opened his eyes to look right into a pair of orange ones. Suddenly, he was engulfed in a hug. "Thank Irene! You're not dead!"
The brown haired male groaned. "What...happened?"
"You got even more sick and I thought I had given you the wrong potion and then you blacked ou-"
"Wait," he stopped her, "Wrong potion?"
"Yeah," she chuckled awkwardly, "I thought I had given you a love potion, but I gave you the right one. I guess it was the side effects or something."
Laurence felt the memories rushing back and a grin grew on his face. "I don't think so."
Lucinda glanced at him. "What?"
He chuckled. "Maybe it was just me speaking from my heart."
She froze. "I don't... what..."
Pulling her face close to his face, he smashed his lips into hers. After a minute, they pulled apart and he winked at her.
"Does that explain it?"
---------------------------------------------------
Sorry it's late, AngeltheSeaweedBrain. Hope you enjoyed!
Alsothankyouforbeingsuoerawesomeandyouguysshouldcheckheroutyeahbye.
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Aphmau Oneshots
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